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wandascosmic · 6 months ago

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she's cheer captain (5)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part five of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 3595

tags: best friends to lovers, slowburn, reader is in love with wanda, wanda's as oblivious as ever but loves reader so much, in a friends way, pining, a whole basketball game, reader is a pro basketball player actually, except i don't know anything about basketball so this is the best i could do, minor injury, minor mention of blood, vision sucks

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9

“No, I know the warranty’s expired but isn’t it supposed to last longer than two years if it isn’t defective?” you overhear Wanda say on the phone. “Ok, 3 years then.”

Furrowing your brows, you make your way over to her desk to ask what’s wrong, seeing Wanda anxiously biting the nail of her thumb.

“Hey, Maximoff, what’s up?” you ask softly, Wanda’s head jerking up at the sound of your voice, her eyes softening once she sees you.

“Hey,” she mumbles dejectedly. “Um, the toaster oven I got at my engagement shower broke,” she laughs awkwardly. “And I know it’s silly, but..”

The toaster oven you got at your engagement shower 3 years ago. For a wedding that still has yet to be set. “No, I understand,” you offer her a reassuring smile.

Wanda smiles back gratefully.

Drumming your fingers on the desk, you ask, “Are you ready for the basketball game against the warehouse staff today?”

Wanda groans, leaning back against her chair. “It’s not gonna end well.”

You laugh. “Wow, Maximoff. For Tony’s designated cheerleader for today, you’re quite negative,” you tease.

Wanda laughs as well. “That was Sam’s idea so he could suck up to Tony.” She shakes her head. “And besides, I declined because I can’t cheer against Vis.”

Your smile falls for a split second.

“Yeah, I guess not.”

***

“Attention, everyone,” Tony announces coming out of his office.

You swivel in your chair to face him, leaning your head on your hand.

“Corporate just called me to let me know that we need staff to come in on Saturday,” he says, making the office staff groan collectively.

“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” he mutters. “Anyways, they let me know that the basketball game later today against the warehouse staff can be used to decide who comes in and who will stay home, and I agreed. So those of you playing, you better win, because I refuse to come in on a Saturday,” Tony says menacingly before going back into his office.

“Wait, Tony, we still need a cheerleader!” Sam yells as he runs after him, but Tony ignores him, shutting the door in his face. “Wanda, I still think it should be you.” He says, turning to the receptionist.

“No, Sam,” she declines once more, dialing a number on the desk phone and putting it up to her ear. “I can’t cheer against my fiance.”

“I’ll do it,” you say, making Sam and Wanda look at you curiously.

Sam turns around and narrows his eyes at you.

“You know, wear a little flouncy skirt and what-not,” you say seriously.

Wanda snickers quietly at your joke.

“Yeah, right, Y/N,” Sam grumbles.

“Oh, yeah,” you rub your chin with your pointer finger and thumb. “I forgot I’ll be busy playing on the team, and you’re benched for nearly setting the building on fire last year after losing in foosball.”

***

You were actually looking forward to playing on the team. It’s been a while since you had played basketball, but you had been on your high school team for all four years and it was something that had kind of become your thing. Plus, you may or may not have the motivation of impressing a certain green-eyed brunette.

“Are you coming down?” you ask Wanda as you tie up your running shoes in the chair across from her.

“Yeah, I’m just forwarding the phones,” Wanda answers, pressing a few buttons absentmindedly.

“You gonna wish me luck?” you ask.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need it,” Wanda returns, her mouth opening in fake shock as you laugh at her.

“No way, is that trash-talk from Wanda?” you tease.

“I’m just saying, Vision is very competitive,” she tells you with a shrug. “And, he wants to take the waverunners to the lake this Saturday, so..” Wanda tilts her head in a teasing manner.

“Wow,” you say wistfully with a shake of your head. “Well, I’m going to the outlet mall on Saturday,” you respond as if you were rather conflicted. “So if you wanna save big on brand names and Vision has to work,” you pause to give her a teasing smile making her let out a laugh. “Which he will, because I’m also competitive.” Wanda raises her eyebrow slightly at the challenge. “You should feel free to come along,” you invite.

Wanda ponders for a moment, tapping her chin in deep thought. “Um, I think I’m gonna be up at the lake,” she answers with a smirk.

You narrow your eyes at her with a smile. “I think I’ll see you at the mall, Maximoff.”

Wanda laughs.

***

Sam had somehow convinced Tony to let him play on the team despite his history of quick-tempered overreactions, you didn’t know how he did it, but you suspect it might have to do with the half-eaten chocolates you saw in Tony’s office through the window which weren’t there in the morning.

Now, your team consists of you, Sam, Tony, Nat, and Peter, who joined last week as the new intern.

“Alright,” Tony walks onto the middle of the floor of the warehouse. “Those of you on the team with me, you better win because I refuse to come in on a Saturday,” he announces, which you suppose is his version of a pep talk.

“Wow, Tony, very motivational,” Nat replies sarcastically with her arms crossed.

“You know, if we win, maybe Tony will buy us some drinks,” you tell Wanda, stretching out your legs slightly.

Wanda pats your back in false comfort, “Well, that’s a nice thought, but once again, it’s gonna be a tough competition…”

“Oh, you’ll see, Maximoff,” you retort. “I’ll be at the outlet mall on Saturday, getting loads of great deals, then celebrating with a round of shots.”

Wanda laughs, and you smile at her.

But your smile quickly falls as you see Vision come out of the warehouse bathroom in his athletic wear, on his way to greet his fiance.

Wanda notices your line of sight and turns to face him, greeting him with a hand on his chest and a quick peck on the lips.

“Hi,” she says in a breathy voice, looking up at him with a loving grin on her face.

“Hey,” he whispers back, and Wanda wraps her arms around his neck as the two engage in a much deeper kiss.

You quickly avert your gaze and decide to do a couple more stretches.

“Alright, everyone, listen up,” Tony declares as both the office and warehouse staff huddle up in a circle, Vision unfortunately ending up standing next to you. “This is gonna be a friendly game, but whoever loses this game will have to come in to work this Saturday, got it?”

Everyone nods in understanding.

“Alright, great, let’s start,” he says, jogging backward into place as everyone starts to disperse around the court.

“Have a good game,” you tell Vision as the two of you take a couple of steps back to spread out, holding out your hand for him to shake.

“Yeah, you too,” he says, shaking your outstretched hand and then running off to meet his teammates. “Should be fun,” you catch him mutter under his breath.

You narrow your eyes in suspicion.

“Alright, office team, huddle up,” Tony announces, snapping you out of your thoughts and forcing you to form a circle with the rest of your teammates. “Peter, you’ll take Steve, Nat, you’ll take Clint, Sam, you take Vision, Y/N, you’re on T’Challa, and I’m on Jean, got it?”

You all nod.

“Alright, good luck. Spread out, everyone!” Tony says as he walks towards the middle of the court to grab the ball. “Wanda, you’ve got your foot in both camps here, why don’t you do the jump ball, okay?”

Wanda nods and walks towards Tony to grab the basketball.

“Don’t listen to him, Wanda, trust me. Tip it my way or you’re sleeping in the car,” Vision jokes with a laugh as he squats down.

You clench your jaw as you see Wanda’s frown.

The ball goes up in the air and Tony quickly gets his fingers on it to tip it towards your side of the court.

“Sam!” he yells as the ball ends up right beside Sam.

Sam tries to dribble the ball but unfortunately, you all quickly notice that his skills are subpar at best. Sam loses control of the ball after the third dribble, allowing Vision to steal it from him.

“Oh, come on!” Tony yells, running after Vision as well as the rest of you.

You quickly sprint after Vision who is on his way to score, and right as he’s about to send the ball into the hoop, he passes it to Steve, who makes the shot.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

T’Challa tries to pass to Vision but you quickly interfere, stealing the ball before Vision can get it and sprint towards the hoop, dribbling the ball at your side. Before you can make the shot Clint guards you, so you pass it to Sam and run around Clint.

“Shoot it, Sam!” Tony shouts.

Sam throws the ball to try and score but misses again, accidentally throwing it over the hoop entirely.

“Sorry, Tony!” Sam apologizes.

“It’s fine, Sam,” Tony replies, but you can tell that he’s already starting to get frustrated. “Let’s go into zone, everyone!” he instructs.

You jog in position, squatting down in an athletic stance to try and grab the ball being passed around between the warehouse staff.

“Defense!” Sam chants with a clap. “Defense!”

You guard T’Challa with your arms up, and he quickly tosses the ball over your head to pass to Vision who’s right beside the hoop and about to score. You sprint to try and stop the ball, but Vision scores another point before you can reach him by doing a layup.

Tony groans. “Who’s got Vision? Come on, step it up!” he yells.

You move to grab the ball Vision scored and start to dribble it as you sprint towards the other side of the court. Once you reach the hoop, you’re about to shoot the ball when suddenly Vision stands in front of you to stop you from shooting the ball, with the rest of his teammates surrounding him. You inch a bit closer to him, as if you’re about to run past him on his right side, the ball dribbling at your side, and right as he starts to lean over a little bit to mirror your position, you fake him out, throwing the ball behind your back and catching it on the other side of your body, successfully passing him on his left and scoring another point.

“Whoo!” Wanda cheers, joining in on the applause you receive for your play.

The game passes by a bit more, and soon the ball ends up in Sam’s hands once again who’s on the opposite side of the court from the hoop. Sam goes off of his first instinct, and tries to shoot it from all the way across the court, surprising no one when it doesn’t make it into the hoop.

“Oh, come on!” Sam yells in frustration.

Nat steals the ball from Clint who had picked it up after Sam’s shot and scores once more, and Steve makes a 2-pointer after taking the ball from Peter, who was trying his best to be as friendly as possible since he was still the new guy.

You furrow your brows in confusion as you hear an argument come from the corner of the warehouse, turning to see Sam trying to full-on wrestle the ball out of Jean’s hands.

“Back off!” Jean yells at him, but Sam ignores her as he gets the ball out of her grip.

He sprints, dribbling the ball to his side as he runs towards the hoop, but unfortunately, Vision steals the ball from him before he can make it, making another shot for the warehouse team instead.

Tony shakes his head. “All right, time out,” he says, making a T with his hands. “Office team, come on in.”

You all walk towards Tony who stands beside the bench, panting heavily and starting to sweat quite a bit.

“Ok, we’re down right now, guys, what do we do?”

“Run away and start a beet farm,” Sam suggests with a shrug.

“What? No,” Tony answers with a shake of his head.

“Switch Y/N and Sam,” Nat responds. “She’s the strongest on our team, and it looks like Vision is theirs.”

Wanda’s eyes widen as she overhears Nat’s suggestion from the bench.

“Yes, smart. Ok, Y/N, you take Vision. Sam, you’ll take T’Challa, got it?” He points to the two of you and you both nod in response.

Wanda shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“All right, everyone take it up a notch, come on!” Tony says with a clap, silently instructing you all to disperse across the court once more.

The ball goes back into play, Nat taking hold of it immediately, who quickly passes it to you, and you start to dribble your way toward the hoop. You’re about to score, but Steve blocks you with his arms out, along with Vision who stands at your side to prevent you from scoring as well.

You dribble the ball slightly, inching a bit closer to Steve before faking him out and turning to throw the ball over Vision’s head, scoring another point.

“Yes, let’s go!” Tony yells with a fist pump.

You jog back to the other side, giving Wanda a teasing nod as you pass her on the bench, and she watches your running form with a soft smile.

Peter grabs the ball from Clint, starting to dribble toward the hoop, but Sam steals it from him, making his first shot of the game.

“Same team Mr. Sam!” Peter yells, but Sam ignores him as he continues to cheer for himself.

The ball soon goes back into play, and you sprint as fast as you can after it. Steve gets ahold of it first, but gets blocked by Peter before he can go any further. You see Steve about to pass it to Vision and you quickly block him to try and catch the ball yourself. Vision growls, shoving you out of the way so you stand behind him so he can grab it instead.

The ball gets thrown into the air, the two of you shoving each other out of the way to try and take ahold of it. As you’re about to steal it successfully, your palms are right about to contact both sides of the ball, suddenly, something hits you right in the mouth. Hard.

You run off slightly with your hand on your mouth to check if you’re bleeding, and Wanda’s eyes widen with worry as she sits up slightly to see if you’re ok.

“Whoa! Whoa! Vision! Foul! Dude, you just clocked her right in the mouth with your elbow,” Tony says with shock. “Y/N, are you alright?”

Wanda tries to peer around the corner to check on you, her worry increasing by the second.

Once you walk back onto the court and nod that you’re ok, she exhales in relief, relaxing slightly.

The game soon restarts and the ball makes its way into your hands once more. You dribble the ball to the hoop, and right as you’re about to score, Vision stands in front of you, blocking you from making your shot. Dribbling the ball slightly, you fake him out on his right and quickly go around his left, scoring another point. Soon after, Vision is about to score when you steal the ball from him, and run towards your own hoop, scoring a 3-pointer for your team.

Wanda smiles as she watches you play.

Tony passes the ball to you and Vision quickly guards you by standing on your backside as the hoop is behind you. You fake him out once more and swivel around to score. However, as you do your move, he trips and falls over, making him skid a couple inches on the ground.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he says as he stands back up, brushing his shorts slightly.

“Hey, dude. That wasn’t her fault,” Tony says, pointing towards his untied shoelace.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he retorts, bumping your shoulder forcefully as he walks past you.

Wanda frowns as she watches the interaction.

Bruce lets you all know that the game is about to end in 2 minutes, and somehow Sam scores his second shot of the game after stealing the ball from Tony, making Tony roll his eyes despite being grateful for the additional point.

The game passes quickly, and suddenly, you all hear the blare of an airhorn being fired by Bruce to indicate that the game is over.

You stop running and try to catch your breath by putting your hands on your knees, feeling exhausted from all the exercise.

“And the winners are,” Bruce points to Jennifer to indicate for her to do a drum roll. “The office team by 10 points!” he announces.

You all cheer and high-five one another, and you receive a couple of compliments on your play making you smile.

Tony turns to the warehouse staff. “All right, great,” he claps. “Guess you guys are working Saturday.”

The warehouse workers groan, starting to walk out the door to go and change, but unfortunately, Vision has a different idea. “No, no, no, I’m not coming in on Saturday,” he says, stepping closer to Tony.

“Hey, come on, man, they won fairly.” Steve pats him on the back.

“No, no way, this isn’t happening, Rogers,” Vision replies, shoving Steve’s hand off of him aggressively and invading Tony’s personal space even more.

“Dude,” Tony gets his attention. “We won. You heard me at the beginning, whoever loses will come in on Saturday. That was the deal, alright?”

“I don’t care,” Vision snaps back. “We’re coming in on Monday, right?”

You sigh, noticing Vision’s fists clenched and the sign that he’s about to get physical. Slightly worried for Tony’s safety and because you were already tired, you decide it’s probably best to end the argument. “Hey, Tony,” you say softly. “It’s fine, we’ll come in on Saturday,” you comply.

Tony shakes his head. “No, Y/N, that won’t fly. We won fairly and this guy is just coming in here–”

“Tony, it’s fine,” you interrupt. “It probably wouldn’t have been good for morale anyways,” you reason.

“You know you basically won that game for us, right?” Tony says, utterly confused by your actions. “And now you’re completely discrediting your hard work–”

“Tony, don’t worry about it.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “You’re insane, Y/N.”

You shrug in response.

“Well?” Vision demands.

Tony looks over at you and you nod.

“Fine,” Tony relents. “We’ll come in on Saturday.”

Vision smiles smugly, and as leaves the two of you to head towards the bathroom, you hear his snark remark of, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You and Tony both watch him until he closes the bathroom door behind him, and you sigh as you go to pack up your stuff.

“I hate you,” Tony says behind you.

You nod, zipping up your bag and patting him on the shoulder.

“Well, you can yell at me on Saturday,” you respond, going to head upstairs to shower and change.

***

You were back in your work clothes now, staring into the most beautiful green eyes to ever exist as the recipient of them iced your lip for you.

“Wanda, this is completely unnecessary,” you tell her, sitting up slightly in the large chair across from her desk. “I’m fine.”

“I know, but it looked like it hurt, and this will prevent it from swelling,” she replies, sitting down on the arm of the chair. Wanda’s brows furrow in focus as she treats your barely qualified injury, while you watch the cute expression on her face, completely entranced. Somehow, every day you just fell more and more in love with her. And right now, you didn’t even care that you had to come in on Saturday. Just one moment with the most beautiful girl the world has ever known would make you do it again in a heartbeat.

“There, that should be good,” Wanda says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You laugh slightly. “You mean my non-existent injury healed already?”

Wanda slaps your arm. “I was worried, you idiot. And a thank you would be nice,” she returns as she walks back to her desk.

“Thank you, Wanda,” you say, leaning back in your chair with a smile, watching her.

She smiles gratefully as she sits back down in her chair.

You and Wanda start a small conversation between the two of you for the next few minutes, but unfortunately, your moment with the receptionist is cut short, as the devil himself walks in.

“Hey, baby,” Vision greets, looking over at you as he walks towards Wanda, limping slightly due to his fall you assume.

“Hey,” Wanda greets back as she starts to put her stuff away, Vision noticing you and giving you a grin.

“Look at Larry Bird, over here,” he says, nodding his head over at you. “Larry Legend.”

“Yeah, she’s, uh, she’s pretty good, huh?” Wanda agrees as she comes around her desk with her arms crossed, staring at you for a moment before grabbing Vision’s arm.

The two start to walk out together, and you wave goodbye to both of them as a silly smile makes its way onto your face.

part 6

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wandamaximoff #wanda maximoff fluff #marvel mcu #mcu #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel

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jjmbbg · 21 days ago

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"Healing the inner child"

cw: dean winchester x gn!reader, childhood mentioned, u making dean smile, just dean's birthday!!

tw: j*hn winchester mentioned 👹

an: i've never been to an amusement park, so idk what the fuck happens there lmao

(pics from pinterest)

Dean was never a normal kid. He always wanted to live things other kids lived, like eating ice cream with dad and Sam at a park, or even better, go to an amusement park. I always saw the tremendous machines when John drove along the road next to places like this, flashy with all their bright colors and music playing in the distance.

He casually mentioned it to you, in one of those moments where he drops the randomest/saddest part of his "lore", and you weren't in shock. You never met the father of your boyfriend, but with all the things you heard from him you hated the man's guts with your whole life.

"Where are we going exactly?" Dean asked, his tone playful.

"You'll see" you replied as you drove, matching his playfulness.

"Well... it's not like I can see much with this blindfold on" he chuckled, his laugh filling your heart in unimaginable ways.

"Good, good, because it's a surprise" you chuckled, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel.

"As long as you don't destroy my car, everything is fine" he teased, rubbing a hand over his face, discreetly trying to move the blindfold a little.

"Hey! Don't!" you swatted his hand smiling. "Don't try to get a peak, silly. You're in good hands"

Dean nodded, drumming his fingers on his lap at the rhythm of the music. With your peripheral vision, you could see a small smile on Dean's mouth, making you smile even more. One hand snaked towards his, intertwining flngers, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles, his cheeks picking some color, a light shade of pink.

"You're gonna like this" you promised, waiting in anticipation for Dean's reaction.

"Then I can't wait" Dean replied, that pretty smile of his adorning his face.

You kept driving for another hour, chatting Dean up —mostly to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep— and sang a few songs together during the remainder of the trip. When you arrived at your destination, you turned off the car engine and smiled, patting his knee.

"We're here" you told him, unbuckling your seatbelt as he did the same.

"Yeah? Can I take this off then?" Dean pointed at the blindfold, smirking.

"Nope, not yet. Just wait up" you giggled stepping out of the car and circled it. You opened his door and gently pulled him by the hands, helping him to get outside of the vehicle.

As he stepped out of the car, the sound of children's laughter, music and the aroma of junk food reached his ears and nose, raising his curiosity.

"Where are we?" he questioned when you closed the door and locked the car. You guided him lots of steps forward, giggling every once in a while. "You gonna answer to me?" he teased.

"Shh" you poked his side playfully. When you had gone far enough, you squeezed his arm smiling. "Take it off" you instructed, eyes shining with love and that anticipation that was being built for a couple of hours inside of you.

Dean removed the blindfold, arranging his hair in passing, his eyes adjusting to the sunrays that reached his face. He blinked slowly until his eyes focused on the huge door of the enclosure in front of you two.

It was an amusement park.

He looked at you confused, then back at the place, and again at you.

"Why are we here?" Dean raised an eyebrow, smiling amused. "Do we have a case or something like that?"

You chuckled and shook your head, caressing his bicep above his jacket. "None of that, silly. I brought you here to have fun!" you pointed out, nudging his side.

And oh, God... the sparkle in his eyes and incredulous smile was one of the best things you could have ever seen. He looked at you, almost like he couldn't believe it.

"Are you serious?" he asked with soft voice, but you knew beneath his relaxed and smiley surface, he was jumping like a dog in a park or like a kid in a candy store.

"More serious than ever" you replied, walking inside the place with your arm linked with his. "You said you've never been to an amusement park, so I started searching the internet until I found this one, and here we are. C'mon, c'mon, we have a lot to see!"

You entered the place, your eyes following Dean's movements and expressions, enamored by the fascination on his face; he had that childish look on his eyes that melted your heart.

You took him on almost every ride and attraction, memorizing every cute expression on his face, every laugh, every time he closed his eyes while riding a ride with sudden movements, every time he squeezed your hand, every kiss he gave you... they were the things that stayed deeper in your brain.

Now, with dusk falling, the sunlight marking his features as he ate a burger, you patted his knee. "We have two things left" you told him, stealing with your other hand a french fry from the little basket, your half-eaten burger next to the fries.

"As long as it's not eating cotton candy again, I'm in" he said, cleaning his mouth and smirking. "I swear that thing will make me throw up again"

"No, no, this is more... relaxed" you wiggled your eyebrows, clapping your hands on his forearm rhythmically. "You done?" you asked, leaning your head on your hand, smiling widely.

"Mhm" Dean hummed, giving you the last french fry that was left in the basket in your mouth. "Now, what else you have planned for us?"

"Follow me" you instructed, standing up from the chair and squeezed his shoulders. "C'mooon"

The hunter chuckled, standing up and letting you pull him by the hand among the people walking around. He was smiling widely, the idea of being in an amusement park sticking to his head, and it was a better experience knowing he was sharing it with you.

After dragging him around for a while, you stood up next to a photo booth and pointed it at him smiling. "C'mon"

"Huh? Why?" he raised an eyebrow, poking your side with his fingers, making you squirm.

"Cut it out!" you said, swatting his hands away playfully. "C'mon, I wanna have a memory of this day and a piece of paper with our faces certainly plays its role. Pleeeease"

Dean sighed heavily, pretending to be against the idea, but then scooped you in his arms and walked inside the photo booth, both of you sitting in the small place. After paying, the poses were really a dilemma, between kisses and hugs, you two in the photos certainly looked blurry, but that gave it a bit of magic.

Now, with pictures in your and his wallet, you guided him to the final attraction. The Ferris wheel had the peculiar characteristic of being the one with the most lights and the most people in line. The wait was a bit tedious, but it was worth it when you got on, enjoying the slow ride.

You linked your arm with his, leaning your head on his shoulder, Dean unconsciously leaning his on yours.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked softly, eyes fixed on the sky as his hand squeezed your thigh.

"Because everyone deserves a little cotton candy" you replied matching his tone of voice. He chuckled at that comment, shaking his head to look at you on the eye. "And... and because I wanted to see that pretty smile of yours"

"Do you, huh?" Dean raised an eyebrow, eyes filled with love and gratitude, heart beating faster.

"Of course. For you, anything"

Dean pulled back from you and looked down at your face, before cupping your cheek gently and plant a kiss on your lips, savoring the sweetness of your mouth.

"Happy birthday, Dean" you whispered breaking the kiss for a few seconds, making him smile before kissing you again.

#dean winchester #dean winchester post #dean winchester drabble #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #supernatural #amusement park #drabble #happy birthday dean

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inneedofsupervision · 4 months ago

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Vis's Tickle-Fic Recommendations

Do you sometimes find yourself on this site, scrolling and searching for fics, thinking you have probably read everything your favorite fandom has to offer when it comes to tickle fanfics? Well, you might be right, that could be the case. But there's also the possibility that you missed something. Sometimes, even the most impressive works don't show up, thanks to many factors that we don't always have an influence over. This list contains several writers and their works that have left a great impression on me and which I would recommend to others. If you are searching for tickle fanfics that are very well written, fluffy, sometimes silly (in the best way possible), detailed, or put a smile on your face, maybe you should check out this list. You might find something you haven't read before or find a beloved favorite to re-read.

Disclaimer; As mentioned, this list is purely based on fanfics I have read, of fandoms I am into, and that I (personally) enjoyed. It might not be to everyone's taste.

I have not listed the fics or writers in any particular order. I selected some works of each writer but most of them have written so much more so please check out their other works too.

Links are provided to help you find the blog, fanfics or the corresponding Ao3/Fanfic.net account.

The List will be updated with time (if I have found more stuff to recommend).

Check out the writers and their works under the cut!

@derdunkleengel

Her works are the first contact I had with tickle fanfics and the reason why I write tickle fanfics myself. Reading her fanfics, you can feel the amount of work she puts into every sentence. You'll find long, high-quality fics containing detailed reactions and much adoration for all the characters. She has posted works of many different fandoms and has much to offer. You should definitely check her Fanfic.net Account and Tumblr out.

Recommendations:

Venom

Have a very Happy New Year (Eddie and Venom)

The Bet (Eddie and Venom)

A strange weakness (Eddie and Venom)

Just relax Eddie (Eddie and Venom)

New Year's resolutions (Eddie and Venom)

Guardians of the Galaxy

Captain teaches a lesson ( Peter and Yondu)

Scared of Aliens, boy? (Peter and Yondu)

That is what friends are there for (Peter, Gamora and Mantis)

Supernatural

No more bible talk Cas (Castiel and Dean)

The Happy Button (Adam, Lucifer and Michael)

Wrestling with an Angel (Castiel and Dean)

Even Angel are Ticklish (Castiel, Sam and Dean)

Sensitive Knees (Sam, Castiel and Dean)

I'll show you how to have fun (Sam and Gabriel)

Also writes for/ has written for: Hazbin Hotel, Iron Man, The Legends of Zelda, Grey's Anatomy, Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, Lucifer and many more!

@littlelovelyspiderling

Here we are with another writer who goes all in at every fanfic they work on. If you're into long fanfics with not only tickles, fluff, and friendship but also want some well-thought-through plot, detailed reactions, and descriptive writing that pulls you into the story, you're at the right place. You do not only find them on Tumblr, but they also own an Ao3 Account you should check out too.

Recommendations:

Spider-Man / The Avengers

A Sinister Situation (Peter and the Sinister Six)

Dailed to Eleven (Peter and Tony)

Interrogation (Peter, Scott, Steve, and Bucky)

Tickle Monsters (Peter, Sam and Bucky)

ATLA (Avatar the last Airbender)

The Competition (Zuko, Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka)

Mending (Zuko, Aang, Toph, Katara and Sokka)

Legacy (Zuko and Iroh)

Also writes non-tickle fanfics like their SpideyTorch Fanfic "Meeting the Real You". If you are into SpideyTorch and love long fanfics you should check it out.

@amazingmsme

The following two fics left a great impression on me, I absolutely adore them. Sadly I'm not into any of the other fandoms, but you should defenitely check this blog if the fandoms mentioned below are what you are into. This blog has a lot of fics, drabbles and prompts to over and is very active, there is a lot of content (not only t-fics) to check out!

Recommendations

Spider-Man / The Avengers

Avenger Hazing (Peter, Bucky and Sam)

Swatting More Than Flies (Peter, Bucky and Sam)

Also writes/wrote for: New Girl, Spies are Forever, Umbrella Academy, Marvel, Stranger Things and more!

@cantwritethetword

If you're looking for fanfics with the topics of friendship, banter, playfulness and of course the tickles, Crow's blog might offer you the perfect deal with all of that. You can read his works on his Ao3 Account too!

Recommendations

Marvel (Daredevil, Avengers, Spidey etc)

Good Vibrations (Matt and Foggy)

Blind Man's Bluff (Matt and Foggy)

Shenanigans (Tony, Steve and Bucky)

Show Me What You Got! (Peter and Quentin)

Don't Stop Believing (Steve, Bucky and Thor)

This is a prompt I really like so no title (Peter and Bucky)

Every Hero Has An Achilles Heel (Steve, Bucky and Peter)

Also writes /wrote for: Heartstopper, DC, Merlin, Moon Knight. Doctor Who and many more!

@lovemybluebully

You might have caught onto my obsession with Marvel tickle fanfics... But how can I stop when there are writers like @lovemybluebully, who create one masterpiece after another? They know how to catch the essence of every character. They are also active on Fanfic.net, so check that out.

Recommendations

Venom

Apologize!! (Eddie and Venom)

Is This a Joke? (Eddie and Venom)

Let's Be Lazy (Eddie and Venom)

Share Or Die (Eddie and Venom)

Deadpool & Wolverine

It's for Science (Logan and Wade)

Over My Dead Body (Logan and Wade)

How To Pet A Wolverine (Logan and Wade)

A Small Lapse of Judgement (Wade and Logan)

Also writes/wrote for: X-Men, Overwatch and Punisher!

@berrys-hide-out

A new writer who knows how to write fluff and playfullness very well. The following two fics never fail to make me smile. Does also likes to create OCs and also writes non-tickle fics.

Recommendations

Break time, webbing and play time (Peter and Tony)

Run (Peter and Loki)

Also writes/wrote for: All Saints Street, Eighty Six 86, Genshin Impact and more!

#vis's recommendations #fanfic rec #tickle fanfic #tickling #marvel tickle fics #marvel #supernatural #supernatural tickle fics #venom #iron man #spider man #daredevil #captain america #atla #deadpool & wolverine #deadpool #wolverine #guardians of the galaxy

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zwoftt · 8 months ago

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holy shit dog. episode fucking 98.

so what’s the thoughts guys ???

where do you guys think dorym is gonna go in ep99?? any predictions? since we all thought we’d see a pretty emotional scene between them during dorian’s dominox influence and then we DIDNT…. (to be fair it wasn’t long like chetney’s anyway) i’m kinda now trying to predict things a bit differently …

though! the two little dorym scenes this episode are not unnoticed at all!!!! - orym immediately asking if dorian was okay after he’s flashed back into reality, and continues to try and comfort dorian afterwards “it’s not real.” and the worried expression orym makes when dorian deflects everybody’s help and pries the skeleton open “DONT TOUCH ME! LET ME DO THIS.” holy FUCK robbie daymond acting. it’s so JUICY. and then also later when dorian knocks on the door, to which orym does a little face palm (they are married, your honor. husband behavior.) not to mention all the facial expression reactions to the flirting between braius and dorian/braius and orym… both liam and robbie looked like they wanted to say something, but just laughed instead when it happened to each other’s characters. ALSO ALSO ORYM VERY CLEARLY AVOIDING THE QUESTION IF HES SINGLE OR NOT!!!! AGH? orym “it’s complicated” of the air ashari???!!

we might see a scene later on, like orym confronts dorian about the vision during a long rest or something… but yeah?? ITS SCARY. STOP IT CR. STOP BEING UNPREDICTABLE.

but the insider information about dorian’s other half of personality is so great this episode. you have the charming, humble dorian… and then you have the stage fright, overwhelmed, stressed out, self-loathing dorian. — “YOU’RE A BARD! YOU’RE A BARD!” dorian is SOO DEEP and i cannot wait for more of his story.

and also with the new cowman addition... do you guys think sam would have his character purposely flirt with all of them purely to cause drama within the ships? for as chaotic as sam is….

anyway doomseed is fucking hot asf and him n dorian are going to be causing immense bardic ruin in the coming episode; that’s about all i can predict. dorian “we’re losers baby” storm hes so silly i love him.

but hey what about you guys??? whatcha think??? LET ME KNOW !!! also what the fuck was that endcard about ‘downfall’ episodes? that’s not going to change when bells hells episode 99 comes out (next thursday) right??? am i tweaking? WHEN DOES THE NEXT BELLS HELLS EPISODE DROP?

#dorym #critical role #dorian storm #orym of the air ashari #bells hells #campaign 3 #dorian x orym #c3 #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #c3ep98 #that liveshow was pretty dope though!!!#braius doomseed

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fandomregression · 5 months ago

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dean winchester as a cg would absolutely have a scale of nicknames for his little all totally based on pie.

the basic nickname, the one used all the time is just cutie pie. no matter what, his little is a cutie pie

the next step up in sweetness-scale would be either pumpkin pie or honey pie. these are when he's laying the affection on THICK. often followed by cheek squishing and lotsa hugs

blueberry pie and apple pie might seem like steps down in the cuteness scale, but they ARE a step up on the silliness scale. he uses these a lot when they're playing together/rough-housing and when it's tickles time

key lime pie is the next step up on the silliness scale, and this is usually reserved for when his regressor is trying to be a sneaky baby and he catches them. nothin makes someone unable to hide how small they feel more than "well, what do we have here? a little key lime cutie pie?"

the next step up on the cuteness/sweetness scale, though, is sweet potato pie. it might get some odd looks, but it just makes so many giggles and it's so cute to say that he loves it, but it's effectiveness is based on its rarity

there are a few one-offs that get used especially when his regressor is sad. it's hard to cry when dean calls them a peanut butter chocolate mousse pie or an apple and blue cheese hand pie

(if he calls his regressor a hand pie, it's usually coupled with him putting his hands on either side of their face and squishing their cheeks)

sam tells him he will run out of new silly nicknames eventually. dean takes this as a personal challenge. he has a list, and every restaurant they stop at he will write down the list of pies available just to get more material

oh, and when he's expecting to have his little with him, if they don't show up/aren't with sam or cas, his immediate reaction:

#fandom agere #age regression #sfw agere #🧸headcanons #spn agere #cg dean #i have put so much thought into this for some reason haha #the thought of dean calling me a sweet potato pie has taken over my mind and im giggling #im not even a huge spn person anymore i just. clenches fist. love spn agere

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nox140497 · 1 year ago

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Play fighting

Prompt: No

Request: No

Prompt Number: None

Summery: Y/N play figjting with her boyfriend

Pairings: Sam Golbach x Female Reader

Author's Note: Inspired by @iateyourparents

Masterlist

Prompt List https://www.tumblr.com/nox140497/739150916168581120/prompt-list?source=share

_______________________________

Y/N and her boyfriend, Sam Golbach, were always a playful and energetic couple. They were known among their friends for their constant teasing and pranks, but their favorite way to have fun was through play fighting.

It all started one lazy Sunday morning, when Y/N and Sam were cuddled up on the couch watching a movie. Sam playfully poked Y/N's side, causing her to jump and squeal. She retaliated by tickling him, and soon they were engaged in a full-blown tickle war, laughing and giggling like children.

But as the tickle fight came to an end, they both realized how much they enjoyed their playful banter and decided to take it to the next level – play fighting. From then on, they made it a regular part of their relationship.

They would often challenge each other to spontaneous battles, using anything they could find as 'weapons.' A pillow, a spatula, even a roll of paper towels became a tool in their playful fights. Their living room would turn into a battlefield, with cushions scattered everywhere and laughter filling the air.

It wasn't just about throwing punches and kicks, it was about being silly and having fun. They would come up with ridiculous ninja moves and over-the-top reactions, making each other burst into fits of laughter.

Their play fighting antics continued outside of the house as well. Whether they were waiting in line at a store or walking down the street, Y/N and Sam would find a way to sneak in a quick punch or playful shove. They were like two kids who never grew up, and they loved every minute of it.

Their friends and family often rolled their eyes at their antics, but secretly they were envious of the fun and love that Y/N and Sam shared. They admired their ability to let loose and be completely themselves with each other.

But the most special aspect of their play fighting was the connection it brought them as a couple. It was a way for them to bond and show their love for one another. They didn't need to say 'I love you' because their playful actions spoke volumes.

One day, as they were practicing some new fighting moves in the park, Sam suddenly stopped and got down on one knee. Y/N's heart raced as he pulled out a ring, his face serious for once.

'I know we always joke around and play fight, but I want to make this a lifetime commitment,' Sam said, his eyes full of love and sincerity. Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she said yes and they sealed it with a playful high-five.

From that day on, their playful fights took on a new meaning. It wasn't just about having fun, it was a reminder of the love and commitment they shared as a couple. And even though they were now engaged, they knew that their play fighting would always be a cherished part of their relationship.

#sam and colby #xplr #sam golbach #sam golbach x you #sam golbach x reader

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abiiors · 1 year ago

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sfw alphabet ❣️ // matty healy x reader

a/n: there is one story in here that is based on true events from my life hehehe. also while we're here i'd like to say that i tried veryyyy hard to keep it strictly sfw but some innuendos did slip through lol cw: mostly fluff, very brief mentions of addiction. brief mentions of morning sickness, some angst but it's very tame overall wc: 5.6k

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

matty’s like if you fed a stray cat that one time five months ago—meaning, he’s going to be the most affectionate person ever if you show him even one act of kindness. it doesn’t matter what your relationship to him is, it’s just a given at this point that if you’re close to him, he’s going to go above and beyond for you.

you get your first taste of it when you show up to his house, on the verge of tears and a panic attack from the stress of an upcoming deadline. it’s three weeks into dating, you’re barely even sure if you should be bothering him with your silly little problems (even though later he would scold you for calling them silly little problems).

matty opens the door, takes one look at your face, and instantly pull you into a hug.

“oh, darling, what’s wrong?” his voice is full of concern and you suspect there’s a giant frown on his face.

“everything!”

a little giggle slips out of him and he has to press his mouth shut when you look up at him with a betrayed pout.

“everything? hmm, we gotta do something about that then, don’t we?”

and then that’s exactly what he does.

“should we light a fire?” matty asks once he’s got you a glass of wine (your favourite that he found out about and now always keeps on hand) “you love a good fire.”

“and we can read together?”

“anything you want, baby!”

and even though his face twists into an expression of instant regret as soon as he says it, matty still proceeds to make a fire while you set up blankets and pillows on the sofa. he knows exactly what’s coming though (no seriously, he fondly likes to call your kindle unlimited subscription the bane of his existence)

still, twenty minutes later, snuggled up next to you and cringing through every bad sex scene, he can’t complain. not when he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck and hear you laugh at his reactions.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

loyal to a fault!!!

you can pinpoint the actual date the two of you became friends—years and years and years ago, practically decades at this point, at the ripe old age of fourteen, you got into your first fight.

you can’t remember how the fight started or who it was with. all you know if there were a few words, someone pulling your hair and the next thing you know, you were on the ground, trying to hit any vulnerable spot you could find.

the memories after that are fuzzy—you, school uniform undone, dried blood on your split lip, toeing the grass outside your school and trying not to look nervous. what if some teacher saw it?

you didn’t throw the first punch! what if—

“you look like you could use a fag!” a voice cuts through. it’s a boy you’ve sometimes seen around school. black hair (awfully straightened), a unibrow, thick black glasses, always surrounded by the same three boys.

“i don’t smoke,” you counter and go back to torturing the poor grass.

“i didn’t ask if you smoked, just said you look like you could use one.”

what. a. fucking. twat!

still, you aren’t much in the mood for an argument. “don’t wanna get in trouble.”

the boy shrugs. “you’re already in trouble, mate. but whatever.”

he’s about to leave when you grab his arm. “no wait. why are you being nice to me?”

at that, he grins. “are you joking? we all saw what you did to sam! biggest fucking bully in class and you looked like a badass putting him in his place.”

“wait, really? you really think that?”

“ask george,” (you don’t know who george is) “or ross or adam,” (you don’t know who they are either) “we all think you’re fucking cool.”

that makes you smile too. you hiss quickly though, smiling with a split lip hurts but he extends the cigarette to you once again.

and this time, you accept it gladly.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

clingiest man in the whole wide world!!! he has to be attached to you at all times otherwise he’s gonna have that horrendously sad little pout on his face all day.

if you’re just at home, watching something on tv then his head is on your boobs (or in your lap but boobs is preferred though) while you play with his hair. every once in a while he nuzzles his face between them and says something that suspiciously sounds like “comfy”

he’s cute though! and it’s not always sexual. you love the fact that he feels so much adoration for you.

if you’re in bed though, you end up being the little spoon because he absolutely loves to flop on you and cover you with his entire body. he’s deliciously warm and smells so incredible (and he smells like home to you). you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve fallen asleep like that—with his face buried in your neck, his stubble scratching the skin. and even when his arm falls asleep, he won’t make you move your head at the risk of waking you up.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he is a brilliant house-husband (and that’s a title he’s claimed on his own).

“no, go sit down babe, let me take care of that for you” or “let me cook for you tonight” or “should i do the laundry while you finish your movie?” are definitely regular matty sentences arround the house.

the few weeks when he’s just gotten back from a tour and wants to do nothing but sleep all day long are probably the only time you do all the chores while he’s also in the house. he does get huffy when he realises you didn’t wake him up and ask for help.

“i could’ve hoovered,” he pouts but it melts away quickly when you pull him into a kiss.

“i know you could have, love, but you looked so peaceful sleeping i didn’t wanna bother you!”

he isn’t very happy about that but he silently vows to stay up and help you the next time.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he doesn’t want to let go no matter how much the relationship deteriorates. he knows he can fix this and turn back time and bring back the spark. he knows the weekly fights are just a phase, he knows you love him so much!

deep down, he also knows he’s delusional.

you’re sleeping in two different rooms again, you in the guest bedroom, and he’s in your cold, empty bed. and there’s no way he can sleep that night judging by all the tossing and turning he’s done so far. your latest fight echoes in his head—all the nasty things he said, all the vile things you responded with.

just fuck off then, and don’t bother me again! those were your last words of the night before you slammed the door shut and the loud, defining thud echoed through the whole house.

when morning finally arrives, he knows he has to do it.

he knows he owes you at least this much. to break it off with dignity. to salvage whatever shreds of friendship and love that remain between you.

“we need to talk,” he says as soon as you enter the kitchen, eyes swollen and red and surrounded by bags. lips dry and chapped.

still, you nod. and matty extends you a steaming mug of coffee for the last time.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he is so down to commit!

he’s started planning a proposal like a year into the relationship. he hasn’t bought the ring yet or anything! in fact, he’s not going to buy a ring at all. not when he plans on giving you his grandmother’s precious ring that she wore every single day until the day she died.

however, he knows the timing's not right. you’re both so busy and you’ve just started a new job. he has a few more tours coming up for the next two years. and well, he has his best friend’s wedding coming up soon, he’s not about to be the dickhead that proposes at someone else’s wedding.

so matty keeps the proposal contained to his day dreams.

he knows it’s going to be at home (he knows how much you despise public proposals) and he knows it’s going to be during the golden hour when you cuddle into him like a sleepy cat. he loves this routine—you, sleepy and gasping for a nap, plopping onto him when he’s just doing his own thing in the living room.

he loves how content you look in the dying light of the sun. how happy and beautiful and utterly perfect.

and matty knows, when he eventually gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, that’s when it’s going to have to be!

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

so incredibly gentle!

you can’t remember a single time matty’s ever raised his voice at you. he used to be your pretty, dainty boy but he’s started working out now and he’s got muscles (which you find extremely hot. he’s also got a cute little bubble butt that you love to slap). it’s not that he’s unaware of his own strength but now he puts extra effort in being gentler if you two ever get into a play fight.

he makes sure to never fully pin you down (unless you ask for it 👀) or put his whole weight on you.

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves them on most days.

his hugs are always the absolute best! it’s like being surrounded by all things matty—his cologne and aftershave, his arms, the softness of his shirt and the feel of his chin on top of your head. you think a hug from matty is the closest you’ll ever come to having a universal cure for every ailment ever.

on some days he gets quite overstimulated though. you can see it on his face when every single sensation becomes a bit too much and as much as you want to bundle him up, you try to give him his space. to let him calm down a bit. you can always just sit there and hold his hand if that’s all the touch he can bear for the moment.

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

one month in, completely on accident!

you’re sick with the bubonic plague (a cold) and rotting in bed, surrounded by used tissues, half-empty cups of lemsip, and your trusty little comfort plush. matty’s in full nurse mode, despite you telling him that it’s nothing, you’ll be fine if he left.

it’s only when george calls him for something work related that he relents.

“let me check your fever one last time before i go,” he insists and you roll your eyes. but you have no other choice but to give in. it’s a 100 degrees, exactly what it was an hour ago. not too bad at all, but matty frowns.

“i’ll be back in a few hours, darling, you have to promise to call me if you need anything okay?”

“i will!” you croak out and wince when your throat protests. “now go.”

he holds his hands up in surrender and bends down to press a kiss on your head.

“don’t wanna get you sick matty,” you try to protest weakly but even then you know it’s useless. he’s going to do whatever he wants.

“go to sleep now,” he says, “i’ll see you soon. i love you!” and then he leaves.

ten minutes later, when it finally registers in your fever addled brain, your entire body goes cold. did he—

did you hear it right? no… it’s just the fever right? you’re sick! that must be it.

little do you know, matty had to sit down outside your room for a good two minutes before he could leave the house. and now that he’s in the studio, distractedly working on producing a track, he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they’re jealous?)

he used to get soooo jealous back when you were “just friends”! (he still is, he just thinks he hides it better)

the first time you really clock it is when you bring a friend to one of their shows. you know sean’s been a fan of theirs for a bit and frankly, you’re quite excited about introducing him to the band.

matty, however, is as far away from excitement as one can get.

he tries to mask his unease, and greets you with a forced smile. “heard you were our special guest, mate,” he nods in sean’s direction and puts his arm around your waist. “hope you enjoyed the show?”

if sean finds any of it weird, he doesn’t say it. he’s smiles bashfully and gushes about how much fun it’s been. you, on the other hand…

“matty…?” you say as soon as you get a moment alone with him.

he’s outside smoking a cigarette staring off into the distance. his jaw looks sharper than it usually does, his lips are pursed in a straight line. you take a deep breath, contemplating whether to address the obvious tension or let it slide. the distant city lights flicker in the background as you approach him, and he finally turns his attention towards you, exhaling a plume of smoke.

"alright?" your tone is a mix of concern and curiosity. when his eyes meet yours, for a moment, it feels like he's searching for the right words.

he shrugs, attempting a nonchalant smile. but you can see through it. so you fold your arms, giving him a knowing look.

matty sighs, stubbing out his cigarette. he leans against the venue's brick wall, avoiding direct eye contact. “thought we were going out for drinks later. just us two you know?”

ahhhh. so that’s what it is.

a tiny tendril of something shoots through your stomach, does something funny to your entire body.

“we are,” you try to stifle a smile. “do you not want to anymore?”

“what? no!” matty sputters, “i mean, yes! of course, i want to get drinks with you, i just thought…”

“you just thought?”

“well you brought a… friend.”

it becomes almost impossible to hide a smile then, and matty narrows his eyes. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses and narrows his eyes further when you burst into a fit of giggles.

“he’s going home in a bit,” you manage to recover a bit. “you’re stuck with just me i’m afraid.”

that makes matty shake his head and you can finally see a tiny smile peaking through.

“just you… hmm,” he teases. “guess i’ll have to make do with that.”

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his kisses always leave you a little breathless.

it doesn’t matter if it’s your first kiss of the day or if he’s been particularly affectionate or if he’s kissed you all over the face—you somehow always end up giggling like a teenager with a crush with your head spinning slightly.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

so good, it gives you immense baby fever for the next few weeks.

it’s three months into your relationship when his mum insists you spend christmas with their family and you agree to it happily!

his entire family is there! his mum and step-father, his brother and his girlfriend, his dad, his step-brother who’s just had a baby. and that’s the moment you know you’re about to suffer from raging baby fever.

the whole weekend matty is absolutely adorable with the baby. you see him offer to take care of her and feed and change her, you see him making her laugh and smile, but it’s when you see him singing her to sleep, that’s when you truly lose it.

matty doesn’t even know you’re watching him, he's completely immersed in singing his own rendition of you are my sunshine while the baby stares at him with sleepy eyes. but it almost makes you weep when she clutches his finger in her tiny hand and starts to dose off.

the image lingers in the forefront of your mind even when you’re trying to sleep, being spooned by matty and under a cosy duvet. so much so that you have to turn around and bury your face in his chest to stop yourself from squealing at the cuteness.

he’s long asleep by then though. all he does is tighten his hold around you and you’re left to dream of a tiny baby with your eyes and matty’s curls.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

when you’re not getting off to… other things… mornings are usually very calm and chill. more often than not, one of you wakes the other with a steaming mug of coffee. if it’s a busy day and you don’t have much time to be lazy and cuddly, you just chat about your plans for the day while having coffee and some breakfast.

if it is a lazy day, however, breakfast usually turns into brunch in bed, followed by a nice, long bath full of bubbles!

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

nights are just as sweet and way more cuddly.

both of you have a little ritual of reading in bed before going to sleep if you aren’t… otherwise occupied. still, he loves to just sit there and listen to you talk about your day or your work in general.

it always makes you laugh how excited he gets about any work gossip you might have for him.

overall, your nights together are so relaxing and sweet and genuinely make you appreciate him so much more.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

in all fairness you knew much more about matty than he knew about you. he’s always been so open about his friendships and music and all his struggles, still, you knew hearing it from him first hand was going to be different. and you also expected it to take some time.

he doesn’t reveal it all at once though, he thinks he’s trying to make it more palatable for you if he talks about stuff bit by bit.

you’re special to him. he doesn’t want to scare you away by trauma dumping outright! it takes him a bit to open up completely, even when you show him nothing but support. but the more he shares with you, the deeper he falls in love. the more it becomes clear to him that you’re here to stay.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

anger isn’t the right word for it really! mostly he just gets annoyed sometimes—like a sweet little toddler with his cheeks puffed up it’s almost funny if it wasn’t so downright adorable. he can’t stay annoyed though! one kiss from you (even though it’s usually multiple in quick succession. a strategic attack really!) his annoyance melts away like butter on toast.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

matty’s like a walking encyclopaedia for trivia related to you and your relationship! he might not remember what he ate for dinner the night before, but he remembers exactly what earrings you wore for your music awards with him.

you do cheekily quiz him sometimes, and matty just smirks like an insufferable twat. “you can try all you want, love, you can’t best me at this game.” he grins.

“oh yeah? that’s a lot of cockiness healy!”

“go on then, quiz me!” he challenges and you smirk back.

“what did i say before i kissed you for the first time? four years ago that is! i need it verbatim, babe.”

for a moment he looks speechless and the smile on your face widens. it was four years ago after all. you’ve had infinite kisses since then, there’s no way he remembers. definitely not verbatim.

matty stalks closer. “you said…” he drawls between one long stride and the next and then he’s right there in front of you, mouth hovering over yours. so close your lips are almost touching. the air between you two feels charged with lightning.

“you said, you wanted to do this, and i quote ‘since the first time you fixed my smudged lipstick with your thumb’.” and before you have the chance to even react, he’s crashing his mouth on yours, smiling against your lips.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

it’s been fondly dubbed as “the mayhem disaster”.

one morning you hear matty go, “no, no, no, mayhem!” you put your book aside, and sit up to listen the curses that follow.

“everything alright?” you call out, confused and curious.

“babe, can you come here a sec?” he responds, making you groan into your cosy cocoon you'd made for yourself. it rained all night before, and now the weather’s just the perfect combination of gloomy and cosy—perfect to cuddle with your boyfriend all day.

which is what you had been doing until ten minutes ago when matty had to get up to let mayhem out into the backyard.

you turn the corner into the living room only to freeze in your tracks and slap your hand on your mouth, still failing to stifle the loud gasp that leaves you.

in front of you sits matty, on the floor, his head in his hands and next to him stands mayhem. except his gorgeous black fur is now fully covered and matted with mud

behind him, you can see muddy tracks and stray leaves he's brought in.

“oh no…” you don’t know if you should laugh or cry at the scene in front of you.

“baby…” you coo softly, both at matty and mayhem, “what happened?”

“he ran straight for a puddle the second i let him out, didn’t you, you twat?” he scolds the pup making you tsk.

that makes him laugh though. shaking his head, matty gets off the floor.

“well, come on you, straight to the bathroom,” he points a finger in the vague direction.

when the two of you finally manage to get him in the tub, matty starts running a bath while you rummage through the cabinet for pet shampoo.

“be a good boy now,” you scratch mayhem behind his ear, grimacing at the mud that’s now under your fingernails.

you crouch down to his level, softly grabbing his face and about to start cleaning. but of course, he takes it as an invitation to play and begins nuzzling you with his head, trying to climb on you.

matty laughs, making absolutely no move to help you. mayhem, covered in mud, tries to climb on you as you try to set him back into the tub gently. but it’s far too late, you’re already covered in mud.

“fuck! my favourite t-shirt!” you whine, looking down at yourself in despair.

“it’s not even yours,” matty laughs while you scowl at him. “besides,” he waggles his eyebrows, “you can always take it off.”

“pervert,” you laugh at him and then proceed to take it off in one fluid motion and chuck it at his face.

your eyes widen when the t-shirt slides off his face, leaving a perfectly round muddy mark on his cheek.

“you got mud on my face, didn’t you?” he dips a hand in the tub and you know what’s coming. “didn’t you?!” he asks again before splashing a handful of water on you.

you squeal as he grabs your waist, pulling you closer, rubbing his cheek against your face, neck, chest.

“matty!” you laugh, trying to get away from him but he holds on tight. “get her, mayhem, get her,’ he giggles and the puppy covers you in wet kisses once again.

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

he’s always been protective of you, especially when you’re in public. he doesn’t have to worry about the fans being rude or agressive, but the same can’t be said about random photographers and tabloids.

you thought you knew the extent of his protectiveness. all of that changed the moment you found out you were expecting.

you thought you knew his mother hen tendencies inside and out, turns out you were absolutely dead wrong! matty hovers. so. much.

he’s there, holding your hair every time you find yourself throwing up. he’s there cancelling on appointments and on the boys on days he deems the morning sickness “too serious”. most of all, he won’t let you go up or down the stairs alone. at all.

“i’m pregnant, matty, not an invalid!” you whine one evening when you feel him hovering behind you as you make your way up the stairs.

“i know,” he drags it out as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “i’m just making extra sure.”

your eye twitches. “making sure of what? that the stair monster doesn’t get me?”

you kow he’s rolling his eyes without being able to see his face. “alright, smartarse. i meant more if you got dizzy halfway up or down the stairs.”

“i’ll sit down!”

he hmphs, completely dismissing that logic.

“baby, the stairs have a railing for a reason!”

he hmphs again. “didn’t know it was a crime to make sure my girls were safe!”

that makes you sigh. this is a petty squabble—it’s not your first, it certainly won’t be your last. once you reach the top of the stairs, you turn to face him with another long sigh. “look, baby, i appreciate the concern, but i'm not made of glass. i can handle a flight of stairs without a chaperone.”

“indulge me, okay! we can have this argument every time, or you can just ignore my presence when you’re going up or down the stairs. either way, i’m going to hover.”

“matty!”

but you know it’s useless. besides, his stubbornness is almost endearing. and between that and the pampering that comes with the protectiveness, you might as well just give up your stance now…

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts in so much thought! it has been like this since date one—since he made sure to accommodate your likes and dislikes and food preferences in finding the perfect place to eat. even after all these years, he takes his time to plan out everything. even if it’s just an at home pamper day for you while he does all the chores.

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

it’s a low hanging fruit but… the excessive smoking annoys you sometimes. especially because his voice is his job. you’ve told him multiple times to tone it down a little and it’s not like he doesn’t listen. it just… doesn’t always stick.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

depends on where he has to go and what the occasion is. he’ll be dressed to the nines if he has to accompany you to a party or an event but usually he’s fine being in soft comfy clothes that keep him cosy

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes!

this literally needs zero explanation.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

pots and pans clatter; great, banging sounds first thing in the morning in an otherwise serene kitchen. it wouldn’t be like this, not really but you’re both incredibly sleepy. two figures, one tall and hunched over, the other smaller, softer. cuddled into him. the kitchen is awash in the early morning light, too early if you were to be asked but you’re okay with it. you’re happy and content as long as you get to stay stuck to matty’s side.

he cracks an egg.

“a sunny side up? still want that?” he asks and then laughs to himself. it’s an inside joke to him because, in the end, you’re going to end up stealing the eggs on his plate (a soft scramble) and accuse him of putting more care into his breakfast. which is exactly why he does it; puts more love into “his” breakfast that is. he knows you’re going to end up stealing it.

“can’t have you changing your mind again, darling.” matty ruffles your hair affectionately and tugs at the claw clip holding them together. they cascade down your shoulders; messy, frizzy and big.

this early morning everything is a bit fuzzy; your head, your thoughts. “mmm,” you respond. a sleepy little hmm. it’s quite possibly a yes, or it could be a “hold on i’m still thinking” or even a “don’t really feel like eggs anymore”. in all your years together, deciphering your hmms has been his biggest challenge.

“alright then,” a pause. you cuddle closer simply because his t-shirt is soft and he is very warm. this early in the morning you have no sense of anything else but the familiar warmth and the sizzling of the pan.

“i’ll make some coffee for us,” you volunteer and move away.

the bubbling of the kettle almost puts you back to sleep; it’s soothing, rhythmic. but you keep yourself occupied. your favourite mugs are always hung side by side. his is comically large, in the shape of a pint glass; you always tease him about not being able to finish the coffee, about always finding cold remnants at the bottom of the mug.

yours on the other hand looks more like a bowl; soft pink with tiny daisies all over it. you like holding it in both hands and cuddling it close to soak up some of the liquid’s warmth. on days that are especially cold, matty calls it your “emotional support mug”. and it is.

“okay we have to time this,” you announce and carefully pour hot water into the french press. so now he has about four minutes to finish the eggs. that’s alright, four minutes is all he needs.

“get the plates for us, would you?” he asks, bumping his hip into yours. it’s partly to wake you up some more, partly because he’s not very coordinated first thing in the morning either.

you’re about to grumble. getting the plate means leaving your comfy spot and having to open the door, dig around, close it again; so much work really. but matty is quicker. he knows this grumble is coming and he knows a tiny kiss on your nose always does wonders.

unfair really, that he should know you that well.

“hmm,” you huff and start the trek to the cabinet. matty snickers at the way you drag your feet, like a child being told to clean her room. always a grump before you’ve had some food and caffeine.

“such a grump,” he teases, “c’mere.”

when you stop in front of him, two plates in hand, he immediately sets them aside and pulls you close. your eyes are droopy, soft and sleepy. there’s no resistance when he tilts your chin and kisses you sweetly; a lingering soft kiss.

then he holds the steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

it’s as if the aroma makes you come alive; you perks up instantly, eyes finally open and hands reaching to cradle the bowl-like mug, to hold it close to your chest. you don't just drink the coffee, you indulge in it.

“right!’ you speak after a few sips, and proceed to steal his eggs.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

snobbiness is a big no no. he really hates it when people retend like they’re better than someone else just because they have more fame or success or money.

he would absolutely despise himself if he ever turned into that person. and regardless of who he’s with at the moment, he makes sure that they don’t possess that quality.

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

so erratic it’s worrying sometimes.

you tried to figure out if he was a night owl or a morning bird but it’s genuinely so unpredictable that you had to give up after a few weeks later.

one thing remains consistent though, wherever he is, he won’t go to bed without talking to you and telling you he loves you! even if he’s on the other side of the world, calling you with sleepy eyes and drooping curls while you hold your morning cup of coffee. even if he’s just got back home at 2 am and you’re already fast asleep. matty makes sure to whisper a little i love you and place a kiss on your head before he goes to bed.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss

add yourself to the taglist

#sfw alphabet #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty x reader #matty x you #fluff writing

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jestersfinaljest · 1 year ago

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Could you write for the wonderful, amazing, beautiful, silly Ace Trappola? Like him falling in love with a male reader who isn’t the prefect and is just a normal student and is totally in denial that he’s gay? (Sorry if that doesn’t make sense)

｡.｡:∞♡*♥ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ °

‘Okay, I’m man enough to admit when a guy is pretty, I mean, Pomefiore guys have some pretty guys, I am confident in my sexuality to admit that!’ Is what Ace kept telling himself. He had quite literally bumped into a student, just a student from another dorm, just a normal student. A totally normal student who had made his heart pound in his chest. Ever since that encounter, Ace has been out of it, making up excuses in his head, saying things to himself like, “I’m not gay, I can’t be.” or “My heart was beating like that for different reasons!” But deep down, he knew he couldn’t deny it.

The student he had bumped into had very little thoughts about the ‘incident’, sure he thought about it a couple of times, seeing the ginger’s flushed face before he ran off, leaving him slightly confused with a newfound liking. He just stood there after the ginger ran away, questioning a little bit, but nothing he wouldn’t lose sleep over.

Ace, on the other hand, lost tons of sleep, waking up from dreams of kissing or cuddling with the student. 'I don't even know his name! And now I'm having dreams about him??? This is crazy, this didn't even happen with my girlfriend in middle school!!' The more he kept denying that he may have a thing for the student he bumped into, the more the student was on his mind. He had seen him around NRC, just peacefully walking around or chatting with a friend, and every time he did he made a beeline to the opposite direction of him. Now come on, Ace thought he did a good job keeping his little problem under wraps, but it's Ace we're talking about. The ginger got distracted during so many basketball practices that it got the attention of Jamil and Floyd. They didn't bring it up, yet, but time will tell when they would. Deuce and the Prefect had brought it up though.

"I'm just saying, you seem to be pretty distracted lately, we're just concerned is all." The Prefect had told him, Deuce standing next to them nodding full heartily. "Yeah, so what's got you like this? It's weird hanging out with you when you're not so loud and annoying." His arms were crossed over his chest, continuously nodding like he was only saying good things. Grim was too distracted with eating a can of tuna Prefect had bought him from Sam's store to even care what the topic of the conversation was about.

"I'm fine! It's just.." Ace felt hesitant to tell them about the feelings he had so desperately wanted to leave. He wasn't sure how they'd take it, I mean, in an all-boys school? What if they get disgusted by him and think he's weird or gross? These are concerns he'd never think he'd have to think about. "I think I might like the guy I bumped into a week ago, okay??! And I've been stressing with these feelings because I just can't be gay, can I??" Ace felt a weight being lifted off his heart, and then a heavier one dropped down. His heart pounded with anxiety and fear at their reaction.

"Well, why not? Being gay is normal. It's not necessarily a bad thing, you know." Prefect had said something first, shrugging their shoulders. "There's probably a lot of gay people in NRC, I already have a couple of suspicions..." They trailed off, looking away to the side. Deuce, once again, nodded in agreement before stopping himself. "Yeah, that's right--What, uhh, no. Not that last part, uhm, anyway...What me and Prefect mean is that we don't mind who you like because, at the end of the day, you're still our friend!"

A truly lovely and heartwarming scene for Ace, who was given love, support, and confidence to talk to the student! After sorting out his feelings and emotions, he went out and walked around campus for a bit, searching for the student. Around ten minutes passed and he finally found him, sitting on a bench in the courtyard, on his phone. He summoned all of his courage and sat down next to him, his leg starting to bounce out of nervousness. The student had heard someone sit next to him, and by Seven, did Ace feel something when the student clearly brightened up seeing his face.

"Oh, hey! It's you, the guy who bumped into me and then ran away!" He chuckled lightly and turned his head to face Ace, who was feeling extremely jittery and suddenly a bit aware. "Ah, yeah, uhm, I'm sorry about that...I just wanted to apologize for that. I'm Ace Trappola, freshman." The student nodded, "Apologize accepted. [Name]'s the name, also freshmen." Ace felt his heart skip a beat, he finally knew his name. They both stayed silent for a while, too awkward to say anything, maybe.

After a moment or two, one of them finally spoke up, neither of them knew who said it at the time, but one of the two knuckleheads blurted out,

"I think you're pretty cute...!"

Cue matching red faces and a pair of freshmen with no clue what to do now.

______________________________________________________________

a/n: i am so sorry if this is not what you wanted, i usually work better when i have thorough details, since i always want to give the reader exactly what they want so...but thank you for requesting!! this is my first time writing for someone who isnt a friend.

#ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #ace trapolla x male reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ace trappola #x male reader #twst x reader #twst x male reader

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a3risbaby · 2 years ago

Text

what we whispered in the dark [m]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 stardew valley : sam x reader (vagina, no pronouns)

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 Between the sneaking around and him nearing cumming in his pants from a heated kiss, you don't feel like a pair of twenty-somethings who are three and a half seasons into their relationship. And something about that makes your heart soar. He always finds a way to make you fall in love like it's the first day all over again.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 smut (minors dni), fluff, established relationship, face-sitting, vaginal fingering (barely), cross-posted on ao3 | 1.9k words

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 my first x reader smut! i was going to continue, but i figured that this was a good stopping place. let me know if you liked it :)

On your first day in Pelican Town, you tried to greet everyone, introducing yourself as the new farmer taking over your grandfather's dilapidated farm. The reactions varied from the gruff Get the fuck out of my face (Shane, your favorite grouch) to the stand off-ish Oh...you're not what I was expecting (Jodi, who's warmed up a little) to the pleasant Nice. I'll see you around (Alex, one of your fastest friends).

And Sam? Sam was sweet, you realized immediately, and your impression hasn't changed since. With his bright hair and even brighter smile, he always passes you with a chipper wave, kicking off on his ever present skateboard, and you find yourself saving all of your fished-up Joja Cans just to see his face light up. Sam is sweet and kind and nice and just a little dumb and funny and currently doing a really shitty job of sneaking out of his house.

"Can you be a little quieter?" you hiss from the bushes, wincing as his knee hits the windowsill for the second time.

You're not worried about Kent. In fact, he's watching the two of you right now from his usual spot underneath the front yard tree, the smallest frown marring his features. The last time you were rushing to avoid the 2AM fine, you made a point of stopping and asking Kent for his blessing. Less because it mattered and more because he often sat here until late, and you weren't sure if you could avoid both his insomniac habits and the town's curfew.

"His mom leaves the house around ten," Kent murmurs. "Make sure to set an alarm before you get distracted with playing your video games."

"No worries, sir, I'm up by sunrise," you say, eyes not leaving your boyfriend. He's finally making his way down the makeshift rope ladder. "Can you please teach him how to sneak out properly next time?"

Over your shoulder, Kent snorts softly. "Sure."

It's been years since either of you were a teenager, but Sam breathes a youthful energy back into you, taking your hand as soon as he hits the ground and running off with one last glance at his dad. You keep up with his long strides, the wind whipping at your straw hat and clothes, and have to suppress a giggle as he nearly trips over a rock. He's really bad at this. You slip an extra glowstone ring onto his thumb.

"That's the first time I actually made it out undetected," he says, a laugh bubbling in his chest. "I need to tell Seb tomorrow."

"How does it usually go?"

"Well, I barely get out the front door—"

See? A little dumb. You bite back a silly comment, shooting him a smile that he returns instead.

The journey from his house to yours isn't far—go past Leah's cozy cabin, take a right at Marnie's expansive ranch, follow the newly laid stone path until you see the telltale stable—but it's long enough for your floating moods to sink into something akin to anticipation. At the stoop, you drop your keys once, then twice. It doesn't help that Sam's trailing his fingers along your sides, dropping kisses along your shoulders.

"You should just leave the door unlocked next time," he suggests when you finally get the key in. You barely managed to pull together the plan for tonight, and he's already talking about next time. "No one's out here this late."

"Except us."

"Except us," he echoes.

You kick your shoes off, but you're not sure where they land because Sam has you pressed against the closed door, lips moving against yours, clumsy in his haste. His hands are tight on your hips as he pulls you into him. You're tempted to lose yourself in the urgency.

"Sam, wait," you manage. He hums in acknowledgement, moving to brush his nose along your jaw. "I need to take a shower first. I've been foraging in Cindersap all day."

"You could be covered in slime goop, and I'd still find you hot," he says with so much sincerity your knees almost buckle.

"Thanks, but it's not a matter of whether or not I'm attractive." You push his shoulders squarely. He yields. "I feel gross. It'll take five, ten minutes tops. You can wait upstairs for me."

"And what if I get lost?" He raises his eyebrows. "I feel like I should follow you to the shower."

You roll your eyes. "Heel, boy. I'll be right there, okay?"

His excitement is endearing. Between the sneaking around and him nearing cumming in his pants from a heated kiss, you don't feel like a pair of twenty-somethings who are three and a half seasons into their relationship. And something about that makes your heart soar. He always finds a way to make you fall in love like it's the first day all over again. As promised, you're done washing off in seven minutes. For a second, you entertain the idea of walking into your bedroom with only a towel, just to gauge his reaction, but you throw on a tank top and shorts instead, foregoing underwear since it'll all be gone anyway.

You find him on the edge of your bed, sorting your mail into two piles on your nightstand. He looks up with a smile.

"JojaMart's having a sale on seeds," he reports. "You can use my employee discount and get a little more off."

"Yeah?" You step between his open legs and brush blond hair away from his forehead. Your beautiful, radiant boyfriend. "How much off?"

"I don't remember. Like 10%, I think?"

"Just ten?" You shimmy your shorts down an inch. He follows their journey like a hawk. "I thought it was more than that."

"Maybe it was twenty, I'm not sure."

"That's all? A shame." You push them down further, exposing your hips, and his eyes light up as he catches on.

He wets his lips and says, voice strained, "No, it was 100%. Definitely completely off."

You let him tug your shorts down, and when they pool around your ankles, you kick them off. His gaze flickers between your exposed skin and your face, impossibly reverent. He doesn't pray to Yoba like his family, but his expression, here and now, is one of a worshiper. Devoted and devout until the end of time.

He pulls you in for a kiss, mouth open to swallow your moans, and falls back onto your sheets. Your legs straddle his hips, and you whimper as he ruts his growing bulge against the apex of your legs. The material of his sweatpants drag against you—you definitely need to throw it in the laundry before he leaves.

"This wet already, baby? The night's barely started," he mumbles against your lips. Under normal circumstances, the stain on his pants would embarrass you, but anticipation thrums in your veins. The hands on your waist force you to still, and it's pathetic how close you are to begging him to keep going. "As much as I love it, I'm not going to last long like this and I want to finish in you tonight. Okay?"

"Okay," you manage, "but you better keep your word."

He laughs. "I always do. Now how much of a discount do I need to promise if I want you to sit on my face?"

You're a sight that Sam can never tire of. He isn't the wordy kind of person, but if he was, he'd likely wax poetic about how beautiful you look right now. Something about how the crescent moon spills from the open window and falls over your skin like liquid silver.

Huh. That actually wasn't bad. Maybe writing lyrics for the band has made him better at this sort of thing. He settles on the pile of pillows on your bed, murmuring encouragements as you shift forward and straddle his face.

"Are you sure?" you're asking for the third time, and he has to hold back from rolling his eyes.

He tries his best to look you in the face, which is hard considering everything else tempting his gaze. Yoba, this is a perspective that he needs to get more often. "Babe," he says, trailing kisses along your thigh. "Seriously. I already said it before, but this is exactly what I want. You're stunning. Amazing. Perfect. I'd rather die between your legs than anywhere—" And the rest of his argument is lost on his tongue as you finally take a seat and Sam considers quitting his day job at JojaMart to do this forever.

He inhales the dampness of your pussy, flattens his tongue, and basks in the way you keel forward, fingers curling around the headboard to keep steady. A shaky breath from you and he sets out in earnest, one hand digging into your ass, the other skimming its way up your body until it lands on your chest. He's not the type to curse much either, but fuck, your tits are amazing. He grasps at them firmly, just how you like it, until you yank your top over your head and he can finally get a full view.

His hands move again, this time to spread you further apart as his tongue laps at your dripping cunt, and if your growing cries are any indication, he's proud to say that he's gotten good at this lately.

Can you be a little quieter? he's tempted to echo the complaint you had at his house earlier, but he holds back from teasing for two reasons. One, he actually hates it when you bite back your moans. Your volume is exactly why you can't do this at his place, and he relishes in the way your noises go straight to his dick, currently straining to be freed from his sweats. And two, truthfully, he doesn't think he can separate from you long enough to say anything.

So he expresses his pleasure with guttural groans and pants as you grind down into his face, your clit clipping his nose in a way that has you squirming in his hold. You're fucking amazing, and he hopes you know this. He feels like he doesn't tell you that enough.

"So good, a-ah, Sam, fuck...just like that. Keep goi—oh my—"

Your pace stutters when his lips finally suction around your clit, and his name becomes a breathless mantra on your tongue as he unravels you on his. You rock against his face, previous hesitation forgotten as you chase after your high.

"'m so close," you whimper, your hands kneading your chest desperately. "So, so close—Sam, please—almost there."

Without warning, he sinks a finger into you, the metal of his glowstone ring cold against your flushed folds, and it's enough to send you over the edge. A flurry of broken curses spill over as you ride it out, and Sam swears he can drown in your pussy, lapping at your orgasm until you push off of him and slide onto your back.

"You're too good at this for a newbie," you insist, voice petulant as you catch your breath.

He wants to kiss you so bad, make you taste yourself on the slick that runs down his chin, but he cleans himself up and waits beside you patiently until you tug at his hand. A sign that you're ready for him to make good on his promise.

#stardew valley smut #stardew smut #sdv smut #sdv sam smut #stardew sam smut #stardew valley sam smut #a3risbaby.fandom #a3risbaby.writing

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pascaloverx · 10 months ago

Text

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter Eleven

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

chapter ten chapter twelve

The ride home was peaceful. I mean, your mom was shocked that you and Pedro slept together. But after a breakfast together, she was already enchanted by him. The two of you left as soon as you finished your coffee. Instead of everyone returning in their respective car, you two went in his.

"Now we're both alone, can you answer a question honestly?" You ask seeing that you are getting close to your apartment. You and Pedro are taking advantage of the long car ride to get to know each other better. No phones, media, mothers or internet to get in the way.

"I'll try to be as honest as possible. But depending on the question, I may have a contract that prevents me from answering." Pedro responds while driving concentrated. You look at him, feeling a desire to kiss him. You don't even understand the reason.

"Answer me, Mr. Pascal, why a false relationship instead of a real one?" You ask awkwardly and as soon as the words leave your mouth, it will seem like you are asking the reason you guys don't really date.

"You want a real relationship with me, is that it?" He laughs, and you lightly hit his arm. It's great to see this silly side of Pedro.

"I want to. But seriously. Why don't you actually date instead of investing your time in a fake relationship?" You ask, getting back to the topic. Pedro seems to think deeply about what to answer until he responds.

"Real relationships have real problems. They involve real feelings. When I started to become successful, I thought all my attention should go to acting. Taking care of my family and loving my fans, that was my purpose. When you appeared and this fake relationship story came up, I thought it would be a good strategy. A relationship all planned out. No bad feelings and things like that." Pedro opens his heart to you and you understand what he might mean.

'"I also avoided relationships after breaking up with Enzo. I think I felt guilty about abandoning my relationship with him. He was a very good man, too good. I think you're going to be the last boyfriend I'll have for a while." You say casually and then take a sip of the coffee you and Pedro bought on the way.

"Since we'll be each other's last relationship for a while, we should enjoy our relationship more. How about a date tonight?" He speaks so naturally that you are surprised and end up spilling some coffee on your clothes. Pedro laughs amused but you look at him disapproving of his reaction. The good thing is that the coffee is iced.

"You mean a real date, no cameras or pretense? Just you and me?" You ask, hardly believing what he's proposing.

"Yes, you and me. No pretenses. Just two people wanting to start a relationship... or something like that. I don't want to rush what could be a good thing. The thing is, I like you. You're spontaneous, realistic, and kind. And pretending to date you has been my personal amusement. So I want to know, if you want to go out with me; to date me and all the romantic stuff that two people can want." Pedro basically declares himself. You feel flattered and even a little enchanted by the idea of dating him. Like really dating.

"I would love to go out with Pedro Pascal. In fact, I would love to go out with you." You reply, caressing Pedro's face as he turns to look at you for a moment and gives your hand a gentle kiss. And as your phone rings, seeing that it's your best friend calling, you answer the call immediately while watching Pascal drive.

"Y/F/N, I just found out on social media. I'm really sorry you're going through this, but you know, I'm sure you'll bounce back. I mean, it's going to be hard to get over dating Pedro Pascal, but you've been through tough breakups before." Your friend tries to console you, but you don't understand.

"What do you mean breakup? Who said Pedro and I broke up?" You ask, confused, watching Pedro, who seems as surprised by the news as you are.

"It's all over the internet. About two hours ago. It seems the press confirmed that you two ended things amicably. There's a story about conflicting schedules and you both deciding to end the relationship. They even said this trip was about you trying to reconnect but it didn't work out." Your friend speaks, and you feel strange. How could your relationship end without anyone talking to you about it? Especially when Pedro just invited you on a real date?

"Y/F/N, I'm still a bit confused about the breakup and everything. Can I get back to you later?" You speak, trying to compose yourself. On the other end of the line, your friend says she understands and promises to call later to check on you.

"I can explain..." Pedro begins to speak. You then realize he already has an explanation. Which means he already knew about this crap somehow.

"You know, I almost believed that you and I would have some chance. Too much naivety, I know. But I don't want an explanation. In fact, I want you to park the car, take my suitcase out of your trunk, and don't try to talk to me for the next few moments." You say, trying not to cry because your pride would be too hurt if, on top of having a breakup without your consent, you cried in front of your fake ex.

"I can take you home. I swear I had no idea they were actually going to end our relationship. It was just an idea, a stupid idea. I can deny everything." Pedro says, and you feel like you could hit him. But you just look at him angrily and unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Don't bother. This fake relationship will end exactly as it started, with internet gossip. I just thought we'd have more time... but whatever. Stop this car and leave me here. I'll call a ride-share to take me back to my old place. And if you insist on bothering me further, I'll make a scene, so..." You try to hold back the tears, but they're already streaming down your face. Maybe Pedro is a little afraid of you, or perhaps he just wants to respect your wish not to talk about it. But minutes later, he pulls over the car and takes your suitcase out of his car.

"You don't have to do this. I can take you." Pedro says, holding your suitcase as you call for a ride-sharing service. You look at him sternly and take the suitcase from his hands.

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Pascal. But I don't want anything more from you, including a ride home. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home. I suggest you get out of my way." You say, irritated, hoping he'll leave soon. The car that will take you home arrives shortly after, and you basically try to forget the fact that your fake relationship just ended and what could have been a real relationship with Pedro Pascal turned into a complete disaster. And the worst part is, your mother will definitely brag about having said that this relationship with Pascal wouldn't work out.

tag: @wanniiieeee , @hungrhay and @leilanixx

#pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #reader insert #female reader #fake dating au #angst #pedro pascal series #spotify #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fluff #Spotify

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supernaturalscribe67 · 1 year ago

Text

The Secrets We (Don't) Keep

Words: 7,314

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Mention of John Winchester, Mention of Childhood Abuse, Awkward Moments

Summary: After finding out that his brothers, Sam and Dean, read the first entry of his journal, the reader decides to take a rather creative approach to his payback.

Request:

i’d love to see you continue with that winchester brother reader! or something similar? your writing is very comfortable to read :)

@stklett

@xdark-acadamiax - (Tagged because I saw how much you loved this idea!)

A/N: I really hope you guys enjoy this next part! I can honestly admit some parts make me laugh so I hope they make you guys laugh as well! Feedback is greatly appreciated!!!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

OCTOBER 2014

I don’t know why I thought I was going to be able to keep this journal private. I guess my expectations were too high. How dare I assume that Sam and Dean would respect my privacy? Of course, they wouldn’t. How dare I presume that hiding this thing between my mattress and boxspring would be a good idea? I mean, who in their right mind would hide something there? Everyone looks between their brother’s boxspring and mattress!

Silly me.

But, since I found out my brothers decided to read through my first entry (and ultimately vandalize my journal), I have done some brainstorming. Brainstorming ways that I can get back at them. I've considered the classic pranks to start with; itching powder in their underwear, hair dye in their shampoo, Nair in their body wash, or even putting laxatives in their coffee. All of these pranks have been used by all three of us multiple times. Even with some thinking, I’m still unable to come up with a prank that I feel would be good enough to teach them a lesson.

So, I’ve come up with the next best thing.

In this entry, I’m going to be writing down some of Sam and Dean’s embarrassing moments.

Throughout our decades of life, all three of us have had our fair share of shameful moments, but the instances that I am thinking of are ones that I like to bring up from time to time. Each time I mention them, I get an eye roll from Dean and one of Sam’s classic bitch faces. It’s always so satisfying to get that kind of reaction from them.

It would only be fitting to see what kind of reaction I get when they eventually read this entry.

JUNE 1989

Everyone has their fears. Some people’s fears are more valid than others. Sam has a fear of clowns, I have a fear of needles, and Dean has a fear of planes. I can understand Sam’s fear of clowns - Plucky Pennywhistle's always made me uneasy when I was a kid - and, as far as my fear of needles, have you seen some of the needles that doctors use on patients? They’re HUGE! No thanks.

What a lot of people don’t know about my older brother, however, is that he didn’t just suddenly have a fear of planes. He didn’t wake up one morning and discover that he didn’t like flying. Sam’s fear of clowns developed from our times at Plucky Pennywhistle’s, my fear of needles stemmed from an unprofessional doctor (who shouldn’t practice medicine anymore, in my opinion) from my second round of childhood vaccinations, and Dean’s fear of flying…well…

Dean used to be afraid of heights.

I say ‘used’ to be because, if he still has that fear, he does a really good job at hiding it. We’ve gone to some pretty high places on our hunts, and, from what I noticed, it never seemed to bother him. He could always be masking it well enough, which is possibly the case. Then again, he could have learned to deal with the fear and forget about it completely. Lucky him.

But, when Dean was younger, that was one thing that he was never good at doing - masking his emotions - especially when the three of us were by ourselves. When it was just us three, Dean felt like he could express how he truly felt about anything and we would keep it just between us. It was a little 'brother code' that we had going. Whatever was said between us was kept between us. Kind of like Vegas, in a way.

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

I’ve always wanted to visit Vegas.

Stay on topic, (Y/N).

For most of our young childhood, we spent half the time traveling with our father, and the other half at Bobby’s. I always loved going to Bobby’s house. It felt like a home. To me, it was always my home growing up, even if I wasn’t there all the time. Even though we stopped going there as often when we got older, it was still the place that I would technically consider my home. We had the most fun there. We felt like we could be kids for once. Like we didn’t need to worry about the things that went bump in the night anymore.

I loved Bobby’s house.

We were there during summer vacation, which was somewhat of a common occurrence when we were younger. Sam, Dean, and I always found things to do while we were there, and playing throughout the maze of cars in Bobby’s junkyard wasn’t unusual. Normally, we would play hide-and-seek, tag, have races, or some stupid war games that we would come up with.

That day, however, we discovered a new stack of cars, about six cars high in total, that we had not previously known about near the far backside of the property. We would have usually stayed towards the front, but, that day, we decided to roam around. Dean had the expert idea to see who could climb the highest. Sammy went first, climbing on top of the first car with some help before he got nervous and backed down. I managed to make it up three cars before I decided that I had enough and came back down. Dean, on the other hand, took the challenge a little too seriously. He didn’t waste any time reaching the car that sat on top of the pile. He was so proud of himself.

It all went downhill after that…

“Ha! I beat you both!” Dean exclaimed as he stood on top of the roof of the car, fists balled up and placed onto his hips in a mock Superman pose. “I’m the King of the Cars!”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Sam pouted as he looked up at Dean, his bottom lip pushed out.

“I wanna get up there,” he said, letting out a small whine.

“You tried to get up there, Sammy, but you said it was too high.” (Y/N) explained, looking down at him.

Sam hung his head as he kicked a pebble on the ground. Dean still stood on top of the car, waving his arms around. He let out quiet, faint shouts as if mimicking a cheering crowd. Sam pursed his lips ever so slightly.

"I wanna play hide-and-go-seek."

"It's ‘hide-and-seek’, Sammy." (Y/N) deadpanned.

"That's what I said."

"Do you wanna play with just you and me?"

"No," Sam shook his head and glanced up at his oldest brother, who was still cheering for himself. "I want De to play."

(Y/N) gave a short nod before he turned to his older brother as well. He reached up and cupped his hands to the side of his lips. "Hey, idiot! Sammy and I wanna play hide-and-seek! Get down here so we can go play!" He called up to Dean.

"You guys are just jealous because I could climb up to the top!"

“No one’s jealous of you, Dean! We just want to play! Come on!” (Y/N) let out a groan as he placed his hands on his sides.

Dean scoffed and waved him off. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He mumbled as he walked closer to the edge of the car.

As Dean gazed down at the ground below, he froze. His eyes went wide and his legs and arms tensed. The confident smile that he had once had on his face was now gone, replaced by an uneasy frown. (Y/N) and Sam’s eyes were on him, watching him intently, waiting. After a minute or so of Dean standing there, not moving, (Y/N) shook his head and cupped his hands around his mouth again.

“What are you doing?” He called out.

(Y/N)’s voice caused Dean to jump and turn his gaze towards him. He opened his mouth, attempting to speak.

“I-I can’t get down,” Dean said with a shaky tone.

“What do you mean you ‘can’t get down’?”

“I can’t get down! I-It’s too high!”

“You were the one that wanted to get up there!”

“I know I was, will you just shut up!” Dean’s voice came out cracked and high-pitched.

(Y/N) closed his mouth and stood there, watching as Dean struggled to get down on his knees. As he attempted to move his leg down towards the trunk of the car, he felt the car shift. (Y/N) and Sam jumped when they heard the metal scrape against the car below. Dean let out a yelp and pulled his leg back. His fists were clenched onto nothing, knuckles a ghostly white color. His face was noticeably red and tears began to form in his eyes.

“G-Go get Bobby!” Dean called down.

“You can get down, Dean! You’ll be okay!”

“No! I’m not okay!” Dean let out a sob. “It’s too high! The car’s going to fall. Go get Bobby,” Dean’s voice was as shaky as his hands were.

(Y/N) looked down at Sam. “Go get Bobby, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes were wide with worry as he nodded slightly. He turned and made a mad dash towards the house. “Bobby! Bobby!” He cried out.

(Y/N) then turned his attention back to Dean, who seemed like he was seconds away from having a breakdown.

“Dean! You’re going to be okay! Just come down the same way you went up.”

“N-No!” Dean shook his head rapidly.

“Quit being a baby!”

“I’m not a baby!”

“Then why are you crying like one!?”

“Will you shut up!?”

(Y/N) stopped talking and let out a huff. Not even a minute later, Sam came running out towards them, Bobby quickly behind him. Bobby ran his fingers through his hair stressfully.

“What the Hell have you idjits done?”

It took thirty minutes of coaxing for Dean to be able to climb down two of the cars before Bobby had to make his way towards him and carry him down the rest of the way. Needless to say, Dean wasn’t in the mood to play any type of game with us after that, especially when I began to tease him mercilessly about his crying. I still tease him to this day about it, comparing him to a cat that had been stuck in a tree. Bobby was known as ‘Firefighter Bobby’ for a good month-and-a-half after that.

We were forbidden from climbing on the cars anymore, which none of us seemed to have a problem with. As for my teasing, I had managed to get in trouble with Bobby once he caught me and was forced to help him organize the study while Sam and Dean went out to play. It wasn’t very fun, at the time, but I had learned a lot more about hunting during that punishment, so some good came out of it.

To this day, Dean still likes to pretend as if it never happened. Or, if it did happen, then it was either Sam or me that needed to be rescued. Not him. He never needed to be rescued (according to him). Still, Sam and I can remember this vividly. It’s two against one, Dean.

So much for ‘King of the Cars’.

OCTOBER 1989

Sam was always gullible when he was a kid. He grew out of it in his early teens and became more aware of how deceitful people could be. Before that, however, he was fun to mess with. I’m his big brother, I have a right to mess with him.

I still do, but it’s not as easy.

Sam was the type to believe anything that anyone wanted to tell him. Even if it was the most outlandish thing possible. I was able to convince him that unicorns were real and that everyone got one when they turned ten. When he asked Bobby what kind of unicorn he had gotten for his tenth birthday, Bobby told him the truth right then and there. He was so disappointed that he didn’t talk to me for about a week. I felt bad, at least a little bit. But the other part of me thought it was the funniest thing I had ever done to him at the time.

That was when he was four.

I still ask him what he wants his unicorn to look like.

He hasn’t given me a straight answer yet.

Around the age of six, Sam had started to let his hair grow out. Granted, everyone’s hair was growing out at that point - my father had neglected to get us any type of haircut for a little over six months - but out of all of ours, Sam’s was the longest. Dean had started calling him ‘Samantha’ at some point, which irritated Sam to no end. I decided to take a different approach, however.

Back then, we knew about monsters. We knew about the different kinds of monsters that our father fought but didn’t know a lot about them. We knew their names, what they looked like, and common signs for each of them. One thing we didn’t know about certain monsters was how people were turned into them.

So, with this limited knowledge in the back of my head, one dreary fall night, while our father was away on a hunt and Dean was out finding us some food, I decided to play a little…prank, if you will, on Sammy.

Sam’s eyes were glued to the television screen. A rerun of Alf played that he was completely enamored with. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s eyes were attached to something other than the show. He watched as Sam brushed his long locks out of his face occasionally. Sam tucked some hair behind his ear, but it didn’t stay there long before it fell in his face. His hair was down to his chin by then and (Y/N) had to admit that he was more irritated about the length than Sam was.

When the show moved to a commercial break, Sam clenched his eyes shut and stretched his arms over his head. He glanced over at (Y/N) and furrowed his brows.

“What’re you looking at?”

“That hair,” (Y/N) gestured to the top of his head.

Sam frowned. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It’s long…too long,” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He reached over and gently grabbed a piece of Sam’s hair before letting it go, allowing the strand to fall against Sam’s chubby cheek.

“Dad said he was going to get it cut soon.”

“Yeah, I know, but…it’s not like mine and Dean’s hair. It’s so much longer. It’s kind of like…” (Y/N) pursed his lips as he studied the top of his head. “Werewolf hair. Maybe you’re turning into a werewolf.”

Sam’s eyes slowly widened as he sat up straight and shifted uneasily in his seat. “I-I’m not turning into a werewolf.”

“I don’t know, it sure seems like it.”

Sam reached up and hesitantly ran his fingers through his hair. “How…how would I know if I’m turning into a werewolf?”

“What? You don’t know the signs?”

Sam shook his head. (Y/N) scoffed.

“Come on, Sammy! You have to know the classic signs!” (Y/N) exclaimed as he leaned forward, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “The long hair, the way your fingernails curve, the hair between your eyebrows, and your sharp teeth.”

Sam brought his hands up to his face, his fingers roaming around his features. Quickly, he got off the couch and ran towards the motel bathroom, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced off the wall. (Y/N) followed after his brother. He watched as Sam studied himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair, brushed a single finger down his nose, studied the curvature of his fingernails, and bared his teeth. His eyes widened as soon as they landed on his sharp canines. Sam frowned and pushed his bottom lip out. It began to wobble as tears appeared in the corner of his eyes. He turned to (Y/N).

“I-I don’t want to be a werewolf!” He whimpered.

(Y/N) leaned against the doorframe and shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry, Sammy. It looks like you can’t help it.”

“B-But,” Sam turned and looked at himself in the mirror for a second before turning back to his brother. “But what if hunters come after me?”

“Hey!” (Y/N) shook his head as he walked closer to Sam. He placed both of his hands on his shoulders, bending down so that he was at eye level with his little brother. “That is something you never have to worry about. Dean, Dad, and I will protect you.”

Tears streaked down his red cheeks and he nodded. “Do you think Dad and De know?”

(Y/N) sighed and pursed his lips, moving his hands off of Sam so that he could place them on his hips. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. They haven’t said anything about it, yet. But, I think you should tell them. That way, they will be able to protect you.”

“I-I don’t wanna tell them.”

“Why not?”

“What if they don’t like me anymore because I’m a werewolf?”

(Y/N) shook his head and gave a comforting smile. “Sammy, they’re always going to love you, werewolf or not.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Sam glanced down at the ground, his shoulders slumped. (Y/N) could see how much the news had upset his brother. He didn’t want him to be in hysterics by the time Dean got back, so he thought of the next best thing to try and cheer him up.

“You know, a lot of people think that werewolves are the bad guys,” he began. “But you could be the first-ever werewolf hunter! You could be the one werewolf that protects humans from bad things! Kind of like a…uh…a werewolf superhero!”

Sam looked up at him and raised his brows, cocking his head to the side. “A werewolf superhero?”

“Yeah!”

“Like a…a werewolf Batman?” A smile slowly appeared on Sam’s lips.

“Just like a werewolf Batman.”

The worry quickly left Sam’s face as he looked at himself in the mirror. He studied his face once more. “Maybe being a werewolf isn’t so bad,” he shrugged. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Anytime, Sammy,”

Sam turned and wrapped his arms tightly around (Y/N) in a bone-crushing embrace. “I love you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face. Whether it was from the sentimental words or the devious nature behind them, he wasn’t sure. He wrapped his arms around Sam as well, pulling him close.

“I love you, too, Sammy.”

For six months, six whole months, Sam kept the little secret quiet. He would mention it to me from time to time. Ask me questions about lycanthropy in general or question me about whether or not I thought Dean and our Dad knew about it. I would always comfort him, tell him that I didn’t think they knew anything, and we would go about our day-to-day lives.

Eventually, it got to a point where I was hounding him to tell Dean and Dad about it. Sam was hesitant at first. He was scared about how they would react. I was able to talk him through it, though, and, one night, he sat all of us down so he could tell us.

The look on Dean and Dad’s faces?

Pure confusion.

And I thought it was the funniest thing at the time.

I had to hold back my laughter as I watched my father deal with Sam and explain that he couldn't be a werewolf if he had not been bitten by one. Sam was in hysterics at that point. He was crying and sobbing and while our father was trying his best to comfort him, I was trying my best to keep it together. At that moment, I patted myself on the back for the longest-lasting prank.

The celebration didn’t last long. When Sam told our father that I was the one who told him about it, he was furious. I swear, I saw his eyes turn red. I won’t go into too many details about my punishment, but it was one of the worst ones that I got. Even now, I don’t think that it was what I deserved. But it happened, and I can’t necessarily change it.

I couldn’t sit down for a week.

The punishment didn’t stop me from teasing Sam about it, but it was quick to make me stop when Sam told me he was going to tell Dad. Now that Dad’s dead, Sam doesn’t have anyone to tattle to. I can say whatever I want.

Cut that damn hair, Sammy. You look like a werewolf.

JANUARY 2010

We always had some type of celebration for our birthdays. When we got older, that is. Not all of them necessarily had a cake and presents, but they were celebrations nonetheless whether we acknowledged it or not. Whenever Dean has a birthday, his favorite place to go is at any local bar that we were closest to at the time. Sam and I would switch back and forth on who would be the designated driver so that the other one could celebrate properly with Dean. On Dean’s 31st birthday, I was the designated driver.

And, man, was I glad I was.

We were in Colorado after just finishing a hunt. It was a smaller bar near the far northeast corner of the state. It was a little busy, given it was a Sunday, but most of the clientele seemed to consist of regulars who would come in after their nine-to-five. I honestly couldn’t tell you what the theme of the bar was. The decoration scattered on the walls was a mix of historical pieces from the town we were in, rock 'n roll memorabilia, and different pieces from various Colorado sports teams.

Dean was plastered, and Sam wasn’t too far behind him. It had been a while since I saw the two of them get that drunk, but we were under a lot of stress at the time. I was jealous that I wasn’t the one who was able to get drunk enough to forget, but I figured I would make up for it later.

The bar began to shut down around one in the morning. The bartender had shouted for 'last call' half an hour before. I knew that I had to get Sam and Dean back to the motel before we got kicked out. It wasn’t that hard to find Sam, he had refused to leave his seat at the table the entire night. Trying to find Dean, on the other hand, reminded me of reading those ‘Where’s Waldo?’ books in the school library when I was younger.

Let me tell you when I did find him…

Oh boy.

(Y/N) sighed as he ran a hand down his face. His eyes drooped and he felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. After scouring the entire bar to find his brother for the past thirty minutes, he concluded that he deserved a bed for himself when they got back to the motel. Sam and Dean could share a bed, or sleep on the floor. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get back and go to sleep.

(Y/N) walked back up to the table that the three brothers had shared. Sam sat in his seat, back slouched over, his head laid on the wooden surface. His mop of hair was brushed carelessly over his face. (Y/N) placed a hand on his back, leaning close to him.

“Sammy,” he said, his voice low. Sam visibly jumped as he looked up at him with tired, glazed eyes. “Have you seen Dean?”

“Um…” Sam trailed, voice slurred, and pursed his lips. “Dean…Dean…” Before he could continue, Sam broke into a weak fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking. “Dean sounds a lot like ‘bean’. He looks like a bean because he’s short.”

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and patted Sam’s back. “He sure does, buddy. Thanks for the help.” He spoke sarcastically.

He stood up straight and turned around, his back now facing Sam. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around the almost empty bar. There were still a couple of regulars scattered around here and there, but most of them were clearing out. No sign of Dean, though. (Y/N) had to wonder how his brother could get lost in such a small place, but Dean had managed to do the impossible. Again.

In front of him, (Y/N) could see the bartender from earlier. She had walked around the small U-shaped bar and was making her way towards him. Before she could get closer, (Y/N) shook his head. He held his hands up slightly.

“I know you made 'last call' a while ago, and I’m sorry for staying, ma’am. I’m just trying to find my idiot brother.” He said with an apologetic tone.

“Well, that was actually why I was coming over here.” She said and placed her hands on her hips. “There’s some guy in the back and I was wondering if he belonged to you.”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched as he let out a sigh. “I am so sorry. I’ll pay for anything he broke or stole.”

“No, he didn’t break or steal anything. He’s doing…something else.”

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as an uneasy feeling began to make its way to his stomach. “What is he doing?”

She gestured back towards the bar. “Why don’t you come see for yourself?”

Hesitantly, he gave a nod and followed the bartender. She took him around the bar and to the back. Past the saloon-style swinging doors, a couple of feet into the supply room, (Y/N) came face to face with a sight he would never be able to forget.

Dean leaned against one of the many metal shelves. Even with something to lean on, his body swayed back and forth, indicating just how intoxicated he was. A goofy grin was present on his red face. One hand was balled into a fist and placed on his hip while the other one hung casually off of the shelf he leaned on. Beside him stood a mannequin, clad in an aged Colorado Rockies uniform paired with a baseball cap featuring the same team’s logo. (Y/N)’s jaw dropped.

Dean was flirting with a mannequin.

The bartender smirked. “He’s been back here for the last hour. I was going to kick him out, but I listened to how sweet he was being to Manny and I felt bad for him, so I just let him stay.” She nodded and leaned against the door, propping it open.

“Manny?” (Y/N) questioned, not taking his eyes off of his brother.

“Yeah. Manny the Mannequin. It’s this damn mannequin that the owner bought for twenty bucks when the local Sears closed down. He needed to put his stupid baseball outfit somewhere and he thought the best thing to do would be to put it on Manny and leave it in a bar. The regulars weren’t too nice to Manny, so we had to put him in the back here. It seems like your brother somehow snuck past me and found him.”

“I…I am so sorry about this.” (Y/N) gestured to his brother, who had begun to fiddle with the hem of the Rockies shirt.

The bartender snorted. “Trust me, this isn’t the worst thing a customer has done to poor Manny. Just get him out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away,” (Y/N) mumbled.

He stepped into the room just as the bartender turned and walked out. As he got closer, Dean began to giggle.

“You know, you have the prettiest eyes. Has anyone ever told you that? Oh, come on, I bet a lot of people tell you that. They’re like…like, um…” Dean paused and stared down at the ground.

(Y/N) quirked a brow and placed his hands on his hips. When he did, he felt the outline of his phone in his jeans pocket. A smirk made its way onto his face as he took out his phone. He knew that he could use this moment for entertainment purposes later. He began to record his brother as he cleared his throat. Dean jumped and turned to (Y/N), eyes wide.

“Hey, Dean. What’re you doing?” (Y/N) asked cautiously.

A smile broke out on Dean’s face as soon as he recognized his brother’s voice. “Oh! (Y/N), I want you to meet someone,” he slurred as he wrapped an arm around Manny’s shoulders, pulling the mannequin closer to him. “This is Cozy. She’s…she’s the most beautiful woman here and we’re going to get married.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah! Isn’t that right, baby?” Dean giggled as he reached up and poked Manny’s nose. “She’s the love of my life.”

“Well, I am so happy for you, Dean. She looks…beautiful.” (Y/N) was trying his hardest to keep from laughing.

“Thank you.” Dean smiled proudly.

“I think you’ve talked to Cozy enough for one day, though. I think we need to get back to the motel.”

Dean frowned. “But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay with Cozy.”

“I know, buddy,” (Y/N) walked over and placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “But Cozy has to go home, too. You can call her in the morning. Plus, we have pie back at the motel.”

Dean gasped dramatically. “Pie?”

“Yeah, pie,” (Y/N) pulled Dean away from the mannequin and wrapped an arm around his torso.

“Pecan?”

“Yes, Dean, pecan pie.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you know, you’re the best brother a guy could have.” Dean leaned his head against (Y/N)’s shoulder as the two of them stumbled out of the back room and towards their table. Dean let out another gasp as soon as he saw Sam. He patted Sam sloppily on his shoulder. “Sammy! Sammy! I met a girl!”

Sam groaned and lifted his head. He looked between (Y/N) and Dean, narrowing his eyes. “That’s not a girl! That’s your brother, stupid.” Sam grumbled.

(Y/N) sighed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, guys. Let’s get back to the motel before you pass out on me.”

There was no pie back at the motel. I just know that’s one of the only things that could get Dean’s attention.

Thankfully, both of them waited until they were in the car to pass out. I had tried my hardest to wake them up, but they weren’t budging. In the end, they both slept in the backseat of the Impala while lying on top of one another. It seemed like it would be extremely uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t know. I was able to go back into the room and relax in my own bed, in a place that was peaceful and quiet. No snoring, no moving around, nothing. It was some of the best sleep I ever had.

In the morning, when Dean and Sam woke up, they had to ruin my peaceful sleep by knocking on the door. They were a mess, both completely out of it and hungover. The smell of vomit stunk up the room so bad that I swear it’s still there if we were to go back and check. I got them painkillers, got them some water, and made sure they were nice and fed. When we were all sitting down and finally eating, I let them have it.

Oh, the teasing.

So much teasing.

I showed them both the video of Dean flirting with Manny. Dean grumbled and tried to get me to delete the video while Sam was trying his best not to laugh his ass off - he really couldn’t because of how bad his head probably hurt. Throughout our conversation, I swear, whenever I would look over at Dean, I could see his cheeks turn pink. I knew I had the perfect blackmail.

I still have the video.

You know, just in case.

APRIL 2014

Everyone who knows Dean understands just how much of a serial flirt he is. If it breathes and if he finds it attractive, he will flirt with it (the story with Manny should make that pretty obvious). I, on the contrary, know how to flirt, but I don’t do it as often as he does. Sure, I flirt with people now and then to get my fix, but it’s not something that I do every time I go out.

Sam, on the other hand, is the complete opposite of Dean.

Sam was always the type to be awkward around people he found attractive, even when he was a kid. The number of times I would see him in the hallways of schools trying to talk to girls was hilarious, but he carried that awkwardness into adulthood. I admit, a couple of years ago, that boy had some moves. He knew all the right things to say and do to make anyone swoon for him. I was sort of jealous of him, and I could tell that Dean was proud of him, in a way.

However, with how much has been going on the past couple of years, I’ve noticed that Sam has gotten a little rusty when it comes to flirting. There has been more than one occasion where he received a pretty nasty glare or a drink to the face followed by some rather colorful language. At first, I felt bad for him, but then it started getting funny. As he kept trying, the conversations he would have with people would last longer and longer than the last time. It still took him a while to leave with anyone, but baby steps. Baby steps.

There was one time earlier this year when I thought he was going to get a happy ending. It was going so well! I had to admit that I had been spying on him throughout his interaction, just out of sheer curiosity. We were celebrating after a hunt in Arizona. Nothing too big, just a basic salt and burn with a basic bar afterward. It was Saturday and the bar seemed like it was packed. We were lucky to find a table. Thankfully we did because my feet had ached that night from all the digging.

While I rested at the table, Dean went off to try and snag his own after-hunt reward while Sam walked over to the bar to chat up some cute brunette he had seen. The entire time, I entertained myself by watching him from a distance. Everything was going so well.

Unfortunately, for Sam, he let his awkwardness get the best of him.

“I swear, none of the good-lookin’ ones are single,” Dean grumbled as he took his seat back at the table, a defeated look on his face.

“Maybe you should lower your standards?” (Y/N) shrugged as he took a sip of beer, his eyes glued to his younger brother across the bar. “I mean, they have to lower their standards to sleep with you, don’t they? It’s about time you do the same.”

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffed a sipped his beer.

“Sorry, not interested.”

Dean rolled his eyes before he looked at (Y/N), noticing his gaze. He furrowed his brows. “The Hell are you looking at, anyway?”

Dean turned his head to look in the same direction as (Y/N), shifting his head to look over people as he attempted to see what had grabbed his brother’s attention. (Y/N) licked his lips and smirked.

“Looks like Sammy might get some tonight.” He said.

“No shit? Where?”

“At the far end of the bar. He’s talking to the babe in the blue dress.”

Once Dean stopped moving his head, he was able to see Sam and the woman standing at the corner of the bar. Both of them were facing one another. The woman leaned up against the bar while Sam had his hands placed awkwardly in his pockets. Both of them had smiles on their faces as they talked.

“Damn, she’s hot,” Dean mumbled.

“I know, right? He needs to take his hands out of his pockets, though. He looks like a fucking shy middle-schooler asking his crush out to the dance.”

“Eh,” Dean waved him off. “He always looks like that.”

“Yeah, I know, and have you seen him leave with anyone recently?”

“Point taken. So, what? You’ve just been watching this whole time?”

“I need to keep myself entertained somehow. Not in the mood for a one-night-stand, so I have to make my own fun.”

Dean gave a short nod before he continued to watch Sam. (Y/N) and Dean sat in silence as they watched Sam talk with the woman, mumbling back and forth to one another. As the two of them talked, Sam became visibly more comfortable. His movements became more animated and he pulled one of his hands out of his pockets. Both Dean and (Y/N) were practically sitting on the edge of their seats, their drinks completely forgotten about.

After ten agonizing minutes of watching, it was clear that Sam had become completely relaxed. They continued to talk as the lively bar moved around them. It was almost as if no one existed but the two of them. They were so engrossed in their conversation that Sam neglected to see the serving tray full of beer that was sitting down on the bar next to them. Finally, Sam took his other hand out of his pocket. He moved to lean on the bar, but his elbow never touched the polished bartop.

Instead, his elbow leaned against the edge of the serving tray, knocking it over. The tray and glasses clattered to the ground, sending glass particles across the floor. Beer splashed on himself and the woman he had been talking to, who had a look of horror across her face.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as he quickly reached over and grabbed Dean’s arm. His jaw dropped and he immediately felt the laughter bubble up inside of his chest. He covered his mouth with his other hand and turned towards Dean. Dean snorted and turned his body so that he was facing (Y/N), his own eyes wide and hand covering his mouth as well. Both Dean and (Y/N) shook as they tried to contain the laughter.

They sat there, attempting to hide their amusement as Sam walked back over to the table, a defeated look on his face. He sat down, grabbed the beer that he had once forgotten about, and took a long swig. When he saw Dean and (Y/N) practically doubled over, he raised a brow.

“What’re you two laughing at?” He asked as a small smirk played on the corner of his lips.

(Y/N) turned away from Dean, pressing his lips together as he placed both of his hands on his beer. His gaze averted to the table, unable to look at Sam without laughing. He shook his head.

“Nothing…” he spoke in a broken, high-pitched voice. “Nothing, nothing. You wouldn’t get it.” He waved off and took a drink.

Sam looked towards Dean, who took a drink as well. “Yeah, you wouldn’t get it,” he paused. “Just like you didn’t get that chick’s number.”

(Y/N) snorted as he let out a laugh, his shoulders bouncing. Sam’s smirk vanished and was replaced with a deep frown. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink as he slammed his cup down on the table and stood.

“Real mature, you guys,” he grumbled, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

“Oh, come on, Sammy!” Dean exclaimed. “You almost had her!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he put his arms into his jacket sleeves. “Hey, Sammy, look on the bright side!” (Y/N) began. “At least you were able to get her wet somehow.”

(Y/N) howled and slapped his hand on the table, Dean following suit. One of (Y/N)'s arms was curled against his stomach as he leaned forward. Sam glared at him.

“I’m going back to the motel.” He growled out before he turned sharply and walked away before Dean or (Y/N) could say anything.

By the time (Y/N) and Dean were done laughing, tears were rolling down their faces and their cheeks were bright red. Dean used his thumb and index finger to wipe away the tears while (Y/N) used the collar of his shirt. Once they were both settled, they leaned back in their seats. Dean shook his head.

“We really need to get that kid a hooker or something,” He finally said.

“I second that,” (Y/N) nodded and raised his glass.

Dean raised his glass as well before they both drank.

Sam didn’t talk to us for the rest of the night. He didn’t talk to us for the next couple of days until we got back to the bunker. Dean and I would try to get him to talk to us about something, anything, even the nerdy shit that he’s into, but he wouldn’t budge. On the drive back, he was wearing his headphones the entire time, so that whenever Dean or I would try to talk to him, he had some type of excuse as to why he didn’t talk to us.

Little asshole.

Wish I had headphones that I could just pop in to ignore the two of them.

Maybe I’ll pick some up?

Of course, I felt bad for the kid. He looked like he was having a good time, but you should have seen the look on the woman’s face when the beer spilled all over her. It was priceless! I had wished I held it together long enough to be able to see what had happened afterward, but if the look on her face had any correlation with her reaction, it probably wasn’t a good one.

Don’t feel too bad for the kid, though, he got laid a couple of months ago. He’s fine, basically back to normal.

Still, Dean and I like to bring it up occasionally. Sam has stopped getting so angry about it and has just resorted to rolling his eyes and ignoring us. One of these days, he’s going to get the balls to use one of our embarrassing pick-up attempts against us to shut us up.

God knows he probably has more instances of us than we do of him.

OCTOBER 2014

Jesus, my wrist hurts. Do people normally write this much in their journals? Certainly not at once, right? I have to be setting a new World Record. I wonder if there’s a world record for something like this? I’ll need to look it up later.

Trust me, though, I have yet to scratch the surface of the embarrassing memories I have of my two brothers. These are just my favorite ones. If they decide to read this, I hope the two of you enjoyed going down memory lane! Maybe you’ll learn not to look at other people’s shit?

Who am I kidding, of course you won’t.

I’ll need to hide this somewhere else. Maybe my closet? Maybe in one of my bags? I can’t even think of a place where they won’t eventually find it. Whatever, I’ll hide it in the back of my closet and see where that gets me.

The bunker door just opened. Sounds like Sam and Dean are back from the supply run. I’ll need to make this short and simple so I can help them put the groceries away before they start bitching at me.

Until next time,

Stay safe. (That STILL sounds bad. God, I’m terrible at ending these things.)

101 notes · View notes

spookyspecterino · 1 year ago

Text

For the Drinking and the Dancing

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. They/Them Pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used. Reader is referred to as Captain once or twice.

No real warnings besides use of alcohol, mentions of drugs (aurora), and language. Lots of pining and soft moments. Sam is protective and a bit jealous.

Your night with Sam and Walter at the Astral Lounge may be the first time you can sit down and have a drink together.

Characters: Sam Coe, Walter, a little bit of Cora Coe.

This was silly and fun to write. If it gets a little sappy that's because I was listening to the La La Land soundtrack while writing 🥲

“Cheers to a successful deal that didn’t involve me shooting anyone!”

“Here, here!” Walter raises his glass with his usual reserved smile. His cheeks are tinted red. This was not the first round of drinks, but perhaps the third. Further back, the music boomed, and patrons of all sorts danced.

Sam laughs, raising his own beer. “Kinda wish we did shoot him, but cheers anyway!”

Downing the rest of your cocktail in one gulp, you nudged Sam who sat between you and Walter at the NEON bar. “The point is, I can get stuff done without violence. I’m quite proud of that.”

He grins, playfully nudging you back. “I never doubted you couldn’t. You’ve got a certain charm to you.”

“Oh, do I now?”

Walter, oblivious to the conversation, signals the bartender for more drinks. By the end of the night, he may end up paying a small fortune.

Waving off the offer for another beer, Sam gives you a secret, side-eyed smile. “Thought that much was obvious.”

“No, but I’d love to hear more.” You pick up your new drink and take a sip, eyeing Sam from over the glass.

“Maybe some other time, can’t be giving away every secret.”

“I bet if I could convince you to drink some more, you’d tell me everything.”

This makes him laugh, a wonderfully deep sound you desperately wanted to hear more of. “No can do, someone has to get you two back on the ship in one piece when the night is over.”

Walter leans closer, nearly bumping Sam’s beer out of his hand. “Who said we’re going back to the ship? Already? We’re just getting started.”

“Not yet, Walter. Sam was just telling me how he’s graciously playing chaperone tonight.” You wink at Sam as you take another gulp. The alcohol was definitely taking effect now, you’d never had such flirtatious confidence—or maybe this was just the first time you could really sit down and enjoy yourselves together.

Walter huffs, turning his nose up. “The only chaperone I accept is my wife.”

Your laugh is so sudden you almost spit out your drink. Sam is laughing too, both at Walter and your reaction. Recovering, you grin at the older man. “That brings up an excellent topic I’d love to explore.” You waggle your eyebrows. “Issa is so hot. And smart too. I couldn’t believe it when I first saw her. Seriously, nice catch!”

Now it’s Sam’s turn to choke on his beer.

Walter drunkenly nods his head in approval. “Well, my friend, it was a hard-won battle. She nearly outwitted me at every turn.” He held up a finger. “But it helped that I used to be quite a fox back in the day. And, if you can believe it, money had nothing to do with that.”

Leaning forward, you wrap an arm around Sam’s shoulder. Your cheeks nearly touch. “Whaddya say Sam, can you believe that?” You’re either too intoxicated or too caught up in the act to notice Sam’s face turn a light shade of red.

“It’s hard to picture.” You can hear his tone pick up a teasing lilt. “Maybe he recited Sebastian Banks’ speech with so much gusto she fell in love with him then and there.”

Walter barks out a laugh. “Too true, Mr. Coe. She’s heard me perform it more than a few times.”

“That is painfully cute.” You say, trying to stifle a laugh. Unhooking your arm from around Sam’s shoulders, you turn back to your drink, vision tunneling a little as the alcohol’s effects begin to set in with earnest.

Walter keeps talking with Sam, but you’re too busy trying to think of how many shots you’ve had that you zone the conversation out. Failing to come up with a number, you decide one more couldn’t hurt. Catching the bartender’s eye, you order a shot of something strong.

What you said earlier was true, not having to hurt anyone to get what you want was a very welcome change of pace, something you would try to do more often if it left you feeling this good after.

Or maybe it was the proud look in Sam’s eyes as you left the meeting.

On cue, like your brain had been holding back, your mind is filled with images of him from all manner of your adventures. It was most certainly the alcohol’s doing that made you smile all to yourself right before throwing back the freshly placed shot with enthusiasm.

Swaying a little, your arm leans against Sam’s as you recover from the harsh burn in your throat. It’s a light touch, but it serves to remind you that you’re sitting right next to him—you need only to turn, hold his face between your hands, and lean in a little…

Woah there. Reign it back in.

And, as if you share a neural link—as if he knew you were thinking about him, Sam’s leg leans into yours as he talks to Walter.

Something pangs in your heart, a strong and unspoken longing. Maybe you’re just drunk, the alcohol allowing your feelings to run wild. It was probably just a mistake on his part, nothing to put much thought into. Sneaking a glance at him, he’s smiling and talking carefreely.

Wow.

Was he always this handsome? Or is it the light and shadows making him look particularly dashing?

He glances at you, catching you staring. That small, almost imperceptible smirk that curls his lip as his eyes hold yours is enough to send your heart racing.

“Care to weigh in on this?” He asks, eyes reflecting his growing smile.

Your face flushes red. “On, uh—this?” Walter leans over to hear you more clearly, he sways slightly. Clearing your throat, you stammer, “Well, my opinions have always been—uh—my own. So…please, er—continue. I’d like to hear where this goes.”

Good save...probably.

“Sam, I doubt our Captain here has any knowledge on the complex inner workings of NEON corporation politics, you won’t find your saving grace with them.”

Sam continues watching you for a heartbeat. Leg still against yours. “Oh, I think I might.”

You sip your drink, acting as if you’d been a part of the conversation the whole time and quickly adopting a false confidence—all thanks to the alcohol. “I don’t like discussing politics.”

“Except when you talk about the UC.”

Walter chimes in too. “Or the colony war.”

You snort. “I have a strong opinion against tyranny. You do too, Sam.”

“It’s still politics.” Sam teases, sipping his beer. He’s nearly run out.

Looking to change the subject, you signal the bartender. “He’ll have a Whiskey.”

“No—” Sam starts to protest.

“Just one? I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling us. Plus, how am I going to get you to dance with me if you don’t have a drink?”

Good God. It was like your mouth had a mind of its own now. Maybe the lighting will hide the scarlet shade of red on your face.

Sam’s brows shoot up. “Dance with you? You want—dancing? Here? With me?”

“You’re my first choice.”

He shifts in his chair. “Dancing isn’t… I don’t really… I’m not very good at it.” His whiskey arrives in a neat, little glass. As if on instinct he takes it. He can see the disappointment on your face.

A spear slices through your heart. Your leg moves away from his. Feigning detachment and turning dramatically in order to keep the mood light, “Guess I’ll have to look elsewhere.”

You can see Sam fighting with himself as Walter, speech somewhat slurred, laughs. “My Issa wouldn’t take no for an answer. I had no love for dancing, but then I met her.”

It brings a smile to your face. “Invite her down, I’m sure she could use a drink and a dance, you haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“This isn’t the kind of dancing she enjoys, it’s more of an old age type—the waltz for example, is her favorite.”

Sam grunts, sipping his Whiskey. “I could get on board with that easier then…” he looks behind at the crowd swaying and dancing with their arms up. “Then whatever that is.”

Maybe he is just shy. Pushing away the feeling with expert precision, you’re back in high spirits again. “Where would you take Issa to dance, Walter?”

“Sometimes just in our living room, or on the roof. We have a cozy garden at home that tends to be her favorite. The lighting at night is particularly wonderful.”

You smile, leaning on the palm of your hand. “Sounds very romantic.”

Walter turns to stare deep into his drink, a smile from thoughts and memories just for him wrinkles his eyes. “To be young...” He chuckles, taking a sip. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Sam’s eyes are on you as you raise your glass. “I plan on it.”

“Speaking of Issa again,” Walter pushes back from his stool at the bar, “I’ve made up my mind. I’ve missed her very much and to talk about her like this… I fear I cannot leave without seeing her at least once more.”

Sam moves to get up, but Walter waves him off, straightening his shirt. “I’m quite alright. The bartender has my account, that will cover our tab. Please, stay, enjoy yourselves. I’ll be well taken care of with Issa.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am, young man. I’ve had a lifetime to perfect the act of sobriety.” And with a dip of his head, he turns to leave.

The way Walter can manage himself to seem entirely sober was a very impressive feat. He strides out the door, not stumbling once, walking in a straight line, with such casual suave that no one would be the wiser.

It leaves just you and Sam at the bar.

You can feel Sam’s eyes on you as your drink is nearly empty. He asks, gently, “How ya feeling?”

“Like I’ve got at least one more round in me. You?”

“I’ll be good after I finish this. You ok leaving after that? I don’t want to cut your well-deserved night short.”

“I might pass out if I continue, so it’s for the best honestly.”

His smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He pauses, chewing on his lip. “Listen, about the dancing—”

Hm. Not a topic you really want to get back into.

You wave a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I understand. I don’t want to force you or make you uncomfortable.”

His mouth opens to say more, but the bar tender—prompt as usual—appears for your order. Whatever Sam was going to say dies before he can say it.

“One more please.”

“Actually, make that two.”

This time, when you look at him, his smile reaches all the way to his eyes.

“Are you sure?” You ask, trying to hold back a smile.

“Why not. I should live a little. Enjoy my youth while it lasts.”

The shots arrive as if on cue. The service is really excellent here, you had to give it that.

Sam takes the small glass in his hand, raising it. “To you.”

You mirror him, smirking. “To me.”

His award-winning smile dazzles you just before he throws back the shot like an expert. When you throw the shot back you have a hard time not coughing as the burn threatens to scorch your throat on the way down.

You wipe your mouth, eyes nearly shut with a grimace. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be.” Without hesitation he picks up his whiskey and does something similar.

Holy shit, that’s hot.

He continues speaking as if he never drank anything. “It’s just a remnant of my younger days. I’ll probably be paying for it tomorrow morning.” He pauses, giving you a quizzical look. “What’s that look for?”

“Hm? Oh—uh, nothing.” You turn hastily back to your cocktail and try to do the same thing. You couldn’t fathom why you tried, this time you were reduced to a coughing and sputtering mess.

Sam’s hand is gentle on your lower back. He’s chuckling. “Easy, easy. You don’t need to impress me—you already have. In fact, you do all the time.” His face turns scarlet red as you look at him. “Er—ignore that. It’s the alcohol talking. We should—uh.” He looks toward the exit, through the sea of dancing people. “We should get going. Maybe get you some water when we’re back on the ship.”

Getting up from his stool first, he helps you down from yours, catching you as you stumble a little. It was an entirely different game trying to walk this drunk. Suddenly the dancing throngs of people seem fun, the loud music tempting.

Sam is by your side, a steadying presence. He smells like whiskey and pine. “Stay close, don’t want you to get lost.”

“Yes sir.” You laugh, leaning into him.

His chuckle fans out against your ear as his fingers tangle with yours. “Follow me.”

In the lead, Sam begins guiding you down into the crowd. The music becomes louder, the swaying beats tempting you to stay and move with them. Your heart sings to the melody of the song, bass thrumming in your bones. For a moment, surrounded by dancing and swaying people, you shut your eyes. Simply living and enjoying the happy crowd.

You aren’t sure when, but your hand is separated from Sam’s as your body begins to move and sway with the music. The alcohol clouds your mind, the people blend together. The only thing you feel is the music. It’s euphoric.

Why would you leave? Where were you even going?

Unable to remember what you were just doing, you give in, letting your body move to the rhythm, swallowed into the crowd. The dancers on the stage, in their silly costumes, make you laugh and dance along.

Someone bumps into you; hands catch you before you can fall forward. Turning, you weren’t expecting to see a tall stranger. He smiles down at you, the light playing off the angles of his face.

“S’cuse me.” He purrs as he gets a closer look at you.

“All good.” You say with a half-smile. He’s not bad looking.

“Care to dance with me?”

“Oh, well—I mean, I think I was supposed to be doing something. But…”

“One dance won’t hurt, will it?” His gaze turns thoughtful. “I’ve got something here that could make our night even better—if you’d like some.” He begins to pull something out of his pocket, a small cannister with blue and neon pink trimming.

Just as the tiny voice in the back of your mind, one you were more than fine with ignoring in your drunken state, tells you to decline, an arm snakes around your lower back.

“No, they wouldn’t. We were just leaving.”

Sam, your savior, stares down the man. Un-yielding and firm. Holding you close.

The man deposits the little cannister back into his pocket with a nod. “Apologies, I didn’t realize they were taken. Have a good night.” The man turns, weaving through the crowd and out of sight.

Sam keeps his arm around you. The lights reflect off his teasing smile. “I’m gone one minute, and you manage to get yourself a new dancing partner. I can’t let you out of my sight.”

“To be fair, he bumped into me.”

Sam leans in, lips brushing feather-light against your ear. “I’m not surprised. It’s that irresistible charm of yours again.” He starts guiding you out of the crowd, his arm snaked around your back and holding your hip.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous, Sam Coe.”

“Damn right I am.”

It catches you by surprise. All you can do is look up at him, studying his face as he navigates you both through the crowd. He glances at you, no doubt sees that look in your eyes, and smiles. It melts your heart on the spot.

Out of the crowd and leaving the astral lounge, Sam unwraps his arm from around you. “Now I’m really serious, stay close. If you get distracted on the streets of NEON, I’ll have a much harder time finding you—and rescuing you.”

His hand finds its way to yours, linking your fingers together feels natural and easy. “I don’t need rescuing.” You scoff, playfully.

“So, you had that whole situation under control?” He asks, beginning to walk by your side.

“Absolutely.”

“Even when he was trying to offer you aurora?”

“That’s what that was? Huh…”

“What did you think it was?”

“I don’t know, something, I guess. I’ve never tried aurora... I wonder what it’s like.”

Sam chuckles. The bright lights of the NEON streets were starting to hurt your eyes. “It’s a hallucinogenic, really addictive.”

“Is it fun?”

He takes his time answering. “It was when I was younger, but I’m not going to let you try it this drunk—or with a complete stranger.”

You laugh, bumping your shoulder into him. “So protective.”

“Can you blame me? You’re very—you’re special to me.”

If your mind hadn’t been swimming with alcohol and your vision swaying, you might have caught onto his more serious tone. Instead, you’re grinning and teasing him. “But not special enough to dance with?”

His hand squeezes yours. “I knew you were still hung up on that.” You’re nearing the exit now. “Just be patient.”

Outside, the wind blows, a harsher and more uncomfortable setting than the warmth of the city. “What does that mean? Be patient?”

The NEON guards pay you no mind as you walk through the sensors. Sam keeps holding your hand even as you near the ship. “It means exactly what it means.”

“Saaam.” You playfully complain. “You know I’m too drunk for games. Are you even affected by the whiskey?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice with drinking.” When he sees your expression turn to a half pout, he grins. “But just a little. It’s enough.”

He opens the hatch of the ship for you. Your face tilts into a full-on pout as his hand leaves yours. “Enough for what?”

Sam strides onto the ship and guides you toward your quarters, a fully separate room outfitted just to your liking. He finds your age-old record player—that cost a few favors and quite a lot of credits—without much trouble.

Turning on a slow song, one of your favorites, he takes your hand again and brings you close, placing his other on your lower back. “Enough for this.”

Moving gently at first, he sways with you. His footwork is simple, but he doesn’t stumble or even step on your feet. You’re so surprised your mouth opens and closes, unable to find words. He’s obviously pleased with himself as he smirks and slowly twirls you around to the soft music.

“You look surprised.” He whispers, inches away from your face.

“You’re—you’re good at this.”

He chuckles. “It feels natural with you.”

Continuing on, you’re both swaying and twirling around your room, occasionally giggling, and laughing as you try new moves or stumble a little. You lean your head onto his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as you begin to slow down, groggy from drinking. You can feel his heartbeat—it’s fast and strong as his chest rises and falls.

This little moment in a vast universe is everything.

When the music falls quiet, you both keep swaying slowly. Too enraptured to let go. Sam’s strong hands held you close, his head leaned against yours. Only when a yawn sneaks its way out of you does he gradually stop.

Sam pulls back, still keeping you in his arms. “Should get you to bed now.”

The way his voice rumbles through his chest keeps your head there. “I want to stay like this. Just a little longer.”

“You’re already half asleep.”

“I like this. I don’t know when we’ll be able to do it again.”

He hums softly. “We can do it as often as you like, just ask.”

“Really?”

“Promise.”

“Ok.” Lifting your head from his chest you sleepily smile at him. Your faces are very close together. It’s intimate. For a moment you think you might kiss.

“Sam.” You whisper, eyes glancing at his lips. But you hold back—that familiar voice in your mind warning you.

Something changes in Sam’s eyes, there’s a hint of sadness in his gentle smile. His thumb lightly brushes against your jaw line. He presses a kiss to your cheek. It’s soft and lingering. “Sleep well.” He whispers. “There’s water by your bed for you.”

Pulling away from you he steps out of your quarters, eyes never leaving yours. He disappears behind the hatch as he closes it.

Instead of feeling rejection, there’s a sort of relief. Your first kiss shouldn’t be when you’re too drunk to stay awake.

Sam is a good man.

. . .

“And when Charles Dickens first wrote David Copperfield in 1847—”

“Cora, honey, that’s really interesting, but please talk a little quieter.”

The girl smiles at you knowingly. “I’ll come back later, Captain. But you won’t be able to escape my summary forever.”

You lift your head from the table, trying to use your arms to shield your eyes from the ship’s lighting. “I’m really not trying to escape, but I appreciate you.”

Cora giggles and makes her way to another part of the ship, taking her book with her. You set your head back down on the cool surface of the table, covering it partially with your arms. Someone sits across from you, scooting a glass your way.

“Did you not drink the water I left you last night?”

You groan. “You left that for me? Wasn’t sure where it came from. A fairy godmother maybe.”

Sam chuckles. “Please don’t start calling me that.” His weight leans on the table. “Last night was too much for you, huh?”

“Maybe. I feel like absolute death—and I can’t even remember how much fun I had.”

He pauses. “You can’t remember anything?”

Making an effort to sit up fully, a slow and nauseating process, you squint, trying to see him. “I remember being at the bar. That’s about it.”

He watches you with a smile—a smile that says he knows more than you. “Well, that’s a real shame.”

Your stomach flips, and it isn’t from the hangover. “Don’t tell me I made a complete ass of myself last night?”

“No. No, nothing like that.”

“You look quite pleased with yourself—it’s very suspicious.”

He leans back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing out of the ordinary happened, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You’re almost relieved, except… “Then why are smiling at me like that?”

Sam gets up from his chair. Leaning closer toward you, voice low, “Well one thing happened.”

“Which was…?”

“We danced a little.”

“We what? Are you serious?”

“Mhm.” He begins backing up further away into the ship. “It was nice.”

You’re in no position to move, even sitting up has your head reeling—not to mention this new discovery. “We danced and I can’t even remember it?”

“It’s a real shame. I’m also guessing you don’t remember what I told you last night before you went to bed, either.”

“That’s not funny. What’d you say?”

He chuckles. “Maybe it’ll come back to you.” He’s rounding the corner now, turning out of sight.

“Hey, hey!” You wince at the volume of your own voice. “Get back here and tell me how I convinced you to dance with me!”

Sam’s laugh echoes off the walls.

#sam coe #sam coe x reader #starfield #gn reader

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