#Samuel pines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

god-monsters · 11 months

Text

How Lookism Guys Fall in Love with YOU + personal hc

Requested. If you can't tell how repetitive I am from my masterlist, here it is all side by side to show you exactly the sort of tropes I like a LOT. Sorta hc, sorta the storylines-ish I like to write.

Strangers to Lovers

Johan Seong

Meeting Johan and bonding through his pups. You don't even need to show him kindness. Show Eden and Miro kindness and you will enter his thoughts regardless.

A cliched way to a man's heart is his stomach. Feed Johan up too to up the relationship.

Lots of emotional maturing needed for Johan to understand what the hell is going on. Pulls away to get some distance yet always ends up by your side. He can't help it. Eventually just gives in.

Goo Kim

While I personally dislike the love at first sight trope, this guy would absolutely double take if there was something that caught his eye and then he would be his normal extroverted and clingy self to get to know you.

This fucking charmer. Yes he's annoying, but even then he gets under your skin and you can't help falling for him too.

Also a fan of the hot-and-cold-casual-fuck-buddies dynamic. He'll see you every day for a week, wake up in your bed then ghost you for a month. Rinse and repeat. After a little while - oh. Goo realises he misses you.

Samuel Seo

Ah the oh-shit-I-caught-feelings-when-we-were-just-casually-fucking-and-no-strings-attached pining.

Meeting at somewhere like a corporate event or even in a club.

Lots of inner turmoil as he gets to grips with his emotions and how to deal with you. A little bit of push and pull before he eventually admits how he feels.

Ryuhei Kuroda/Xiaolong

Just meeting someone, anyone who is the opposite of Mitsuki and Vivi. Showing them what a normal healthy person, with normal healthy interests looks like. Show them kindness, show them your sweet smile, show them you don't want anything apart from just them and they will fall for you.

Ryuhei - Not really much guilt with moving on from Mitsuki because face it. They weren't exactly anything.

Xiaolong - oof. The most angsty hurt/comfort you can think of.

Friends (classmates) to Lovers

Zack Lee

Long-ish time friend, but nothing progressed due to his feelings for Mira. Gradually circumstances bring you both closer together. Tending to his wounds, school projects, maybe even shopping for a gift for Mira.

Start to see you in a new light. Deals with a lot of denial at first and then later, guilt. Unsurprisingly, it's Mira that notices the change in Zack and encourages him to pursue you.

Vasco Tabasco/Jace Park

Classmate of theirs through J-high or knew them from middle school. Help to tutor Vasco or just generally up to some shit with Jace. Maybe playing detective.

Not involved with Burn Knuckles, but you might as well be. With Vasco or Jace, the rest of the crew treats you with the same level of respect as their No.1/2 and will protect you at all costs.

Relatively straightforward friends to lovers, with all the worries of gang shit.

Vin Jin

Love the idea of Vin Jin, Mary and You being best buds together. Either from Cheonliang or you getting closer to Vin through Mary once they attend J-High.

An absolute asshole though he is a little softer towards you. Takes him a while to fall for you and see you in a new light. Is so used to you as a friend that it will take someone else interfering or an event.

See masterlist for someone asking you on a date or Vin seeing you in his Cheonliang jacket heh (the latter really breaks his brain).

Jake Kim

Childhood friend to lovers. You knew him before he joined Big Deal and/or while he was a tall lanky middle school kid.

Always had a soft spot for you. Walking you home from school, spending evenings in the library messing around, hanging in the park. Once he joined Big Deal and you started high school, it added some distance between you but Jake still could never get you off his mind.

Eventually reconciling and slow burn into lovers. Dealing with all the usual angst of Jake putting you in danger and risking your safety by being with him. Hint: he gets over it eventually. Or else it turns into angsty regret (my personal fave!).

DG/James Lee

You know him from his James Lee days and go way back. Either classmates together or another very typical show-him-a-little-kindness and then wormed your way into his heart.

Sees you more and more, and no matter what, you're never judgemental of him and you're able to talk to him like a normal human being - which is a rarity. Growing closer together until he starts to confide in you. One day, James just realises you're the closest person to him and he likes you. You have grown and grown on him until it's obvious and completely hits him over the head with it.

Progress into lovers is very straightforward. You stick with him through thick and thin. Even with his transition into DG, you're the one constant in his life that he keeps close by and protects.

Eli Jang

Know Eli from his J-high days and always been good buddies with you. Sure you could tell he's good looking but you didn't put him on a pedestal.

Eventually growing closer to him and also meeting Yenna. Which is a huge step, by the way. Eli is so goddamn protective of her and when you are both introduced he thinks 'huh? this is? nice??'. Loves the idea of a happy family.

Bit of angst dealing with the death of Heather and moving on with you.

+ Daniel Park, Jay Hong, Warren Chae, Hudson Ahn, Kwak bros

Colleague/Crew Member to Lovers

Gun Park/Goo Kim

The third partner and completing the Gun/Goo/You trifecta. Teaming up with Goo to piss off Gun or with Gun to become the sassiest, most fearsome duo and a headache for the blonde.

Eugene/Samuel Seo

Working alongside and rising through the ranks, impressing them with your competency that they have no choice but to take notice of you. They struggle treading the line between professionalism and falling for you.

Jake Kim/Sinu Han

Big Deal crew member, joining and working your way into the Boss's heart. Another one for lots of pining and slow burn as they try not to fall for you because they feel it's pretty inappropriate.

Another favourite little scenario: you working on Big Deal street. Either taking up an empty premise or working in a store or restaurant and catching their eye. Flirtation abound especially when they visit you when you should be working and prove to be an awful distraction.

1K notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 8 months

Text

A thief at the bunker

Summary: There is a thief at the bunker.

Pairing: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: fluff, scenting, a/b/o, idiots in love, sneaky Castiel, possessive Sam, implied smut/mating

Square filled for @spnfluffbingo (expired): Idiots in love

Square filled for @warmandfluffybingocards: Bed-sharing

“Where are they?” you grumble. “I bought five new blankets, sheets, and new pillows. Now they are all gone.”

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Dean pokes his head inside the room. “Do you need help? I was about to have a shower, but I’ll lend you a hand if you need me.” He grins when you throw him an angry look. “Whoa, what crawled up your ass.”

“Watch your tongue, Winchester,” you warn, and point your index finger at Dean. “I bet it was you.”

“Huh?” He cocks his head. “What are you talking about, Y/N? I don’t know what you want.”

“Have you seen the blankets I bought? I wanted to give one to Charlie when she comes to visit us this weekend. Now the blankets are all gone. We’ve got a thief at the bunker.”

“If it was pie or beer, I’ll be your man. But blankets and pillows are not my kind of poison,” he grins. “Maybe you simply misplaced them, Y/N. I can have a look at the guestroom if you want me to.”

“I came from the guestroom, Dean. I prepared it for Charlie, and only needed fresh sheets and one of the blankets for her. And now, they are all gone.”

Dean furrows his brows. “Maybe Cas needed them…no. He wouldn’t steal the blankets. I’m still not sure if he ever sleeps.”

“He’s a Netflix junkie,” you chuckle, but then you remember, you still need to find the blankets. “Crap. I don’t have the time or the money to buy new blankets. I need to find them.”

“Blankets?” Castiel joins you and Dean in the room. “I saw Sam carry a few blankets inside his room not so long ago. He snarled at me when I asked him if he needed my help.”

“Sam?” You gape at Castiel. “Why? He’s got a blanket, and I never took him for a blanket hoarder.”

“I’m not sure about it, sweetheart,” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. “If we had to share a bed, he always stole the blanket. I woke up freezing more than once.”

“That fucker!” you growl. “How dare that man to steal my blankets.” Off you go to get your blankets and pillows back.

“There she goes,” Dean sighs. He glances at Castiel, who, to Dean’s surprise smirks darkly. “Cas, what’s the matter? Why the scary smirk?”

“Scary?” Castiel frowns. “I didn’t scare Y/N. I made sure she’ll find the blankets on Sam’s bed.”

“You want her to hurt my brother?” Dean swallows thickly. He wonders what Sam has done to deserve Castiel’s wrath. “What did Sammy do?”

Castiel sighs deeply. “They are pining for each other for years. I’ve had enough of watching them. So, I took matters into my own hands.”

The angel grins proudly.

Dean snorts. “You played matchmaker.”

“It’s called heavenly intervention.”

“It’s called getting Sammy laid…”

“You! Samuel blanket thief Winchester! I will kill you for stealing my blankets,” you growl, ready to attack Sam.

He looks at you like a deer in the headlights. The hunter tried to find out who brought all the blankets to his room when you stormed inside.

Now he believes you tried to nest on his bed, and his heart swells in his chest.

“I knew you feel the same,” you end up in his arms, his face buried in your neck. You are too stunned to even react. Moments ago you wanted to scold him for stealing your blankets, and now he’s walking you toward his bed.

“Sam…” you try to fathom what’s going on as Sam tries to get you on his bed. “What? Sam!”

“You brought the blankets and pillows here so we can make a nest.” You end up on Sam’s bed, buried underneath the hunter. “We will take things slow. I’ll properly court you. I've got nice gifts for my omega. I bought a new flannel, and the pumpkin pillow you like so much.”

“Sam…” You pat his back, but he won’t move. Sam sniffs along your neck to catch your scent. “We will rub our scents into the blankets, and you can move into my room after we finish the nest.”

“Sam…SAMMY!”

“What? Oh,” he lifts his head to grin at you. “Do you want to mate first? I knew you were a dirty girl. Let me just lock the door. We don’t want Dean to walk in on us…”

“What? I—” You watch Sam get off the bed to lock the door. He throws his shirt across the room seconds later, smirking as you drink his naked chest in.

“Yeah?” He furrows his brows.

“Forget it,” you unbutton your shirt. “I like your plan…is all…”

“You owe me fifty bucks, Dean,” Castiel smirks as the noises coming from Sam’s room leave little to nothing to his brother’s imagination. “I told you that all they needed was a heavenly intervention.”

“Tell you what Cas,” the hunter shudders hearing you mewl loudly. “We should leave the bunker, and I’ll drink the memory of the noises they made away…”

“I’ll accompany you, Dean. Maybe someone else needs my help too.”

Tags in reblog.

#sam winchester #A thief at the bunker #warmandfluffybingocards #sam winchester x reader #alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #a/b/o

512 notes · View notes

mysunfreckle · 6 months

Text

Catherine Morland's parents are described as "plain, matter-of-fact people who seldom aimed at wit of any kind" and all we see on the page of her mother is definitely more plain sense than feeling sensibility. So it is very amusing to me that we also get this account of her taste in books, in a conversation between Isabella and Catherine:

“It is so odd to me, that you should never have read Udolpho before; but I suppose Mrs. Morland objects to novels.” “No, she does not. She very often reads Sir Charles Grandison herself; but new books do not fall in our way.” “Sir Charles Grandison! That is an amazing horrid book, is it not? I remember Miss Andrews could not get through the first volume.” “It is not like Udolpho at all; but yet I think it is very entertaining.”

The History of Sir Charles Grandison is an epistolary novel in six volumes from 1753 (so about 45 years old at the time of Northanger Abbey) by Samuel Richardson, and it features:

The beautiful, virtuous young orphan Harriet Byron, with a fortune of 15000 pounds, being pursued by a whole fleet of suitors.

The dastardly Sir Hargrave kidnapping Miss Byron from a masquerade ball and imprisoning her to force her into a marriage

The valiant Sir Charles Grandison coming to her rescue and fighting Sir Hargrave until he can bring her to safety

Miss Byron and Sir Charles falling in love but knowing that it cannot be, because! he is promised to another woman!

The other woman breaking off the engagement, the hero and heroine getting married, and then valiantly stepping up to help the Other Woman stand up to her family

Sir Hargrave dying of a dueling wound after mistreating yet another woman and leaving Miss Byron part of his estate to beg her forgiveness

It also includes a lot of moralising on religion, virtue, motherhood, and good society, which is probably why it a perfect pick for Mrs. Morland. It's all the thrill of abduction and rescue and devoted pining, but neatly dressed up in a morality tale about being good and proper. So you need not blush to say you enjoyed it and can even recommend it to your daughters.

It is also a book that is known for the constancy of its characters. Their morality, good or bad, is very fixed and plain to see. Which also fits with much of the Morlands' approach to people.

All I'm seeing is 16-year-old Catherine almost tripping over her feet to get to her mother with her current volume of Sir Charles Grandison clutched to her chest. Absolutely squealing with excitement over the Miss Byron being rescued from Hargrave's carriage by a virtuous nobleman who refused to even draw his sword because he abhors violence, while her mother placidly comments on how pleasant it is to see kindness and goodness so well reflected in literature.

#austen #jane austen #northanger abbey #sunfreckle's scribbles #sir charles grandison

257 notes · View notes

durrtydawg · 5 months

Text

A Brief Encounter

{Sam Drake x F!Reader Smut}

You’d agreed not to give each other gifts this year, but after a rather crass Secret Santa gift from Sam at his brother’s Christmas party, it’d be rude not to return the favour. So, when he subtly beckons you to meet him into his brother’s airing cupboard, you’re all too happy to accept the invitation.

a/n: this isn't the best, and christmas is pretty much done and dusted, but i'm a bit low and it helped to write this, so I hope you enjoyyy!!

Word Count: 5.3k

WARNINGS: 18+, unprotected p in v, oral (f&m), friends with benefits type beat, erring on the 'too much' side of pining, but that's how i roll so sorry if that's not your jam. I have NOT proof read this fully, so there are bound to be mistakes but I am OVER it. Enjoy, lovelies x

Curiosity and anticipation mingle as you slip into the cramped space, closing the door as slowly and as discreetly as possible. You down the remainder of your amaretto and coke, placing the glass beside Sam as you wince at the unmixed alcohol that coats your tongue.

The moment the latch clicks, the same smirk he’d given you from across the room mere minutes ago returns as he swallows a mouthful of beer. "Fancy meeting you here," he quips, his voice low and provocative, the red tinsel draped over his shoulders offsetting a warm glow over his face. You don’t want to take him seriously.

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” You scoff, leaning against the dryer as you’re enveloped by the smell of detergent and clean linen. “Crappy wrapping, tacky gift. I should’ve known you were my Secret Santa the moment it was handed over.”

“Alright, I can’t excuse the wrapping, but, I’ll have you know that these,” He removes a hand from the counter, pulling the offending garment from where it’s poking out of your skirt's pocket, catching you off guard and eliciting a quiet yelp from you as he slingshots the material against your forearm.

“Ow!” You attempt to smack his hand, but his reflexes are quick, and he swipes it out of reach just in time, placing a finger over your lips.

“Keep your squawking down.” He warns with a slightly sardonic half-smile, shaking his head towards the door. “These were not cheap. I don’t scrimp on my favourite girl.” He holds them up to the small lamp on the shelf behind him and you blush a little. “Plus, I just know it’s gonna look fantastic on you.” He shrugs, smug, and satisfied.

You roll your eyes, smirking as you adjust your volume. "Really, though, Samuel? ‘Ho ho ho’? A thong? Real smooth.”

His response accompanies a smug grin. "Well, I had to get you something that matches your…” He holds his beer just shy of his lips as he mulls over his thoughts for a second, “You.”

You snort in response, folding your arms as your brows raise, the two of you locking metaphorical, and very flirtatiously charged horns. “Oh! Well, in that case, we’ll have to get you a matching pair!”

He chuckles into his beer bottle, taking a swig before placing it beside him. He goads you with his look- a soft furrow of his brows that says ‘elaborate’.

“Dragging me into your brother’s airing cupboard in the middle of his impeccably planned Christmas party? Hardly the behaviour of someone who isn’t a… ‘ho ho ho’ themselves.” You feel yourself stifle a giggle- what a stupid conversation.

Ah, who gives a shit. You’re both tipsy, and you both know what’s about to happen.

Sam licks the remnants of his beer off of his lips, pushing himself away from the counter with an amused grin. His smug smile, a silent agreement, sets the stage for what both of you have been dancing around all night. The atmosphere becomes charged, filled with unspoken needs that have lingered in stolen glances and exchanged banter amongst a crowd of drunken acquaintances and giddy friends.

“You must be sorely mistaken, gorgeous.” He starts as his hands brace themselves onto the dryer, gently caging you in. “I wanted to help out my little brother by… folding towels. You know- keep him in the wife’s good books.”

In the intimate, shrunken space of the airing cupboard, the atmosphere thickens as his joke hangs between Sam and you, a veil of playfulness concealing the underlying, and oh so mouth-watering tension that’s coarsening your skin with goosebumps.

“Folding towels. That’s what we’re calling it now?” You grin, though your voice takes on a slightly lower tone as he leans over you. God, he smells fantastic.

The slight wrinkle in his navy t-shirt is a telltale sign that he’s obviously pulled it straight from the dryer and thrown it on as he left his apartment; but that damn jacket. Recently washed, yes, but never rid of that tinge of cigarette smoke that’s practically woven its way into the denim by now; a little aftershave spritzed over it as to not cause offence to those that despise his poor habit, accompanied by… him; A gentle amber muskiness diluted by the subtle red fruit scent that’s interwoven itself into him during his winter period of reluctant domesticity.

“Shame you’ve not got these on now, ya know.” He takes another look at the thong before abandoning it on the top of the washer, re-assuming his position over you. “Red’s definitely your colour. Always has been.”

His eyes make a show of their journey up and down your frame, and much to your own chagrin, you feel your face heat up even more. You should be used to this by now. Your little arrangement has been going on for almost a year. Yet every time, he’s got you blushing like a high school kid with a crush on their teacher.

Sam grins, shoulders jolting with a chuckle as he watches the redness spread across your cheeks.

“Aw. See? Adorable.”

“Stop it.” You chide, head turning to the side as you try to hide the consistent blush bleeding across your face. As if his ego needs to be given any more fuel.

“Stop what?” He smirks, knowing full-well what you mean. You frown. “Ohhh.” He over exaggerates, grinning wide as his head flops sideways in search of your face. “Making you blush? Doesn’t take much, does it?”

“No. I’m not gonna stop.” Sam's smug smile lingers, a subtle spark in his eyes made visible by the warm glow of the lamp. The air crackles with anticipation as he leans in, his lips brushing yours with a teasing tenderness that makes your hairs stand on end. His eyes are sly, and of course seductive, provoking you to lean in and close the gap. He’s offering the illusion of a situation where you get to take charge.

But he’s done this before, and things never go that way.

Not that you mind, of course.

Each passing second adds fuel to the simmering fire as you feel his thumbs grace your wrists at either side of you. You hold steady, your eyes narrowing towards his in a sort of stand off. You’re not going to cave first.

Though… it’s becoming more and more of a challenge as he leans further into you, your back pressed hard against the edge of the dryer as he imposes fully on your personal space. You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

His head dips down, and you feel light stubble scratch against your jaw as he laughs softly, yet there’s still an undeniable smugness to it that makes your hands go clammy. “I intend to keep that blush of yours nice an’ vibrant for the foreseeable, sweetheart.”

And just like that, you’re butter in his hands. Melted butter, mind you- it’s fucking boiling in here.

You mutter a quiet “fuck sake” in a poor attempt at saving face, but as his lips press against the spot just beneath your ear, you know things are about to progress quickly- just like they always do when the two of you are alone. A few more pecks down your neck, and you breathe in; your nipples rub against your bra, and you exhale shakily as his teeth come into play. Sam removes his hands from your wrists, respectively taking a hold of your waist and your hair, keeping you pressed against him as he reddens your neck, bit by bit, and- God- the sight of him still wearing that jacket is making you feel like you’re in the depths of a furnace. He’s not even breaking a sweat. Bastard.

You find your hands weaving underneath the sherpa, clawing at his dark tee ’til you reach his shoulders. You tuck your hands underneath, and as if telepathy exists, he shunts the jacket off, along with the tinsel, lips still trailing a series of small bruises along your neck.

They fall to the floor, buttons clack-clattering against the washer behind him- dangerously loud whilst whatever song is playing outside seems to be in the midst of a quiet bridge- and you both break apart to stare at the door, wide-eyed and breathing heavily.

After a few butterfly-inducing seconds, a new song starts and someone whoops loudly- you’re safe.

Sam looks back at you with a relieved smile. It’s too innocent and uncharacteristic, so you push him off of the diving board, straight into the deep end; fingers tugging him down to your level by the scalp, using his slight moment of surprise to shove him back into the washer as your lips find his.

Sam's hands trace a path of yearning along your back; they dive under your tacky ‘tinsel tits’ sweater in search of skin, and as his calloused, scarred hands meet the smooth softness of your back, he hums quietly into you, as if he’s checked something off of a to-do list. You take it upon yourself to tick off another, and your free hand reaches down to give him a teasing squeeze through his jeans.

You both smirk in tandem, but as you one-handedly pull out his t-shirt’s French-Tuck- his lazy attempt at sprucing himself up- and your dexterous fingers unhook his belt buckle in one fell swoop, his smirk falters slightly.

Smugness now replaced by an urgent need, he pulls you tighter against him, and the air becomes charged with the electricity of your concealed connection as you unbutton his jeans. Your hand snakes past the zipper, thumb testing the waters with a teasing stroke over the fabric of his boxers as you push your tongue into his mouth. He tastes of nicotine that’s been drowned in alcohol, Nathan’s experimental lebkuchen, and a stick of cheap gum, and as your hand wraps around him completely, you cannot get enough.

Sam fights against your tongue with his own, brows scrunching every so often as you slowly pump his cock in your palm. Shutting him up is always pleasant, and always rare, so you savour every second, watching as a flush of his own begins to make an appearance across his cheeks. Two can play at that game, you think to yourself, your core seizing in anticipation.

A wandering hand squeezes at your ass under your skirt, and as you roll your thumb over his tip, you pull your lips from his, making sure to take in the sight of his growing arousal. You smile knowingly, your other hand freeing his hair so your thumb can swipe away saliva from his lips. You give him a gentle peck, made teasing by the smirk that accompanies it before you pull away from him and crouch slightly.

Pushing up his t-shirt a little, your smirk deepens as you take in the quick rise and fall of his stomach as he breathes fast in expectancy. You kiss him; a soft, open-mouthed peck over each scar, tongue rolling across the hair trailing along his belly, down lower, and lower, fingers pulling aside the waistband of his jeans.

Sam’s hands find purchase on the edge of the washing machine, eyes transfixed on you as you expose him, jeans pulled down just enough to give you access, but still modest enough for any hasty getaway that may be required.

You lower yourself fully to your knees, and the temperature is too much now. You pull off your sweater, placing it gently aside as you twist your hair into a makeshift pony, throwing it over a shoulder. He’s well-groomed. It’s almost as if he knew this was going to happen.

“Don’t be too quiet.” You look up at him. “I love hearing my pretty boy lose his composure.” You smile innocently, taking him in your hand again.

“Shut ya mouth. Calling’ me shit like that.” He laughs in response. The way his cheeks take on a soft pink hue sets you aflame; it’s evidence that his annoyance his feigned. He likes being called ‘shit like that’.

You giggle quietly, tongue licking a stripe up from his balls to his tip, before you let spit roll over your lower lip and onto him as Sam looks down at you with a neediness he’s only ever let you see. You move painfully slowly, lips parting enough to pull his head into your mouth, hands finding the outside of his thighs. He’s tense with anticipation, and your hands squeeze, before your throat envelopes his cock as far as you can take him.

Cheeks hollowed, you slowly retract, making him hiss as you gently graze your bottom teeth against his frenulum, before you retract completely.

“Do that again.” He breathes, knuckles pale.

“Ask nicely.” You grin, opening your mouth a little, hovering just in front of him.

“Christ.” He mutters, unable to wipe away his smile as he shakes his head, eyes closed. “Do that again, please.”

“Good boy.”

“Will you stop callin’ me th-ah-at, fuck!” He cuts himself off as you repeat the action, this time drawing a bead of salty-sweetness from him. You hum in satisfaction, feeling your own slick between your thighs as his hand instinctively grabs a hold of your hair.

As the next minute progresses, you hear Sam’s breathing gradually grow slightly more erratic, his hand unsteadily pushing your hair out of your face as the pace builds. Every now and then you flick your eyes upwards, relishing in the way he swallows in want, hips twitching occasionally as you involve your teeth- his breathy little pants make you want to keep this up forever, but you crave more.

You move particularly deep, and he bucks up; you feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag, eyes beginning to water instantly. You slide him out of your mouth as you take in air, and whilst it takes a whole lot of willpower for him not to push himself back into your throat, he instead tucks himself away and comes down to your level with an apology and a chuckle, cupping your jaw as you pull yourself together.

“Hate it when you do that.”

“It’s a good thing I did,” He breathes, “Don’t think this would’ve lasted as long as I’d want it to if you kept going.”

You laugh whilst Sam’s eyes follow the trickle of drool slowly rolling down your chin. He’s suddenly in a world of his own, barely registering what you’re saying before his tongue gathers the spit off of your skin, pushing it back into your mouth, your back hitting against the cool metal of the dryer as he kisses you; stubble grazes almost painfully against your face, but you don’t give a shit. Sam takes a rushed pause to rest his forehead against yours as he looks down at your chest; heaving, ripe for the picking.

You can only squeak as he grabs hold of you, hoisting you to your feet before propping you back up onto the top of the dryer. You almost fall back from the haste of it all, but with his hands on your lower back, you’re relatively stable again.

You groan as his hands grab your breasts, kneading them with a ferocity that sends your pulse skyrocketing. His eyes flit to yours, and he gives you an warning grin before his hands snake behind you and unhook your bra. You gasp, mildly irritated that he’d expose you so thoughtlessly whilst you’d taken every care to preserve him from any embarrassment that could occur from an innocent party-goer accidentally infiltrating the unlocked airing cupboard.

“These are magnificent.” He preens, and you roll your eyes with a scoff.

“You’re acting like you’ve never seen them before.”

“Been a while. God.”

“Did you just lick your lips? What are you, fourteen?”

“Look, doll, you know me. I’m a simple guy. I see a good pair’a tits, and I start to salivate. Now shut up.”

You huff in amused shock, but as Sam’s tongue goes for your nipple, you force yourself to swallow down a small gasp. A lick turns into a suck, which turns into a bite, and you have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from yelping out in pained pleasure as his teeth apply pressure to the sensitive spot, tugging as he looks up at you deviously. He lets go, and you let out a sharp breath, glaring at him.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” You chastise, panting a little as he pinches your neglected nipple, the roughness of his thumb and forefinger making you squeeze your thighs together in response to the action.

He gives you a toothy grin, pupils blown out; eyes darkened by impertinence as he chooses not to respond. God, he drives you mad.

As Sam takes a moment to look at you again, his smugness gives way to an unseated hunger, his lips briefly seeking yours again with a precision born of familiarity. He smooths his hands up your legs, pulling his lips away, eyes flitting between each one as he squeezes your thighs.

And all of a sudden, your heart is palpitating hard. You’re soaked- that much is certain, but you’re also slightly afraid of the concept of him stripping you completely bare without so much as a lock from keeping you from being walked in on. Perhaps you should’ve thought this through. Perhaps you shouldn’t be-

“Sam!” You whisper-yell as the ripping of fabric snatches you from your thoughts.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He replies, completely unbothered by your reaction, the new hole torn into your tights right between your thighs giving him an almost completely unrestricted view he’s been waiting for. “Jesus Christ. Haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re wet through.”

“I will kick you.”

“Nah, you won’t.” He shoots a complacent grin up at you, before hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the dryer with a quick yank that has your eyes widen momentarily.

You sigh shakily, bracing yourself on your forearms as he comes back to antagonise your chest.

Your gaze fixes on Sam, who looks up at you with a teasing smile as he pushes your thigh aside, deft tongue swirling and flicking around your nipple in a way that makes your lips part with quickened breaths; the signalling of your growing want couldn’t possibly get any clearer. The playful glint in his eyes mirrors the deriding movement of his lips, and for a moment, the laughter, music, and clinking glasses outside the intimate space you’re sharing muffles into the background.

His fingers, warm and skilful, navigate the contours of your skin through your thin tights with a gentle caress. The intention is clear—a slow, tantalising exploration that builds mutual desire with every inch of you that’s covered, and as he finally strokes a thumb over your covered core, sending a soft mewl spilling from your lips, a switch flips in his brain. Playfulness starts to deepen into a smouldering gaze, reminding you of his undeniable hunger beneath the friendship on the surface. As he pulls aside the material and starts to coat his fingers in your slick, it’s all too clear that his movements are deliberate, each touch purposeful, as if he's savouring the anticipation as much as the final destination.

He wants you. But he wants you to need him more. Sam wasn’t lying when he said you’re his ‘favourite girl’.— he adores you, and he wants to give you everything he can through his body that he can’t bring himself to give you through caged in commitment. As a result, he’s not afraid to take his time- time to pretend that this is more than the ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement you’d forged way back when. He doesn’t give anyone else this kind of time. He doesn’t want to.

You're caught between the thrill of the unexpected and the familiarity of Sam's touch. Every stroke and every red blotch left on your skin feels like a shared rebellion against the constraints of everything else life has to offer. He bites you again, and you buck your hips in response, brows furrowing as a quiet hiss pushes through your teeth. Your nails claw against the edge of the dryer, and as he effortlessly slides two fingers knuckle deep inside you, your grip falters slightly.

The hand on your waist tightens, and one of yours goes for the back of his head. You tangle your fingers into his hair, head rolling back as you try to stop yourself from moaning. He hooks his fingers, rubbing back and forth against your sweet spot in quick, repetitive motions, whilst his thumb flicks against your clit. Your breathing grows heavier, and you struggle to keep quiet as he releases your nipple from his mouth with a gentle ‘pop’.

The fire in your lower belly is burning stronger with each passing second, and you clasp your lip between your teeth as he adds a third digit— the stretch forcing a groan bubbling out of your throat as he laughs softly at the sight of you leaking onto the back of his hand. This time you’re unable to keep it down.

You’re sopping, and so damn tight at this angle— Sam feels his cock twitch with need as he feels you contract around him, the sensation of your nails scratching gently against his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair giving him goosebumps of his own. He loves the way you sound; the wetness, your unsteady breathing, and your quiet, raspy little moans— even more so knowing that you’re trying and failing to restrain yourself.

“Ohh— shit.” you gasp as his thumb speeds up, stimulating your clit to the point where your breath gets caught in your throat. You’re not far from the edge, but he’s not ready for that yet. Neither are you.

Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of you, and you exhale, a desperate look in your eyes as the emptiness hurts.

He presses his forehead to yours, gently nudging his nose against yours in a display of affection that forces a shy smile from you. His eyes flit to your lips, and back up to your eyes, and just before you take it as a silent invitation to kiss him, his hand is brought up from between your thighs. Your cheeks heat up at the sight of his glistening fingers as he hovers them just in front of your chin.

“Open up.” He whispers, lips tugged into a cocky half-smile. You’re more than happy to oblige, and as your lips part, he slides two slick-covered fingers into your mouth, your tongue lapping up the sticky sweetness as he fixates on your mouth for a moment.

Without so much as looking back up at you, he mutters “My turn.”

As you continue to taste yourself on his skin, Sam gets to his knees, free hand holding a thigh to one side before it moves aside the soaked material of your underwear again.

“So so pretty.” He mutters, voice gruff, eyes ravenous as he takes in the sight of you; glistening, ready. All for him. All because of him. He leans in, hand keeping you exposed as he pulls his fingers from between your lips, instead choosing to keep you wide open for him. His tongue scoops you up, from the bottom of your folds up to your swollen clit, and you shudder, fingers instinctively tightening in his hair as you look down at him.

Sam goes again, this time sucking the sensitive bud in order to draw out a noise from you. You hum; high pitched and needy, leaning your coccyx against the dryer as you spread your legs open a little further.

He groans into you, fingers digging into the fullness of your thighs as his tongue moves; slow and deliberate, as if every stroke, every lick, every bite is a carefully composed note in a well-practiced symphony. The taste of you spurs him on, and through the feeling of your thighs involuntarily tightening around his head as he begins to devour you like you’re the first meal he’s eaten in days, and the slight tug you give his hair every few seconds, a blend of mischief and longing and lust takes him over.

You’re a mess, flustered, muffled moans and curses spilling into your hand, your bare chest heaving as he becomes more unrestrained; he can’t get close enough to you, his nose rubs against your clit while his tongue snakes inside you, pretty, dark eyes flicking up to see the effect that he’s having on you every so often.

You could do this all day. So could he. But you’re approaching your peak far too quickly, and whilst his tongue feels wonderful, you want more. You want him inside you when you finish— you want him to feel what he’s done to you in the most intimate way possible.

“Sam?” You rasp, tugging at his hair slightly harder. “F-fuck, Sam, s—stop.” You tug a little harder, and you whimper as you feel his breath fan over you as he reluctantly allows you to pull him away from your sensitive cunt.

He swallows, chest heaving as he takes in air. “You okay?” He asks, brows furrowed, nose, lips, and chin coated in a glistening layer of your arousal. You have to give yourself a moment to take it in. This is far from the first time you’ve seen him like this, but each time you do, you feel yourself fall in deeper. You nod, hand moving to the back of his neck, drawing him into you. Your lips press against his again, and as his tongue dives into your mouth, sharing with you the tangy sweetness he’s obsessed with, you pull his cock into his other hand. Your thumb smooths over the dribble of pre-cum that’s seeping out of him, and you pump him in your hand a few times just to feel how hard he is. He huffs out through his nose as you squeeze him gently, and as you rub him against your dripping pussy, his arms tighten around you.

You line him up, edging yourself forwards just enough for his tip to breach you, and as he swallows down a quiet moan, you peel your mouth from his and get him to look at you. “You know I love you, right?” You breathe, thumb stroking the bridge of his nose as he looks at you with parted lips.

“I know you love me.” He says, just a little louder than a whisper. He pushes into you, a cuss sighed into your neck as he tucks his head beside you. You swallow a moan as he stills, nestled into you as deep as he can, your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as he gives you a moment to adjust, and him to embrace.

You laugh, quiet and breathy into the shell of his ear. “I know you do.” You say, pressing a kiss just behind his ear as he drags himself part-way out of you. He rocks himself back into you, hips rolling gently as he begins to build a gentle rhythm. He doesn’t want to come just yet. He wants to savour this. To enjoy this perfect glimpse into the normal life he’s never wanted. He loves you. He loves you so much, but he can’t give you everything you want, so you both settle for stolen moments like these.

He quickens the pace ever so slightly, and as he continues to litter the delicate skin of your neck with deep pink nips and wet speckles your eyes close. You cradle his head in your arms as his thrusts grow a little harsher, and he hums out soft, vulnerable moans that make his closeness to his peak all the more evident.

“So good t’me.” He murmurs into your neck as he slots a hand between you, blindly searching for your clit with shaky fingers.

You cry out into his shoulder as he finds it, and you cling onto him with all of your might as he fucks you with more intensity with each passing second.

He grips onto your lower back as he continues to groan into your neck— he pulls you into him with such intensity that every small bruise developing on your chest is stimulated as your tits are crushed harshly against his t-shirt.

Sam goes deeper, sweeter, and your eyes water as he squeezes your clit almost desperately. You grunt, the coil in your abdomen tightening and tightening with each passing second, eyes squeezing shut as he gives up concentrating on your neck, collapsing into the crook of it altogether.

He breathes heavily, grunting as you bite into his shoulder to suppress a scream as you completely lose yourself. You convulse in his arms, your pussy spasming around his cock as you feel your orgasm crash over you, muffled expletives and Sam’s name spilling mindlessly from you as you feel nothing but white hot pleasure. The coil releases, and you fall limp in his grasp as you begin to milk his own orgasm out of him.

“G—God,” He groans, hand snatched from between you as he braces himself against you. He keeps moving as you feel hot ropes of cum fill you, leaning back just enough to see it dribble out of you and onto him.

He stills, foreheads touching again as you catch your breath. You feel his eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch as his breathing slowly becomes steadier, and the intensity of your respective climaxes dim into a soft afterglow.

You feel a hand stroke against your jaw, and he huffs out a laugh as you smile.

“Hi.” He whispers.

“Hey.” Your responding laugh quickly dissipates into a wince as he slides out of you.

He sniffs, with a smile to mirror your own. “Perhaps I should’ve gotten you a towel instead of that thing.” He shakes his head towards the Secret Santa gift lying abandoned on the washer behind him, and you snort.

“Hmm. I mean you could always use them as a cum rag.”

“Love it when you talk all ladylike.” He jokes. “Christmas isn’t over til New Years, the way I see it, so you’ve got plenty of time to model them for me before they’re allowed to be used for something so…menial.”

You shove him playfully, hopping off of the dryer, legs wobbling slightly as you get used to being on the ground again. He throws you your bra and sweater, which you throw on as he relocates his jacket.

You rake your fingers through your hair in hopes that it still looks relatively presentable and suitably covers your thoughtfully gifted hickey-patchwork, before you swipe up the thong and walk over to the door.

“Gonna... take a stealth walk to the bathroom.” You clear your throat, smiling as you rest a hand over the handle.

He nods in response, a half, and slightly coy smile on his lips. As you twist the handle, he gets your attention with a quick “Hey”.

You turn, raising an expectant brow. He clears his throat, nodding as if he’s reassuring himself about something.

“You… you know I love ya too, yeah?”

You smile, taking in the slight nervousness in his eyes. “I know you do. Despite these.” You swing the red monstrosity around your finger before bunching it up and shoving it into your skirt pocket. You give him an endearingly sweet wink, opening the door slowly, exposing the room to the bass boost of Nate’s festive playlist and someone’s dreadful karaoke attempt.

“See you out there?”

He chuckles as he watches you check that the coast is clear. God, he adores you.

“See you out there.”

I love him a normal amount.

#sam drake #uncharted #sam drake x reader #samuel drake x reader #samuel drake smut #reeEEHe

219 notes · View notes

foreverdolly · 9 months

Text

𝐈 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 pt 2 | 80's mechanic!austin x best friend!reader

summary: it's starting to look like he might never make it out of the friend zone. austin has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he's terrified that you'll never see him as anything more than a best friend and protector. with the fear of you one day outgrowing him fresh on his mind, he's now hell bent on getting you to view him in a different light. madly in love and terrified to lose you, austin butler is playing for keeps.

pairings: 80s mechanic! austin x childhood best friend!reader

word count: 3.8k

notes/warnings: SMUT! in part three, virgin!austin. . . need i say more?, i love pining and this fic is testament to that, shaky/hurried hands, who doesn't love a good best friends to lovers fic, he has a deep southern accent, austin is the small town's metalhead and he's swelteringly hot without even trying. (this is going to have to be three parts because it turned out too long after editing. the smut alone is like. . . five pages on google docs.)

Austin could tell that you were fighting off the urge to plug your ears as the band continued to pound away at their instruments. It wasn’t that you weren’t a fan of metal music- he was pleased to know that you enjoyed a lot of the bands that he loved- but while this might be metal, Austin wasn’t sure it could really be categorized as music. The drummer, Mark, was okay at best. He couldn’t say the same for the other member’s. Dave had picked up a guitar and decided that he wanted to start a band just a year ago. It was more of a “this sounds like a fun thing to do with my time” and less of a “this is my passion in life” sort of thing.

The wavy haired blonde tried to show support where he could, like tonight for example. He had dragged you all the way out here just to add to the small crowd. You were sweet enough not to complain though.

“Do ya want another drink?” Austin called down to you, pointing to the empty can of beer in your hand.

You squint your eyes up at him, trying to read his lips. He repeated himself, smiling fondly when you nodded your head. You were kind enough to let him drag you an hour out of town to see this show, so the least he could do was make sure you were taken care of. Not only that, but it was something that he enjoyed immensely. Austin knew just how strong you were, but it felt nice to know that he was needed. Taking care of you made him feel like a necessary part of your life. It made it easier for him to delude himself into thinking that you couldn’t be without him.

“I’m not drunk enough for this.” You called back to him, motioning towards the stage.

He heard your sly little comment and laughed all the way back up to the bar, maneuvering his tall body this way and that so that he wouldn’t bump into anyone in the packed crowd. Austin was surprised that so many people showed up to the bar tonight, the turnout usually being much smaller.

He finally made it over to the bar, the toes of his sneakers swiping one of the bar stools. He grimaced, mumbling a quick apology to the man who had been jostled around by Austin’s uncharacteristic clumsiness. He was just about to try and grab the bartender’s attention when he felt a sudden pressure on his elbow.

Samuel’s familiar face grinned back at him, his mousy brown hair cropped short. Austin gaped when he noticed the new hairstyle, eyebrows pinching together in confusion. He didn’t have to vocalize the question, Sam already pointing at his head with a comically dramatic frown.

“Work,” The other man stated simply, shrugging his shoulders with a “what can you do” attitude. “I’ll get another beer.” He reached around Austin so that he could hand the empty beer bottle to the bartender and then pointed towards the blonde. “And then put whatever he orders for him and his lady on my tab too.”

The blonde whirled, quickly shaking his head. He wasn’t the type of person to take handouts. Ever. Even if they are as a gesture of kindness. Austin hated the feeling of owing people anything. He’d learned from a young age that most people, even the ones that seemed to have the purest intentions, expected favors in return for nice gestures. Maybe it was due to growing up on “the wrong side of the tracks”, but good deeds always meant that someone wanted something from you.

“Nah, man. Ya don’t have to do that.” He tried, but the beers were already being placed down in front of him.

Sam smiled at the bartender, giving her a flirtatious wink before clapping his old friend on the back. “You’re the one that got me my current gig. Two beers is nowhere near enough to pay you back for that.”

The regional manager of the local electric company had all of their work trucks maintained at the shop where Austin worked. All the mechanic did was tell the head honcho that he knew a guy that was going to school to become an electrician. Thanks to Austin’s meddling, Sam had a job the second he got his certificates. Even though Austin was the one that set up the interview, it was the brunette’s skill and personable attitude that landed him the job in the first place. He didn’t want to take credit for the other boy’s undeniable skill. Instead of pushing the subject and denying the other man’s kindness, Austin- although slightly begrudgingly- took the beers with a small smile, nudging his elbow into Sam’s side.

“Well thank ya for that. It’s weird seein’ your hair short though. Ya look good.” Austin took a sip of his beer, then stared down at yours, raising that can to his lips so that he could give it a taste.

“You’re lucky that you get to keep your long hair. I mean- it gets more and more majestic by the day, Butler.” Sam teased, reaching a hand over to rustle his wavy blonde hair. It was past his shoulders now, and though you often teased him about getting a haircut, he knew that you’d be upset if he chopped it all off. He’d had long hair since high school, only trimming it when it became too much of a bother to maintain.

Austin could see the way Sam’s eyes slowly searched the crowd, his smile slow and wide once he found exactly who he was looking for: you. The blonde knew that the questions were sure to come, and so he was quick to change the subject.

“I’m glad ya came all the way out here to support Dave. I didn’t know ya were still close with him.” The dark dive bar’s doors opened, more metalheads pouring in through the front door. Austin steered them away from the bar, making more room for others who were waiting behind them for a drink.

“I love Davie- but Mark is my new roommate.” Mark was the aforementioned drummer. . . and the wildest of the band. Just two months ago at a bonfire the twenty four year old had set his hair on fire- hence the fact that he was newly bald.

You had been there with the group when it had happened, and thankfully were sober enough to pour your drink over his head to extinguish the flames. Only after you knew that he was safe did you double over with laughter. Austin hadn’t been so kind. He had nearly pissed himself the second that the idiot tried to jump over the giant flames.

“That must be. . . fun.” Austin chose his words carefully, but Sam was quick to laugh.

“It’s never dull, that’s for sure.” He agreed, lifting his beer up to take a swig.

The song that the band was playing ended, Dave walking up to the mic so that he could loudly thank the crowd and call out the shitty title of their next terrible song. The amp's feedback was piercing, causing the entire bar to wince and cry out in pain.

Austin started to walk off in your direction, hoping that he’d been successful in steering clear of any questioning- but a grip on his shoulder stopped him. Every single one of his friends had given him “the talk” at one time or another. It was always awkward and hard to stomach. Nobody in their right mind would pine after a girl for even a fraction of the time that Austin had with you. None of his friends could ever begin to understand exactly what he could lose in the process of vocalizing his feelings though.

“So is this a date. . . or?” Sam asked under his breath, motioning as subtly over towards you as he could.

You had looked over in Austin’s direction a few times, wondering where he was and what might be taking him so long. You’d stopped searching for him after seeing who he was talking to though, not wanting to interrupt. Sam was the only one in Austin’s male friend group that actually had a “real” job, and you knew that the two of them had more in common than the rest of the boys because of it. You turned back to the stage, giving Dave a quick thumbs up as a form of encouragement to pump him up after the amp malfunction. The blonde clenched his teeth for a couple of seconds, knowing that he shouldn’t lie (but wishing that he could), before turning to face Sam again.

“No- not a date. She’s friends with the group. . . and Davie wanted her to be here tonight.”

Sam’s face hardened as he looked up at the stage, glaring after the guitarist. Austin was quick to shake his head, backpedaling.

“It’s not like that. Just as friends. He knows that I-” Am in love with her.

Of course he didn’t need to finish the sentence. Anyone with eyes knew how he felt about you. Thankfully, none of his friends had ever even tried their hand at flirting with you, because they understood Austin’s feelings. It wasn’t a childhood yearning or an adult ache that plagued him. It was more complex than that. It was the sort of love that often destroyed adult’s lives. The kind of love that didn’t go away, no matter how much you wished that they would. He’d been in love with you before he could even add two plus two or write his full name in cursive. That love was just as much a part of him as his own soul was.

Which was why it always bothered Austin when people looked at him with eyes filled with pity. Just like Sam was doing now.

“Do you think. . . do you think she knows? Maybe she doesn’t want to turn you down because she doesn’t want to lose you.” Sam was trying to help. Austin knew that. He was just sick and tired of people constantly putting their two cents in.

These sort of comments just added to the self doubt that crippled him. The years of anxiety over his unrequited feelings kept him awake at night, and he didn’t need tonight to be ruined. Despite the shitty music, the two of you had been having fun. Wake up calls like the one Sam was currently tried to give him often put him in a rotten mood, and you’d pick up on that immediately.

“She doesn’t know. Ya know how she is- she’s sweet, trustin’, and a lil’ bit naive. We’ve always been this close, so in her mind this is all we are.” And all that we’re going to be most likely. He took a swig of his beer, wishing that he could get drunk off of his ass. He hadn’t made any sleeping arrangements with his friends though, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be sleeping on some random guys floor because he got too drunk to drive home.

Austin cleared his throat, gave Sam one last pat on the shoulder, and started to make his way through the thrashing crowd. Behind Austin, Sam opened his mouth to say something. The shift in mood was obvious, and he needed to apologize for bringing it up, but it was too late now. Austin was gone and in a solemn mood.

The melancholy that threatened to eat away at him for the rest of his night was swiftly replaced with rage.

There was a man standing beside you that he hadn’t ever seen before. He wasn’t a friend. . . or even a friend of a friend, for that matter. Austin watched as the male moved his hands excitedly as he spoke, dark brown bangs hanging into his eyes, his hair almost as long as Austin’s.

Your childhood friend stood back and watched the interaction for as long as he could stomach, wondering what the two of you were talking about to have the male in such high spirits. Were you making him feel like he stood a chance with you? Had he been too late walking back to the bar, the two of you having already exchanged contact information? He was attractive enough- though as he smiled Austin noticed that his bottom row of teeth was rather crooked. Knowing you, you’d probably find the imperfection “cute”, which further enraged the blonde.

Austin hated getting angry over things like this. Watching you talk to other boys had been something he hadn’t had to deal with in almost two years, which he had considered to be a godsend. It was just as painful every time. It was unfair of him to feel this way, and he knew that. He should have hung back and let you talk to the guy. If he was a real friend he would have done just that.

Except Austin had staked his claim on you far before you’d been able to fully comprehend what dating really was.

No matter how nice of a guy Austin was, he was territorial and easily made jealous. He had his faults. He was selfish with you, and he’d willingly admit that to whoever questioned him. So he swiftly walked up beside you, sliding your beer into your hand with a smile that was too sweet.

“Sorry that took so long. Sam wanted to show me his new haircut.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Just a little ‘half truth’.

You smiled widely up at him, then gestured to your “new friend”. The boy straightened his back, having noticed how large Austin was in comparison to his own gangly frame. He towered above almost everybody else in the room, his shoulders broad and muscular. The blonde smiled at the boy, making sure to show off his perfect, white smile. He was being petty. He was being rude and horrible and. . . and he didn’t care. Not really, anyway. Austin could feel bad about his behavior later, but for now he had to make sure nothing happened between the two of you.

“Austin, this is Robin. He works at the local record store.” You introduced, motioning between the two men.

Bless your sweet little soul. You probably thought that the two of them, having similar taste in style and music, would be fast friends. Maybe Austin would have liked the guy if he wasn’t trying to steal his girl. Maybe being the keyword.

The stage lights flashed dully beside your little group, the thick clouds of cigarette smoke drowning out most of the light. You let out a pleased hum as Austin took Robin’s hand into his own, watching him shake it firmly.

“Nice to meet ya, man.” Though it wasn’t very nice at all. “Robin. . . that’s an interestin’ name for a guy.” That was a childish jab, but Austin wasn’t above laying the guy out right here and now. That is, if you weren’t standing between them.

You tensed beside your best friend, giving his arm a quick swat, as if reminding the giant to play nice.

Austin barely felt it, your tiny hands doing nothing to deter him. Instead he placed a large hand on the top of your head, dragging you into his side and tucking you in tightly. Robin was about to say something- a rude remark to fire back at Austin’s insult- but froze as he took in the sight before him. Understanding flickered into his eyes, his mouth parting slightly.

“Oh,” He whispered softly, then held his hands up in defense. “Oh, I had no idea. Really. No harm done at all. We were just talking about music. Strictly casual.”

You were standing as still as a statue, muscles taught as you tried your hardest to feel out the situation. Was Austin pretending to be your boyfriend because he thought Robin looked suspicious? You chewed on the inside of your cheek, fighting off the urge to shrug his arm off of you. You’d hate yourself later for embarrassing him in public, and you were positive that your best friend’s intentions were good. Still, it annoyed you that he still treated you like a child. Sure, you could be a bit too optimistic at times, but you were fully capable of protecting yourself.

The hatred in Austin’s chest fizzled out, and suddenly he felt like the biggest douche on the planet. You might be blinded by your sense of innocence, but you were often a good judge of character. Robin was a nice enough guy, and he had just been an asshole for no reason. Austin’s shoulders slumped and he quickly shook his head.

“No- you’re fine. I’m just protective over her, especially in places like this. Ya can never be too careful… There’s a lot’a creeps out there.” Austin offered as an excuse, moving a tad closer to him so that he could shake his hand- anything to alleviate some of the awkward tension. Robin started to shuffle back, obviously scared of a potential fight, but Austin shook his head.

He’d traumatized the poor guy.

“So ya work at a record store? Do ya have a good thrash collection?” Something. Austin needed to think of something that might change the direction of this conversation. He could feel how antsy you were getting at his side. He didn’t have to look down to know that you were disappointed in him for his reaction. Knowing that he had upset you absolutely gutted him. He’d let his jealousy get the best of him, and because of that he’d acted like. . . well, like a complete dick to someone that didn’t deserve it.

Robin’s grim expression softened, brown eyes pinching at the corners as he smiled- albeit a bit nervously.

“Yeah, at the record store down the street,” Robin yelled over the music, pointing off in the direction.

You and Austin had dropped by the place a few times, but it was usually for record signings. It was the largest store in the entire area, so any time there were any “obscure” new releases the male would have to drive an hour out just to pick it up. It was a pain in the ass, but the store owner was pretty nice and knew a handful of influential people in the music industry.

Back when you and Austin were in highschool you had all but begged on your hands and knees to skip school so that you could get one of your “The Police” cassette signed. Much to his absolute horror you had insisted on blasting it the entire way home. Of course he put up with it. Why? Because you looked cute screaming the lyrics.

“Ya must have just gotten the job. I was up there about two months ago and didn’t see ya.” Austin offered Robin another smile, and that was all it took for the guy to warm up to the blonde.

Just as you thought, Robin and Austin hit it off. The two ended up talking for the rest of the night, even earning a few glares from other people in the crowd whenever their laughter got too boisterous to be considered polite. After closing out your tabs Robin parted ways with the two of you, quickly slipping his home phone number into Austin’s palm, which had been scribbled on the back of his receipt.

You had wanted to congratulate the boys for putting on a good show, but everyone had jumped off the stage and headed straight to the overcrowded bar for drinks after their set. Everyone aside from Davie, who was busying himself with a group of cute girls that had been eying him all night.

“Come on. It’s gettin’ late. . . let’s get ya home.”

Austin was acting weirder than usual tonight. Sure, this particular bar wasn’t the safest place to frequent, but his earlier treatment of Robin was an overreaction. Your best friend had a bad habit of babying you far too often. He made excuses for it- telling you that the world was a rotten place and that he didn’t mind looking out for you. It had been something that you appreciated through high school, but now that you were an adult it made you feel. . . a bit too spoiled. It also blurred certain boundaries, which further confused your already suffering heart. If only Austin knew how you felt towards him, then maybe he’d start acting a bit differently with you.

Yet here he was, opening up the door to his van for you with a broad smile that made your heart do somersaults. You wanted to blame the heat that was pooling in the pit of your stomach on the five beers you’d drank that night. You wanted so badly to blame all of this on your recent drought in romance. . . but it’s Austin.

No one has ever treated you as gently as he has.

Men, your father included, had always acted like your wants and needs were an inconvenience. You were too “high maintenance” because you enjoyed spending quality time with your partners. Relationships have always been short lived for you. Austin had set an impossible standard for how you wanted to be treated. Even now he was chatting your head off, one hand on the wheel and the other hand mindlessly checking to see if your seatbelt was buckled, his fingers brushing against your hip as he gave it a testing tug.

Being around him right now was dangerous. You weren’t drunk enough to make a fool of yourself, but tipsy to the point of possibly ruining everything. Because he looked beautiful in the dim lighting of the car's display. His jawline was even more defined due to the shadows, and his blonde hair looked even lighter in comparison than usual. It was longer than you’d ever seen it, falling in slight waves because of the spring humidity.

And you really wanted to kiss him.

please shoot me a message if you want to be added to my taglist, that way you won't miss when I post!

taglist: @knoxvillesshoes @cosmorant @ol1viam @simply-sams-things @haim80s @gabbcabb@8hgel@slutt4him@kaitaesupremacy@dazedshoon @4rt3m1ss@cryingabtab@kittenlittle24@austinsrealgf@austinbutlersgirlfriend@clearbolts @ab4eva@starcatchxr @julietamidala@obbsessivereader@gwuide@blurredcolour@the-little-red-haired-girl@meladollsims@poppet05@shrekstheloml@randomwriter888@idc123sworld@girlblogger2002@rockerchick05@screechingstrawberrysong@simpforevery1@girlabirla@dre6ming@obetrolncocktails@fairyjanes@jensenswinchester@lo-bells @in-my-body-bag@eliseinmemphis @fantuhsise@bcofl0ve@shynovelist@ssstrangersblog @harrysthecraic@hangmanswhore@jyvnho@mymamalife @melodydior @18lkpeters @memphis-mania @rjmartin11 @artlover8992 @powerofelvis @ggwritesstuff @eliseinmemphis @polksalademma @flwrs4aust @cryingabtab @austinbutlersbaby @lindszeppelin @rosaminny @ho3forfakeguys

#foreverdolly #austin butler fanfic #austin butler #austin butler fluff #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #austin butler angst #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #elvis 2022 #austin butler fandom #baz luhrmann elvis #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler fanfiction #self insert

359 notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 9 months

Text

Ryuhei Kuroda x Reader: Moon and Tide

F!Reader. Colleagues to Lovers. Mitsuki leaves, Ryuhei has some realisations.

Ryuhei experiences his first heartbreak at nineteen.

(In truth, his heart had broken time and time again with his unrequited love. Each time that Mitsuki dismisses him, each time he saw her with Shiba Inu.

But each time he used to see her, he also fell in love all over again too.)

Shortly after Sinu Han leaves, Mitsuki also departs.

"What?!" Ryuhei slams both fists down on the boardroom table, "Then I quit."

"Haven't you harassed her enough? She obviously doesn't want you to follow." Samuel Seo gazes over the top of his glasses, smirk on his face and relishing the blonde's distress.

"Watch your mouth." Ryuhei snarls, low and menacing, a clear warning as any.

"Samuel is right," Eugene is calm, voice even. "Please respect Mitsuki's wishes this one time." Unlike all the other times you've ignored her boundaries does not need to be said.

The room stills at his words. The chairman has spoken, although it does nothing to dissipate the tension. The air hangs heavy. Like an elastic band stretched taut, to its limits.

Samuel observes Mandeok tensing and Ryuhei’s nostrils flaring, and he wonders who will break first.

Ryuhei's eyes flit around the room. The silence, lack of support, from Kenta or even yourself is damning.

"Fuck you," he hisses. Leaving, not wanting to be here a second longer.

The door slams, reverberating off the walls.

"My apologies for Ryuhei's interruptions," Eugene gestures to you, "In Mitsuki's absence, Y/N will take on her duties and title."

You give a curt nod to the rest of the room, acknowledging your promotion, but your eyes stay glued to Ryuhei's empty seat.

To both of your surprise, you're the first one to reach out.

(You like to think it’s you fulfilling your new duties as president. The alliance, the uncomplicated relationship you always had with Ryuhei helped too.)

Gently knocking on his room door, calling his name. The voice, the tone, the pitch pulls him out of his mood. Briefly, for a second, before he realises the two of you sound nothing alike.

"Go away,"

He watches you respond by jiggling the handle aggressively. So much so that the entire door shakes then a second later - it opens with you striding in.

"That's handy," Ryuhei, lying in bed, glances over at you rearranging the pins back into your hair, "And a complete invasion of my privacy."

"Like you ever cared about anyone's privacy,"

Right. Another jab about Mitsuki. One that he used to take on the chin because it's true, he's not ashamed. He pines after her openly, certain that everyone in 2A would have heard of his antics by now, if not the whole of Workers.

Tonight is a different story. It's less the wound being raw and tender and more Ryuhei is missing an entire limb.

How can she leave without saying goodbye?

He misses her.

Ryuhei throws the covers over his head.

The message is clear though not enough to drive you out or to muffle your voice.

"You have 3 days to get yourself together, then I need you by my side."

Fuck off he wants to say. But what's the point anymore?

"I have negotiations that could go wrong. I need all the manpower I can get my hands on."

Like you wouldn't be able to handle it by yourself, a small voice in his brain retorts.

Whatever. This, Workers, everything has all been a complete waste of his time.

Ryuhei was officially Mitsuki's bodyguard, and it makes sense that his duties now extend to you.

Everything else thus far has transitioned smoothly, except your current dilemma: how do you deal with a bodyguard that doesn't want to guard you?

After the three days, you barge in at the crack of dawn and try to wrestle him out of bed. Out of the room that stinks of despair and depression.

A one sided obsession that has run its course, ended in the best way it could. You don't voice these thoughts out loud.

Ryuhei is a dead weight in your arms, childish and insolent and completely unhelpful.

He's a grown man. There's little you can do.

Your lips crease thin with fury but no words spill forth.

You leave without him.

It's a full week later that Ryuhei musters up enough energy to crawl out of bed, throwing on something half presentable to stretch his legs.

Wandering the corridors, guilt creeps over him when he sees you talking to Kenta, right arm bandaged and in a sling.

Kenta nods at his friend's reappearance, you ignore him completely.

Well. He supposes he deserves that.

Seeing you kick starts a little change.

Not a lot, enough to get Ryuhei out of bed every day and put up an appearance of semi-normality. Key word: semi.

He slumps over a desk half the time, willing away the hours by fiddling with the edges of papers and documents, heart aching.

(A small part of him, maybe the most pathetic part, wants to doodle Mitsuki's name over and over.)

Other times he takes to training with a ferocity that surprises himself.

The only moments he feels anything other than a hollowness is when he's by your side. Eyes constantly attracted to your broken arm.

Steel pins, Kenta had mentioned, face grim as he clicks his lighter, adding that it was only thanks to your quick thinking the executives of Workers made it out alive.

Huh, it was that bad?

The guilt builds, claws under his skin and at his conscience. Could have sworn you were ambidextrous except now he watches you struggle with your dominant hand out of action.

He's not sure if it's out of stubbornness or forgetfulness that you have used chopsticks all week. Albeit your dexterity has vastly improved since Monday, watching you is nothing short of exasperating.

Ryuhei’s peace offering comes in the form of a spoon.

You've barely exchanged words since that day where you tried to hoist him out of bed. Only on a needs-must basis. Terse and to the point.

You were thoroughly pissed off and everyone knew it.

Righteous in your anger at first. You had explicitly said that you needed all hands on deck, implicitly asked for his help and frustrated he couldn't separate his personal feelings enough to do his job when there are lives at stake. Over the past couple weeks, your ire has reduced, cooled until he is now nothing but a thorn in your side.

"Go on, just take it," The thorn in your side holds out the utensil.

You ignore him.

"Or else I could just feed you?" He offers, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes.

Ryuhei huffs when you tell him he can try if he wants a broken arm to match yours.

Inch by inch, you thaw.

Would have thawed quicker if Ryuhei lessened his efforts to get back into your good graces, causing headaches and extra work more often than not.

Still, he tries. Following you around, part bodyguard, part puppy. You appreciate it in hindsight. It’s almost cute.

Little by little, he also regains the bounce in his step.

Ryuhei tries once to contact Mitsuki.

She says she has no plans to return or to see him again.

She doesn't offer anything else.

He stays silent the whole time.

Some may consider that a form of closure, Ryuhei isn’t sure. Things at least get slightly easier after that.

Once an all encompassing searing pain, the hurt and heartbreak eventually settles and dulls into a throb.

Normalcy becomes less of a facade.

Ryuhei flips off Eugene in earnest, tells Samuel Seo to eat shit with sincerity, struts 2A with his confident gait once more.

"Nomen," you nudge him lightly with your shoulder. Even with your mask on, he can hear the smile in your voice. "It's good to have you back."

"Yeah," he agrees. It is good to be back.

Not everything is smooth sailing, however.

In his more melodramatic moments, in which there are many, Ryuhei vows never to love again, never to so much as gaze at another woman, and promises a lifetime of chastity.

You snort at the declarations.

"What?" He snaps and you pointedly return his gaze as he remains indignant, "You don't count."

You let that particular one slide but- "Who's going to sleep with you anyway, you're a pathetic asshole."

"A very handsome pathetic asshole," he corrects.

"Hmm." Yet you don't disagree.

It's only later that day, stuck in another godforsaken meeting with you and Eugene, when boredom strikes and his mind wanders that Ryuhei realises that you didn't refute his claim.

He watches you, head tilted and eyebrows furrowed.

Huh.

Ryuhei doesn't care about you, not like he cares about Mitsuki. Though he doesn't care about anyone the same way he cares (cared?) about her.

It's not personal.

His relationship with you has always been easy, flirtatious without intent.

Sharp words and double entendres litter your conversations. Fun during the better moments, aggravating during others. Skin deep, superficial. He doesn't know you beyond the limits of your words, not really, and the experience is mutual.

Others have commented on your strength and character before. Formidable. A force to be reckoned with.

Even more have taken note of your looks, a common water cooler topic.

To Ryuhei, you're like the moon. Sure you're nice to look at. Yet when Mitsuki is the stars and beyond; dazzling, glittering with untold adventures, how can anyone possibly compare?

(In the end, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Though not in the way Ryuhei expects.)

He carries out his new bodyguard tasks without complaint.

It only made sense with your arm out of commission, and him technically and almost literally being your right hand man, that he carries your bag, your coffee too. Really, whatever you need.

What’s more, he now knows you take your coffee exactly like him. Quadruple shot, milky and disgustingly sweet.

Spends more time scrolling on your phone than a president probably should.

Hate sitting with your back to the door. And in meetings where there are no other options, Ryuhei makes sure to position himself opposite instead of being next to you. Himself sat where you would have preferred. One eye on any potential dangers, and giving a reassuring, roguish smile that eases your worries.

Bags under your eyes naturally mean a poor night’s sleep. Bags under your eyes and hair in a ponytail means you do not want to be here today. Something you would never voice out loud, but Ryuhei can read you anyway.

On those days, he makes sure he’s always one step ahead and extra considerate. He’s not completely altruistic, he also doesn’t want to be shouted at again.

The emptiness still comes and goes, catches him out when he least expects it. Usually he feels Mitsuki’s absence more than remembers her presence.

Ryuhei notices you a bit more too, these days. Ever since your offhand agreement.

The way you say his name is nothing like how she used to. The way you look at him is nothing like how she used to.

It’s actually warmer.

“You fucking idiot,” your tone is a complete contrast to your gentle hands, now completely healed and bandaging up his instead.

Ryuhei pouts with mock hurt and you roll your eyes. You will not give him sympathy, not for this.

(A yelp diverted your attention earlier today, and you rushed to find Kenta holding his lighter and Ryuhei cradling his own hand, wincing in pain.

You took one look at the two guilty faces and realised that the blonde moron wanted to learn how to set his finger alight like Kenta without hurting himself.

Ryuhei is one thing, but you expected better from Kenta. You turn to him, disappointment painted on your face and tell him exactly that.

“What about me!” Ryuhei had the audacity to pipe up. You roughly snatched his wrist and dragged him away.)

“Don’t set yourself on fire again,” you punctuate each word by sharply jabbing him in the chest with your finger.

Ryuhei flutters his eyelashes at you in a way he thinks must be quite charming and endearing. Who knows where the hell he got that idea from. You’re tempted to gouge out his eyes more than anything.

Somehow, you manage to resist. You also refrain from rolling your eyes at him again.

(You worry if you do that anymore, they might get permanently stuck and never return back to normal.)

Ryuhei studies his injured hand. Lying in bed, other hand behind his head, holding it up into the direct path of the silver moonlight cutting through the darkness.

He moves it, angles it this way and that. Letting the highlights and shadows illuminate your neat handiwork.

Something about this makes him feel funny. A little light headed.

He can’t recall the last time anyone touched him so kindly. Can’t recall anyone ever taking care of him when he’s been hurt before.

If he squints and looks at the neat little knot just right, he can almost see a heart shape.

It’s odd.

Were you always this flirtatious? Was he always this coquettish with you?

Did you always return his taunts with such a sparkle in your eyes?

When did you start having so many inside jokes, your own moments snickering together?

And it’s like he can finally see you. No longer subjected to his previous tunnel vision, he finally understands what everyone has been saying.

You’re much more stunning than Ryuhei remembers.

He also doesn’t remember your smile making him feel this way before.

Lastly, he remembers saying ‘you don’t count’. His words have come back to bite him.

Ryuhei wakes up at his usual time on a Wednesday.

It’s a nothing special sort of day.

Slinks out of his bed like he usually does, goes about his day as he usually does, teases you with intention and a quickened pulse. Which… ok, that one is new.

All in all. It’s fine. It’s an unremarkable Wednesday.

Except the dull ache in his chest, one he has had to endure for the last couple months, isn't there anymore.

There’s a different type of guilt at play.

First-

When you’re used to something for years and years, it takes time to break out of a habit. For the first time, Ryuhei begins to see his attachment to Mitsuki as the unhealthy obsession that it is.

He’s not fully ready to pick this apart just yet.

Second-

How do you separate a rebound from something real? That you’re not just a replacement, a new person to pass the time?

And that idea, that you’re a replacement for anything, shocks him. It’s unimaginable to think of you as a passing fancy because you deserve so much better.

That really should have given him an inkling.

On the other hand. When Ryuhei has only surrounded his love life with the one red flag, and himself being the other red flag too… he has a lot to learn.

Unfortunately you did get one thing right: Ryuhei is pathetic. His baseline personality is an absolute simp.

Maybe it would have been different if his informative years played out differently. Alas.

Alone, he tries to dissect his thoughts and feelings. In your company, he is much more simple. Constantly wanting to capture your attention, which you give easily and with minimal conditions.

Ryuhei can now read you like the back of his hand, knows your preferences so well that he’s able to anticipate your needs before they develop into needs. Wants, at best. Perhaps not even that.

And when other people look at you, the desire shown easily on their face that he has tried to tamper down, his possessiveness and jealousy flares.

Unsubtle shoulder barges and sneers are thrown in their direction.

But Ryuhei is nothing if not patient. He supposes it won’t be so bad if you turn him down and you’re happy with someone else.

He’s used to that.

Giving you the opportunity to turn him down though, he’s not sure yet how to go about.

Conveniently, an opportunity does arise.

Celebrating the new Fifth Affiliates, Eugene had said, showing his face at the gathering for about ten minutes before leaving.

Then the two newbies, who Ryuhei doesn’t bother to get the names of because he sure as hell doesn’t want to know anyone with tacky ‘H’ tattoos (on their forehead and neck for crying out loud!), leave shortly after.

Ryuhei also considers it a small victory when Samuel Seo departs, after a very witty verbal sparring to see who can tell each other to fuck off in increasingly creative ways.

“You’re so fucking juvenile,” you sigh, though you begrudgingly admit that you were impressed throughout that display.

“At least I got the last word in,” Ryuhei grins, giving the finger to Samuel’s retreating back.

The room empties out at a quicker rate now that the non-mandatory, completely optional (if you want to keep your job) gathering is devoid of the more severe senior management.

No more than another 30 minutes pass and only you and Ryuhei remain. Two small figures in an oversized room, full of empty tables but one.

Ryuhei rests one elbow on the table, propping up his head and looks at you with a cocky smile.

“Remember when I said I’m never going to gaze at anyone ever again? That was a lie.”

“Really.” You deadpan, resisting once more the urge to roll your eyes. It might be the most difficult thing you have ever had to do.

“I lied when I said you don’t count too.”

Ryuhei, for all his flaws, has only ever been forthright with his emotions. In his own roundabout and very sex-pest way with Mitsuki, though he did confess in the end. As for right now, well, he has learned his lesson.

You give him a response he didn’t expect.

“I think you should spend more time on your own first.”

Ryuhei is immediately placed on a leave of absence the next day.

You explain clearly to him as he sits opposite, his very official letter scrunched in his fist and feeling extremely petulant, that while you do like him, he needs some distance to everything.

He only hears the first part. You like him? You? Like? Him? The words swim round and round in his mind.

“Ryuhei,” you snap your fingers and him out of his daze.

“Then what’s the problem?” he whines.

“Don’t make me into another Mitsuki,” Ryuhei opens his mouth to argue that he won’t, there is no way-

“Ryuhei,” you repeat his name again in an authoritative tone that leaves no room for argument. Echoing your words from yesterday. “You need to spend more time on your own. This is non negotiable.”

Ryuhei sulks like there is no tomorrow.

Tries to manifest you outside his door but to no avail. He doesn’t see you at all.

That just about surmises his first week.

The week after, he thinks about you. How strange that you started as colleagues, almost friends first. How well he actually knows you.

Now months after Mitsuki has left, Ryuhei can only piece together fragments of her.

Even still, he had never seen the whole picture. He never knew her in her entirety, only the portrait he painted.

What becomes exceedingly clear is his one sided behaviour.

The fog, the rose tinted glasses fully lifts in the fourth week.

The sixth week he carefully pries open the past.

Gently picks apart what he wasn’t ready to before.

Moments of self reflection are painful, embarrassing. If the earth could open up and swallow him whole, he would gladly take it.

He still feels something for Mitsuki, though pertaining more to the remorse and shame side rather than anything else.

In an ideal world, he would seek her out and offer an apology for his past behaviour. However, in the real world, that only helps to alleviate his own conscience.

He has already reached out once before and she has given her answer.

Nothing else from Ryuhei now would benefit either party.

Two full months later, Ryuhei sees you once again at work.

Your smile still makes his heart flutter and brain short wire.

Except he can now see you as a whole person, all your flaws and faults too. What he used to ignore with Mitsuki, blinded by his obsession.

His feelings for you don't change.

Ryuhei wonders when he started to like you.

Thinks his heart liked you before his brain even realised. When the time is right, he needs to apologise for how long it took him to fully catch up.

He remembers thinking of you as the moon once, paling in comparison to the stars and the great beyond.

That wasn’t quite fair. Wasn't accurate at all.

If you are the celestial body, luminous and hung high in the heavens by the gods themselves, then Ryuhei considers himself the tide.

He understands now, with its lunar radiance, there is nothing that comes close.

Quite simply: 月が綺麗ですね

(The moon is beautiful, isn't it?)

At twenty, Ryuhei experiences real love.

Experiences what it truly means to love and to be loved.

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #lookism fic #ryuhei kuroda #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei x reader #wannaeatramyeon #3.5k words on this fucking asshole #a little. maybe a lot OOC.#trying to break him out of Mitsuki's grasps #✨character growth✨#making this pathetic meow meow less pathetic

278 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 8 months

Note

sooo I have this idea, for Sam Winchester where (gn) reader does something stupid (up 2 u) and Sam gets rlly mad and they don’t talk for a while, but Dean and them are still in contact and go on hunt together every once in a while. Sam finds out (reader gets srsly injured) and you can end it how you see fit!

-💋

.⋆｡Risks and Rewards｡⋆.

Sam Winchester x plus size reader

You take risks on hunts, it’s what you do but this time, the risk was greater than the reward

Warnings: gn reader, injuries, angst, arguments, hunt gone wrong, bleeding out, reader is called beautiful, mutual pining, deathbed confessions, major character death, still a happy ending tho (you’ll see)

WC: 2k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“I can’t believe you!” Sam’s voice partially shook the very foundation of the safe house you had just barely made it back to. “I can’t believe you would do something so fucking stupid!” His hair is sticking up in a million different directions as a combination of dried blood and utter frustration.

“If it wasn’t for what I did, you both would be dead by now!” You shouted back but winced as you pulled at the hastily done stitches on your side. Dean’s arm, which was the only thing keeping you upright, tightened around your waist.

“Can we save this for later, maybe when we’re not all exhausted and hurt?”

“No!” You and Sam retorted at the same time.

“There were way too many fucking vamps for you to handle alone, it was easy pickings for them!” Dean attempted to guide you to the single bedroom at the back of the cabin but you shook him off with a glare. “I did what either one of you would have done in that situation.”

Sam breathed heavily through his nose, the vein in his forehead bulging with anger. “You turned yourself into bait! You had no plan, no weapons, and no backup. You’re lucky that Dean got to his machete in time.”

“I had it handled!” Pain ricocheted through your body as you tried to stay standing without any support and you felt the hot trickle of blood leak down onto your hip.

“You were impaled!”

“I was fine! I had them right where I wanted them.”

“So you wanted three vamps to be practically dogpiled on top of you while you bled out?” The question was rhetorical but you answered anyway.

“Yes! Three vamps on me meant that you both only had to deal with one each. It’s basic fucking math Samuel.”

“You fucking-“

“Alright that’s enough!” Dean finally interjected. “It’s been a long hard day and we’re all a bit wound up. We can have a more rational conversation in the morning once we’ve all gotten some rest. So Sam, go clean yourself up and I’ll get some food ready. And you-“ He turned to you with a harsh look. “-You go sit down cause it looks like you’re about to pass out.”

Sam’s jaw clenched and his eyes flicked to you but he quickly looked away. “Fine.” He grumbled and stomped off to the bathroom, his duffle bag in hand. You flinched when the door slammed shut. Dean gingerly cupped your face like a father would to their child and wiped away a tear you hadn’t noticed rolling down your cheek.

“He didn’t mean it, he just got scared.” You scoffed.

“Go make your food Dean.” You knew you were being unnecessarily harsh to your friend but you were still too angry and hurt to act rationally. He sighed and stepped back.

He pointed to the couch. “Sit, I’ll take a look at those stitches when I’m done.” But as Dean turned away to the kitchen, you didn’t go to the couch, instead you grabbed your car keys from the side table and quietly hobbled out the door.

When Sam had finally finished his shower and redressed in clean clothes, he was considerably calmer. He knew you were right, that they needed a distraction to kill all those vamps but when he saw you- metal pipe through your side with three huge vampires trying to get a bite at you, his heart stopped.

Sighing, he looked at his reflection in the small mirror above the sink. Your blood that had covered his hands was washed away but he could still feel it staining his skin. He had been on the edge of tears as he stitched you up in the back seat of his brother’s car but those tears had evaporated into anger when you doubled down on your actions.

You were reckless and stupid and gone.

Sam stepped back into the main room of the cabin and immediately noticed there was one less person. The wide open door to the bedroom showed that it was empty and with Dean in the kitchen, there was nowhere else you could be. “Dean, where are they?”

His brother immediately froze, gaze darting to the couch before looking out the window and seeing that your car was conveniently gone. “Son of a bitch.”

——————

It was the silence that was killing you. You could hear everything, the few animals that scurried around in the forest that surrounded you, the wind rustling the leaves in the branches overhead, the sound of your blood as it poured from the huge slash in your abdomen.

You knew no help was coming because you were alone.

You couldn’t feel the pain anymore and you supposed you were grateful for that. “At least it’s a clear night.” You murmured to yourself as you turned your gaze upwards to look at the stars. It was dumb to go hunt a wendigo alone but you were still mad and you had a point to prove. Although, since you hadn’t talked to him in nearly three months, Sam wouldn’t actually know that you won the argument but it was enough for you to prove him wrong without him knowing.

But now, now you want to be wrong. You would give anything to hear his voice just one more time, even if it was because he was yelling at you.

It took all of your remaining strength to reach into your pocket for your phone, praying that it wasn’t cracked as you switched it back on. The bright screen illuminated your face. There was a text from Dean and one from Garth that obscured the photo in the background, the photo of you and your boys at the Grand Canyon.

With trembling fingers, you scrolled to Sam’s contact, his name surrounded by childish hearts like you were a middle schooler with a crush. His photo was one you took in secret, a candid shot of him reading a massive book. He was hunched over and his brown hair uncombed but his eyes shone in the dim light of the Bunker’s library. You hesitated over the call button.

The ringing of your phone overpowered all other sounds in the forest and you were grateful for the reprieve from the quiet. “Sam’s phone.” Dean’s voice echoed through the small clearing, slightly broken and muffled because of the poor cell service.

“Hey Dee.” You smiled, biting back a whimper of pain as you spoke.

“Hey kid! It’s been a minute, you ok?” There was a brief pause as you summoned up the courage to lie to one of your closest friends.

“Yeah- yeah I’m good. Do you think you could get Sam for me? I wanted to talk to him.”

“Course. Hey Sammy, phone for you!” Dean shouted and you could vaguely hear Sam yelling back at him ‘stop answering my phone jerk!’. There was a brief scuffle and then a new voice, one that immediately soothed the burn of your injuries and set your soul at ease.

“Hi.” He said as Dean retorted with a fond ‘bitch’. There was a thud and then the line went quiet for a second. “Sorry, you know how Dean is.”

You chuckled and blood dripped down from the corner of your lips. “Yeah I do.” There was a beat, an awkward silence falling over you. “Hey Sam-“

“I’m sorry.” He interrupted you. “You were right, and I’m sorry for yelling at you, you just really scared me. I don’t want to lose you, I lo-,” his voice became thick and he cleared his throat, “You’re important to me and I want to keep you safe.”

Your eyelids fluttered as tears began to build along your waterline. “I’m sorry too, I was being reckless, I just thought it was our best bet.” You tried to readjust your body on the cold ground but hissed as pain exploded through your stomach.

“Are you- fuck are you hurt?” The panic in Sam’s voice was like being doused in cold water. Suddenly the blissful fog you were floating in, that was undoubtedly shock, drifted away and everything crashed back into you.

“No no I’m fine.” You attempted to calmly reply but it came out as more of a sob.

“Where are you?” You could hear the jingling of keys and thundering footsteps. You laughed tearfully.

“Nowhere you could get to in time. Just talk to me please, I want to hear your voice one more time.” The sounds stopped but he didn’t speak again. “Please Sam, do this one last thing for me.”

He took in a shuddery breath. “Don’t do this. Tell me where you are.” His voice wavered and you knew he was close to tears.

“Sam-“

“Tell me.”

“You fucker.” You huffed. “Montana, Custer National Park. Don’t know my exact coordinates.” Your legs were cold, far colder than they should have been considering it was August.

“Keep talking to me.” He spoke into the phone and then turned and yelled into the Bunker, calling for his brother and Cas. “C’mon let me hear your beautiful voice.”

“You think my voice is beautiful?” Your heart jumped even as you felt it slowing down.

“I think all of you is beautiful.” Tears rolled down your temples, wetting the dirt beneath your head. You sniffled and clutched your phone even tighter.

“You’re beautiful too. Most beautiful man 've ever met.” Your words started to slur together but you kept talking, just like he asked. You would do anything he asked. “Got those big hazel eyes nd nice hair. Never told you but you made me nervous when we first met. You were so big and you were frowning but then you smiled and I knew.”

“What did you know?” You smiled.

“I knew that I was gonna fall in love with you. And I did. Sam-“

“No. No.” He cut you off again. “You don’t get to tell me that, not now. Not when I’m not there with you to tell you that I feel the same. You can say it when we get you home safe.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna last that long.”

“You will.” He firmly replied. “You have to.”

“Ok, then I won’t tell you how meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me and I also won’t say that you became my home.” Blackness curled around the end of your vision, and the stars slowly began to disappear. “Why can’t I see the stars anymore?”

“Don’t you dare close your eyes!” Sam screamed but his voice began to fade away as the darkness settled over you.

“I’m sorry Sam.” Your eyes shut as a bright light appeared before you.

——————

The first thing Sam was aware of was the smell of pine. It was so achingly nostalgic, he couldn’t help but smile. The raging river beneath his feet provided just enough ambient sound to disguise the familiar purr of an engine.

“You certainly took your time getting here Winchester.”

You looked just like he remembered you, from your hair down to the smallest details on your skin. Dean stood next to you, arm thrown over your shoulder as he laughed.

“He was always the slow one.” Sam just smiled and embraced his older brother, holding him as tightly as he could. Dean cupped the back of his head before letting him go with a teary smile. “You did it Sammy.”

They pulled away from each other and Dean gestured to you. “Go on, they’ve been waiting for a long time.”

Sam approached you slowly, his smile growing wider with each step. You looked away bashfully. “I know we didn’t end off on a great note and my death was ever so slightly dramatic so you can be mad at me all you want.”

His big hands cupped your wide hips, pulling your attention back to him. “Tell me.” Your eyes sparkled under the setting sun.

“I love you Sam.” And as he kissed you for the first time, everything clicked into place and you both realised that maybe the risk of hunting was definitely worth the reward.

SPN Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3slothy @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @km-ffluv

Supernatural

@hc-geralt-23 @mandythemint

Sam Winchester

@pretty-npeach @jason-todds-bitch @honkytonkbabe @nini-trash-forever @mandyzsick101 @getoutofthere @l9ckheed @onlystarshere @xoxokiaraaxoxo @star-dusst @marvel-mistress @aleck-cross @ambassadortotrilliusprime @girl-of-multi-fandoms @everything-is-awesomesauce @Theantisoci-alone

#sam winchester x plus size reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #sam x plus size reader #sam x you #sam x reader #plus size reader #dean winchester #reader insert #anon #inbox #angst #sam x y/n #sam winchester #supernatural imagine

179 notes · View notes