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mayhemproduces · 1 month

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Holy shit! They really are taking the last spot! For the first time ever, Abigail and Syn are entering the Clusterfuck together, and they're taking the best spot in the whole thing! Is this how they get back to Bishop?! If it comes down to the two of them, what's gonna happen?!

We're a long way from figuring that out, as they've got a mountain full of heavy hitters in that ring. And they don't waste any time getting their bands dirty. They each grab an Ass Boy, and chuck them right out of the Clusterfuck! Goodbye, Gunns!

“Colten and Austin Gunn have been eliminated.”

Abigail turns around to see Julia Hart standing behind her, glaring at her (former?) Matriarch. Abigail tilts her head back, staring down at Julia - and she bends a knee. Apparently The House don't stand together when following Abigail's leadership, and the trio quickly go to work beating up on familiar rivals. Abigail takes out Riley as Julia works on Pandemonium, and Syn tries to take out Effy. Riho leaps at Abigail, trying to take her down when she isn't watching - bit Abigail catches her! She holds onto Riho, shaking her head. She gets closer to the ropes as she swings Riho, throwing her over the top rope with a Wrath of the Gods! Riho crashes and burns on the floor!

“Riho has been eliminated.”

As this was going on, Julia finds her hands full of Samoa Joe, who shoves Julia back rather easily. But Syn charges him, nailing him with a BIG Stinger Splash! Syn shoves Joe out of the corner and runs the ropes, charging him, as Abigail attacks him from behind, squashing him with their Big Rig lariat and rolling elbow combo! Joe's ROCKED, and Syn tosses him over the top rope!

“Samoa Joe has been eliminated.”

And just like that, The Fallen have stolen four eliminations!

If you're starting to ask yourself if anybody can stop this, well, you've got your answer, as The Fallen find themselves surrounded. Pan, Riley, Lilith, Sardonyx, Effy, Ospreay, Isaiah Broner and Sam Holloway circle The Fallen. Pinning them back to back in the center of the ring. Where there should be concern, The Fallen exuberate confidence. A sick smirk mirrors across the three of them before they charge ahead, throwing fists with everyone! They manage to knock Broner and Sam to the side, while they find unlikely allies with Atticus attacking Riley and Jay and Juice going after Pan, Swerve going after Ospreay.

On the other side of the ring, VENY has Pan on her shoulder, trying to eliminate her from this match, when Eric Taylor slips behind the two of them, lifting them both and dumping them over the top rope! Pan is able to hang on by a THREAD, one of her feet touches but not the other, meaning she’s not eliminated, but VENY isn’t as lucky, and hits the floor!

“VENY has been eliminated!”

Julia's able to grab Effy and throw him over the top - but Effy hangs on! He desperately clings to the top rope, trying to skin the cat and save his Hell on Earth chances - but Julia kicks him in the back! Goodnight, Effy!

“Effy has been eliminated.”

Julia backs up, smirking and waving at Effy - when Lilith grabs her from behind! She quickly throws Julia right over the top rope!

“Julia Hart has been eliminated.”

Abigail grabs Lilith, tossing her right behind Julia!

“Lilith Brookes has been eliminated.”

Riley attacks Abigail, trying to wear out the Matriarch - when Atticus grabs her! He's trying to surprise Riley by throwing her out, but Riley reverses, sending Atticus to the floor! At the exact same time, Will Ospreay sends Broner over the top!

“Atticus Cogar and Isaiah Broner have been eliminated.”

Riley and Will turn around and lock eyes, and you can feel something shift in the air. The Clusterfuck is full of special moments, but this is the first ever confrontation of two of the best British wrestlers in the world today. Something people (me) have longed for, and you can feel the Boardwalk come even more unglued as the proverbial whistle blows, kickstarting the action. Ospreay ducks Ishimori and heads to the ropes. Riley somersaults, but Ospreay leaps over her. Riley kips up and runs past Ospreay, hitting the ropes. Ospreay leap frogs then rolls back, and Riley somersaults over him. They spring to their feet, Will trying to connect with a tijeras, but Riley cartwheels to stay on her feet. She pops off the ropes, flipping Will with a hurricanrana, but Ospreay cartwheels and jumps to his feet. He ducks an elbow and heads to the ropes, leaping off, thinking about the OsCutter. But Riley ducks it. She lets Ospreay roll off her back before she hits the ropes, going for her springboard imploding cutter, the Dead Scream, but Ospreay gets his hands under him! He avoids the Dead Scream by landing on his hands! He pops back up and goes for a buzzsaw, but Riley ducks it. She jumps to her feet and finally CLOCKS Ospreay with a huge bicycle knee strike! It's like all of their kinetic energy explodes out of that shot, and Ospreay's down!

Riley moves into one corner. Riley performs a cartwheel out of the corner, picking up more steam with a handspring - but Ospreay jumps up, catching her in an electric chair! Ospreay tries to tuck one of her legs away, setting up for a One Winged Angel, but Riley throws her leg back over his shoulder. She punches him in the head before she stands up, standing on Ospreay's SHOULDERS. She stradies herself for a moment before she jumps off, twisting in the air, and catching Ospreay with a Dragonrana on the way down! Holy shit! The Boardwalk almost jumps out of their seats! We've seen some athletic shit tonight, but that was damn impressive. And they're not done! Riley charges Ospreay, crushing him with a running corkscrew shooting star press! Riley rolls forward and jumps to the second rope, hoping up to the top. She floats back, jumping over Ospreay, and DRILLING Swerve with a tornado DDT! Holy SHIT!

Riley gets the crowd going into a chant, but notices Juice coming at her out of her eye. She uses the ropes to backflip over Robinson, and he gets his leg stuck on the rope, tumbling over it. Juice saves himself on the apron, and Pan comes charging at Riley with an uppercut. But Riley moves, and Pan knocks down Juice!

“Juice Robinson has been eliminated.”

Pan turns around as if to apologize to Juice for eliminating him, but as she turns around, Riley nails her with a 360 Codebreaker!

But Pandemonium is able to pop right backup, nailing Riley with a wicked roundhouse kick! Across the ring, Ospreay intercepts a lariat from Sardonyx, using it to turn her around, but Sardonyx hits a low kick. She slaps him in the face, fires off a chest kick, and lands a knee strike! She wants to finish the sequence with a leg trip, but Ospreay jumps over it! He lands a buzzsaw, then a back kick, the shot propelling Sardonyx to her feet. Ospreay flips her over into a powerbomb, but Sardonyx lands on her feet! She bulldozes through Ospreay, running him down with a bicycle knee strike - but he doesn't go down! He fires off a hook kick! Sardonyx looks out of it as she falls to the ropes, trying to recover - but Ospreay DRILLS her with the Hidden Blade! Ospreay covers!

1… 2… Kickout!

Will gets back to his feet, a little shocked that that wasn’t it for Ishimori tonight. We’re really in the thick of it now, we only have about nineteen competitors left, which, considering the size and scale of this matchup, is really getting down to the thick of it. One of Will Ospreay, Riley Ishimori, Dyln Blaine, Pandemonium, Orange Cassidy, Swerve Strickland, Hangman Adam Page, Tom Lawlor, Sardonyx, Wes Barkley, Blade, Eric Taylor, Sam Holloway, Dominic Garrini, Microman, Jay White, Syn, Abigail, or Mercedes Mone will be leaving here as the Clusterfuck winner, and Josh Bishop’s Hell on Earth opponent. Ospreay gets back up, only to be surprised by a boot from Swerve Strickland, who grabs Ospreay and throws him into the corner, trapping him there and getting to work trying to get Ospreay up and over the top rope.

While Ospreay hangs on for dear life, over on the other side of the ring, Dominic Garrini has Dyln Blaine trapped in the corner, but rather than try to eliminate him, Dom winds up and DESTROYS Dyln’s chest with a massive chop! Dyln might consider eliminating himself after a chop like that, jesus christ!

Garrini rears back to go for another, when he feels someone trying to pick up his leg. Garrini looks down, and sees Microman, boldly attempting to pick up and eliminate him. Dom seems to be… confused by this, and actually picks Mircoman up, and places him on the top turnbuckle, practically eye to eye with him now.

“Get out. Go. Now.” Dom insists, not really wanting to hurt the much smaller man. Microman responds by… Flipping Dom off.

“Last chance, easy way of the hard way, get out now before I put you out.”

Once again, Mircoman EMPHATICALLY flips Dominic Garrini off. The crowd loves it, but Dom looks a little pissed off by the whole thing. His one warning ignored, Dom launches a lariat at Microman.. But Microman drops down off the top! Dom overextends himself, leaving himself off balance, and Microman manages to tip Dom just enough to send him over the top rope, and to the floor!

“Dominic Garrini has been eliminated!”

MICROMAN JUST ELIMINATED DOMINIC GARRINI! HOLY FUCK!

As the crowd breaks into a practical standing ovation, Dominic Garrini on the outside can’t BELIEVE what just happened! Dumbfounded, Dom looks back into the ring, just to once again, see Microman flipping him off. A celebratory moment, but it’s quickly interrupted, as Jay White sneaks up from behind, picks up Mircoman, and throws him over the top rope!

“Microman has been eliminated!”

Maybe the loudest boos of the night as Jay White leans over the top rope, laughing at what he just did, the Switchblade finding it absolutely hilarious that he just pulled off a bitch move, and eliminated Microman when MIcroman’s back is turned. Unfortunately for Jay, as he continues to point and laugh at Microman, he doesn’t realize someone much bigger than him has snuck behind him. Jay turns around, and, in a similar situation to the one he just put Microman in, Sam Holloway wraps a hand around Jay White’s throat, charges forward, and throws Jay White over the top rope, sending him to the floor!

“Jay White has been eliminated!”

Sam Holloway beats on his chest, and lets out a yell of aggression, standing up for his old friend Microman, and turns back to the match, catching Swerve Strickland with a big chop to the chest. Sam turns his attention elsewhere, only to get blasted by a big rolling elbow from Hangman. Sam stumbles, and Hangman rolls and blasts him with ANOTHER one, dropping Sam down to one knee. Hangman rolls out to the apron, and looks to try and set up for a Buckshot Lariat to try and the big man down, but as Hangman flips, Sam charges forward, and catches him with a big boot! Hangman Page is stunned, and Sam then tries to charge forward take him out with a clothesline, but Hangman goes low, and lifts Sam up, dumping Sam over the top and to the floor!

“Sam Holloway has been eliminated!”

Hangman Page wipes the sweat from his brow, when he feels a tug on his boot, turning around to see Matt Cardona has apparently found his way to ringside, and is trying to fuck with Hangman Page, after Hangman cost Matt Cardona both the MPW Atlas Championship, and his job as MPW General Manager earlier tonight! Hangman kicks at Cardona, and takes a swipe at him, but Cardona quickly gets out of the way! Hangman reaches for him, only for Eric Taylor to slip in from behind and tip Hangman over the top rope, and to the floor!

“Hangman Page has been eliminated!”

Hangman is out, but he doesn’t seem to mind too much, as he immediately gives chase to Matt Cardona! Cardona tries to escape through the crowd, but Hangman Page jumps the guardrail and is hot on his tail! Hangman might chase Cardona out of the building tonight!

We’re really getting down to it now. Just 14 people left in this one, amazingly, six of those people have at least a tag team partner still in the ring with them. Eric Taylor is currently still celebrating his elimination of Hangman Adam Page, only to turn around, right around into a rolling lariat from Wes Barkley! Wes Barkley takes off Eric Taylor’s head, before picking Eric Taylor up, and throwing him over the top rope, sending Eric Taylor to the outside!

“Eric Taylor has been eliminated!”

Eric Taylor definitely lasted longer in this thing than anyone else expected him to, but after an impressive run tonight, Eric Taylor is done tonight. Dyln Blaine, having seen his boy just get eliminated, is all over Wes right now, the two trading blows back and forth, when Blade yanks Dyln off of Wes, and throws Dyln back over her head with a German Suplex. Blade gets up, and goes to check on Wes, but before she can, she’s cut in half with a spear by Abigail! Wes, still knocked for a bit of a loop from Blaine’s attack, is leaning against the ropes when Syn charges in with a lariat, and sends Wes over the top rope!

“Wes Barkley has been eliminated!”

Almost as quickly as that happens, Abigail picks Blade up, and drops her on her head with a big Baptism by Fire! Abigail folds her up!

1…2….3!

“Blade has been eliminated!”

Almost simultaneously, The Rip City Shooters have exited this match. Syn and Abigail get up and share a kiss, whispering something between each other, as they turn their attention back to the field, Syn and Abigail electing to charge across the ring, where Swerve had just fought off Pandemonium, the old rivals trying to eliminate one another, but Abigail and Syn quickly bum rush Swerve, and try to send him over the top rope, but Swerve manages to hang on tight, and drop himself to the apron, wrapping himself along the bottom rope, causing Syn & Abigail to give up for the time being. Swerve makes sue he reestablishes himself in the ring, before rolling back out under the bottom rope, and hiding out underneath the ring for the time being.

Abigail turns around, just to eat a couple of fists from Mercedes Mone! The CEO doing her best to try and chop down The Fallen’s Matriarch here for tonight, but Syn catches her with a Bicycle Pump knee! Mercedes head snaps back, and Syn & Abigail grab her, hook her, and drive Mercedes to the mat with Farewell, Mona Lisa! Abigail drops down for the cover!

1….2…3!

“Mercedes Mone has been eliminated!”

Mone has gone bankrupt, and her night is over. We’re officially down to our final 10 here tonight, one of these 10 will officially punch their ticket to London, to the main event, and a dance with Josh Bishop for the MPW World Championship. Syn & Abigail get back to their feet, the only pair of partners still in this match- and they weren’t even originally scheduled to be in it. Don’t forget that the two them stole their spot in this match, and shouldn’t even be here. It’s not stopping them from having absolutely taken over this match, though. Syn and Abigail are blindsided from behind though, Syn by Will Ospreay, and Abigail by Pandemonium, who traps Abigail in the corner, and starts kicking away at her with sharp kicks to the sternum.

Tom Lawlor finds himself in a precarious position on the other side of the ring, Orange Cassidy trying to get Filthy Tom out of here. Tom manages to kick him away from him, and land on the apron, but Orange tries to charge Tom with the big Orange Punch, but Tom sidesteps and grabs Orange, flipping him over the top rope and sending him to the floor!

“Orange Cassidy has been eliminated!”

Tom goes to get back into the ring, only for Dyln to charge in, and catch Tom with a Cyclone Kick, knocking Tom off the apron!

“Tom Lawlor has been eliminated!”

Dyln Blaine, in this match since the very beginning, is still going strong. Dyln’s been wrestling for well over an hour, and it doesn’t seem that he’s looking for his night to end anytime soon. Pandemonium, over on the other side of the ring, keeps trying to eliminate Abigail, and has both of Abigail’s feet off the ground, as Abigail tries to hang on for dear life, only for Syn to grab Pan and rip her away from Abigail, saving his partner in life and in the ring. Syn pops Pan with a big forearm, and Pan stumbles away. Syn turns to check on Abigail, but out of the corner of his eyes, he sees two figures charging the ring, it’s Wes and Blade, who had just recovered from being eliminated a couple moments later. Wes and Blade both jump onto the apron, but Syn and Abigail take a swing at them, causing them both to jump right back off the ring apron. Syn and Abigail turn back around, only for Pandemonium & Riley to launch into dual dropkicks, Pan getting Syn, Riley getting Abigail, and sending both of them over the top rope, and down to the floor! The Fallen are gone!

“Syn & Abigail have been eliminated!”

Just six competitors remain now! We’re down to Riley Ishimori, Swerve Strickland, Dyln Blaine, Sardonyx, Will Ospreay, and last year’s winner, Pandemonium. Riley and Pan share a look after eliminating the Fallen, a knowing glance shared between the two of them. Two of the oldest rivals here in MPW, two of the most decorated competitors in company history. Riley offers Pan a hand, and Pan accepts it, a sign of mutual respect between two warriors before they start trading forearms back and forth with one another, trying to batter each other, trying to gain the advantage. Sardonyx and Will Ospreay are across the ring, both trying to send Dyln Blaine over the top rope, but Blaine hangs on for dear life, practically wrapping his entire body around the top turnbuckle, latching himself to the ring to make sure that he isn’t going anywhere. Repeated blows from both Ospreay and Sardonyx trying to jar him loose, but Dyln isn’t ready to get out of this thing quite yet, not when he’s so close. Ospreay elects to give up, and surprises Sardonyx by popping her with a big superkick, sending Sardonyx stumbling backward, as Ospreay charges the ropes, looking for the Oscutter, but Sardonyx pops Will in the back of the head with a kick of her own! Ospreay rolls to the apron, clutching the back of his neck, as Sardonyx goes to grab him, looking to throw Ospreay out, but Ospreay manages to catch himself on the apron and hang on. Mass Destruction is launched his way, but Ospreay ducks both kicks, and catches Sardonyx with a leaping Enziguri, causing Sardonyx to go stumbling backward, right into Pan, who catches her and throws Sardonyx overhead with a half and half suplex! Sardonyx lands on her head, and Pan charges in, trying to eliminate Sardonyx with a clothesline, but Sardonyx ducks, and sends Pan over the top rope, but Pan lands on her feet on the apron. A roundhouse kick from Sardonyx tries to knock Pan off the apron, but Pan catches Sardonyx’s leg, and pulls Sardonyx over the ropes with her! Sardonyx and Pan both on the apron now, both having gone over the top rope, and now both trading forearms back and forth, trying to get rid of each other! Pan and Sardonyx continue to fight back and forth, when Pan suddenly surprises Sardonyx with a Superkick! Sardonyx falls from the apron to the floor!

“Sardonyx has been eliminated!”

Pan goes to get back in the ring, when Riley comes charging in with a Rocket Kick! Pan sidesteps, and Riley rolls off the ring ropes, right back into a big flying forearm from Pan as she springs off the ropes! Riley knocked for a loop, and she stumbles back to her feet, only for Ospreay to spring off the ropes, and drop Riley with an Oscutter! Riley spiked into the mat, as Will picks her back up, and hooks her arms, before lifting her up and driving her to the mat with a Stormbreaker! Riley is down, Ospreay covers!

1…2…3!

“Riley Ishimori has been eliminated!”

Ospreay takes out Ishimori, and we’re down to four! Osprey, Pandemonium, Dyln, and Swerve Strickland, and right as Ospreay gets up, he’s surprised by Pan, trying to trap him in the Necktie, but Ospreay struggles, not letting her lock it in all the way! Pan keeps trying though, as suddenly, Dyln springs off the ropes, and launches himself at the two of them, Ospreay managing to escape just in time, and Dyln catching Pan with the Rocket Strap! That wasn’t Dyln’s intended target, but it gets Pan out of the way for a moment, as Dyln gets back up to his feet, and charges Ospreay, but Ospreay leaps up and throws Dyln with a big hurricanrana, but Dyln manages to cartwheel through it! Dyln lands on his feet, and as Will charges him, but Dyln catches him with a big forearm. Dyln lifts Ospreay up in the air, before nailing Will with a Go To Hell, nailing him on the jaw with the knee lift! Dyln says Will’s night is over, before turning and charging the turnbuckles, looking for a Rocket Strap, but Will charges right behind him, and as Dyln jumps to the top rope, Ospreay jumps with him! Both men land on the top rope, and Will grabs Dyln by the head, before jumping off with him, catching Dyln Blaine with a TOP ROPE OSCUTTER! Ospreay covers!

1….2….3!

“Dyln Blaine has been eliminated!”

From the #1 spot to the final four, but Dyln Blaine can’t finish the job tonight! Ospreay gets back up, holding his shoulder, looking across the ring at Pan, who had just pulled herself back up to her feet as well. These two put on an absolute banger just a couple weeks ago, and now they meet once again here in the Clusterfuck!

Ospreay and Pan circle each other, before Ospreay suddenly charges Pan, Pan sidestepping him, only for Will Ospreay to charge the ropes, springing off the ropes, looking for an OsCutter on Pan, but Pan manages to shove Will off of her, just barely avoiding certain doom there. Ospreay lands on his feet and floats into a back handspring to avoid the Lariat from Pan, before springing back to his feet and nailing Panwith an Enziguri. Pan is stunned, and Ospreay grabs them, before planting them with a Fisherman’s Suplex! Will bridges over and hooks the leg!

1….2.. Kickout!

Pan out at two. Will rolls back to his feet and goes to climb up to the top rope, only for Pan to get back up and shove Will off the top, causing him to land on the apron. Pan pops Will with a forearm, trying to knock Will off the apron, but Will keeps his feet. Will springs up, and catches Pan with a flying kick, taking Pan down! Pan gets knocked down, and Will measures her, looking for a Hidden Blade as Pan gets back up, but Pan ducks, and Will is sent through the middle ropes!

Pan gets up and turns, before Pan hits the ropes, and dives through the ropes, taking out Will with a suicide dive! Will driven into the barricade! Pan throws Will back into the ring, and jumps up to the top rope, measuring him, looking for the Law of Return, but Ospreay catches her as she launches herself at him, and shoves her off, before turning and springing off the ropes, looking for an Oscutter…

Only for Swerve Strickland to jump on the apron, and pull Ospreay over the top rope, and out to the floor suddenly!

“Will Ospreay has been eliminated!”

Swerve waited and picked his moment, and just like that, we’re down to two…

These two.

Last time we were on PPV, Pandemonium & Swerve Strickland tried to kill each other inside Cage of Death. Now, here we are once again. Pan sits up against the ropes as she realizes what just happened, and who she needs to go through in order to win this thing. Once again, everything Pan has ever wanted here in MPW, Swerve Strickland stands in the way.

Pan rises back to her feet, as Swerve stares her down, and steps through the ropes, and into the ring. The two circle each other, Pan and Swerve lock up, and after a few moments of jockeying for position, the advantage goes to Swerve, who manages to trap Pan’s arm, before pulling her in and trapping Pan’s head and neck in a cravate. Pan tried to pick at Swerve’s fingers to release the hold, but Swerve kept his hands locked, and continued to increase the torque. Pan tried to bring his hands down on Swerve’s arms to break the hold, but Swerve actually released the hold momentarily to dodge the swipe from Pan, before locking the hold back on. Pan then attempted to roll out of it, but Swerve rolled with her, and now Swerve had Pan trapped in a seated position with the cravate still on, Swerve up on a knee to increase his leverage and continue to twist down on Pan’s neck. Pan managed to pull herself up to a knee, and then picked Swerve’s fingers again, successfully getting him to release the hold, before twisting Swerve’s arm back into a hammerlock, and then transitioning that into a cravate of his own! Pan is now the one applying pressure to Swerve’s neck!

Swerve dropped down, forcing Pan to transition the cravate into a front facelock, which allowed Swerve to then pick Pan’s arm and trap her in a fujiwara armbar for a second, before Pan managed to roll through and trap Swerve with a heel hold! Pan twisted Swerve’s ankle, before flipping him over and tying up his legs. Pan tried to lock in some sort of modified STF, but Swerve wasn’t having any of it, so instead Pan released his legs and picked an arm, trying to lock in some sort of armbar, or maybe somehow slip into the Peruvian Necktie, but Swerve escaped that too, catching Pan with a boot before getting back to his feet. Pan shook the kick off and got back to her feet as well, charging Swerve and taking him down with a shoulder tackle, but Swerve used the momentum and rolled backwards and up to his feet, before picking Pan’s legs and taking her down! Swerve tried to lock in a figure four, but Pan kicked him off and slid into a drop down position as Swerve hit the ropes, Swerve leaping over Pan as he came back, and as Pandemonium got up, rolled over his back and landed on his feet. Swerve shoved Pan into the ropes, and on the rebound caught Pan with a dropkick right to the face, taking her down!

Pan crawled to the corner, and Swerve measured her before charging Pan, but Pan managed to dodge, slipping behind Swerve before catching him with an enziguri to the back of the head! Swerve was stunned, and Pan grabbed his head, before using the ropes to plant Swerve with a Tornado DDT! Swerve was spiked on the top of his head, before rolling out onto the apron to recover. Pan followed him out there, and tried to lift Swerve back up to his feet, but Swerve caught Pan with a shot to the gut, before standing up and nailing Pan with a stiff looking forearm. The shots from Swerve kept coming, before Swerve took a few steps back and attempted a rolling elbow on Pan, but Pan ducked it, and wrapped her arms around Swerve’s waist, before charging forward and driving Swerve into the ring post! Swerve was stunned, and Pan used the opportunity to turn Swerve back around, and drop him with a DDT on the apron! Swerve crashed head first down onto the hardest part of the ring, and then down to the floor on the outside!

Pan grabs a hold of Swerve again, and throws him into the ring, before wasting no time, locking Swerve Strickland into the Peruvian Necktie! Pan is going to choke Swerve’s lights out!

Pan continues to wrench back on the hold, trying to force Swerve to tap, but suddenly, Pan’s nailed in the back of the head! Pan releases the hold, and looks up, looking up to see Prince Nana had slid into the ring, and clocked Pan in the head with a crutch, but Nana is shocked to see that didn’t have much effect on Pan other than to piss her off! Pan gets up, and Nana tries to run, but he can’t get through the ropes before Pan has a hold of him! Nana has nowhere to go, as Pan drags him back away from the ropes, and as Nana pleads for mercy, Pan locks in the Necktie on him! Pan chokes Nana like a woman possessed, yelling out in rage as she tries to put his lights out!

Suddenly, from behind though, as Pan continues to choke Prince Nana, Swerve Strickland charges in, and drives his foot into the back of her head, blasting Pan with a MASSIVE House Call! Pan lets go of the hold, and clutches the back of her neck, as she’s dizzied. Pan kneels in the middle of the ring, and Swerve hits the ropes once again, before blasting Pan with ANOTHER House Call!

Pan still isn’t completely down, and not completely out, but she’s clearly worse for wear. Pan, after the war she’s been through tonight, doesn’t have enough left in her to get back to her feet. All Pan can manage, as she looks up at Swerve, perched in the corner, is to flip Swerve the double middle fingers, before Swerve charges in, and CRUSHES Pan with a big Swerve Stomp, driving her into the mat! Swerve hooks both legs, right in the middle of the ring!

1….2…3!

“Here is your winner of the 2024 MPW Clusterfuck, Swerve Strickland!”

Swerve has outlasted the entire field, and now punches his ticket to Hell on Earth in London! Swerve Strickland has a date with the Intense Icon, the unstoppable Joshua Bishop, as the AEW World Champion will meet the MPW World Champion, for the MPW World Championship, as MPW travels to London for the first time!

In our farewell to the Boardwalk Beach Resort, MPW left it all out on the court tonight. Thank you to the MPW Family, and all of the fans, in making this one of the most successful MPW PPV’s of all time.

Goodnight, folks!

#Youtube

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mashep23 · 4 years

Text

Traffic Jam Session

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader

Word Count: +1.5K

Warnings: Nat being ridiculously confident and flirtatious? I think that deserves a warning. This is just pure self-indulgent fluff.

Summary: Stuck in a traffic jam, another commuter requests that you turn your music up

Inspired by this meet-cute prompt:

We are caught in an extreme traffic jam and have been sitting next to each other, parked, for the last five minutes. Your radio is playing my absolute favorite song so I ask you to turn it up. We spend the rest of the slow traffic aggressively singing along to the music at each other.

Prompt list found here

A/N: I tweaked the prompt just a little, hope it's still enjoyable. This was so much fun to write!

Thank you to @river-soul for her incredible beta skills and endless patience 😭❤️ and @whisperlullaby for workshopping with me 💗

Disclaimer: gif not mine

It's a decently warm day, sunny and clear, and the azure blue sky is dotted sparsely with clouds. A breeze blows through the car windows, playing with the feathers on your dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror while you're stuck in traffic. You had been creeping along for the better part of 20 minutes, but you've been at a standstill now for almost five.

Typically one to drive home in silence to decompress, today the stillness and lack of road noise makes you want to turn on some music instead. Since nothing playing on the local stations feels right, you sync your car Bluetooth with your phone and scroll through your music streaming apps. A playlist you made simply entitled "Happy" seems to fit your mood and the gorgeous weather so you press Shuffle All and settle back in your seat.

The soothing, light-hearted Put Your Records On filters through the speakers and you can't help the smile that curves your lips as you close your eyes. Propping your arm on the window, head on your hand, you bask in the sun's warmth. You periodically crack open an eye to check on the car in front of you but there's no change. Everyone on the road has parked and resigned themselves to the long wait.

Your playlist contains a wide variety of genres, cherry-picked songs that unfailingly lift your mood. They're radio hits, usually well-known songs, and easy to sing along with. You happily bop your way through your playlist, getting a little more energetic, singing along to each song.

Walking on Sunshine just finishes and the next song is cueing when you hear a sweet voice ask lowly, "Do you mind turning it up a little?" You grin and twist the volume knob so I'm Gonna Be (500 miles) plays louder before looking to the eavesdropper that's enjoying your tunes.

Holy shit. How did you not notice the car next to you? There is no way they were there the whole time. They're all beautiful. Two men, two women - blondie is driving, two brunettes are in the back seat, and a redhead is in the passenger seat. She was the one that spoke and she grins gratefully, leaning closer, head tilted out the window. You turn it up a little more as she starts singing along.

You grin widely and start singing with her. Her companions in the car laugh and join in good naturedly, cheering as the two of you belt the call-and-answer part of the song.

When the song ends, you're both breathlessly laughing, smiles wide. You turn your stereo volume down even as the next song starts to play and stretch out for a high five. She gives your hand a satisfying slap as she laughs joyfully.

"That was so fun! Thank you so much, I love that song."

"I do too! You're a great partner! And the back-ups were awesome!" You playfully finger-gun point at the driver and backseat passengers. They cheerfully laugh and thank you. You don't remember the last time you smiled this hard.

"I'm glad you didn't mind - I could barely hear it. I had Steve try to get closer but that didn't really help much, so I just decided to ask you." She gives you a sheepish but pleased smile and you return it.

"Oh no I don't mind! I haven't had this much fun in ages!" You can't seem to stop smiling but maybe it's okay because she's smiling at you, too.

"I'm Nat," she says suddenly, and you don't hesitate to tell her your name. She repeats it quietly, still smiling softly at you.

There's a stretch of silence, you're both just looking at each other and one of her friends clear their throat, causing you both to blink. You think maybe you should be embarrassed but she doesn't appear fazed in the slightest.

"In the spirit of introductions, hello beautiful. I'm Sam." The male brunette sitting behind Nat says smoothly after his light cough. "This is Wanda, up there is Steve." He gestures to the woman beside him and to the driver, respectively.

Your gaze never leaves Nat. You can't tear your eyes from her even as Sam speaks, catching the quick tightness around the edges of her mouth before it relaxes again as you smile and respond to her rather than Sam.

"It's nice to meet you," you say sincerely to Nat. Her answering pleased expression as she returns the sentiment warms you. A pleasant tightness fills your chest as her lips quirk at something Sam mutters under his breath. The woman next to him, Wanda, laughs quietly.

"So, you know, we're gonna be here for a while. Let's see what else you got to listen to." Nat grins expectantly at you with a raised brow and you mirror her expression as you turn the knob.

You're pretty sure you've found your soulmate when her eyes spark in delight and she belts along effortlessly to Sweet Caroline, arms spreading dramatically as she almost nails the driver, Steve, in his face with the back of her hand. Sam and Wanda cackle as he shoves her arm away in mock affront and she sticks her tongue out at him.

You can't help but laugh at their antics, watching her perform, directing her friends' involvement ("bah, bah, bahh") before she turns to you ("so good, so good, so good!"). This is quickly becoming one of the best times you've ever had.

The song continues, both of you sharing the lead, absolutely ridiculous and uncaring of the scene you're making. If anyone in the surrounding cars felt disgruntled at the impromptu concert, you'd never know it. The girl in the car next to you has your undivided attention.

You're not sure how long it's been, how many songs you've played and sang along to, but after a while, traffic slowly creeps to life. Steve taps Nat on the arm during a lull between songs and you lower the volume as she turns to him. He gestures at the line of cars ahead, the ones directly in front still unmoving but in the distance you see brake lights releasing, vehicles rolling forward.

She turns back to you, chewing the inside of her lip as she looks at you thoughtfully. She seems to make a decision and reaches her hand out to you.

"Here, let me see your phone real quick." She makes a single gimme motion, fingers flicking closed then open as you hand the device over. Your lips spread into a wide smile at the triumphant look that crosses her face.

She beams at you before dropping her gaze to the phone, fingers moving quickly across the screen. You hear an unfamiliar notification tone and she pulls a phone from her lap, holding it up to show you.

"I text myself from your phone. Now we have each other's numbers. I wanna be able to call you later." She's unabashedly smug as she hands your phone back and you wonder if your face shows just how pleased you are.

You look down at the message thread she left open for you, the unsaved number displayed at the top.

"Traffic Jam Hottie 😍"

The single line of text and emoji sent from your phone to the number makes you bite your lip and shyly cover your smile with your fingertips. You look at her with raised eyebrows and she correctly interprets your unasked question and shrugs.

"That's your contact name. I'll probably never change it, not even after we get married."

It's sly and nonchalant, how she slips that in there, smooth as you please. Your jaw drops and her friends all seem to choke on air but her gaze, locked on you, is unwavering. The flirtatious expression on her face is simultaneously sincere and mischievous as she watches for your reaction.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, your chest feels tight and pleasantly warm. Your smile stretches so wide your cheeks hurt as she winks and you're so giddy, you don't care how eager you look in this moment.

You quickly save her contact information and smirk, wiggling your phone at her.

"I'd hope not. I think having matching contact info is pretty cute and kinda romantic. A fun story for the wedding toasts." You grin cheekily.

Her expression shifts, full of mischief, a quirk of her eyebrow that makes your breath hitch and sets your heart racing as her friends whoop with glee at your banter. Her lips spread in a sly smile and you can't help but return it. You're positive you've never smiled this much in your life.

Too soon, the gridlock lets up and you both start moving with traffic. The cars in front of you begin to roll, the lane speeds varying enough to cause you to separate. She's still grinning at you as they get further ahead. You can faintly hear their teasing and you catch a glimpse of her profile, smiling and laughing, before she's no longer visible.

They take an exit as you continue on and you barely have a moment to mourn that they're out of view before your phone vibrates in your lap. Picking it up, you grin madly at the screen, the contact "Traffic Jam Hottie 😍" scrolling across the top.

Accepting the call, you hear it connect through you car speakers, her friends still audible in the background. Your heart stutters when she purrs her greeting.

"Hey hottie."

-----------------------

Tagging some of my amazing discord family: @buckyownsmylife @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog

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awake-dearheart · 3 years

Text

Oh, Death [Six]

Series Masterlist

Summary: Pain. Betrayal. Murder. A friendship blackened by jealousy and resentment. When someone is threatening the lives of all his friends, Steve Rogers has to decide what’s more important: saving someone from his past, or saving his entire future.

Word count: 2050

Warnings: Death, murder, major character death, guns, blood, fighting, needles, injections

A/N: I’m having too much fun with murder. That’s probably something I should talk to my therapist about. But the benefit is yours cuz here we go! This one isn’t beta’d so we die like men here. If you’d like to be added ot any of my open taglists, click here!

Wood splinters flew through the air as the door to Sam’s house burst open under Steve’s massive kick. Sam came racing into the living room in a panic, a gun in his hand.

“Jesus, Steve,” he sighed upon seeing his friend. “You know there’s a doorbell, right?” Steve didn’t answer, but rather stomped inside, knocking the gun from Sam’s grip and grabbing him by his shirt. In three long strides, he had Sam pinned to the wall, their noses mere inches from one another.

“Talk,” Steve snarled, anger burning in his eyes.

“What the hell is your problem, man?” Sam groaned. “What are you doing?” He struggled in Steve’s grip, trying and failing to peel the super soldier’s hands from him. Sam didn’t scare easily, but the fury he saw in the blue eyes before him sent a cold chill down his spine.

“Natasha is dead,” Steve answered. Sam’s movements stopped and his eyes went wide. For a second, Steve faltered. The look of shock on Sam’s face at the news seemed genuine, or at least he feigned it well enough to fool Steve. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe Sam really was on his side. No. He couldn’t be. If Steve was wrong about this, then that meant…

“Holy shit,” Sam mumbled. “Are you ok? Did you see what happened?”

“She was dead when I got there,” Steve said. “Someone shot her.”

“And I’m guessing based on your very understated entrance and the fact that you’re ruining my favorite shirt right now, you’re thinking I had something to do with it.” The glibness in Sam’s voice renewed Steve’s anger, and he slammed him against the wall once more.

“She was on the roof, Sam,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “On the tallest building in the area with a bullet through the top of her skull. You tell me what I should think, Falcon.” He emphasized the last word and watched the realization of what he knew pass over Sam’s features. The humor he had tried to use to calm Steve a moment ago was gone. It was his turn to be angry now. In one quick move, he broke his hands from under Steve’s and pushed hard against his chest, managing to catch him off guard. Steve released his shirt and stumbled back as Sam moved off the wall into the center of the room.

“Ok, now I can understand you being upset because of what just happened,” Sam began. “And we’re gonna talk later about the fact that you had me checked out, but what you’re not gonna do is kick down the door to my home and outright accuse me of murder. Especially when you don’t know shit about my life, or what I did in the army. Half of your god damn friends are superheroes. I’m not the only person you know that can fly, Steve.”

“But you’re the only one who knew where she'd be,” Steve retorted. “You were here when I took the call. You heard me plan to meet her on the roof.”

“Do I need to remind you that there is a psychotic assassin running around the city right now?” Sam reasoned. “You saw this dude with your own eyes after he shot Fury. Last time I checked I’ve got two very flesh and blood arms over here.”

“Then you’re working with him!” Steve bellowed, grasping at any thread he could think of. “You tipped him off!” He had to be right about this. The alternative would break him. This had to be the answer.

“Man, you really have lost it,” Sam scoffed. “You’ve been in my house, all alone with me all day. If I wanted you dead, trust me Steve, you’d be dead. I didn’t think that serum they gave you made you stupid, too.”

“You should be very careful what you say to me right now, Wilson,” Steve warned.

“And you should know that I’m not afraid to hit an old man, Rogers,” Sam shot back, taking a small step forward. Steve saw red. Before he could even think about it, he had punched Sam square in the jaw. Sam took the hit and stumbled a little, rubbing at his split lip and chuckling darkly. Steve didn’t have time to react before Sam returned his jab, nearly knocking Steve off his feet. When Sam’s fist connected and sent Steve staggering back, a file folder fell from inside his jacket and landed at Sam’s feet. He bent down to pick it up while Steve was still recovering.

“Give me the file, Sam,” Steve ordered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. Sam ignored it and opened the folder, reading through what he found inside. He read every single word he could. He flipped through pages and lifted the photos, finding everything that was in English and taking it in. When he was finished, he looked up at Steve in disbelief.

“This is the file Natasha was talking about,” Sam said quietly. When Steve remained silent, he continued. “So, let me get this straight. This metal-armed dick attacked Fury on the road, then again in your apartment. He shot Natasha a few years ago when she was protecting some scientist, then killed her tonight. He’s killed at least ten other people over the last half of a century, yet somehow, in spite of all of that, you got the idea in your star-spangled head that I’m the one to punch in the face?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve replied flatly.

“I know this is very obviously the guy that’s been killing people,” Sam said. “I know you’re here yelling at me in the face of a literal mountain of evidence, but what I don’t know is why.”

“Because he’s my friend!” Steve blurted out. Whatever else Sam planned to say died at Steve’s words, and his mouth fell closed. The weight of what he had said pressed in on both of them, adding to the already heavy air of the room. After a few tense minutes, Sam softened and spoke.

“Steve, look,” he said, his voice gentle. “I want to help you. I do. But I can’t do that if I don’t have all the facts.” Steve looked up at the man across from him and sighed heavily. Sam had moved more while they fought, putting distance between the two of them. Regret filled Steve’s heart when he realized it. How could he think Sam had anything to do with this? Sam, a man who had dedicated his entire life to helping people in need. He wasn’t capable of something like this. He was as good a man as any, and somewhere deep inside, Steve had known that the whole time. He was just scared. Blaming Sam, a man who was still practically a stranger to him, was easier than facing the harsh reality of the situation. Steve sighed again and reached a hand out as he told the tale.

“That man,” he began, taking the folder from Sam. “The Winter Soldier or whatever they’re calling him. His name is James Barnes. He was my best friend growing up. I called him Bucky. He was one of the Howling Commandos that fought with me during the war. There was a mission...on a train. I was supposed to wait but I didn’t, and it went bad. Bucky died. Or at least, I thought he did. We all thought he did. He had been a POW for a little while before that and HYRDA experimented on him. Whatever they did must have helped him survive the fall. They found him in the mountains, and they took him back. They kept him, Sam. All this time they kept him and used him as their weapon. He was alive and I let them use him.”

“You didn’t know, Steve,” Sam affirmed. “You couldn’t have. Dude fell off a train in the mountains. Nobody should have survived that.”

“But he did,” Steve contended. “He’s alive.” Tears burned in his eyes as he said the words. Bucky was alive. And he was hunting down Steve’s friends one by one.

“Listen, I get it,” Sam said. “You woke up 70 years in the future to everyone you ever knew being gone. Now there’s this Bucky. He’s a link to your past and it makes sense to want that. But this guy? The one after you? This isn’t your war buddy anymore, Steve. This is a murderer that we need to stop.”

“I can save him,” Steve protested. “I know he’s still in there.”

“In there killing people,” Sam countered. “He killed Natasha. Maria. Fury. We have to end this.”

“I just need to talk to him,” Steve continued to ramble. “If I can get to him, I can make him listen. I can make him remember. I can bring him home, Sam.”

“Five minutes ago you were ready to kill me because you thought I was the one responsible for this,” Sam said, his voice rising once again. “This guy has an actual body count and now it’s all about rehabilitation?” Steve didn’t have an answer for that. He knew Sam was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. The Bucky he knew could never be capable of evil like this. Sure, he had killed people in the war. They both had. But off the field, Bucky was the most kindhearted man Steve had ever known. He was positive that if given the choice, Bucky would never willingly be a part of something like this. What had HYDRA done to him? How had they corrupted him so? A dark sense of knowing washed over Steve, bringing with it an eerie sense of calm. Sam was right. The Winter Soldier was dangerous. They needed to stop him.

“You’re right,” Steve conceded finally. “I don’t want to, but we have to finish this.”

“That’s the first smart thing you’ve said since you got back,” Sam said, finally relaxing his posture.

“But I want a chance with him first,” Steve pressed on. “I need to be sure before we do anything.”

“And I thought we had come so far,” Sam sighed, putting his hands on his hip and rolling his eyes.

“One minute, Sam,” Steve said. “That’s all I ask. One minute to see if there’s any part of him still in there. If I can reach him, we don’t do anything final until we absolutely have to.” He held his breath as he watched Sam consider his words and let it out when he nodded slowly.

“One minute is all I’m giving you,” Sam insisted. “And I’m setting a timer.”

“Deal,” Steve agreed. Sam leaned down to pick up his gun, tucking it into the waistband of his pants and looking over at Steve.

“So, what’s the-”

The rest of Sam’s words were cut off when a bullet shattered the living room window and ripped through the side of his head. He collapsed to the ground in an instant, his blood spraying across Steve’s face. Horror gripped Steve, squeezing his heart in his chest as he gaped down at Sam’s body, the bloodstain under him blooming like some grotesque flower.

“No...Sam,” Steve breathed in shock. He took a step forward to do something, he wasn’t even sure what, when a shadow suddenly appeared in the doorway. Steve tore his eyes from his friend’s mangled body and looked up to see the glinting of a metal arm in the light. Gritting his teeth in a rage he charged, determined to end this reign of terror once and for all. The Winter Soldier was ready for him. The two men traded blows, each of them seeming to predict the other’s moves in an instant. They were matched for speed and strength, but in strategy, the Soldier prevailed. He waited for his opening and when Steve slipped on a piece of the broken glass from the window, he made his move. Seizing Steve by the wrist he flipped him around, slamming his face into the wall and pinning his arm behind his back. Steve struggled but couldn’t move under the weight of the metal limb that was pressed into his spine. In an instant, he felt the sharp prick of a needle in his neck, and everything went dark.

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Oh, Death taglist (4/25): @that-one-gay-girl @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @solarapower @mercyy98

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wh6res · 4 years

Text

taeil — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. soulmates are connected by a red string.

synopsis. taeil thinks the whole system is bullshit. he needs to take matters into his own hands.

warnings. tread cautiously. swearing, mentions of death, blood, mentions of kidnapping, violence, turning a 'lil dubcon near the end, severe stockholm syndrome, manipulation

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

thank you to. sexeh sam @yukwonghei, cutie charlie @dundun-baby, and baby rina @greenish-taro for beta-reading!

since he was a kid, he’s fantasized about meeting his soulmate. creating scenario after scenario of how he’d meet ‘the one’ as he had cheesily addressed and had absolutely freaked when he finally saw the red string tied around his right wrist on his 20th birthday—courtesy of the soulmate rules of the universe, where one will finally be able to see the string tied around their body once they’ve come of age.

for years before he met that other soul who’s destined to be with him, taeil would stare at the red thread lying across the floor, disappearing under the gap of his door and out to the world unknown. he’d be so distracted, so aloof and in his own world as he anticipates the long-awaited day until his professor calls him out—“moon! do yourself a favor and stop daydreaming!”

until his friends snap him out of it—“thinking of them again? really?”

until his parents shake him out of his thoughts—“don’t worry, i bet they’ll love you!”

sometimes he just loved staring at the string, it was something so measly as a bunch of threads intricately woven together yet it held such a symbol in today’s world. call him lovesick or stupid but was it really wrong to feel excited? taeil’s even betting the person on the other side of this string is just as excited as he was, if not more.

in the man’s eyes, the strings are a symbol of something more than love—it symbolized the person the universe has created especially for him and no one else.

taeil can’t even imagine a world without these strings. how difficult it would be, to love and invest in someone who will only end up breaking your heart? no, the strings also meant reassurance.

assurance that he won’t get hurt.

an assurance of faithfulness.

he had only been a wide-eyed fresh grad looking for some place to intern when it happened. like a scene right out of a cheesy romance movie—he felt the persistent tugs of the string before finally meeting his soulmate. well, using the word meet to describe the whole ordeal is a huge stretch because it was more of a holy shit, is that my soulmate? rather than a hi, i'm your soulmate, taeil!

he merely saw the back of her poised figure but taeil’s heart felt like it wanted to explode, his emotions a mess and feeling everything to the extremes. nervous. scared. anxiety. happiness. excitement—it was all coming at him like bullets.

as taeil stared at her back, walking away, johnny kept shoving him forward, encouraging him to finally approach the person he’s been waiting for ever since that soulmate string appeared around his pinky.

but he couldn’t—not because he was so anxious he’d accidentally vomit the 4-cheese whopper he had for lunch but due to the line of people trailing behind his soulmate like a bunch of baby ducks to their mom. the thought of coming up to his soulmate and introducing himself in front of all those people?

romantic, maybe, but taeil doesn’t have the stomach to do that.

he remembers how much johnny had wolf whistled, unbelieving of the fact his friend managed to snag the possible heir to the company they’re attending an interview in as his soulmate.

“lucky little asshole,” johnny muttered.

taeil had been experiencing the post-effects of seeing his soulmate that he just weakly punched johnny’s arm for the heck of it. he probably didn’t even hear the name his younger friend had called him. taeil’s mind is clouding over, no thoughts in his head but the white polo shirt she wore, sleeves neatly rolled up, and the black pencil skirt hugging her legs and making her ass look so plump.

focus. he needs to focus on the interview right now or else he won’t even have the chance to work here and officially meet her. everything the interviewer asked passed through his head like paper planes in a classroom, shamelessly asking the woman sitting before him to repeat the question, too busy reveling about how their soulmate story would be the cliché office-love. not that taeil minds, he’d love going to work together—

two weeks later, johnny receives an email of acceptance. taeil doesn’t.

the man nearly threw his laptop away out of sheer disbelief and anger. okay, sure, maybe he could’ve done better in the interview but he graduated with latin honors in college! and from a prestigious college at that. he shouldn’t even be applying as a mere intern with the skill set he had yet he went with it because he’d always dreamed of working there.

and now knowing his soulmate is possibly someone who holds a high position in the company? everything just kept getting better and better for moon taeil.

except for that fucking email—pft, or lack thereof. how can they not accept him when he’s more capable than johnny, anyway? for fuck’s sake! taeil doesn’t even ask that guy for rent and he’s so thick-skinned that he stayed up to this day and freeloaded off taeil’s food and shelter.

the absolute unfairness of the situation makes taeil’s blood reach a fever point. he’s completely lossed it, leading him to spit “get the fuck out!” to the other male occupant in the apartment with eyes glaring and lips pulled into a nasty sneer.

johnny’s never seen taeil this upset before and decided that he’d be better off abiding by the older man’s wishes instead of contradicting it.

no. no. no. this can’t be happening. if taeil doesn’t work there, with her, all his sweet fantasies won’t come true and god forbid she ends up falling for another person in the company.

anyone would be naturally drawn to taeil’s soulmate. in his eyes, she’s a goddess in the flesh. taeil doesn’t even need to see her face, from the few seconds he saw a glimpse of her, her presence and allure in itself is already eye-catching. the way her low ponytail swished from side to side as she walked, her back straight and head held high.

taeil needs to see her again. maybe if she finds out he’s her soulmate she’ll put a good word in and he’ll get hired.

yeah. yeah, that’s a good plan.

“please get out of my office or i’ll call security.”

or not.

“no, wait. but i just said i’m your soulmate!” to further prove his point, he even raises up his pinky and sure enough the other end of the string is tied around hers. the incessant pull is there and if not for her sharp cold eyes anchoring him to the ground, taeil would’ve long been soaring high in cloud nine.

“and i said i don’t care,” she snaps just as her fingers sneakily pressed a button in her phone. “i have a fiancé. the whole soulmate bullshit doesn’t apply to rich people. so for the fucking last time, get out of my office.”

“but—”

the double doors of the vice president’s office bounces off the walls when two burly guards barge in. dressed in a white long sleeves and those heavy tinted shades of glasses that taeil hates. the two men waste no time in hooking their arms underneath the smaller, frail man as he thrashes against their arms.

“how can you not care about your soulmate?!” taeil can feel the beginning licks of the flames eating up his whole world as everything comes crashing down before his very eyes. “i’ve been—i’ve been waiting my whole life for you and this is how you treat me?!”

he doesn’t know what hurts more, the scratch in his throat as he screamed with all his might or the stoic look written on her face as the guards haul him away.

when johnny heard the news he’d never felt so sorry for his friend. rumors that initially circulated only between the executive board members had spread and trickled down to the common folk on the lower levels. johnny making it a mission to find out, had extracted himself from his usual cheery and extroverted self to blend in with the background. taeil has yet to talk to him after he got kicked out, so asking his friend—or ex-friend?—about what happened is out of the question.

but like any other breed of rumor, the tale of their vice president’s soulmate barging in her office is ever changing through each mouth that tells the story. johnny doesn't know what to believe in. he’s been trying to put off a meeting with the older man ever since he started crashing in taeyong’s apartment instead. not that taeil himself even tried reaching out to johnny, anyway.

so why should he, when he doesn’t even know what he did wrong?

but there’s a nagging voice at the back of johnny’s head. his conscience isn’t too loud but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there and it doesn’t need excessive volumes to be heard. all it takes is a second of distraction from the paperwork he does, attention straying from the task at hand, and his body will automatically be wracked with guilt.

knowing how much taeil had waited for his soulmate to come to his life, knowing how taeil can readily give everything up for his soulmate without even meeting them yet… and now knowing taeil just got the worst ever rejection in his entire life?

johnny can’t possibly imagine the pain he’s going through. is he really going to choose now out of all times to be petty because taeil kicked him out when he didn’t even bother asking johnny for anything in return during his stay in the apartment?

so when taeil finally contacted him, the sketchyness of what he had asked for flew right over johnny’s head. rational thoughts flying out the window because taeil needs him, he should his friend after everything taeil did for him—

“hey, uhm… i need insider’s information, can you do that for me?”

you shook your head at the long story johnny told you. tuffs of your hair have escaped the intricate pigtails taeil has put your hair up in earlier before he left for work. he’s always hated having your hair messy, but at the moment you couldn’t find yourself to care.

“i wouldn’t put it past taeil’s original soulmate…” you think aloud, mouth speaking before you can stop yourself as you stare disdainfully at the dulled string wrapped around your pinky—it lost its divine red glow after your captor had cut it off on the same day he whisked you away.

ironic, how easy it was to destroy something so important.

you backtracked, realizing the gravity of what you said before looking up at your captor’s friend. johnny doesn’t look all too impressed and he sighs at the pleading look in your eyes. please, don’t tell him.

“i guess you’re somewhat right…” he gives in, coursing his fingers through his hair. “taeil had been… very passionate on finding his soulmate. but i mean, come on, why’d you even marry someone who isn’t your soulmate? i don’t blame taeil for doing what he did to them.”

johnny ignores the way your breath hitches and your body halts all movement. “what—what did he do?”

“paid them a ‘lil visit after gathering enough resources from someone on the inside,” his face stoic, voice monotone. johnny doesn’t like talking about this one. “he studied their schedules, where they live, where they work, how they get to work, what time they sleep, what time they wake. then just one day…”

he drags a finger across his neck.

“oh.”

pathetically, it was all you can say. why did you even bother to ask, anyway? if taeil had been willing to exert force just to keep you in line, then he has the stomach for whatever gruesome deaths he subjected his soulmate and her fiancé to.

you nibble on your lip as you stare at the knot of thread lying on the floor. you don’t see the need to wear the collar wrapped around your neck when that knot is good enough a reminder that you’re now bound to taeil. that he’s fucked around with your destiny and decided he’ll have you out of all people.

its hard to believe taeil once almost worshipped the soulmate bonds, not when all he’s ever done is look at it like it's the bane of his existence and calling it a curse to humanity.

“do you know that you’re—”

“that i’m the 5th? yeah, i know. i saw all the knots on his string.” you defeatedly say, a vivid image of the knots spaced across his string like tophies. “taeil doesn’t like me staring at them, though.”

and you yourself didn’t like staring at them. you never thought something so small and insignificant can mean something so sinister. the knots on his string acting like a body counter. will he get sick of you one day and you’ll just be another knot on his string?

“you’re nothing like his soulmate—i’m not insulting you or anything, i’m just saying the truth. the past girls all had at least something in common with her but you… nothing. not even your hair shines like hers, and that’s even after taeil has taken good care of you.”

this doesn’t soothe you in any sense and before you can open your mouth to retort, the familiar beeping of the code getting punched into the keypad cuts you off.

taeil stood in the entrance as he shrugged off his coat, his polo crinkled at some areas and pieces of his hair had escaped that slicked back hairstyle.

“you’re home early…”

your blood runs cold when he doesn’t even offer you a glance, skipping you out and immediately addressing johnny. “i thought i told you to go home already after delivering the food.”

you admire the way johnny’s eyes roll. must be nice not to be so fucking terrified of the man. “yeah, but your current sweetheart here was lonely and practically begged me to stay.”

the sting of betrayal never grows familiar.

“i never said anything—”

“you did, have you forgotten already?” you hate the show of lust clouding in johnny’s eyes as he stares you down. this can’t be happening right now. “have you forgotten how you even came unto me? whined like a bitch about how taeil doesn’t even fuck you hard enough and you had to fake orgasms all the time?”

“that’s not true!” your frustration manifests as tears. they sting your eyes as you look at taeil. “i never said anything—”

but you pale when you realize they’re not even listening to you, the two guys fist bumping in the foyer and exchanging a few words like “thanks for telling me,” and “no problem, bro,” were heard before taeil is heatedly storming up to you.

you feel numb as you look over taeil’s shoulder at the little smirk johnny shoots at you. have fun, he mouths mockingly and then he’s out the door, extracting himself from the mess he created.

when taeil wordlessly drags you across the hallway, you thought he’ll make a right turn and into the bedroom but imagine your surprise when he pulls you instead towards the bathroom. he wastes no time throwing you against the cold hard tiles as he tells you only one thing.

“strip.”

“taeil…”

“you don’t want to be replaced.” it doesn’t take a genius to know taeil had hit the nail on the head. all your movements come to a halt, looking up at him with an unreadable look in your face. “that’s your fear, isn’t it? that if you die, if i kill you, i can just look for another girl and you’d be forgotten at the snap of a finger. i’m right, aren’t i?”

you gulp, his words stinging even if he didn’t mean for it to sting. or maybe he did. taeil takes a step closer to you, studying your appearance as he brings a hand up to caress your tear-stained face.

spots in your clothes are wet due to the splashes of water on the tiles, and the clips in your hair that once looked neat and perfect are now hanging in disarray, falling off in some places.

“i’m sorry,” you sob. “i’m sorry, john—johnny’s lying. you—you have to—to believe me. please don’t replace me… i’ll be good, i promise…”

truly, there’s no better motivator than fear. and there’s no better way to mess with someone’s head than using their weakness against them.

“you say you’ll be good but i tell you to strip and you couldn’t even do that?”

taeil could never imagine replacing you. he finds it stupid, whatever that brought in this fear of yours, but it doesn’t mean he won’t be extracting every little bit he can get out of this.

he can only stare in awe when you start wiggling your way out of your pretty pink clothes, eyes drinking every bit of your skin slowly being exposed to him as he reaches behind you to open the running water, slowly filling the bathtub.

“get in,” he instructs and you waste no time.

as he sheds his own clothes, he can practically feel the want radiating off you. he knew johnny’s lying, but he humored his friend still. there’s no way you can fake the noises you always make. plus, taeil has seen one too many times the cum dribbling out of your cunt after he’s fucked you into oblivion. he scoffs. harder? then he’ll be breaking you in half already.

taeil swats your hand away as it reaches for his cock and he hopes you don’t notice it twitching before you when you let out a cute whine.

“you want it?”

you nod urgently, salavitating at the thought. taeil was more of a giver to his partners, it’s rare for him to take his pleasure first but you’re far from complaining.

“oh, i don’t know…” he pouts, fisting himself in front of you before giving it a few testing pumps. he swallows the hiss threatening to spill from his lips, chuckling instead at the intense look in your eyes as it follows his hand movements.

you were by far the most compliant girl he’s ever had, someone who’d rather stay than escape. his methods of forcing someone into submission worked extremely well with you. so really, how can he let go of his glorified little pet?

“you’re not lying to me, aren’t you? i got hurt, you know, with what johnny said… i guess i was doing something wrong.”

“no!” your reply is immediate. “no, that’s not true—”

hands wrap around your throat like a vice. “how about you prove it to me, love? tell me everything i want to hear.”

now, this is easy. you’ve practically memorized everything you need to tell him to boost his ego. it doesn’t even take much of an effort.

“i love your cock so much that my body hurts. it hits all the right places inside of me and i will never even dream of wanting another man because they won’t be able to fuck me like you do.”

you feel giddy when he smiles that satisfied smile, your toes curling in anticipation as he leans in to give his obedient darling a kiss—

until he shoves your face down the water.

it doesn’t take much effort to wrestle your limbs down and insert himself into you, groaning at the feeling of your lush and moist walls sucking him in. you’re always so damn wet when he fucks you, oh how much he loves it. loves how tighter your cunt wraps around him as you squirm and fight him to get to the surface of the half-filled tub.

it was only after a few deep thrusts did he relent and pull you up, the few hair clips in your hair floating in the water around as you gasp greedy amounts of air. one look at taeil’s face pulled in ecstasy is enough for you to know it was well worth it.

maybe being rejected by his soulmate was a blessing in disguise. maybe the disobedience of every girl he took before you had been deliberately well-planned. or else he’d never would’ve met you.

taeil was right. all the soulmate and soulmark shit is utterly useless and stupid. because you are by no means his soulmate, but fuck he’ll never let you go.

not when your destiny is to lay there underneath him, taking whatever it is that he gave you like a good little whore.

#yandere nct #nct imagines #nct scenarios #yandere taeil #yandere nct 127 #taeil imagines #taeil scenarios #taeil smut

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 4 years

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter One

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2101

Chapter Warning: Bad Language Words, tiny bit of angst

A/N: I started this on AO3 awhile ago. Now that I have a blog dedicated primarily to just Marvel/Bucky, I thought I’d add it here, too. Enjoy!

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission.

Bucky heard his phone buzz as he was tugging a butter-soft tee over his head. He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand next to his bed as he worked his arms into their respective holes.

9:36

Steve was long in bed already, so the text most likely wasn’t from him. Sam was on a me me kick-- No, what did he call them? Memes!-- of a disgruntled cat which he swore reminded him of the super soldier. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were him. Or possibly Nat. She picked up the new issue of Guns & Ammo the other day and was sending him pictures of a Mossberg MC1sc 9mm she was drooling over.

Smoothing the body of the shirt over his torso, Bucky ambled over to his bed. He snatched up the phone from the navy blue comforter and flipped it over. To his amazement, the text wasn’t from Sam or Nat. Or even Steve.

(917) 460-5480 work thing boring af. kinda tied one on. might be late meeting you tomorrow

He blinked several times at the message, uncertain how to respond. It was a wrong number, right? Bucky hadn’t made plans with anyone for tomorrow that he could remember. Plus, everyone he knew had the same work thing. And it was rarely boring.

Definitely a wrong number.

He set the phone down near the clock, choosing to ignore the text. Hopefully, whoever this person was, figured out quickly they were texting the wrong number and moved on.

Bucky pulled back the covers before climbing into bed. His body melted into the mattress, muscles relaxing for the first time since breakfast. Training had been non-stop all day today. It felt good to just be, for once.

He grabbed the book he was reading off the nightstand and opened it to the spot he left off. He cleared his mind, as best he could, and concentrated on the words on the page.

A few pages in, his phone vibrated alive again. Another text message.

(917) 460-5480 sis dont be mad youd be drinking too if you had to sit thru one of these business dinners

Bucky sighed. He had hoped his radio silence would have clued this person into their mistake. Wishful thinking. Before he could punch out a reply, another text came through.

(917) 460-5480 timmons is droning on about this new client. kill me now

He quickly typed out a reply:

(917) 308-3117 I think you sent this to me by mistake.

Bucky watched the text indicator pulse as this unknown person worked out their response.

(917) 460-5480 haha very funny sis

Bucky huffed at this person’s disbelief, thumbs working on typing out his next message.

(917) 308-3117 I’m not trying to be funny. I can’t be someone’s sister when I’m a man.

He set the phone down on the nightstand again, hoping this person finally took a hint. He opened his book back up to the current page, taking a deep breath.

The room’s silence was broken again by the loud thrumming of his phone skittering across the surface of the black wood veneer.

(917) 460-5480 how does kevin feel about this so close to the wedding???

(917)460-5480 will you still need a wedding dress or will you just get a tux???

(917) 460-5480 am i still your maid of honor???

Bucky chuckled at this girl (no, young woman) asking the essential questions.

(917) 308-3117 Your sister did not get a sex change. Yes, she will still need a wedding dress. Yes, you are still her maid of honor. Like I said before, wrong number.

An almost immediate reply came through.

(917) 460-5480 prove it

Bucky grew slightly irritated at the insinuation. Why couldn’t she take his word for it? He exhaled loudly through his nose.

(917) 308-3117 How?

A few moments passed before the device juddered in the palm of his large hand.

(917) 460-5480 selfie

Bucky blanched at the request. He could feel the color drain from his face, only to immediately heat with a blush. A selfie? That is the last thing he wanted to do.

Although he’d been exonerated for his crimes as The Winter Soldier, he still knew about the dislike people felt about him as a person, in general. They couldn’t get past the brainwashing or other persona. God knows he still struggled with it.

He couldn’t go broadcasting his face through texts to a stranger. What if she was one of those who didn’t understand he had no say in what he did or what happened to him under Hydra’s control?

What if he ignored the solicitation? He could do that. Maybe even turn off his phone.

She did seem the type to be very persistent until she got what she wanted.

True to form, another text rang through.

(917) 460-5480 i will keep texting until i see your manly face

One corner of his lips quirked higher. Yup, persistent.

He navigated to the camera app on his phone and switched it to selfie mode. He stared at the damp locks falling to his shoulders. His beard would require a trim soon, but it wasn’t scraggly. Luckily, he’d had the hindsight to shave his neckbeard in the shower earlier.

Was he considering this? Some girl says jump, and he asks how high?

He combed metal fingers through his hair, blowing out a breath.

(917) 460-5480 im waiting

Bucky growled at the text, running a hand over his face. “Okay, okay. Give me a second,” he said to his phone. He held it up to head height, half an arm’s length away.

Click!

He previewed the picture, assuring himself it didn’t reveal too much. It was, somehow, off-center, containing a bearded chin and half a smirked mouth, one nostril, and a half-lidded eye.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Bucky pulled the messaging app back up and then sent off the picture. He tossed the phone aside, not wanting to watch the taunting blinking dots as he waited for a reply.

The picture was barely recognizable, but someone like Steve or Nat could tell it was him. It would be okay. No one would know.

His phone vibrated violently near him on the bed. Bucky cautiously plucked the device up, debating whether he wanted to read her reply. What if it said, “Holy shit! You’re The Winter Soldier!”? The hope of this woman thinking he was just some regular guy knotted up his stomach. He didn’t know why he cared so much about whether this stranger thought he was The Soldier or not. He had no control over who believed the lies perpetrated as truth through the media. He could only wish for the best.

He blew out the breath he was holding in and eyed the phone’s screen.

(917) 460-5480 is it fair to say men shouldnt be allowed to have long eyelashes??

Bucky laughed and immediately thought of poor Steve.

(917) 308-3117 You should see my buddy’s. The girls swoon and complain at the same time.

He quickly added to the message thread:

(917) 308-3117 Am I correct to assume you believe I’m a man and not your sister?

The response was swift.

(917) 460-5480 oh shit ur not my sister

(917) 460-5480 this isnt 9173083447?

Bucky laughed again, the tension in his chest slowly unfurling.

(917) 308-3117 Unfortunately for you-- no.

(917) 460-5480 ugh im such an idiot sorry for the shit i said

(917) 308-3117 Don’t worry about it. I had a good laugh at your expense.

(917) 460-5480 oh god now i feel like a bigger ass

Bucky suddenly felt like backpedaling. He hadn’t meant for her to feel bad about her mistake. It was cute in a roundabout way.

(917) 308-3117 Please don’t be embarrassed. It was the highlight of my night.

(917) 460-5480 me forcing u to prove ur a man was the best part of ur night??

Bucky thought for a moment. Was it the best part? The training sessions had become monotonous lately, even with the new agents. The team hadn’t been on any missions in a few weeks, so it was pretty accurate to say he was bored around the compound.

(917) 308-3117 I suppose it was. Work’s been a little slow, and there’s only so much training you can do before it becomes tedious.

(917) 460-5480 training? r u in the military? ooh, r u an athlete??

A laugh bubbled up from his chest. It was comical to see her try to guess his profession. His selfie hadn’t announced who he was to her after all.

(917) 308-3117 Something like that.

(917) 460-5480 so mysterious! r u some assassin who needs to keep his identity secret? is that y ur selfie only showed a quarter of ur face??

He paled at the implication. Maybe she did know and was yanking his chain. How did he block numbers again?

Another text came through from the mystery woman:

(917) 460-5480 not that i mind u have a luscious mouth

Bucky guffawed at the comment as flames rose beneath the skin of his cheeks. He hadn’t remembered blushing this much in such a short amount of time in decades.

(917) 308-3117 How much have you had to drink tonight, doll?

(917) 460-5480 doll?? what r u my grandpa??

He chuckled again. God, he was old enough and then some.

(917) 460-5480 enough to not want to shoot my brains out but not enough to know this dinner isnt a party

(917) 308-3117 Maybe you should get back to your dinner? I don’t want to get you into trouble.

He regretted the text the second he pressed send. Was he trying to get rid of her? No. Or was he looking out for her? This person he knew nothing about. She was more entertaining than the recurring nightmare he’d been having for the last week, that's for sure. He'd cling to this unknown to avoid slipping into that black abyss.

(917) 460-5480 aww does the military-trained assassin athlete mchottie not want to talk with me anymore?? 🙁

(917) 308-3117 No!! I’m honestly concerned you’ll be reprimanded if you pay more attention to your phone than Timmons.

The last thing Bucky needed was to feel more guilt, especially if it was at the expense of someone’s livelihood. His shoulders were already heavy enough.

(917) 460-5480 thats sweet but dont worry ur pretty little head over me timmons wouldnt last a day w/o me

(917) 460-5480 timmons may be the boss but i run that office

He simpered at her swagger. He could only imagine what kind of office she worked in because, again, a total stranger. Did he want to get to know her more, or was this a one and done thing? Would she wake up tomorrow and want to continue the conversation or blow him off for the drunken mistake her first text had been?

Bucky stared at his phone for several more minutes, pondering precisely what he was doing and what his expectations of the night were. It’s not like he was going to meet her in person, right? Was he that delusional? He was an Avenger now. He didn’t get a social life. Not that he had one before but still.

He was startled from his reverie as the phone shook in his hand.

(917) 460-5480 did i scare you away??

(917) 308-3117 No. Just thinking about tomorrow.

(917) 460-5480 shit a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie must have a lot to prepare for mentally ill let u get ur rest

He smiled at the gesture. If only she knew.

(917) 308-3117 Send me a text when you get home. I want to make sure you arrived okay.

(917) 460-5480 such a gentleman! i don’t want to wake u if ur asleep tho

(917) 308-3117 I doubt I’ll be sleeping, but it’ll help ease my mind.

(917) 460-5480 alright ill shoot a text ttfn

(917) 308-3117 ttfn?

(917) 460-5480 ta ta for now god u r a grandpa

(917) 308-3117 Yeah, yeah

Bucky’s mouth split into yet, another grin as he set his phone down once again on the nightstand. He picked up his discarded book and found his place on the page. After a few minutes of re-reading the same paragraph over and over, he slipped the bookmark into the gutter of the book. His mind was too preoccupied with the thought of some random girl in the city at a boring work dinner. He realized he hadn’t stopped smiling since they temporarily said goodbye.

Maybe there was a good chance this conversation would carry into tomorrow.

CHAPTER TWO

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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quillquiver · 4 years

Text

DeanCas Coda to 15x16. The amount of phone call codas I’ve written over the past 7 years. Oof. >.<

Dean’s halfway through a beer, his fifth gas station mini pie and an episode of Doctor Sexy when his phone rings. A glance at the small screen reveals it to be—if not Sam, Cas, always—and before Dean can even raise the device to his damn ear there’s a deep, gruff voice going, did you tell him yet?

Dean rolls his eyes and settles into the cushions. On screen, Dr. Piccolo and her newest lover are making out in a supply closet. “Nice to hear your voice, too, huggybear.”

“Dean.”

Seven years, and it’s always his name. It’s a legit question, too, but Dean’s pissed and tired and pissed, so instead of answering like a reasonable adult, he smirks and continues to stuff his face. “That’s my name,” he says around a mouthful of beer.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this. We—”

“Yeah, Cas, I’m alright. Definitely had better days, but on the scale of 40 more years in Hell to the world burning alive it wasn’t a total shit sandwich.”

Silence.

Dean frowns. On screen, Dr. Sexy operates on a patient.

“…You told Sam.”

“Yeah, genius,” Dean spits. “I friggin’ told Sam. And as predicted, he didn’t take it well! But that’s just me ain’t it: messenger of God’s destruction. I don’t have the luxury of fucking off to Timbuktu—”

“—That’s not fair—”

“—Nothing about this is fuckin’ fair!” Dean explodes. “The kid, the case, fuckin’—all of it! Nothing about my life has ever been just or good or easy, and all because of some psychopathic Kerouac-wannabe! I’m tired! I’m-I’m…” He dugs the heel of his left hand into his eye, hand closed in a tight fist. He feels like he’s run a marathon.

“What happened?” Cas asks.

Dean shakes his head. “I can’t do it,” he says miserably. “I can’t.”

“You won’t have to. We’ll find another way.”

“Another way,” Dean scoffs. “I’m so goddamn tired of always having to find another way.”

“I know—”

“I miss you.”

Cas holds his breath.

“A lot,” Dean mumbles under his breath. His picks at a loose thread on his jeans. “More than I should.”

“Dean,” Cas says. Soft. Sweet and punched out and very very far away.

“And I hate fighting with Sam, and not knowing when Chuck’s gonna be back, and worrying about you. You just left, man. You weren’t even gonna say goodbye—”

“I’ll be back soon.”

Clutching the phone tightly to his ear, Dean bites his lip. “…Yeah?” He tries not to sound too hopeful; recent history dictates that shit will only end in tears.

“Yeah,” Cas says softly.

“So you found something?”

There’s a long stretch of silence between them, and as predicted, Dean’s heart sinks like a stone in his chest, all the way down to the pit of his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut. Of course not of course not of course not.

“No,” Cas says, eventually. “But I’m not concerned.”

“Not concerned?” Dean echoes. “Cas, hate the break it to you, but time’s up, buddy. Billie paid me a visit today, and she said Chuck’s done with the other worlds. That means—”

“He’s coming here next.”

“Yeah.”

Dean can practically hear Cas’s gear whirring. He gives a low hum, throat clicking as he swallows. “Dean,” he asks. “Do you truly miss me?”

It’s such a change of subject that Dean’s mouth runs before he can stop it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I always miss you.” It’s a placeholder for all the things he can’t say; things like I hate it when you leave and I wish you’d just stay and I love you. But Dean was caught off guard, not drunk, so those words remain tightly sealed under his tongue, leaking out in ways he hopes get the message across. It isn’t that he’s lying. It’s just that… there’s no point. Even if they beat Chuck, his life will never have room for Cas to be anything more than a friend who flits off all the time. That’s just the way things are.

“Really?” Cas asks. “You mean that?”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, ‘course I do. Cas, what—”

“Because I’m your family,” he continues. “Because I’m your brother. Because you have a duty to me.”

Dean makes a face. “That’s bullshit,” he says fiercely. “Duty ain’t got nothin’ to do with it. I—” He cuts himself off. Feels sweat prickle at the back of his neck. Bites his lip again. “I’ve only got one brother, Cas.” It comes off a lot breathier than he intended, and Dean looks up at the ceiling like he wishes it’d just collapse on him. Fuck. Fuck.

“…That’s good,” Cas replies. “I have enough brothers.”

Dean freezes.

“I’ve been reliably informed they’re all dicks.”

He sits up in his Lay-Z-Boy.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days,” Cas is saying. His voice is confident. Determined. Dean barely hears him. “I have a plan.”

“W-What?” Blood is rushing in Dean’s ears and his heart is doing a real good reenactment of Prison Break and all he can do is furrow his brow and try and pay attention but I have enough brother I have enough brothers—

“I can’t believe I never considered it before. I’m such an idiot.” Cas’s gotta be smiling now; that little, barely there uptick at the corner of his mouth. It changes his speech a little, makes it lilting and playful. “I’m in Maine, but I won’t stop until I’m back. If Chuck returns—”

“Wait a minute, Rambo, you wanna tell me—”

“No,” Cas says. “Not over the phone.” Holy fuck. “Dean, listen to me: everything is going to be fine—”

“Cas, your definition of fine doesn’t exactly instill confidence.”

He laughs. Sweet and clear over the airwaves, the sound makes itself at home in a corner of Dean’s ribcage. Despite himself, he starts to grin. “C’mon, you gotta tell me.”

“I will. Soon.” His voice is warm, now. “I promise.”

Dean feels himself blush to high heaven. “Yeah?” his heart pounds a mile a damn minute, his knuckles white on the phone. It’s easier not being face-to-face, but this shit is terrifying no matter when, where or how you do it. “…You gonna tell me anything else?”

Cas’s breath hitches. “Yes.”

Holy fuck.

“I have to go,” Cas says. “It’s a long drive back.”

“Okay,” Dean replies, weakly.

“But I miss you, too.”

Dean laughs. “Kinda got that.”

“Right.”

They’re definitely both smiling like idiots, but Dean has never been so happy to be a moron. “So, uh,” he says. “Bye? I’ll—see you later. Soon.”

“Soon,” Cas agrees. “And Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s more than one way to rip up an ending,” he says. “This is going to work.”

Dean grins. “Yeah,” he replies. “I know.”

I have faith in you.

**A/N: Cas’s big plan is to summon the Empty during their last face-off with Chuck. He figures he can do this by way of either a kiss or a love confession that he’s certain Dean will reciprocate. Now that he pretty much has confirmation of Dean’s feelings, getting the Empty to come collect will be easy. Once everyone is in the same room, he’ll play one off of the other in the hopes that the Empty is willing to take Chuck in his stead, or take them both.

#destiel coda #destiel fic #coda fic #deancas fic #spn 15x16 #spn spoilers #s15 #adventures in fanfic

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norestwithoutlove · 3 years

Note

Hi, I just finished reading to build a home (quite literally just then) and it was one of the best stories I’ve ever read. everything was so cohesive and beautifully done and has inspired me to do some writing of my own. How did you manage to keep track of minor details and plots throughout the book continuity wise, with such a large word count, thats something most authours cant do and it made it feel so much more personal and immersive. this fic was a wild ride, sorry if this sounds weird btw i dont usually do this.

Hey !! sorry this one took me a while to reply to ! thanks so much for this message it made me beam - i’m glad the fic made you want to use your own voice as well! writing is such a balm especially in times like these, so i hope you’re loving it.

holy shit i’ve just gone over this and this is a LONG answer so i’m very sorry for the essay in advance. regarding continuity and minor details:

from like very early days (essentially day one of writing) i had a very clear vision of where i wanted the fic to go, and what the major plot points were (the night of the fight aged 18 and everything which caused it, even that it would take place on the roof, sam’s overdose happening in the middle of dean’s drunk love confession, the chapter 59 love confession which leads to them FINALLY getting together happening in front of the fire and cas giving dean his poetry book, the dedication saying ‘to dean, i still do, and always will’. all of that was just sitting rotting all other thoughts in my mind and so i had to type it all out at the bottom of the word document to get it down and make sure i didn’t forget. here’s an excerpt of that very early days plan (the scene where dean comes out to sam in the hospital!!! one of my absolute favourites):

other things came later, like the wedding + concussion scene, and the scene where dean waits out in the treehouse all night, which honestly was SO cruel of me and really added to the tragedy of the chapter 38, 40, 42 arc. but yeah as with the above they sat in my brain just waiting for me to reach the appropriate part of the fic to type them up from VERY early days of the fic. opinions on this vary but i don’t like typing out the scenes that i really want to type out if i haven’t actually reached them in the fic’s construction, (does that make sense? i’ve phrased it badly) because knowing i’m gonna get to write those scenes is what motivates me to actually write the scenes inbetween. i should probably switch this up a bit as everyone advises against this form of writing but also yeah changing routine is effort.

other things plotted in the fic came about in light of the events of the show. mary wasn’t originally gonna be such a distant mother but, as spn pushed that narrative of distance and withdrawal, i thought it would be weird for readers to read a fic which pushed the deified mary mother figure like early seasons spn. especially weird for the readers to read a deified mary fic when the mary they were watching on screen seemed to differ so drastically from the one in the story. so the mary-dean relationship (which was fortunately pretty ambiguous and stilted because of dean’s grief-brain in early chapters) had to change in tbah into the really complicated entity it became. honestly the formulation of that relationship is one of the things i was most proud of in the fic because it was so thorny and hard and felt tragically real for that reason.

other things the progression of the show impacted: dean’s relationship with jack. obviously he couldnt be a nephilim in the tbah universe(!) so i had to consider another angle which would stilt his relationship with dean in the fic. considering the fact that in the show dean’s aversion to him came from a knot of grief, anger and dean’s own upbringing, i transplanted that idea onto the fic and said okay, but here it’s not about cas, it’s about john. dean untangles much of his own trauma with john through his relationship with jack in the symbols of his father he can find in his life: driving, fishing, and building. but also in the symbols of jimmy: cooking, talking, teaching. dean gets to choose between being a john or a jimmy to his son, but the question isn’t so simple, because people aren’t just symbols, and actually dean ends up being a dean to jack, which is perfect.

weirdly, i also think music helped with continuity. i had a few songs in my head at the beginning of the fic and they became like thematic seeds which could grow and make threads to be picked up throughout. i’d listen to these as i wrote, especially as i wrote the scenes i deemed the most significant. same thing with literature.

also thinking about the fic just became really comforting to me ! so i’d play major plot points in my head like a movie before i went to sleep, which meant by the time i got to writing them they’d had a lot of time to develop and pick up earlier themes of the fic. essentially all of the fic was written in light of the future of the fic, which really helped continuity and direction but also the weird tangled traumatised nature of time in the story. this figuring of time became really important because i think tangled traumatised time is essentially just the reality of grief-time.

subconsciously i’m sure a lot of stuff bled through which was unintentional, the framing of events which repeat location (dean waiting in the treehouse all night as a teenager to say goodbye to cas before he leaves for university vs dean and cas going to the treehouse as adults and finding teens there who are saying goodbye to each other before leaving for university. confession 3 takes place a literal 10 years after confession 1. confession 1 comes from cas and happens on the roof just before he leaves for the uk, confession 2 comes from dean and happens drunken in the living room after dean has had an intense and ambiguous conversation/fight with his mother, confession 3 happens in the living room after dean has come out to his mother, confession 4 happens on the roof as castiel returns from the uk and repairing every sense of the rift confession 1 caused because this last confession ends in their engagement.)

once i realised this was happening i went back and combed through those scenes for lines to be repeated. an easy example of this is chapter 38//chapter 59. here’s a scene from chapter 38 as they enter the big white house:

and here’s them entering the house in chapter 59:

i think it’s about trauma and repetition (freud has a theory about this, see Remembering, Repeating, and Working Through) in that we return to sites of trauma; trauma is reiterated in memory and in the material, but in every reiteration, we grow and heal and understand the trauma and ourselves better. it’s like an upward spiral: the first confession goes so badly, the second goes better but not good, the third good, the fourth goes wonderfully (dean’s narrative frames it as paradise: “maybe this is the sound of the trumpets on the other side”). so yeah, part of the ‘continuity’ of tbah is just a traumatised cycle of reiteration, and i say this in the nicest possible way, because these cycles of repetition are how we heal. deep down, i think that’s what the fic is all about.

tl;dr: i had a scrawl of a plan at the bottom of the word document i wrote tbah on, i thought about it a lot because it made me happy, i had a pretty clear vision of where things were going from the very opening chapter, and i was a very gay english lit student.

anyway thanks for the ask lovely i am SO sorry it resulted in the borderline novel of an answer.

#anon #answered #LONG post sorry #to build a home #tbah #deancas

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 4 years

Text

Two Is Better Than One

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Forester, Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader X Dean Forester

Words: 1869

Warnings: SMUUUUUTTTTTTT!!!!!!! Oral (both genders). Handjobs. Like, there is no plot. Just smut. Dom!Sam, since that may be considered a warning (more for our panties than people being triggered)

Author’s Note: So this is a repost since my original post got flagged. I removed the NSFW gif and am pretty sure it won’t get flagged again! No beta, so mistakes are all my own.

This is season 1 Dean Forester. I MUST CLARIFY, DEAN IS 18 IN THIS FIC!! NO ONE IS UNDER AGE!!!! I am aware that he was 17 in the actual season 1, but I am making him 18 in this fic for legal purposes. :)

Also, I had no idea how to set this situation up, sooooo… This is literally porn and nothing else.

Tagging: Started a new tag list and it is completely open and ready to add people!

"Relax," I say against Dean's lips. Despite being 18 and probably a virgin, Dean seems to know what he's doing. His tongue skims over my lower lip, silently begging for entrance. The decision to play coy was the biggest thing in my mind until I feel Sam's lips graze over my neck and spine. My lips part in a gasp, and due to that motion, Dean is able to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue moves against mine, and I can taste the mint on him. As his confidence grows, Dean threads his fingers through my hair as Sam's lips roam to my neck. I feel him nibble on my neck, forcing a muted moan through my lips. A moan that Dean quickly swallows. Sam's large hands dance down my sides, landing on my waist. His fingers tug on the hem of my tee-shirt, which forces my arms to lift above my head, almost on their own accord. Dean's mouth detaches from mine, causing a whine of disapproval to leave my lips. Sam tugs the shirt over my head and throws it to god knows where in the shady motel room. Dean's hands wrap around my wrists, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to maneuver my arms to keep them above my head. He leans in again, but instead of my lips, Dean runs his soft lips and tongue over the underside of my arm. The sudden touch of his tongue against me forces a moan from my lips. "Jeez, Dean here is giving me a run for my pride. Here I thought I was the best at completely worshipping you." Sam mumbles against my skin. Dean continues laying sweet kisses down my arms, then internally decides Sam has my neck covered. He moves down to kiss my breasts, despite the bra covering the soft flesh. Sam moves to remove the garment from my body, unclipping it and pushing it forward so Dean can handle the rest. Dean hesitantly pulls the fabric from my body and stares for a moment. The way his eyes glance over my skin hints to me he's never seen breasts before. At least, not real ones. Sam seems to see this as well. "Go ahead, Dean. It's okay. You can touch her. She won't bite... Hard." Sam says, his large hands still on my hips. His lips reconnect with my neck as Dean's hands come up to cover my breasts. He slowly kneads them then removes his hands. A whine slips from my lips before being replaced with a drawn out moan as Dean latches his mouth onto a soft pink nipple. His tongue swirls around my nipple and I vaguely wonder if he isn't a virgin. I'm not able to give it much thought before I feel Sam's hands run down and push my shorts off my legs. His fingers skim up my thighs before making contact with my lace-covered clit. His touch causes my chest to jut out, and Dean pulls back. His eyes glance down to what Sam is doing and looks up, almost innocently. "Can I...?" Dean asks, trailing off due to his embarrassment. Sam pulls his hand back leisurely and gestures to my clothed sex. "Go ahead," Sam says and I can hear the smirk on his lips. "Wait. You can if you both remove the shirts." I practically whine, desperate to feel their bare chests against my own. They both remove their shirts quickly before replacing themselves exactly where they were before. Sam's muscular chest presses against my back as he quickly reaches up to turn my head and plants his lips on mine. He takes my breasts in his strong hands, twisting and pinching until I gasp at every touch. I reach my hand out for Dean's in an attempt to guide him. His fingers come in contact with mine and I pull him closer, Sam's tongue probing inside my mouth. I use Dean's hand to rub over my stomach for a moment before he takes the lead and slips his hand under my panties. My hand whips back to grip Sam's hip as Dean allows his fingers to brush lightly over my sex. My fingers pull on Sam's jeans, begging for him to remove them. He removes one hand from my breast to unbutton and push down his pants and boxers. I take his length in my hand as Dean continues his ministrations. I reach forward and attempt to unbutton Dean's jeans as well, but it's difficult with one hand. Sam pulls back from my lips, his throbbing cock hot and heavy in my hand. "Dean." Is all he says, and Dean pulls his hand back before pushing his pants and boxers down, eager to have my hand on him. I reach forward, my fingers wrapping around him. His cock is a bit thinner than Sam's but almost just as long. I slowly jack them both off, their grunts and heavy breathes sending waves of heat straight to my center. I didn't expect to feel Dean's fingers slipping under my panties again though, running lightly over my sex. His fingers drift to run through my folds, and upon feeling the wetness between my thighs, Dean lets out what can only be considered a growl.

"Holy shit." Is muttered between Dean's pants. His finger swirls around my entrance and a moan leaves my lips before he pulls away.

"Dean-" I whine into Sam's mouth. I break the kiss before looking at a very nervous Dean.

"I don't know what to do." He says, his eyes drifting down to look at the floor. I reach my hand out and he takes it hesitantly.

"We'll show you." I say, a smile on my lips. I take Dean's hand and lead it back towards my panties. I feel the fabric slip down my legs and turn to see Sam sliding it down, his nimble fingers running over every curve. Dean slips his hand back down to my sex and repeats his previous actions.

Dean shifts and then his husky voice is in my ear.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Move your finger in small circles around my cli-"

He has caught on fairly quick and is doing exactly as I said. His finger is using the slick from before to swirl around my clit in sweet, smooth, circles. My head falls back against Sam's shoulder as I squeeze my eyes shut, Dean's name falling from my lips.

"Is he making you feel good, baby?" Sam whispers. I nod my head quickly, one of my hands threading through Sam's locks.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite hear you. I said, is he making you feel good, baby?" Sam repeats, a stern voice defining itself. No matter how many times I hear that voice, it will always send shivers down my spine.

"Yes. Yes, Sam."

"Yes, Sam what? Tell me baby." He demands, his teeth lightly nipping at my earlobe.

"Yes, Sam. Dean is making me feel so good." I whimper, practically melting into a puddle in front of these two gorgeous men.

"Tell him that."

"Dean, god- You're making me feel so good." I gasp, his fingers moving faster. My eyes fly open when Dean speaks again.

"Can I use my mouth?"

"She would love that." Sam says with a chuckle. Sam is clearly the boss here, and Dean and I both know it. Turning towards Dean, I nod my head and he sinks to his knees. His hands skim up my calves until they land on the backs of my thighs. His hazel eyes glance up to meet mine with a look of nervousness.

"It's okay, Dean." I mumble to calm him down.

"Will you put your hand on my head? That way you can guide me a little bit?" He says, a blush covering his already flushed cheeks.

I remove my hand from Sam's hip and run it lightly through Dean's brown locks. He smiles up at me before leaning forward to skim his tongue over my sex. If it was Sam, I would pull and yank at his hair, screaming his name until he made me beg for him to let me come, but this isn't Sam. This is a soft, sweet, Dean. His licks are small but strong, forcing tingles up my whole body. Sam can see me holding back, trying not to freak the kid out. He moves to touch my hand that is threaded through his hair and mumbles into my mouth,

"Pull mine."

I twist his hair between my fingers and tug. A groan pours out of Sam's mouth straight into my own, and I can't help but think about how I'm the luckiest girl on the planet. Having his hair pulled must have been Sam's snapping point because he reaches into his jeans and pulls out two condoms as I tap Dean on the shoulder.

He stands quickly and stares at me, his tongue darting out to wet his swollen lips. He glances at Sam when the condom is offered to him. He stares at it for a moment before speaking.

"Can you... Can you put your mouth on me?" He mumbles, his eyes once again casting downwards.

"Yeah. Do you wanna come in my mouth?" I ask, pushing him towards the bed. He nods his head quickly as he sits down on the bed, legs spread and cock bouncing slightly in his opened jeans.

After a moment of tugging on his jeans, Dean sits up so he can rip them off. I grasp his cock in my hand again before running my tongue up the underside. Sam runs his hands along my ass before palming it tightly.

"Want me to fill you up while suck his cock, babe?" Sam asks huskily. When I only nod, he pulls his hand back and brings it back down on my ass. Hard.

"I'm sorry, say that again baby girl."

"Yes, Sam. Please." The minute the words are out of my lips, Sam lines himself up with my entrance and pushes in. A groan leaves our lips and I pull Dean back into my mouth. My tongue swirls around the head as Sam thrusts into me, his hands gripping my hips so hard, it'll probably bruise. A fire starts building in my belly, Sam hitting my sweet spot with every stroke. Moans are coming from my mouth, which land directly on Dean's cock, forcing moans from his own mouth. Dean's hands tangle in my hair, not pushing, just there.

"Y/N... I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna last..." He gasps, his hands tightening in my hair. I feel the coil breaking inside of my stomach as I moan around Dean.

"Do it, Dean." Then he's spurting. Thick ropes of his come coat my mouth as Sam leans down.

"Your turn."

The dam breaks and I cry out around Dean's softening cock as my orgasm slams into me. Sam's hips falter and I know he's finishing into the condom. Dean wraps his arms around me and pulls me to lay down next to him as Sam brings back a warm washcloth. My eyes drift closed as I hear Dean.

"Next time you two are in town... Let me know."

#sam winchester smut #sam x reader x dean #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x reader x dean forester

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thelordstears · 3 years

Text

I think it’s time to show some lines and how much I’ve improved eh?

“ You see, we're all living our lives confined in this little, locked room, we store our thoughts here, our dreams, our doubts, our darkest confessions. But the right people come along with a key and find the real us quivering in a corner of ourselves we fear with all our fuckin' might. All of humanity fears. And so in the span of a blink life created death to separate what is bad, and what is good. “ - Shawn Werdelstein

“ I look deep into my eyes and I swear I can see her darkness flickering in my damn eyes, she took my heart in her murderous stride, flaying me of all my salvation, tellin' me I was nothin' more then livestock on her farm of delicacies and delights. “ - Lupin Rinderez

“In the end I was never really human in the eyes of those who hate me, was I? I was always a toy to those more wicked then I, and so I have rotted in a chest of forgotten dolls and stitched together souls lost to time." - Ingretta Shazowlla

“ Some men are born for prison. They're raised in a cell, and told this is all you can ever be, and when they finally scratch their way out of that prison, they start to get homesick, so they find themselves a new cell, a new Hell, a new home away from home. Chaos is peace ta the broken man. “ - Francis Killvawhile

“ Karma doesn't care about how small the sin was, she just reaps. “ - Scarla Scottaine

“ There's something foreign about an empty bed, something unfamiliar about holding my own hand, it's like love is a language we speak, and when it leaves us we can no longer speak the language of the loveless, because we're already native in the country of love. “ - Finn Desandra

“ The darkness of my past caught up to me and killed the kind pure hearted man I thought I'd forever be, I was always doomed to become a reflection of my father. But with these bloodied and cracked pieces of me I'll bleed him with broken pieces of his reflection. “ - Alviro Conritz

“Isn't it funny? How men and women alike will pull a trigger on another when faced with a gun at their own heart, held steady in the hand of a man who never misses?” - Remington Burlwitz

“ I am Eve luring Adam to his fate.” - Belle Nalroma

“ I am a grave of fireflies and ravens whom head out to war, a wolf of death and anguish that drove me to madness. Don't you call me a freak, I'm just a little bit different, my mind is an eternal state of flickering emotion and madness that has never left me be. In truth the firing of this rifle is the only thing that keeps me alive, it is the beating of my heart and the howl in my soul, so dare you fire back with pieces of your heart shattered in the bullets? “ - Luther Woolhaun

“ I feel like a blank slate that's always re-written. “ - Wendell Ace

"I look at who I am with judgmental eyes.” - Earl Mumford

“ Believe the tales of dead men, they have a perspective like no other. “ - Earl Mumford

“ Stepping up to me ain't a fucking war, it's an execution disguised as such. “ - Saul Northutt

“ Decaying and gentle I shall be lain to rest as the Devil the world mourned. “ - Jonkiv Kramteil

“ Look, the truth is a hard pill to swallow, but swallow it you will. “ - Simon Rossburg

“ I'm a killer and a cheat, if my dagger is unstained remember, there's etches of lives lost on the handle, do you really wanna become another scar on the wood of my blade? “ - Killgrove Butcher

“ Mercy is a surefire way to meet God, so I sling an old club wrapped in barbed wire over my shoulder and watch the river spill crimson. “ - Olivia Juarez

"They call kindness weakness, so I must be the strongest bitch in town.” - Olivia Juarez

“ My wrath comes down like a cold rain of daggers when faced with the wicked, if they ain't ready to die then they best fucking prepare for it, cause those who use the powerless as a simple stepping stone to Heaven don't deserve the breath in their damn lungs. “ - Lucille Ramaswami

“ That man, that wicked fuckin' man, 'e's an old vulture sittin' atop the Church waitin' for the holy ta fall down the steeple, 'e swoops down and picks their bones 'a love, 'a holiness, 'a morality. And den, the holy become the damned. “ - Maxwell Soderstrom

“ The Devils and snakes in the grass should fear the gardener with his shovel ready to bury the pests." - Guarva Plucker

“ Don't call me your hero, cause heroes don't kill good men." - Al Hunderson

"Brother, there's somethin' sinister brewin' in the bones of humanity, has been since the Neanderthals huddled in caves, lighting fires underneath the murky walls of a place they could call home. I'm afraid you're gonna have to be a little more specific." - Roman Hemlock "Ya can always spot the little, tinges of darkness in the bad man's eye, the little seams of pain that follows 'em." - Sandro Colorfeid

"I slither and slide into the darkness, a basilisk hiding in shadow and sin, biting into the forbidden fruit of Eden with glee and cruelty flickering in my snake likes eyes." - Vexine Hatchet

"I stood with blood on my hands and a snarl on my lip. It was from that moment on, Nico no longer were." - Nico Litchenfels

“ I'm a cutthroat fucker with his heart bared open and cruel on his trench jacket's sleeve. “ - Nico Litchenfels

"I stood like a question never asked, and then before I had the chance to give myself an answer in the echoes of my insanity, she smiled and asked who I was." - Zachariah Rinderez

"I have died a thousand times, Minerva. But you make me want to live again." - Simon Drogace

"I'm not lucky enough to be me." - Simon Drogace

“Do you ever feel like, your mind is a hammer?” - Simon Drogace

"He stood there, like a wicked omen of what never should've been, a testament to all humanity tried to kill." - Neal Marrows

"Losing yourself is a game no one can win." - Neal Marrows

"You know me, just a grave of who I was, grasping the soil wondering why it always slips between my fingers." - Sam Dellwotfire

"Someone once asked me what life before war was like, and truthfully, I've never known." - Hunter Creasey

"You spend your whole life under the shadow of death it starts to become you, and as you let the light it in, as you let your heart burst in seams of color and little figments of love and joy, that's when the shadow casts itself over you the longest. As soon as you start to live, death comes on by to greet you as if she were an old friend, and as I live through the essence of love and peace, I can see a smile filled with the lost lives of all whom ever walked greeting me on a road all too familiar." - Hunter Creasey

"I'm the mad man's greatest friend, but in the eyes of the sane, in the eyes of all whom stand against cruelty, I'm a weapon, an atomic bomb that'll level the city of peace to dust." - Moores Thomas

"It is in madness and grief we find who we really are. So who's to say humanity was supposed to live in peace? After all, even our mind tells us things we could never dream of with intrusive thoughts, and in the end some of us succumb to the darkness every single mind brews." - Moores Thomas

"You see, madness starts with a small seed the human race calls trouble, it comes in many different variants, some get in very small dosages all their lives. But mad men get a taste of trouble long before they know what the word means." - Moores Thomas

"The way I see love, it's an interesting sort of medicine. One moment it stitches together the loose threads of your heart, and in the very next it unravels you like a spool of thread." - Cornelius Combs

"I walked into the Church only to be spat out, falling down the sinner's steeple coughing up bloodied pieces of my faith." - Takizen Fruivein

"Challenging what I've become is a fools game, and my friend, I am no fool." - Allinza Harzvi

"Humanity is not inherently kind, everything we've seen, and everything we are, is proof of that testament." - Allinza Harzvi

"We are never in the same boat, we are in the same storm, facing life's darkness with different privilege's." - Caldvain Lucelo

"You know, someone once told me you have control over your own mind, but as it drifts away from me as smoke in the dying embers of a midnight wildfire, does that statement still hold true?" - Harvin Scoviney

"God does not help. He observes." - Victor Da Ville

“ You can't explain what evil means without mentioning the feared name of Cassidy Vanderberg. “ - Cassidy Vanderberg

“ I'm a hero, and I know, it's a heroes curse to go down in history, shooting her glory through the chamber of a revolver, leaving the world with the gunfire smoke of her gun, but so be it man, so fucking be it. “ - Miella Fang

“ Tragedy runs through my veins like the blood I bleed.” - Harkman Burtrow

“ You can run your hands through these cracked and yellowed pages, wondering when I lost my mind, but you won't find any answers in my chapters. “ - Mortelo Vonenwoft

“ ”You ever feel there’s jus’ this empty box where your heart’s supposed ta be? I've shoved all my monsters in this box, my addictions, my anxiety, the thoughts that don't go away. But sometimes, the box starts ta open, and I can't even push the door back, cause I'm too busy with this ghost followin' me like a yappin' chihuahua. “ - Isadore Rast

“ Everyone is always sayin' you're strong, for fightin' past that hurt, but am I? I didn't fight, I fuckin' stumbled, I fell, it wasn't just a battle, it was a god damn war I still wage. The gunfire echoes and cocaine ghosts will never leave me be, cause I made the mistake of losin' myself ta the bad side of life, and I just can't forgive myself for that kinda shit. “ - Isadore Rast

“ I'm not a recoverin' addict, I'm just a fuckin' ghost. “ - Carrigan Hopva

“ I met myself on a dead end street, she looked distraught, with chunks of hair missing, cigarette on her lip, trying to light a match in the rain, eyes troubled with memories of what would be. She told me to keep my enemies close, cause god damn, they were everywhere, but she never told me I'd be standin' in a house of mirrors. “ - Rain Morvosina

“ I tell myself, I could've done better, I could've saved the circus, but truthfully, not a single man can stop fate in its tracks, he would become another splatter on her railroad within a series of seconds and terrible events. “ - Bortosley Velltwo

“ I'm guilty ‘a first degree, of lil ol' me." - Howard Wraith

“ Oh mum if ya could see me now, sinnin' on the other side 'a paradise lookin' for reasons ta stain me teeth the color of me jacket. “ - Davy Blight

“ I ain't the poor lil' boy who shot at 'is brother with orange capped revolvers and plastic swords, mate, I'm the real fuckin' deal. This venom 'a trouble and sin flows like blood in me veins, corruptin' the essence 'a who I fuckin' was. “ - Davy Blight

“ I'm the darkness your mother says ta stray away from, the boogeyman ya're mum tells ya snatches away naughty boys and girls in the dead 'a night, and worst of all mate, I'm Lind fuckin' Blight, bastard son of the seas. “ - Lind Blight

“ I'm just old honey whiskey sitting on the shelf gathering dust and mildew, locked in this little cabin of darkness and decay, wondering why no one cares to pop open my cork and let this darkness and mold spill to the soil of a freshly dug grave. “ - Roxane Vanderberg

“ I met her in a garden 'a roses, and there she stood as the only thorn. “ - Kayella Wisp

“ I've gunned bad men down on the streets, cackling and sinful they died, cruel and wicked they lived. “ - Hoshino Akinori

“ I once went into an old confession booth, sins sat heavy at my shoulder, salvation far off as it always seemed to be, and as that preacher listened to my darkest secrets I was sure he would damn me. But he told me salvation is for all, and that God loves whosoever follows the path of the righteous. “ - Erika Vans

“ I used ta live with one foot in the grave, wondering when the hell I'd become my last name, but then I met a wise man in the woods and found myself once again. Sometimes, we're lost, and we don't even know it. So I think destiny sends us a Messiah to lead the way ta who we are, and as Pennington took my hand in the darkness, I knew I'd found who I am past all this trouble. “ - Alonzo Graves

“ I traverse this labyrinth of my heart and soul, trying to find myself in the midst of all this trouble, but these mirrors are starting to look like enemies, and this maze is starting to become a prison cell. “ - Andre Jollows

“ Deep in my soul is the sound of war calling me home, and death whispers in my bones that she wishes to hold me close as I fade gently into the stars, but I sigh strapping my boots on in the morning, putting this old gas mask on my face and facing another venomous day. For I am a curse, wondering where my blessings went." - Max Caldiph

“ If my heart were a painting, it would be a starless night sky, the trees wilted, stripped of their leaves standing as threadbare omens of the bones etched in darkness that hold me up and the roses would be black, decaying with some dead scent of mercy burning whosoever walks into this garden of death's nose. “ - Apollos Quinn

“ Who I am ain't even me, he's just someone I've been for too long.” - Drew Dreadful

“ I died halfway to Heaven and too close ta Hell. “ - Dylan Huffers

“ I was living a life of trouble and cigarette smoke, chasing lies as if I were just a harmless little kitten, batting my hands at another yarn ball, always wondering why it ran away from me, but as my mother held me in a gentle embrace and showed me the way to paradise, I found out that it's better to be you then somebody else. “ - Scottie Bloodvallo

“ My mama once told me sometimes you gotta fall and stumble to learn who you are, because it's as trouble and peace wage war that we discover who's side we're on, and as those old foes grabbed their rifles and loaded their cannons, I came to realize I never wanted trouble to become who I am. So I picked up my guns and fired a couple rounds of peace into my head. “ - Marty Thievekit

“ You wanna run with the wolves, but brother you're sparrin' with chihuahuas, ya wanna play with the big boys, but you're frolicking in a garden full of gnomes and fairies, you wanna go knuckle to knuckle with your demons, but brother you surround yourself in angels. Do you really expect to kill a man while you're swingin' plastic blades and firin' bullets from a cap gun? “ - Walton Burke

"The truth will always sound like a lie to he who doesn't want to admit he's wrong. “ - Stewart Astoria

“ I'm tied up and tangled in the webs of madness, cackling at the midnight sky as these bastards try to fire bullets of sanity my way. But god damn baby, I'm bullet proof. I take what I want when I want it, so as I slam these bullets of madness into the echoed chamber of my revolver and put a few holes in my mind do you think it'll be me seepin' through the corners of this old mental ward, or will the ground pool crimson with my sanity? Guess there's no way of knowin' til I pull this trigger, sanity and purity spilling like crimson ink in my mind. “ - Ares Malstone

“ Forevermore I shall stand as a threadbare omen of the unholiest parts of mankind, drifting away from myself like the wildfire smoke of a dying confession.” - Alastair Sambridge

“ My mother once stared me dead in the eye and said I was not so holy, one day I would sputter up all the pieces of me and succumb to the Devil inside, and I must say, the old wicked witch was right. My father told me I was just a sin, drifting forevermore into the midnight sky, and as I pulled the trigger upon a battlefield I came to realize fate vows for promises made by wicked people. So by God, I vow to die, I vow to choke on these holy pieces of me and sputter up my dying breath. “ - Alastair Sambridge

“ Who I am is such a far cry from who I was, if you looked at a photograph of me at ten years old you wouldn't recognize the eyes that smile, for as you look into the cracked lenses and into my eyes, it is not me you find. But rather, it is the insanity that swam in Calzell's eyes when I met him." - Ackilzo Thyme

“ My mother once told me that rage whispers into the ears of the broken that they deserve nothing more then this unsteady heart beat of broken bottles and cracked knuckles, but it's the ever smiling lip of peace that brings the sorrowed man back to himself. So I oughta wonder why peace keeps on scowlin' at me. “ - Varvaina Escobar

“ It seems it is the nature of humanity to point blame at those who are howling with regret, love beating empty in an open chest. “ - Sarkelus Johnson

“ Sometimes, life just fades before your eyes and ya don't have enough time to catch it, so you slowly drift away from it yearning for the gentle touch of death. But you know what? We all need a hero every once and awhile, and as Barbara lays her head against my chest, dancing her fingers across my shoulders and cheek, I think I damn well found my hero. “ -Rob Percstand

“ I don't wanna die with dreams, I wanna die with memories, man. “ - Revie Scollinew

"In the outback of Montana my tale began in crimson stained history. I look to my aunts and uncles and see murder deep inside of their hearts, but they should've thought twice before taking my heart in their rough hands, for there is something dark that's brewing inside of me, and if I were them, I would start looking underneath the bed for monsters." - Enoch Avoxin

"There's a certain truth, to madness." - Zachariah Rinderez

"Hold honor close to your heart and you'll end its beat." - McKormick McReavey

"You know, everybody says, this won't happen to me, I'm just your average everyday person, collecting my paycheck, paying my bills, living my day to day life just like everybody else. But what we seem to forget is that we're all normal people, we're all just a little bit average enough to stand out. And when these tragic things do happen to us, we stand in a stunned silence our whole world falling apart, and all we can utter is, "This can't be happening to me." - Ray Burzfoll

"If I could strip the emotion from my mind I fear I would do so in a heart beat." - Wyatt Demouchett

"Love comes and goes but power drifts on by and stays." - Dastallio Sanchez

"Darkness has intertwined itself within my heart sputtering the light from out my throat." - Cornelius Shmackelstein

“I am not myself, so what the fuck am I?" - Coraiza Scotchfuel

"Living in reality is the most cruel form of torture for a mad man." - Draven Scotchfuel

"It is as if she makes my black and white heart burst with some form of color it's never seen." - Armello Vanrick

"Perhaps it was always a mirror hiding inside of my closet." - Julie Forkroad

"The world went dark before it fell, we were just playing a waiting game." - Brooke Bergmeir

"I've got more fighting days left than you have years." - Maximo Guanch

"If everything exists, nothing does, really." - Arthur Wellburn

#writing #characters #dialogue #characterdevelopment #oneliners #books #writer #characterwriting

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ironxkid · 3 years

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why don't you like endgame or civil war

((hoo buddy, idk what brought this up but salt under the cut!! Like... a lot of salt - specifically regarding Endgame lmao

I’m gonna start off with CACW because it’s a short response lol

I don’t like it simply because I was done with the infighting between the Avengers. The found family crumbs we were given in Endgame was something I really wanted to see, and them just... ripping them apart frustrated me lol

honestly, the movie was... fine? Idk, I found it to be a lil slow for my taste (it felt like it just dragged on when I watched it in theaters), and I just don’t care for it in general ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, ngl, I’m really bummed that Captain America: Serpent Society was a joke announcement because that sounds dope as hell and I really wanted to see that before I realized it’d been a joke dfgjhdsfhj

but, yeah, literally just because CACW is specifically an infighting movie annoys me to no end so I just won’t watch it again dgsfjhsfdhj

now, Endgame?

fuck Endgame

I. have a lot of issues with it, all of which are major grievances throughout the fandom. I’m pissed they killed Natasha and didn’t even bother giving her a fucking funeral because, I quote from Joe Russo, “Well, Tony does not have another movie. Tony is done. And Natasha has another film. And Marvel Universe obviously does not have to move forward linearly anymore. But that character still has more screen time coming.” (see here) and that annoys the hell out of me. She’s getting another movie - great! So you killed one of the few characters doing her fucking best to keep everything together at the compound, the one who was taking charge, give her a big role, and then murk her and... give her nothing but a brief mention at the end. Like... what the fuck? Natasha deserved so much better than what she was given. Tony’s funeral could’ve (and, frankly, should’ve) been a funeral for him, Natasha, and Vision because god forbid we see anyone mourn Vision other than Wanda

(actually this post covers how Endgame fucked over the MCU women perfectly, though Wanda’s not mentioned :c )

plus... Tony’s not done lol - he’s still a massive figure in the films/shows despite RDJ not acting in them, so his character has left shockwaves that aren’t dying any time soon. Natasha... basically disappeared, and I believe she would’ve been dropped completely if it wasn’t for the fact she does have a film coming out soon. Which, frankly, seems awesome and all, but it’s a film that goes back to post-CACW pre-IW and... frankly doesn’t give me any reason to understand why that means she didn’t get a funeral. She’s not coming back in future movies/shows that are in present MCU timeline - her movie is set in the past. She could’ve gotten a decent sendoff

now, Clint’s arc as Ronin rubs me the wrong way. I know it’s a huge thing in the comics, and it’s not him taking a different mantle that I have an issue with. It’s the fact he, a white man, went around murdering people and got off scot-free. Yes, he was targeting genuinely bad people, but... to show that, they specifically singled out Mexican cartels and the yakuza (Japanese mafia, essentially) - so, in other words, the bad guys were people of color! I feel like I don’t need to explain how fucked up that is. And, to clarify, I love Clint! Clint is honestly one of my favorite characters, and the whole thing was just handled... poorly in the film

Tony’s arc genuinely hurts. This is a man who has suffered for years and has tried to make things right, and finally got a chance to settle down. He finally retired from the Avengers, finally settled down, and had a fucking life he could enjoy despite his ghosts, and yet... His arc ends with a message of “tortured soul finally gets rest by dying”. Because, y’know, it’s great seeing yet another long-suffering character only reaching peace through death, because god forbid they let characters heal! He could’ve still caused the second Snap, and he could’ve survived. He could’ve finally been able to step away for good and focus on his family, focus on recovering, and be truly happy. What’s so wrong with letting him stay alive so he can rest and be with his family? What’s so wrong with letting a long-suffering character finally find peace after one last bang?

plus it pisses me off that they’re now using him as a reasoning as to why bad things are still happening. Why is this person the bad guy? Because Tony Stark somehow may or may not have done something that hurt them! Even though most of that really stems from Howard or Obadiah. Tony just ends up getting the blame in their place. He’s just an easy target to use, much like the tesseract seems to be the go-to answer for why things go wrong. But this is a different train of thought

Steve’s ending pisses me off just as much as the next person lmao. You take a character who has acknowledged he no longer belongs in the past (which, funnily enough, was written by the Russos), aaaaaaand have him go back to the past while ignoring two important people in his life that were still right there. He got Bucky and Sam back, and he leaves them. His arc is ruined within a matter of minutes, and it paints a hella bad picture of him in the process. He goes back in time to stay with Peggy (which ultimately destroys her own arc, and the fact she’s a person outside of her relationship (or lack thereof) with him because, y’know, why have her be able to move on and be her own person?), and we’re supposed to believe he’s fine with everything he knows from the future? Fine with knowing Bucky’s trapped with HYDRA and is suffering as the Winter Soldier? Fine with knowing HYDRA has infested SHIELD from day one? Fine with knowing Howard and Maria are going to die? Fine with royally fucking up the timelines? We’re supposed to believe he sat back and did nothing with all of that? They could’ve had him still hand the shield over to Sam - they could’ve let Steve stay an Avenger without the mantle

also the fact the Russos said he didn’t recognize Red Skull when he returned to Vormir to return the soul stone? Like... what the fuck?? Not to mention he literally returns the stone to Vormir, which “soul for a soul”, and they didn’t bring Nat back that way??

and now onto Thor. Thor... holy fuck is this hitting something personal for me. Thor was ridden with guilt - he was furious with himself, hated himself, and blamed himself for failing to stop the Snap. He fell into a massive depression, and... was promptly danced around as laughing stock. Like, “oh! look at Thor! he’s fat and drunk because he’s depressed haha!” - like fuck off. It’s not funny in any form. His suffering was made into a joke and it pisses me off because I suffer from depression. A lot of people suffer from depression. It’s not funny. It’s fucking terrifying at times. I wasted a shit ton of money on a stupid online sim game because it was a distraction - it gave me... god, I wouldn’t even say temporary happiness, but it gave me something to temporarily help, and I still hate myself for doing it. It was a poor decision on my part, and I wish I could change it. And, during that time, I was scared because I couldn’t see myself pulling out of it. I thought I was gonna feel that way forever. I called out of work multiple times because there were days I couldn’t stop crying (something I still feel horrible for doing), I couldn’t get myself to contact any of my friends for months, and it was all because the medication I was on at the time... stopped working. Thankfully, my depression doesn’t work in a way that makes me a danger to myself, so that wasn’t an issue, but it still fucking sucked. And to see a character that I could relate to on such a personal level treated as laughing stock fucking hurt. I’m not sharing this for sympathy - I’m sharing this because it Thor’s arc hit home and it’s literally the main reason why I will not watch Endgame again

this is more of a nitpick than anything else, but... I didn’t really care for Carol in it tbh? Which is unfortunately because Captain Marvel is one of my absolute favorite movies! And I’m well aware she was introduced in Endgame while CM was being drafted, but that in itself is annoying?? Because Carol was originally going to be introduced in AoU, but was cut because it wasn’t going to introduce her character properly. And yet they decide to introduce her character in a clusterfuck of a movie before her movie is in the final stages, and proceed to release her movie first and then give a complete different characterization in her following appearance

honestly I just wanna cover this now to clarify some things regarding Carter and her backstory: the only reason I keep Endgame as is is because it felt easier for me to do so for the purpose of bending canon for specific threads. I wanted to stay as true to the given plots as possible to help with fudging of both the movies and her background, and also because I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was trying to force my own headcanons onto them, y’know?

I’m just gonna plug this here because fuck it lol, but I did start a fix-it fic regarding Endgame that you can read here! I... probably won’t finish it tbh, and I haven’t gone over it in a hot minute so it might be riddled with errors ahah - plus I’m not sure about how I wrote the characters! I get nervous when writing canon characters because I feel like I’ll miss their characterization completely, which is actually why I,,, rarely rp canon characters dgfjhgsfdhj

also the image in the doc was created by @/archervale!!

#ooc #((I think I covered what I wanted and I hope it makes sense dgjhdfh #I'm pretty tired but I'm doing laundry so I figured I'd answer this while I wait #but yeah I don't care for CACW and I honest to god hate Endgame #the potential is there and it just never reached it))#((I'm not even gonna touch the Russos directing style #'hey guys we're gonna film a wedding sIKE IT'S A FUNERAL'#like?? MAJORLY different event fellas #also I'm literally going off what I remember from Endgame so I'm sure there's QUITE a bit I'm missing #but I'm not watching it to make a bigger salt post lol #I don't hate watch things because I would much rather watch something I'd enjoy #tbh I don't understand hate watching at all but that's a different conversation gsdfjhdfhj))#death mention tw #depression tw

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dustedmagazine · 4 years

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Ian Mathers’ 2020: We’re stuck inside our own machines

I’ve had a song I loved in high school and haven’t thought much about since stuck in my head. The song “Apparitions” by the Matthew Good Band is a fine example of the alt rock of the late 90s; if you grew up then but somewhere down in the states (or elsewhere) instead of my southern Ontario you may well have your regional equivalents, and like this one they may not resonate terribly strongly outside of their time and place. It popped back into my head after a long time recently and of course 2020 has changed it a little. A song that as a teen I felt keenly as about loneliness (albeit also about how technology can feed into that) of course now plays on my nerves as another small piece of art about the way that most of us (those scared and/or responsible anyway) have only that relatively narrow, technologically mediated connection to the people we love. All of us, artists and listeners alike, are trying to fit our feelings and art and selves down these little connections, with some success.

On a personal level, 2020 wound up being stressful in ways we couldn’t have predicted even after the pandemic hit. In circumstances that could have seen governments on this continent support those unable to work (and those who shouldn’t have to), support those workers who are truly essential, support workers and renters and even landlords and small businesses, instead we got a near-total abeyance of those governments using the resources we provide them with to save any of us. On a personal level my wife and I were lucky enough to be able to work from home (not that it didn’t come with its own forms of stress, and now that I’m off until January I have several work/stress-related illnesses to recover from) but still saw friends and loved ones lose good, used-to-be-sustainable livings overnight, saw family businesses succumb to a near-total absence of effective government support after months of trying to keep above water, etc.

It is probably no surprise that this is not a situation conducive to listening to music, let alone writing about it; I have deliberately and happily kept busy on behind the scenes stuff at Dusted that I could still manage but looking, at the end of the year, at the amount I managed to actually create is demoralizing if not at all shocking. I’m not sure I think next year will be ‘better’ in many important ways, although at our job there is a growing feeling among coworkers that next year has to have some work/life balance because 2020 was, maybe more than anything else, unsustainable.

That’s not to say I didn’t spend a lot of time and emotion on music this year, and if nothing else constant sleep deprivation, stress, and panic meant I was probably open to being deeply moved by all sorts of art even more than normally (it’s gotten to the point where I can’t even read a sad or moving twitter thread out loud to my wife without getting teary, which is kind of… nice?). Funnily enough the band that did the most to keep me sane didn’t really put out anything in 2020. Personal favorite, Low, instead started, in early April, getting on Instagram with something they called on whim “It’s Friday I’m in Low.” With one brief break they have now done by my count at least 35 shows (catalogued here, by the way), every Friday at about 4 my time.

Admittedly it’s easier for Low to pull this off than some bands, since the 2/3 of the trio that sing are a married couple (they’ve had a couple of socially-distanced backyard shows with bassist Steve Garrington, but he’s mostly been isolating elsewhere). These shows have seen the band’s Alan Sparhawk take a mid-set break to do follow-up phone interviews with the acts featured in the COVID-curtailed touring bands series Vansplainingthat they started on YouTube, or just to give a tour round their vegetable garden and talk tips. It’s seen Alan and Mimi Parker draw on their impressive, 25+ year body of work (averaging 4-5 songs a set, I don’t think they’ve repeated themselves yet) and talk a bit between songs about pandemics, politics, song choices, and whether Alan should grab his bike helmet this time.

They’re not the only musicians out there speaking love and sanity (and playing music) into the strange digital interzone filled with hate and disinformation where we’ve all been forced to gather while locked down, but they were and the most consistent and steady signal being emitted each week. No matter how tired I was from work or what new symptoms I’d developed or what horrific thing I read into the news, even if I had to take an emergency nap while it was actually airing, every Friday the show was there. Once things do return to something more like normal, it’s one of the few things I’ll unambiguously miss about this weird-ass year.

So if that makes an argument for Low as my band of the year (admittedly again… it’s not like Double Negative has aged poorly, either), that does a disservice to those 2020 records I did connect with; even if there are still literally dozens I have to go through, many of which I expect to love, my top picks this year (if as unrankable by me as always) hit me as hard as any top pick in recent years did. So here I present a quick and informal top 5, which the rest of my top 20 following in alphabetical order. Here’s hoping for more time and space in 2021 for music, and even more than that, for more support for those who need it from those who could have been providing it all this time. (The Matthew Good Band, incidentally, always did best with their ballads. “Strange Days” is another I’ve had in my head these days; the image of moving “backwards, into a wall of fire” has stuck with me since the 90s and it’s never felt more grimly appropriate.)

Greet Death — New Hell

New Hell by Greet Death

This one is, in some sense, cheating; it came out November 2019. But that just means it’s the latest winner of my personal Torres Prize for Ian Being Late to the Party (so named because becoming slightly obsessed with Torres’ Sprinter just after I sent in my 2015 list was the first time I noticed that one of my favorite records of each year tends to get picked up by me just after I call it quits on the year, no matter how long I try to wait). This very doom and gloom slowcore/metal/(whatever, just know it’s heavy) trio at first felt very much like my beloved Cloakroom (whose Time Well has also won a Torres Prize) but sure enough nuances revealed themselves. Back in February it felt almost a little too negative, but then the rest of 2020 happened. And the extended burns of “You’re Gonna Hate What You’ve Done” and the title track remain searing.

Holy Fuck — Deleter

youtube

Probably the record I’ve been trying to write about the longest in 2020, and the one I’m most disappointed in myself that I just couldn’t get the requisite paragraphs together. It’s a wonderful effort from the consistently great Toronto resolutely human-created (and —mediated) dance music quartet, one that both feels like a summation of everything they do well, and with the addition of some outside voices (including strong turns from the singers of both Hot Chip and Liars) a step forward at the same time.

Spanish Love Songs — Brave Faces Everyone

Brave Faces Everyone by Spanish Love Songs

As the year got worse, this roar of defiance only got more crucial for me to hear every so often; I was a big enough fan of it, even after writing it up for Dusted, that when they solicited fan footage for a subsequent music video you may just be able to get a glimpse of me in it. (I’m the one in a “No Tories” t-shirt.) My punk rock-loving twin brother was the one who introduced me to Spanish Love Songs and we were supposed to spend an evening in June screaming along to them live in a packed, sweaty room. I need that in my life again.

Julianna Barwick — Healing Is a Miracle

Healing Is A Miracle by Julianna Barwick

It’s a sign of what 2020 has been like here that even just this album title leaves bruises, and while I privately worried Barwick would have a hard time following up 2016’s sublime Will (probably my favorite record that year), it seems that continuing to take whatever downtime she needs to keep focusing and refining her particular muse has once again yielded amazing results. Anyone who thinks they know what a Barwick track sounds like should really check out, say, “Flowers”, but much of this record absolutely sounds like Barwick, just even better than before. She also boasted my wife and I's favorite streaming concert of 2020, an absolutely gorgeous rendition of this album with Mary Lattimore showing up.

Phoebe Bridgers — Punisher

Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

I joked on Twitter recently that I have far too nice a dad (and far too good a relationship with him) to be as obsessed as I am with Phoebe Bridgers’ “Kyoto”, but here we are. Like most of her generation, Bridgers’ social media presence ranges from shit-posting to inscrutable, but even though things are often just as hard to figure out in her beautiful songs (as they often are in life), there’s an emotional clarity to them that can just grab you deep down. Couple that with seriously impressive songcraft and the progress from her already astounding debut Stranger in the Alps and more than anyone else in 2020 I’m excited to see just where the hell Phoebe Bridgers is going to go, because it feels like she’s talented and hardworking enough to go just about anywhere and drag a lot of our hearts with her.

Other Favorites

Aidan Baker & Gareth Davis — Invisible Cities II

Anastasia Minster — Father

Deftones — Ohms

Hum — Inlet

Kelly Lee Owens — Inner Song

Mesarthim — The Degenerate Era

Perfume Genius — Set My Heart On Fire Immediately

Protomartyr — Ultimate Success Today

Rachel Kiel — Dream Logic

The Ridiculous Trio — The Ridiculous Trio Plays the Stooges

Sam Amidon — Sam Amidon

Shabason, Krgovich & Harris — Philadelphia

Stars Like Fleas — DWARS Session: Live on Radio VPRO

Well Yells — We Mirror the Dead

Yves Tumour — Heaven to a Tortured Mind

Five Reissues/Compilations/etc.

Aix Em Klemm — Aix Em Klemm

Bardo Pond — Adrop/Circuit VIII

Charles Curtis — Performances & Recordings 1998-2018

Coil — Musick to Play in the Dark

Hot Chip — LateNightTales

Ian Mathers

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

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Flavor of the Day

Summary: You never know what’s going to rile you up next. Pairings: Bucky x Reader A/N: Word count 1.5k-- and apparently I’m into the intimate act of getting a haircut.

Bag of Tricks One Shot Masterlist

Some things just get you riled up.

Stupid things, mostly. Things that bubble out of the incomprehensible blue of your mind. Innocuous things, sometimes things that made most others unwell: Sam picking up the corner of the couch to grab the remote, Maria wiping lipstick off her teeth disdainfully, goddamn Smurfette talking Smurf gibberish to Papa Smurf.

It was always a mixed bag.

So, when the bomb explodes on a regular Wednesday afternoon recon mission in the flat ghost town prairie of Gun Barrel, Texas of all places, a sudden tickle travels up your spine.

Destruction, apparently, is the flavor of the day.

Bomb aside, Texas is the pits when you’re not in a major city. Hours and hours of driving, your thighs chafing in the back of the mini-van, stupid easy-listening crooning because Steve can’t stand any excitement. Grumpy old fuck.

There hadn’t even been any sights to see, other than cows of enormous sizes, dilapidated barns, flat, straight, endless pasture, and—

“Hey!” You had yelled, pointing.

“What?” Two voices replied, whipping around to see what your exclamation was meant for.

Bucky scoffed when he realized your smashed finger against the window had been pointing to the swirls of yellow flaxen threads piled atop each other: hay.

You thought it was hilarious. Steve, spitefully, turned up the warble of ancient, sizzling-static, sometimes accompanied by a shrill voice. Bucky leaned his seat back until it hit your knees.

“Grumpy old fucks.” You muttered, drowned out by terrible noise.

So, again, when the bomb explodes and levels the top floor, you are aching for something good. Rubble crashes from the ceiling, tearing cavernous holes in the current room while an alarm blares, dousing the entire place in abrupt and flashing red. Your blood is rushing, heart beating madly to the rhythm of the siren’s shriek.

Gunfire erupts from the next room where Steve is, but you either must make it to the stairwell and survive, or chance being crushed with him.

Risk, you realize with a ferocious grin, is the flavor of the day.

You barrel through the door, taking it completely off its hinges and sink your knife into the man scrambling to get Cap. It rips him neck to his goddamn tailbone and the eggshell-white notches of his vertebrae slip out to greet you.

“Hell!” Steve screams, “Is that fucking necessary!?”

He pushes you roughly out the collapsing room and nearly throws you down the stairwell. There’s some smart comment or another that gets lobbed at him, but Steve prudently ignores it and your voice ebbs away when you are launched down three flights of stairs. Bucky is stepping fast paced by the thirteenth story.

You gasp for breath and put one hand on his shoulder, “Race ya.”

Steve’s heavy boots land with a thud, breaking up the moment. An enormous piece of drywall crumbles and sprinkles dust and fire from above.

“Move!”

Your arms break out in goosebumps when Bucky grabs the back of your suit and takes you down.

Wednesday night in a shared hotel suite sheds too much light on your problem. An itch that can’t be scratched, sitting on a queen-sized bed while two others smush up on the pull out because of some old-fashioned boy-chivalry.

You take the last shower to relieve the frustration, feeling somewhat sated when you emerge bright pink from scrubbing. The robe is tied loosely, and you slip into the kitchenette to find a snack, tiptoeing through the dark shadows so neither of them will be bothered.

The mini fridge has tiny bottles of vodka and a chocolate bar and they all get tucked under your arm. When you turn around, Bucky is peeking over your shoulder.

“Goddamn, Barnes! I almost shit myself!”

He catches your pilfered treasures deftly in his hand and set them on the counter. The fridge door swings open limply, yellow light reflecting the lines of his face, confused and a little bewildered by the spread of alcohol and candy.

You quirk your head too, because one side of his mane is singed off. “From the fire?” Your wry smile tells him it’s as bad as he thinks it is, and Bucky frowns, running his hand through, clenching his fist around the frayed ends. "Do you want me to trim the rest?"

For the first time that you’ve known him, he looks like a little boy, almost petulantly so and a little flutter in your stomach gives you pause. Lingering behind him, your fingers reach up to grip his hair, catching the uneven strands between them. He still smells like smoke even after his shower. The ashy scent mingles with the hotel complimentaries—dusty cedar and pine notes accompanied by gunpowder. Clean sweat that is purely boy.

Because Bucky always keeps a knife on him, he wordlessly places one in your open palm and sits down on the floor silently.

“Where’s Cap?” You ask, surprised when your voice comes out unsteady.

The first handful slices through with a whistle and Bucky tenses under your touch. “Went out.” He replies. Another strip comes clean off and you work to even the edges, cutting in delicate motions. “Watch the ears.” Bucky warns as you crawl around him on your knees.

“What? You need ‘em?”

The long side is clipped to match the burned side, and your fingers slowly slide upwards, palm rubbing against his scalp, strands pinched. A few more cuts and then you begin to even out the back, smiling slightly at the softness of his dark locks.

Bucky leans into your hand with a slow hum, and you poke his neck with the handle of the knife to straighten him out—to give him distance from you. Or to give you distance from him.

He grumbles when you fist his hair again, tucking the knife into the front waistband of your underwear and shuffle around to look at the front. With two hands, you pinch the sides and fluff the top, moving tufts left and right to ascertain the correct way to part his hair. They all looked about the same.

“Well, it’s not bad—but I’d certainly get it redone later.”

He’s peering at you with half a frown and a furrowed brow, and you shrug in response, pushing your hand forward one last time nearly out of habit now. When Bucky suddenly sighs with your palm over his head, your eyes widen and you come to the third realization:

Bucky, apparently, is the flavor of the day.

The two of you stare at each other in the dim light of the kitchenette floor. It probably wasn’t a good idea to chop off all his hair in the dark, but all of that is out the window now as you blink at him. With it away from his cheeks, he looks changed.

Strikingly handsome.

The overhead light starts to flicker, showing you his face in half-second pulses. He blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens ever so gently.

Then the door swings open with a clatter and Steve announces his return with three grease-soaked bags of fast food plopped on the counter. “You two okay? Is that a knife in your—Jesus! Will ya cover up?”

You hadn’t noticed that the front of your robe has fallen open, revealing the sheer bralette and underwear with Bucky’s knife tucked in the front. As Steve sputters and turns around, pulling out his meal, Bucky reaches forward and takes his blade from your hip, bottom lip pinched between his teeth.

His eyes lock on yours as he moves forward onto his knees. You’re trapped in his gaze, unaware of his hands tugging on the front of your robe, pulling it shut. Steve’s body lands heavily onto the couch, and the crashing of its back against the wall rips you from the moment. Your eyes flutter, searching Bucky for answers.

He gives you nothing but a slow sweep of his tongue in the corner of his mouth. His lips purse, breath escaping in a tiny, hot, pant.

Then slowly, he lifts himself up to his feet.

“Hey, Stevie, where’d you park the car?”

Steve perks up from the couch, “Just to the left, why?”

You follow the shape of Bucky’s legs as he steps out of the kitchenette, turning ever so slightly to look down at your crouched form still on the floor. He tucks his knife back into its sheath.

“We’re going out for a bit.”

You nearly plant face-first getting to your feet, toes slipping against the scattered dark strands of Bucky’s hair.

“You got a haircut!?” Steve hollers as Bucky yanks the door open. “Buck?” And then he sees you running after, damp cotton robe flapping against your thigh. “Wha—”

The door slams shut before Steve can get another word out and Bucky is pressing you up against its frame, hands underneath your breasts, holding you up. “We’re not goin’ anywhere,” he whispers before scraping his teeth against your collarbone, “I’m gonna fuck you in the car.”

Holy shit.

Bucky pulls you along by the band of your top, not giving a fuck if your tits fall out in the middle of the parking lot.

Apparently, you think, with a shudder as he looks back mischievously, you are Bucky’s flavor of the day.

#bucky barnes #bucky #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #captain america #reader insert #one shot

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sgtjbbhasmyheart · 4 years

Text

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Three

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Nosy (and well-meaning) friends acting like nosy siblings, angst, bad language words

A/N: After I originally posted this chapter on AO3, I got some comments that exacerbated the beginnings of a year long depression. Please be kind. I intended this chapter to come across as the gang being like siblings...always being in each other’s business. Is there a breach of privacy? Yes, but without the ill-intent.

DO NOT copy or replicate without permission

Bucky clutched his phone in his flesh hand as he made his way down a long hallway to the communal kitchen and eating area. A soft, crooked smile rested at his lips as he entered the space. Natasha and Sam were sitting at opposite ends of the rectangular table separating the kitchen from the lounge, enjoying a late breakfast. Steve was at a kitchen counter fiddling with the Keurig machine. He pulled another mug from the cupboard when he saw Bucky approach. “Mornin’, Buck. Sleep well?”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he leaned his backside against the countertop. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking,” he answered, looking to his phone at the incoming text.

(Y/N) Would you rather have skin that changes color based on your emotions or tattoos appear all over your body, depicting what you did the day before?

He missed the way Sam and Nat looked at each other in suspicion at his answer to Steve. He was too busy pressing the keys on his touch-screen.

Bucky The tattoos would be awkward, speaking from a male’s perspective, so I think color changing would be better. Not by much, though.

Bucky Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?

Bucky saw Steve slide the new mug, now filled with coffee, across the granite-top toward him from the corner of his eye. He glanced up quickly from the screen and nodded. “Thanks, buddy.” Steve answered with a smile.

“What, no grunted thanks or mumbled acknowledgment?” Natasha quipped, standing from her seat to place her plate in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, man. You have been using way too many words lately. I miss the grumpy dude that would brood in the corner,” Sam added, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are we even sure this is the right Bucky?”

Bucky’s phone vibrated again.

(Y/N) I love me some spaghetti! Can you imagine sweating sticky, gooey maple syrup during a humid New York summer?? Your clothes would be toast.

(Y/N) Mmmm, french toast.

Bucky chuckled at the reply, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes.

Sam wasn’t wrong; he wasn’t the same Bucky.

It had been five days since (Y/N)’s first drunken texts. Five days. He couldn’t believe so little time had passed. Somehow, (Y/N) had wiggled her way under his skin.

He had noticed after only a day or two; he was smiling more, less volatile. He felt lighter, happier. He wasn’t skulking about the compound like usual, trying to avoid the rest of the team. Some might go as far as to say he was friendlier than usual.

It felt good to have someone, a friend, learning about the real James Buchanan Barnes, for once, without the threat of The Soldier clouding their perception of him.

“You’re freaking me out, man. Straight outta Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some shit,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, Sam,” Steve placated, lifting a hand to the advancing man. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to Bucky’s good mood lately.”

Bucky set his jaw in frustration, the muscles ticking. He wasn’t a Pod Person. He was just happy, for the first time in seventy-five years.

His phone went off again.

(Y/N) Would you rather sneeze once every hour, on the hour, or burp every time you saw an attractive girl?

A wide smile split his mouth as he scanned the screen.

Bucky Am I sneezing in my sleep or just when I’m awake?

When Bucky brought his gaze back up to his teammates, he noticed Natasha’s own eyes flick down to his phone. The slightest smirk curved the corner of her lips.

“It’s curious,” she said, a perfect eyebrow inched higher to her hairline. “All the people you text are in this room, yet, you haven’t been able to pull yourself away from your phone.” Her eye contact never wavered from Bucky’s face. “Don’t ya think that’s odd, fellas?”

“Natalia,” Bucky warned, his voice gruff. He knew she was fishing.

Sam laughed boisterously. “Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It’s glued to your hip nowadays.”

“It could be anyone from the team, guys,” Steve reasoned. “I bet it’s Tony.”

Bucky became increasingly agitated as the redhead slinked closer, passing his phone back and forth between his hands.

Natasha shook her head in the negative. “Nuh-uh,” she said, leaning against the counter directly beside Bucky. A hair’s breadth of space separated their shoulders from one another. Tipping back, with her elbows propped against the hard surface, she kicked her legs out casually and crossed her feet at the ankle. “Those two have barely said two words to each other since the good Sergeant here was welcomed back into the fold. It’s not Tony.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Steve replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I bet it’s a girl,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. “But, where would Ice Man here meet a girl?”

Natasha smiled while looking at Sam as he stepped closer to the trio. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded to Sam and, without batting an eye, lunged at Bucky.

She tapped the underside of the hand holding the phone, causing the device to flip up into the air.

Though he hadn’t seen the attack coming, Bucky’s reflexes were cat-like, and he easily caught the phone in his opposite hand.

Unfortunately, Natasha was just as quick and knocked the phone from his hand again. She effortlessly swatted it out of the air and into her hand. As Bucky clamored to retrieve the cell phone, she swung her arm behind her back and tossed it into the waiting hands of Sam.

By looking at Sam’s broad smile, Bucky knew he was having a field day at his expense. He pounced on his teammate, grappling for possession of the device. He wasn’t sorry for elbowing the other man harder than he ever would if they were sparring each other. He needed his fucking phone back!

Sam managed to flick the phone over his other shoulder in the process of Bucky grabbing ahold of Sam’s wrist and twisting the same arm behind his body. It clattered to the ground at Steve’s feet.

As everyone stared at the cell phone lying prone on the tile floor, Sam backed Bucky into the cabinets, trapping him with his body. “Let me go, Bird Brain!” Bucky huffed.

Steve bent to pick the phone up, holding it in his hand. Bucky could see the war playing within Steve’s blue eyes as he struggled against Sam. Steve was just as curious as the other two but didn’t want to betray his friend.

Natasha quickly snatched the device from Steve and started thumbing at the screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve protested.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to put a passcode on your phone, Barnes?” Natasha tsked as she navigated to the messaging app.

Bucky knew the exact second she found what she was looking for because her eyes became comically wide. A feral, shit-eating grin crossed her mouth as she raised a brow again.

“Tell me about (Y/N).”

“What?” Steve questioned, crowding the red head. “Lemme see.”

Bucky felt his cheeks go aflame as Natasha angled the screen so Steve could see the message thread. They burned hotter as Steve looked up with his own shit-eating smirk.

“Well, well…” Sam piped up. “If your faces are anything to go by, Vanilla Ice’s still got game.” Bucky twisted his arm back further in retaliation causing Sam to grunt in discomfort.

Bucky watched as Natasha’s thumb skimmed along the screen to delve deeper into past messages. Her thumb stopped as she read a passage; her green eyes rapidly followed the lines of text.

“I always kinda figured you’d be into someone that would call you out on your BS. She sounds fun,” Natasha said as she continued to scroll.

“No one’s into anyone. We’re just friends,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s head shot up to stare at his best friend, sorrow painting his features. He edged away from Natasha. “Does she know who you are?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head no. “And she never will.”

“Aww, but you guys sound so cute together,” Natasha pouted. Bucky frowned at the insinuation. It couldn’t ever happen.

“There aren’t any rules saying we can’t date,” Natasha mentioned. “Hell, you know how many times I tried to set up this big lug?” She motioned to Steve with her thumb.

“That’s different,” Bucky said after a few moments. He eased up slightly on Sam’s arm.

“How so?”

Bucky rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the blush starting again. “He’s Captain America, and well, I’m not. Not exactly everyone’s favorite.” He downcast his eyes to the floor.

“Buck, you know that’s not true,” Steve said woefully. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I know, Stevie. Until then, though, I’m still a pariah.”

The super soldier serum couldn’t have been given to a better person, but Bucky always felt like he would be trapped in Steve’s shadow, no matter the amount of good he did. He would still feel weak for what Hydra did to him, or not good enough to be labeled Captain America’s best friend.

Feeling the room take a considerable turn toward somber, Natasha called out, “Holy shit, Barnes! You used Wilson’s toothbrush to clean your toilet?”

“What?!” all three male voices cried out.

Sam rushed forward, trying to see the proof for himself. “You’re a dead man!”

Freed from the weight of Sam’s body, Bucky leaped forward toward Natasha and Sam. Slamming into Sam’s back, he snaked an arm around the other man, reaching frantically for his phone. He was done with them spying on his non-existent personal life.

Bucky smacked against Sam’s hands and arms, trying to dislodge the device.

“Stop!” Sam bellowed. “You’re hitting me like an eleven-year-old girl!”

“Gimme back my phone!” Bucky shouted.

Suddenly, the sound of ringing filled the small space of the kitchen. The scuffling stopped in an instant as everyone tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. Sam glimpsed down at his hands and jumped apart from Bucky as if he’d been burned. He looked horrified!

“Oh, shit!” Sam exclaimed, shoving the phone back at Bucky.

“What did you do?!” Bucky screeched when he realized the ringing was coming from his phone on speaker.

The sound ended abruptly, only to be replaced with the gentle tinkle of a woman’s voice.

“James?”

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

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#drunk texting is(n't) bad for your health #dtibfyh #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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samsgirl2020 · 4 years

Text

Paradise by the Dashboard Light

This is my FIRST TIME, so please be gentle.

PART 2

WORD COUNT: 2,678

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader

WARNINGS: Mature content, language, smut

SUMMARY: A female hunter has a bad night and meets an old friend in a tavern

NOTES: This story was inspired by the Meatloaf song of the same name and by one of my own personal fantasies. DON’T JUDGE ME! :p

HUGE KUDOS go out to my sister from another mister and my beta, LaNae Weaver. As far as tags, I’m still new here so I’m not sure who I should tag and who I shouldn’t. Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated. ENJOY!

PARADISE BY THE DASHBOARD LIGHT

PART 2

You opened your eyes slowly and heard soft music playing. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you became aware of several sights and sensations.

There was something soft underneath your head. You reached a hand up slowly and felt buttons and a collar. It was a shirt. Across your body was a somewhat shabby blanket, but as you pulled it closer around you, you were pleasantly surprised to find how warm it was. You moved your head to the side to try and gage exactly where you were laying. Leather greeted you on both the right and the left. The odor of cheap diner food hung in the air and there was something else. Was it…cologne? Where the hell were you?

You positioned your elbows underneath you and pushed yourself up. A blast of pain shot through you and you groaned loudly.

“Y/N! Hey, don’t get up!” That same familiar voice said.

Turning your head to the right, you came face to face with Sam. His forehead wrinkled with concern. Confused, you studied your surroundings again, and it finally dawned on you that you were in the back seat of a car. This knowledge caused you to struggle even harder to sit up.

Squinting through the pain in your head and back, you heard a loud metal creak, and suddenly Sam was at your feet, trying to keep you still. You tried pushing him away but soon realized it was impossible.

“Just stop, Y/N, please? You passed out in the tavern and I brought you out here. You’re fine.” Sam said, soothingly.

You adjusted yourself until you were in a sitting position and finally really looked at him. He smiled at you softly as he placed one large hand on your knee. Even through the denim, his touch caused you to shiver.

You had met Sam a year ago, completely by accident. You winded up on the same hunt and helped each other figure out what exactly you were dealing with. You preferred to hunt alone, but to your surprise, you found Sam to be cunning, smart, and a great man to have around when you were about to be eaten by a nest of vampires. Not only was he a capable hunter, but he was also very easy on the eyes. You remembered that you spent quite a bit of time after you met focused on looking at Sam instead of your research. When he wasn’t looking, you would study his face. The way his dark hair would fall over his eyes and he would tuck one long strand behind his ear. The way his hazel eyes would twinkle slightly when he smiled, and change depending on his mood. You realized that he had absolutely no idea how devastatingly handsome he really was, and, if you were honest, that was even more of a turn on. You shivered again as you came back to the present and met Sam’s worried gaze.

“How you doing?” He asked, squeezing your knee.

“I’ll live. I think.” You said, the dryness of your throat evident by the gravel in your voice. “Hey, Winchester, you got anything to drink in here? Wherever HERE is?”

Sam reached a long, muscled arm into the front seat and opened a cooler. He moved a couple beers to the side and grabbed a bottle of water.

“You’re in the back seat of my brother’s car.” Sam said, handing you the bottle after he had twisted of the lid. “When you passed out back at the tavern, there really wasn’t any where else to take you.”

His brother’s car????

Your mind reached back to the previous year again. And there it was. Sam’s older brother, Dean. He and Sam were a package deal most of the time, so of course you had met Dean as well as Sam. Of course, you remembered the car. That BEAUTIFUL sleek black lady with the sexy growl in her chest. Your eyes flew back to Sam as memory and reality blended into one.

“You sure that’s a good idea? Having me back here in this state? What if I yack?” You asked, remembering how Sam’s brother felt about his “Baby”.

Sam chuckled softly. “It’s not a problem. I’m fairly sure what’s going on out here is the very last thing on his mind.” He said and scratched the back of his neck. “Twins”.

You couldn’t help a little chuckle yourself. “Okay. Good to know.”

You and Sam eased your way into a comfortable conversation. You sipping on the water and him eventually retrieving one of the beers from the front seat. As he talked, you found yourself constantly focusing on his mouth, and felt an unexpected heat start to fill your belly. The way his lips moved. The way his tongue would flick out occasionally to run across his bottom lip. And, of course, those DAMN dimples of destruction. You soon were no longer paying attention to the conversation. Instead all you could think about was what it might feel like to have his lips on yours and several other locations on your body.

“Y/N, you still with me?” Sam’s voice broke your meanderings.

“Uh, what?” Yeah, I’m here. I was just…..” You trailed off and turned your head.

Sam took your chin in his hand and turned you back to face him. “You were what?’

You met his gaze with your own heated one. “I was just thinking about your mouth.” You said and smiled. “I was thinking about what it might taste like.”

Sam’s eyes widened slightly, but you could see a sly smile touch the corners of his lips. He finished off his beer with two large gulps, and dropped the bottle onto the floorboard. He leaned back and draped on arm along the back of the seat.

“Well, you want to come over here and find out?” He asked, his voice a little husky.

Oh, holy shit!

You grinned slyly and removed the blanket from across your body. Your eyes never left his as you slid across the leather seat closer to him.

Your lips came together with Sam’s and there was an immediate surge of electricity that went from your mouth to your feet. You sighed loudly as the kiss deepened and you parted your lips for his tongue. You teased your tongue across his as you tangled your hands and fingers into this thick hair.

You kissed his cheek and felt his stubble scratch against your lips. As you nipped at his jaw, a low moan escaped Sam’s chest and he pulled you onto his lap. He threaded his long fingers through your hair and tilted your head so he could kiss and suck on your neck.

“Oh, Jesus, Sam.” You moaned.

You traced your hands down his flannel covered chest and then slipped them underneath. You felt a wall of hard, slightly sweaty muscle under your fingers, and you slowly raked your nails down his skin. You heard Sam’s breath catch in his throat against your ear, and you dug into his chest even deeper.

“You need to lose this shirt.” You whispered, sucking on his ear lobe.

With his hand still tangled in your hair, he moved your head so you could meet his eyes. “You first.” He said, those gorgeous hazel eyes darker than you’d ever imagined.

Sam ran his hands down along your sides until he reached the hem of your tight t-shirt. He grabbed the cloth roughly and began pulling your shirt up your body. You raised your arms above your head obediently and let him rid you of the garment. When you were straddled on is lap, your t-shirt tossed onto the floorboard, he studied the sight before him. Your purple silk bra encased your ample breasts nicely and the jewel hanging from your belly button ring sparkled in the scant light streaming into the back seat. Sam lowered one hand to your mid-section and flicked the jewelry with one finger. You grabbed his hand and raised it to the swell of your right breast.

“Where were we?” You asked and smiled.

As your lips came together again, you tore at his shirt with your hands. You expertly got the buttons undone, and Sam let you go long enough to remove the shirt the rest of the way off his shoulders.

You sucked in a shaky breath as your eyes cast over the chiseled muscles of his chest. You gazed down the length of him and spied the delicious “V’ that led into his jeans. You touched his stomach and felt his mid-section twitch slightly. You ran your hands back up his body and stopped at his shoulders. You lowered your mouth and licked the tattoo on the left side of his chest.

“Fuck” He cursed.

Sam pulled you tightly against him and started kissing the tops of your breasts. You moaned loudly as you felt wetness start to pool into your center. You weaved your hands through his dark hair once again and held him tightly to your breasts. He reached behind you, and with one hand, expertly undid the clasp on your bra. He raised his head as you slowly lowered the straps down your arms and pulled the garment from your body. He gasped at the site of your naked chest.

“Jesus, Y/N, your beautiful”. He whispered

Sam moved his mouth down to your right breast and teased your nipple with his tongue. As he grazed the tender nub with his teeth, you almost felt like screaming. He took your nipple into his mouth and sucked. Hard. You arched your back and dug your nails into his shoulders.

“Oh, God, Sam! Don’t stop!” You cried.

You could feel his erection through his jeans. You ground your hips down onto his lap causing his to groan around your nipple. You NEEDED to touch him. You moved your hands down to his waist as Sam switched to your left side and began to bite and suck your left breast.

Your hands were shaking from your arousal as you started to undo his belt buckle. Quickly, you undid the button and zipper on his jeans, and slowly snaked your hand into his boxers. Sam’s hips bucked as your hand connected with his rock-hard cock. He moaned breathlessly as you wrapped your hand around his length and began to run it up and down.

Jesus Christ! Where do you hide this thing?

As you moved your hand faster, his hand was suddenly on yours, forcing you to stop. You met his gaze, disappointed.

“Not so fast, Y/N.” He said. “Let me show you how.”

His hand moved over yours and began stroking, slowly. He forced your hand to grip him tighter, and you smiled at his instruction.

“You like that?” You asked, nipping at his ear.

His only answer was a strangled moan and a nod as he started planting hot kisses up your neck, to your ear, and finally to your lips.

Your hand glided slowly up and down his shaft. With every movement, you found yourself marveling at the size. You purred into his ear and lowered your hand to roughly squeeze his balls.

Sam arched his neck and let out a growl. He grasped your hand that was inside his jeans and held it still. “Stop, Y/N. You have to…stop.” He panted.

Disappointed, you planted kisses on his closed eyelids. “Why?’ You breathed.

“Because. I want you around me you when I cum.” He whispered, biting your lower lip.

You almost came yourself as he spoke those words. Your body shook with the effort of trying to hold your release at bay. Sam wrapped both arms around you and quickly flipped you onto your back, the cool leather of the Impala’s back seat meeting your heated flesh. Sam hovered over you and watched intently as you undid your jeans and slipped them all the way off. He smiled wickedly and hooked a finger into the waistband of your soaked panties.

“These too, Y/N”, He commanded and almost ripped them off your hips.

Before you could react, Sam lowered his head between your legs and began kissing the insides of your thighs. Every time his mouth moved closer to your pussy, you would tighten your knees around his shoulders trying to keep him from moving away.

“Jesus, Sam, PLEASE” You cried, digging your nails into the leather seat.

“Please…what? “He asked, his voice so low and heavy with desire your toes started to curl.

“PLEASE just fuck me already!”

You could feel Sam’s breath on your clit as he let out a small chuckle. He didn’t raise his head, only his eyes.

“Not quite yet” he breathed.

Next thing you knew, he had spread your folds open with two expert fingers and his tongue was slowly circling your clit. Your hips bucked off the car seat and you reached down to hold his head in place. Your head thrashed side to side as he pressed down harder on your clit with his tongue.

You couldn’t hold back, and you cried out his name loudly as he darted his tongue into your center and continued to torture your button, this time with his thumb.

“Oh, Sam! That feels so good!”

Sam moved his thumb faster against your clit and continued moving his tongue in and out of your damp pussy. You were almost in tears when he stopped suddenly, and your eyes met his.

“I want you to cum for me, Y/N. I’m not going to stop until you do.” He said.

You groaned loudly and tangled your fingers into his hair once more as he continued his oral assault. It didn’t take long before you drew a ragged breath and achieved your long-awaited release. Sam didn’t move from his position until you stopped writhing, and then he slowly slid up your sweat soaked body to hover over you once more. Bracing himself on one arm, he leaned down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“So, now that the preliminaries are over, how about we get on with the main event?” He asked and smiled.

“Y/N?”

You were panting as you reached down and gently grabbed his cock. You stroked him a couple of times and flicked your nail across the sensitive head. You could feel the pre-cum on your finger, and you gripped him tighter. He growled deep in his throat as you opened your legs wider and squared your hips beneath his; prepared and willing to accept his whole length. Sam teased your opening with the tip of his cock, slowly rubbing himself against you until you were mad with need.

“Hey, Y/N? Wake up!”

Your eyes flew open as you felt a large, warm hand roughly pat your cheek. Sam’s face appeared above yours, and he smiled gently.

“There she is.” He said. “It’s probably not a good idea for you to fall asleep. I’m fairly sure you’ve got a concussion.”

What the hell?!?!?!?!?

You slowly sat up and tried to make sense of what had just happened. Blinking, you realized that you WERE in the back seat of Dean’s car, but Sam was walking outside the car and returning to front seat after waking you up. You swore you could still feel your body quivering from the pleasure Sam had given you. You could still feel the heat of his arms and body tangled up with yours. As he stretched out in the front seat and brought a book from the dashboard to his lap, he saw you staring at him, and gave you a concerned look.

“Y/N, you okay?” He asked, reaching for you.

You inhaled a sharp breath and pulled the blanket tighter around you. Slowly, you nodded. “Yeah.” You said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, Winchester, I’m fine. Just…had a weird dream is all.”

Sam closed the book he was reading and put it back on the dashboard.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked.

#sam x reader #sam winchester fan fiction #samwinchesterobsessed

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