#my sweet selfless sam

[thedeadedhooman]

They are the same picture 🥺

[90sbee]

one thing you gotta know about me: if you put a tragic beefy blond dude in any sort of media i consume i will simply lose my mind btw. now i have to defend them forever and call them my babies for eternity. i am collecting these men.... conducting my research on why they own my ass like this.

[annwrites]

isn't she lovely?

— pairing: sam winchester (serving as lucifer's vessel) x fem!reader

— type: one-shot

— summary: dean witnesses what the future holds for you, in a reality where lucifer has won & is horrified by what he's done to you.

— word count: 452

— a/n: i honestly wasn't sure how to tag this, bc it would technically be lucifer x reader, as sam is only his vessel at this point, but i went ahead with sam as the tag.

Dean watches silently as you pad across the yard toward his brother—no, what used to once be. It is only his flesh that remains now. His flesh, which has been overtaken by something so insidious—so evil and vile—it's difficult for even him to stomach.

All due to his own failures.

Always his failures. Always the weight of an ungrateful world bearing down upon his shoulders. Because there is no one else to uphold it. This terrible, terrible burden.

"Isn't she lovely?" Lucifer asks, a small smirk crawling across his lips as he cups your cheek.

You merely stare up at him, dead-eyed and wholly lifeless.

Dean's eyes trail along your form, which is now eerily slender beneath your thin silken gown. Save for your swollen stomach that his hand slides along, resting there atop it proudly.

"She's carrying my heir."

"The anti-christ," Dean spits at him.

It doesn't phase him. "Every king needs his successor."

He looks at Dean then. "Does he not?"

Dean looks at you. "Sweetheart, look at me. Y/N, look at me," he pleads, desperately.

You slowly turn your head toward him, glancing down to the dead body—his body—lying lifelessly upon the ground, then back to him. It doesn't stir even a miniscule reaction from you. Not so much as a furrowed brow.

God, he doesn't know that he wants to even try to imagine the horrific things Lucifer has subjected you to in this life.

You've given up.

He can see it.

And he breaks.

His sweet girl. His vibrant girl. His loving and selfless girl. This... This would be the last thing you ever give. He knows it.

You won't survive this.

How—how the fuck—could the other version of himself have given up on you? Left you to his treacherous clutches? How...how could he?

He can't fathom it: knowing that Lucifer has you and just...letting him, while doing nothing to stop it—to save you.

How many days, weeks, months—years—did you wait for him to come for you, until you stopped looking out the window, knowing he no longer cared?

How many times were you forced to lie there while he took you over and over, until your body finally began to change and alter from an unspeakable form of life beginning to grow inside of you?

He takes a step forward, while you step closer to Lucifer, trembling.

He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, then presses a gentle kiss to your forehead as he glances behind you to one of his cronies. "Take my dove back to her cage. She's tired and needs her rest."

You do as you're bid without quarrel, walking away—a man carrying a rifle following closely behind—leaving without a word.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): foul language, suggestive themes, brief non-consensual grab (non-graphic)

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Part One of Ink & Needle

Inside the club Riot Room, you meet a masked stranger.

Chapter Two

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

The puddle in the caved pavement ripples as a raindrop shatters its silent surface. Small, but growing larger and wider until the water is still again. Another raindrop falls from the sky and the process is repeated.

A beginning. An end. A beginning. An end. A—

Fresh start.

New roots.

The brick that starts the riot.

All things have a beginning. This moment is no different, because it feels like the start of something, and for so many fucking reasons.

And it’s not just the water. It isn’t only the water. There is a neon sign, and its reflection is in that tiny pool. A bright pink that is at odds with the old London architecture surrounding it. Maybe the color is melting, or maybe it’s your imagination, and your brain has finally kicked off and this is its farewell salute.

Why, when you are here for someone else’s beginning, does it really feel like yours? It’s not sour or sweet or foul or sticky but heavy as if your boots are filled with liquid cement.

This is supposed to be Evie’s night. This is her bar crawl. This is her marriage. This is her bachelorette party. But now you’re at the last place of the evening, and everything is suddenly barring down like an avalanche.

Riot Room blares the pink neon sign. It’s loud, and the very edges of your consciousness ache from how bright it is. You’re not even standing that close.

Below the sign is an archway with an open gate. A tall man in all-black stands off to the side of it checking IDs and handing out wristbands. From the open gate comes a pounding, shredding beat that you’re not sure is heavy metal, electronic, or a combination of the two.

Riot Room is completely different from the other places you’ve visited tonight. The four places before this were all quaint pubs with odd names and a nostalgic sense of comfort. Riot Room is a club. There is nothing quaint or nostalgic about it.

Two scantily clad women in black leather wearing large coats trot by, their heads bent close as they talk to each other. Their lips are painted a dark purple that resembles bruising as if they’ve been kissed roughly.

To your right, Sam’s gaze drops to span the length of one of the women. She looks on in appreciation, her pink-painted lips pursing with interest. Her dark skin is speckled with gold dust and her tight curls are bundled up on the top of her head in two big buns.

Sam’s gaze draws away from the woman’s bare legs. Her gaze falls on you, and you grin widely, knowing she’s been caught. The corner of her mouth quirks with a hint of smile.

She leans in until your shoulders touch. “It’s not like you weren’t looking.”

You lean in a bit more until your noses are close to brushing. “But I wasn’t the one who got caught.”

Sam laughs and pulls away, the sound of it bright and airy. She waves her hand as if trying to ward off evil.

Once she’s caught her breath, Sam leans around you, addressing the two women standing to your left. “Ready, ladies?”

Jade tilts her head, her blue ponytail shifting to fall over her right shoulder. She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes. “Did you pick this place, Sam? Seems like a ‘you’ kind of place.”

Sam nods toward Evie with one of her buns. “The bride-to-be agreed to this.”

You and Jade turn in unison. Evie shrugs. “I did.”

Jade snorts and holds out an outstretched hand toward the club. “You hate these kinds of places.”

“Oh my god,” mutters Sam throwing her arms up in the air, her gold bangles clacking against each other.

Evie laughs softly, and the sound is sweet enough to rot your teeth. That’s the thing about Evelyn Green. She is the nicest, most kind-hearted, selfless person you’ll ever meet. Rarely does this woman do anything for herself, and putting this evening together for her was a struggle. Not because she’s difficult, but because she wanted tonight to be about everyone, not just herself.

Evie’s button-nose scrunches slightly. “I told Sam I wanted to come. When am I ever going to go to a place like this after I marry Archie?”

Jade’s lips form into a thin line and she shakes her head. “Archie is the most un-pretentious rich boy I’ve ever met in my life. He’d love you even if you were a plastic bag. And he hates all those events the two of you go to anyway.”

“Yes,” agrees Evie. “But he’s required to go, and once we’re married, I will have to attend as well.” Her face falls slightly, and it’s understandable.

Evie’s fiancée comes from wealth—the old money kind. Archie’s great grandfather is of British nobility, and while Archie isn’t titled, that doesn’t really seem to matter. He is well-educated, and many of his closest friends and colleagues all run in the same circles.

Evie is not from that life. She grew up a poor coal miner’s daughter in southern Missouri. She managed to scrounge up enough money to move to Columbia to attend Mizzou and met Archie during an exchange program. She was in a park, and Archie was playing soccer with friends. Knocked her in the side of the head with the ball. Archie sat with her in the ambulance and the two went on a date the next day.

They’re in love, and it’s a gorgeous, beautiful thing. But not all of Archie’s family is supportive of their marriage. Many look down on her for her background. Evie acts like it doesn’t bother her, but you know different. Those events they attend together cut deep, tear into her until there is nothing left but her forced smile.

Jade sighs loudly and then turns toward Sam, pointing at her. “If I find out you forced her—”

Sam groans and then grabs Jade’s outstretched forearm, tucking Jade against her side as the two of them walk arm-in-arm towards the club. “Oh shove it, Jade,” mutters Sam.

Evie giggles and holds out her hand to you, wiggling her fingers. Grinning, you entwine your fingers with Evie’s and follow the bickering duo.

They argue all the way to the door. IDs are checked. Wristbands are handed out. A cover is paid. And then you’re walking through the gate, under the archway, and into an open courtyard.

That heaviness returns, and your boots feel like lead. Something about this place is different from the rest, and you cannot put a finger on what you’re sensing. It’s a change in the direction of the wind. It’s a falling autumn leaf. There is a shift happening, and you’re not aware of where it might come from.

The night sky is directly above your head, and you can see every star in the sky. To your immediate right—just inside the gate—is a coat check. Next to it is a stage where a man in a Jason Voorhees mask stands behind a DJ booth. He is shirtless, well-muscled, and covered in fake blood. Though both feet are on the ground, the rest of his body shakes and writhes with the intensity of the music. The bass is the loudest aspect, rattling around in your body until you start to feel dizzy.

On stage with DJ Voorhees are several other masked men. They too wear hockey masks, but they are all painted a different color. They don’t wear shirts either and they jump around on the stage, pushing and shoving each other, occasionally dropping down into the crowd to do the same before running to the stage.

The crowd is thick but mostly near the front of the stage. Beyond them on the far side of the courtyard is the bar. It’s long, spanning nearly the entire wall, with several bartenders and barbacks working along it. Next to the bar near the stage is a set of stairs that leads up into a building. People enter and exit through the door. There are windows but they’re entirely blacked out and you have no idea what might be back there.

You scan the length of the bar and find another set of stairs on the other end. This one descends and next to it is another gate—this one much smaller than the entrance—guarded by security. The back wall of the courtyard—the one facing the stage—is lined with people, but there is walking space between them and the crowd near the stage.

Evie’s smile widens, and you suddenly don’t care anymore. This is for her, even if you feel uneasy. Her happiness is the most important thing right now.

“I’m grabbing us drinks,” yells Sam over the music. She gestures with her thumb over her shoulder before she heads that way.

Evie steps a bit closer to you. She’s nervous but eager as she squeezes your hand.

One of the masked men jumps off the stage and into the crowd. They all yell and then he pops up, throwing himself in people’s faces. You instinctually step forward to block Evie as he darts around a club-goer and appears directly in front of you.

“Fuck off,” you yell when he pushes himself into your face. All you see is the purple-painted hockey mask and he won’t fucking move. He just stands there like an ill omen that won’t allow you to look away.

You’re about to speak, your lips and tongue forming the shape of what you want to say. Then, he disappears, as if knowing your intention.

Jade snags your upper arm and leans in, her gaze fixed on the point the guy slipped away to. “I’ll stay with Evie. Go check on Sam. Make sure she isn’t just buying us tequila shots.”

Evie reluctantly gives up your hand as you navigate the congested dancefloor. You have to twist your upper body to avoid collisions. Just through the crowd, you can just make out Sam’s buns. A man steps into your path. He isn’t looking—likely too drunk to even notice that you’re right behind him—and you step out of the way to avoid is wayward swagger.

But there are too many goddamn people, and you can’t avoid them all. Instead of him, you bump into someone else.

“Shit. Sorry. I—” You glance up. “Oh fuck.”

A wraith stands before you, all cold shadow and violent foreboding. Dark eyes surrounded by pale eyelashes observe you from behind a black balaclava. Around the mouth are skeleton teeth but they’re a tad faded which only adds to the ominous presence of this strange man. He is tall, and you have to bend your neck to see directly into his face, and that doesn’t even take into account how broad his shoulders are.

Space is non-existent. The only thing you understand about your surroundings is him. This man is a being out of hell, a creature of fire and blood, and yet you’re drawn to him. You are a pale moth, a gentle creature, and he is the pyre in which you will burn.

He takes hold of your upper arm, and his grip is strong. His strength is both a threat and a comfort. He could snap you in two, but it’s placement and how firmly he holds on to you tells you otherwise. This man is dangerous, and yet through the hardness is a softness in the brow that you recognize as concern. His dark eyes narrow, and as he pulls you closer to him, he leans in before his gaze moves to a stop over your right shoulder.

“You okay?”

It isn’t the wraith gripping your upper arm who’s addressing you. You glance over your left shoulder and meet a softer expression. Black hair cut short, tanned skin, and kind eyes. This man is completely different from the one that still holds onto your arm.

“Fine,” you murmur but realize he can’t hear you over the music. “I’m fine.” This time you project, and he nods.

“Gaz!” He turns away, and a different man holds out a plastic cup full of beer to him.

Gaz takes it and then this newcomer turns in your direction. You want to leave, to walk away, but that’s difficult when your upper arm is still in a vice grip. You shake it, trying to throw the stranger’s grasp, and make no ground. His hand stays put.

“Who’s this?” asks the newcomer, and you recognize the accent as a Scottish one.

“Some wanker ran into her. Knocked her right into Ghost.”

“Fucking hell. You good, Lt?”

Ghost doesn’t say anything, or if he does, you don’t hear him over the music. Shaking your arm again, you attempt to free yourself for a second time. Ghost still doesn’t let go. Instead, he tugs you a little closer until you feel his body heat.

You hate being told what to do, and you especially hate men who cannot take a fucking hint. You try again, ready to smack the balaclava right off Ghost’s face if he doesn’t release you. But he does, and his grip is gone so suddenly that you nearly topple backward.

Acting bolder than you feel, you give Ghost your best scowl before turning toward Gaz, your mouth forming into a smile. “Thank you,” you say, excusing yourself quickly and heading toward the bar.

“What kind of a name is Ghost?” you mutter to yourself just as Sam turns around from the bar. She cradles six drinks in her arms like a newborn baby.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You reach for them, grabbing one before it tips over to spill across the floor.

“Jade sent you, didn’t she?” laughs Sam, handing you another plastic cup. “Can’t trust me after that tequila incident.”

“No comment,” you answer, making sure the drinks you’re holding are secure and won’t slip out of your grasp.

When you return to Jade and Evie, the two women have their arms wrapped around each other, swaying in a little circle, giggling hysterically. The moment you and Sam appear, Evie is pulling away from Jade, reaching for the gin and tonic you hold out to her. When the drinks are distributed, Sam and Jade have one in each hand while you and Evie only hold one.

Before this, the four of you visited four different pubs, and had plenty of drinks at each establishment. While it’s nearing the end of the night, there isn’t any reason for you to go overboard. Slowing down might be best, especially if Sam and Jade are going to double-fist drinks the rest of the night. Tomorrow—technically today at this hour—is supposed to be a spa day with some of the women from Archie’s family. Hungover is the last think you want to be while dealing with them.

As your lips suction around the head of the straw, you feel a pull, a tug toward the back wall of the courtyard. You resist the urge, refuse to look because you know who you’ll find. Instead, you suck on the straw, focus on the bite of the gin, sway your hips until the pounding beat is all you know in your veins.

But the pull won’t release. It won’t slacken. And the more and more you resist, the more it aches to not look, because no matter how startling his appearance is, it intrigues you, makes you think about how long it’s been and how you wish to be touched.

Would he keep the balaclava on? Would he take it off? And why does that intrigue you?

You start to turn, to surrender to the tug, and then snap back to reality, nearly knocking into Jade as you force yourself away from looking. The drink in your plastic cup sloshes harshly against the side but doesn’t spill over.

Evie leans in, her lips close to your ear, and she nods in the direction of the tug. “That guy won’t stop staring at you.”

“Who?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly who Evie is referring to.

“Mystery masked man.” Evie grins, her straw caught between her upper and lower teeth.

This time you look. There he is. Ghost, as his friends called him. He leans against the wall, the same small group of people surrounding him from earlier. They’re all talking, but Ghost is staring in your direction, and his gaze is locked in on you.

You quickly glance away and shrug even as a dull heat warms your limbs. “Looks like trouble.”

“Looks like a good time if you ask me.”

“Evie,” you gasp, bumping her shoulder.

“What?” she laughs, sucking up the last bit of her drink.

Jade goes up on her toes, her head swiveling back and forth. “Who are we looking at?”

Sam catches on and twists, glancing in the same direction. She’s successful first. “Oh my god.” Sam leans in until her cheek is pressed against your own. “That man is staring at you.”

“I know!” You pull back a bit, but Sam doesn’t let you go far.

She bumps your shoulder. “Go talk to him.”

“And say what?”

“Hello. Have anyone waiting on you? No? Great. Let’s get out of here. You can even keep the mask on.”

You roll your eyes. “No. I’m not doing that.” You reach out and snag Evie’s arm. “And it’s her night. Why would I leave y’all for a hook-up?”

Sam finishes one of her drinks. She removes the straw and pops it into the other cup, doubling it up by putting the full plastic cup into the empty one. “Listen, if you won’t. I will. The guy next to him with the dark hair is an absolute snack. Even the older guy with the weird mustache is making my daddy issues purr.”

Jade’s eyes widen slightly. She nods enthusiastically. “Oh he is quite nice.”

“Right? Girl. I could take him and not in a fight.”

“Fine!” you exclaim. “I’ll go talk to him.” You turn toward Evie. “If you’re okay with it?”

Evie grins around her straw. You know what it means. Evie wants you to go because she wants to see everyone happy, but you wouldn’t call yourself excited. That heavy feeling is back, the one that feels like a new beginning.

The issue is that fresh starts are a cleansing. They are often a renewal. You think of cold water, of a slate wiped clean, but there are other markers for such things. Fire destroys but it also creates the opportunity for new life. Controlled burnings are a thing, and this man—this Ghost—can only be fire.

“I need a refill anyway,” you mutter, turning toward the bar, some of your confidence slipping.

You take a deep breath, the alcohol in your blood singing, giving you a feeling of lightness that makes your feet move of their own accord even as they want to drag. It is confounding. You don’t know what you want.

Slowly, you navigate through the crowd, moving ever closer to your wraith. He watches you the entire time. As you draw nearer, and your gazes lock, he straightens. Ghost pushes off from the wall like he’s expecting you to come to him. You notice the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his right hand clenches and unclenches in anticipation.

The gesture is so surprising, you lose all your nerve, walking right past him and to the bar. You don’t have to see him to know that he’s watching. His gaze is a drill, and you sense the bite of it at your back. Your palms are sweaty, and you discard your empty drink in the nearest trash bin.

You order another gin and tonic, handing over a crumpled pound note to the bartender. As you turn around, you notice that Ghost is gone. He isn’t leaning against the wall or even lingering with his friends. They’re still there, chatting away, but Ghost is missing.

Your heartrate kicks up and it’s suddenly so loud you don’t hear the thunderous pulsing beat of the music. It’s like you’re standing in a dark train tunnel, and everything is narrowing down to a single point. The crowd near the bar has grown in the last few minutes. People walk up and down the stairs next to the bar, and now that you’re actually focused on the building, you can some of the interior lights.

Evie, Sam, and Jade are out of sight, but you know they’re probably rolling their eyes, ready to question you about why you didn’t approach him. Better to accept your defeat and move on. Yes, there is a tug, a tether attached to this stranger that you cannot seem to shed, but you don’t know this person. There is no harm in not pushing this further, in moving on, and pretending you never met him in the first place.

“Whatever,” you mutter to yourself, as the roar of the music comes rushing back.

As you squeeze between two people, one of the mask-wearing men from the stage appears from nowhere. It’s the same guy from earlier. The one with the purple hockey mask who threw himself at you and Evie. You step back and bump into someone. That momentum only pushes you closer to him.

Purple-mask cages you in, lunges repeatedly like he’s going to grab you or hit you. It’s intimidating. Awful. You want to tell him to leave you alone, but the music is so loud you’d have to scream.

You step to the left to try and move around him, but he only puts himself back in your path. This time, you form the shape of a bite, ready to sting with your words, but all conscious thought leaves you the moment his hand makes contact.

He does touch. And it is not gentle.

He tugs on your jacket, then your top, then your jacket again. You bat is hand away, try to move out of range, but he is so much faster. His arm goes around you, and then he drags you in like you asked to dance.

“Let go!” You yank your arm free, but the guy still holds firm, guiding you deeper into the crowd.

Everything is hot. Tight. Overwhelming. Stealing all breath.

You pull again. “Let go!”

This time he does. This time, he disappears.

Ghost looms like a dark shadow, his hand around the guy’s neck. His palm is large to the point that Ghost’s hand easily encases the man’s throat.

“Touching a woman without her consent isn’t polite. In fact, I’ve killed men over less. How about you apologize to her, yeah?”

It’s the first time you’ve heard Ghost speak. Even over the music, you easily hear the rough, gruff timbre of his voice. It’s harsh like liquor and yet entirely smooth when it washes over your body and floods your senses.

Ghost drops the guy and he immediately bolts, darting through the crowd and pushing people out of his way. Ghost does not run after him.

Instead, he turns toward you and lowers himself enough to get close. All you see are his eyes which at first seemed dark, but now look like how light shines through a whiskey bottle.

“Did he hurt you?” The concern in his voice is genuine, and somehow that pleases you. There is a small trace of anger, but it’s fleeting, and not worthy of attention. Ghost isn’t worried about your purple-masked assailant. He’s worried about you.

You shake your head. “No.” Lick your lips. Breathe deep. “No. I’m fine.”

His pale eyelashes look like little halos. Is the hair on his head the same? Is it darker?

“You sure?” he asks, this time starting to straighten a bit.

“Yes. I just—I need some air.”

Ghost nods. “Come with me.” His hand gently rests against your elbow, and you accept it. This touch is not a threat, and you surrender to him, allowing him to lead you away from the crowd. They part easily as if on instinct. Maybe Ghost is truly that intimidating.

Ghost leads you to the far edge of the bar near the secondary set of stairs. He does not escort you down the stairs but to the other archway you noticed earlier. The security guard nods at the two of you and then you step down onto damp pavement in a little alleyway.

Your rescuer immediately pulls out a pack of smokes from the inside of his leather jacket. He selects one and then holds the pack out to you. You reach for one. It’s a reflex. You tend to smoke when you drink because it prevents you from drinking more than you need, but sometimes all you do is chain smoke and then you can’t talk the next day. It’s a terrible habit but one you haven’t been able to kick.

“Thank you,” you murmur once your cigarette is lit. He simply nods and pushes up his balaclava to suck on his own.

You try not to stare but you catch the faint hint of a long scar along the edge of his jaw. Beneath that, his entire neck is a solid black tattoo. You’ve seen them before, where people blackout parts of their body in ink. His stretches across the muscles in his neck, and when he inhales, you take note of every ripple of muscle. The strength there is astounding.

Glancing away quickly, pretending you weren’t admiring him, you clear your throat. “I didn’t catch your name.”

Ghost cannot be his name. There’s no way.

He exhales, the smoke drifting up into the air. “That important to you?”

“Yes.”

He stares at you for a moment. “Ghost.”

Fuck. Why’d you think he’d say anything different from a man wearing a balaclava out in public. It’s not his real name. That’s obvious, but you’re not sure if you want to push the matter. Yet it does make you wonder why he didn’t give you his real name.

You decide not to push it, giving him your name instead. As he exhales, the smoke fans upward to crown his head like a pair of horns before twisting off into the night sky.

“Why’d you scowl at me?” he asks, ashing his cigarette.

You run your tongue over your front teeth before speaking the lie. “I didn’t scowl.”

“But you were angry,” says Ghost, pointing his cigarette in your direction before he takes a drag.

“You wouldn’t let me go,” you counter, growing annoyed with this line of questioning.

“Someone knocked you down. You didn’t speak or look at me. And I’m the one you ran into. I was concerned.”

“For a complete stranger?”

“I’m a compassionate person.”

You sigh and roll your eyes. “And yet you threatened to kill the man who touched me.”

Ghost points toward the gate, emphasizing each word with a light thrust of his hand. “The threat was deserved.”

I’ve killed men over less.

His words rattle around in your head. What normal person says something like that? The fact that he said it without fear makes you question what line of work he’s in.

Ghost drops his arm and takes another drag on his cigarette.

You should be afraid. You should walk back inside to your friends. That’s the safe thing to do. It’s the smart thing. But you’re feeling a bit bold—and a little annoyed. You want to know where this goes or if it’ll lead nowhere at all.

Straightening your shoulders, you drop your cigarette and put it out with the toe of your boot. “My friends think I should fuck you.”

It’s out of your mouth before you have the chance to think twice. Ghost’s hand pauses halfway to his mouth.

His head tilts slightly, and then turns in your direction. “What?”

You hate repeating yourself, but you’ve already said the words. You cannot take them back.

“My friends noticed you staring at me. Told me to talk to you. If I didn’t, one of them would have.”

Ghost fully shifts in your direction. He takes one step toward you. Another. There is a dark swagger there, and he’s trying desperately not to smile.

“You want to have it off?”

Yes.

“Thanks for the offer but I really should leave.” You start to step backward as if to return to the club.

Ghost must realize this because he moves like a bullet, blocking your path, planting one hand against the brick wall behind you. Your gaze falls on his hand and you notice all the tattoos. They cover his fingers and the back of his hand, disappearing under the sleeve of his black leather jacket.

“You’re taking the piss.” Ghost is smiling now but it’s not nefarious or cruel. He’s politely amused, and that is somehow worse. He leans in until you can smell the rich scent of his cologne. “You want to fuck or not?”

You swallow, desperately wanting to say yes. “I have to stay here. Can’t leave my friends.”

Ghost shakes his head and lowers his voice. “We don’t need to leave.”

The thick lust in his tone worms its way into your bones. From there, it oozes from the marrow, sinking into your blood and nerves, consuming every piece of you until your autonomy is nearly snatched from your control.

“You’re being awfully bold,” you murmur.

“You suggested it. I’m simply finishing it.”

“Don’t play games.”

“I’m not.” Ghost straightens a bit. “But I don’t want to unless you’re willing.”

He is sensing you hesitation, and it’s not that you don’t want to. It’s that you’re making excuses because that’s what you do. You step around things, shimmy by issues, and try to avoid as much as you can.

You cross your arms and pop a hip. “I am willing. But I don’t believe you when you say we don’t have to leave.”

He smirks. “So I can’t bend you over that box?” Ghost nods his head at a point behind you but you don’t even look.

“Very funny,” you deadpan.

Ghost straightens his back and his hand falls away from the wall. “This place has an underground area. Mostly employee only but there are a few back rooms where the…musical guests stay.”

“You know an awful lot about this place. Take women down there often?”

Ghost shakes his head. “Never. I like to scope a place out first.”

I’ve killed men over less.

What does he do for a living that he wears a fucking balaclava out in public and wants to “scope a place out” first? Every possibility flows in and then directly out of your head. Any of them could be possible.

“You’re not making a good case for yourself.”

He shrugs. “Up to you. Come with me or don’t.”

Ghost’s word and tone are casual, but you see the tension in every muscle and in the way he carries himself. There is a hesitation in him. A fear that you might say no. But the gin in your veins is strong, and it’s singing, convincing you to go with him.

When do you ever take risks?

“Okay,” you murmur. Then, more loudly. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Two

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hi big sis, u asked for my other bfs sooooo, how do u think sunshine!reader and grumpy!bucky met? like how did them (complete opposites) start dating?

hi lil pickle!! okay this is all a big rambling mess and its probably far from cohesive, but couldn’t stop myself 😭😭

BUCKY AND READER MEETING.

im gonna saaay something cute and kinda romcom-like bc he deserves it

maybe he's at the shop and he's trying to find something?? maybe sam gave him a list of things to grab last minute for dinner (maybe a bbq with sam's family and family?) 

so he's just standing there like a cute little lemon, list in hand as he looks at the food on the shelves. maybe you're a few feet beside him looking for the same thing? and maybe the shop is out of stock of the food item, but neither one of you know

he has no idea you're there, so he mutters the item name to himself

but you hear, so you repeat it in a questiony type of way, and you say how you're looking for it too and have been looking everywhere. you have a short causal conversation about the item and he says how he needs it for a friend's bbq. and then part ways until you meet each other on another aisle

maybe you smile at him and he's kinda confused bc he's like "what do you want?" "have I got something on my face?" kinda thing

then you go past each other again and then you both go about getting what you needed to get. and then hidden somewhere you find the item (only one) you both needed. so guess what? you try to track him down but then you see him about to leave the checkout. so you stash your basket somewhere so you can buy the item quicker, and then kinda chase after him

he's reaching his car/ bike and you're like "wait, wait," trying to stop him. and then you hand him the item and you're saying "I found one, it was hidden" something like that yada yada

and he's questioning what you meant by one. then you say how you found one, and got it for him and that you want him to have it (maybe you think he needs it more)

and bc you were so selfless and gave him the thing you needed AND paid for it AND chased after him to give it, he says how he can't take it. you say how it's no problem and make a joke that it's your good deed for the day. he makes a joke and says the same by trying to give it back to you

and it's all just cute and sweet, and you're so kind etc etc that he's kinda confused by it all

there's a silent moment but it's comfortable, and you're kinda lingering hoping he'd ask you for your number. but he takes a while, and your basket is inside, so you back away and say how it was nice to meet him and that you hope he has a good day or something about the bbq

and a few seconds after your back is to him (you're walking away) he's like "wait" bc he finally bucked up the courage

and then you spin around. and he asks if you want to come too. and is a little awkward, saying how you don't have to or sorry for asking you (bc you're a stranger) 

you say how you'd love to, he's kinda proud bc he asked you out and he's still got it

and then you have this really cute story to share when you meet his friends. and it's all so sweet bc it seems like you've always known each other and sam def picks up on something between you. bucky's really interested in you, bc you're his sunshine cheery counterpart

and you both really want to see each other again

DYING OKAY NOW IM DONE

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Fan Fiction: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.9k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Not only did Chuck write books about your lives, but a damn musical theater is putting a play on about your goddamn lives. You try to let them handle this one on their own but they're not letting you go, and it's time to bring insurance to make sure you never leave them.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

Marie and Maeve are back in the auditorium but Marie is panicking.

"Hey!" Dean exclaims and rushes over to Marie. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," she gasps.

"Why don't you guys calm her down and I'll find wooden stakes in the trunk."

Sam leaves and Dean kneels down to get on Marie's level.

"Is Marie gonna get eaten?" Maeve asks.

"If we're lucky," you glare.

"Nothing is going to happen. Don't listen to her. Marie, look at me." When she does, he continues. "As soon as that curtain rises, we're going to be there to take out Calliope."

"This is all my fault. If I hadn't written this dumb play, none of this would've happened."

"First of all this play isn't dumb." You open your mouth to say something when Dean glares at you. "It's not dumb."

"I thought you didn't believe in this interpretation?"

"I don't. Like, at all, but you do. I need you to believe in it with all you've got so we can kill Calliope and save your friends. Can you do that?"

"Yeah." She takes a deep breath. "If Sam, Dean, and Y/N were real, they wouldn't back down from a fight. Especially my sweet, brave, selfless Sam. There's nothing he can't do."

"I'm not touching that subject," Dean shakes his head.

"Okay, let's do this!" She grabs a dark wig that the young woman was using who was playing Sam. "I understudy Sam. I used this for my one-woman Orphan Black show, last year. it's gonna have to work for Sam." She puts the wig on her head. "Writer. Director. Actor. I'm gonna Barbra Streisand this bitch."

Guess it's time for a fucking show. People pile into the auditorium once the show is about to begin to see this either rock or go up in flames. The curtains are closed so no one sees what's happening backstage. The girl who plays Dean walks past Dean wearing the amulet that Sam gave him all those years ago. You're not sure what happened to that necklace.

"The Samuelt?" Dean asks Marie.

"That amulet is a symbol of the Winchesters' brotherly love."

Sam comes back with three wooden stakes he's prepared for the fight that will happen. He hands you yours, and you yank it from his grasp angrily. All the girls line up and Sam scans them with a frown.

"Wait a second, where's Chuck?"

"Oh, I love him, I do, but the whole author introducing himself into the narrative thing is just not my favorite. I kind of hate the meta stories," Marie says.

"Alright, listen up, girl," Dean announces. "Now, you're all here because you love Supernatural. I know I have expressed some differences of opinion regarding this particular version of Supernatural. Tonight is all about Marie's vision. This is Marie's Supernatural. So, I want you to get out there, I want you to stand as close as she wants you to, and I want you to put as much sub and add text as you possibly can. There is no other road. No other way. No day, but today."

"Did he quote Rent?" Maeve whispers to Marie.

"Now, you get out there, and you kick it in the ass!"

The girls cheer from the pep talk and encourage each other. They all separate to either go backstage or on stage as they get ready. You and Dean stand on one side of the stage while Sam stands on the other side, all with stakes in hand. Marie slips through the curtain to address the audience.

"This is stupid," you hiss at Dean.

"Shut up and keep an eye out."

"Good evening, everybody! Welcome to our production of Supernatural. I'm not gonna lie. It might be a full-on Gallagher show opening up this piece. Uh, those of you in the front rows may want to use the ponchos we provided for you under your seats. You may, in fact, get wet on this ride. Um, I would like to thank the cast and crew--"

"She's stalling. Let's do this," Dean says to Maeve.

"Copy that. Curtain, kids. It's showtime."

The music starts playing, making Marie jump in surprise.

"That concludes our introduction for the night. Everybody sit back, relax, and enjoy the show."

Marie scurries on stage as the curtains open. The beginning number of singing your life introduction sounds and the girl who plays Dean steps forward. The song you heard when you first arrived starts playing, and she goes through the song about how John and Mary got together, had Sam and Dean, your mother dying, blah, blah, blah.

Dean seems to be enjoying the song while you're absentmindedly playing at the thing on your neck. You can't fucking believe Dean did this. When did he have time to search for something like this? Has he been planning this for a while? Was Sam in on it? You look over at Sam in time to see the big scary scarecrow appear behind him. Apparently, Dean sees it too because he starts warning his brother who is confused.

"Turn around!" Dean yells slightly lower than the music playing. Sam turns to face the scarecrow who grabs him. This is all happening while the girls on stage act and sing. "Come on."

"Do we have to," you complain. Dean drags you along backstage to get to where Sam is, but the younger brother is nowhere to be found once you get to his spot. "Where the hell did he go?"

The first act ends and goes straight into the next one where Fake!Dean and Fake!Cas are having a conversation on fake phones.

"Okay, you can pop in tomorrow morning."

"Yes. I'll just wait here, then," Fake!Cas sighs.

Another song starts playing which is a solo moment for the girl who plays Cas. You and Dean rush over to Marie who is already backstage. Apparently, she saw the moment Sam was taken.

"What do we do now?" she panics.

"Just, stick to the plan, okay? Keep singing until the scarecrow comes for you."

"Don't die, okay?" you grin and pat her back as you walk away from her.

Marie walks on stage as soon as Cas' part is over so she can begin singing her part as Sam. She is nervous about what's about to happen but is acting like a professional. The scarecrow appears behind Marie to consume her, and that's when Dean jumps into action. He jumps onto the scarecrow, forgetting he's on stage in front of a large audience. Both Fake!Sam and Fake!Dean keeps singing as if this isn't happening behind them. You look to the audience to see one of the members in the front row put his poncho on.

The scarecrow and Dean wrestle before the monster throws Dean across the stage over to you. He slides right in front of your feet, and Dean glares up at you.

"Help!"

"Fine," you roll your eyes.

You twirl the stake in your hands as you walk onto the stage. You're not fucking scared of this thing. You'll fucking take it down before it realizes what's going on. The scarecrow runs at you to tackle you but you quickly move out of the way before he can touch you.

"Missed me!" you laugh.

You jump onto the scarecrow's back to strangle him but he grabs both your arms in retaliation. He uses all of his immense strength to flip you over him and to the front of the stage. You quickly get up and ram your stake into his chest. You turn him so his back is facing the audience and yours is facing the backdrop of the set. You step back from the scarecrow when you see it start to tremble.

The scarecrow explodes in a purple goo substance, covering almost everyone in the audience. A bit of goo gets on your jacket to which you huff out in annoyance. You walk toward Dean and shove the stake into his chest.

"You're welcome," you scoff and walk off.

Silence falls on the audience until the guy wearing the poncho stands up and begins clapping. Everyone in the audience follows suit, and Dean steps next to a starstruck Marie.

"Take a bow, Sammy."

Marie, Dean, and Fake!Dean takes a bow for the audience. It's a good time to take an intermission for the rest of the crew to get ready for the final act. Sam suddenly appears with Ms. Chandler and the other young girl who went missing. It's time to finally get out of this shitty town and back to the Bunker, so Sam and Dean are saying their goodbyes.

"You did good out there, kid," Dean says to Marie.

"You're not so bad yourself."

"You know what? This has been educational to see the story from your perspective. Keep writing Shakespeare."

"Even if it doesn't match how you see it?"

"I have my version, and you have yours."

The light starts flickering to signal it's almost time to go on again.

"One minute, folks. One minute," Maeve announces.

You and Dean walk away from Marie, but she stops him from going far.

"Dean?" She must believe you're who you say you are. "You should have never thrown this away."

She gives him the prop Samulet he noticed earlier. Dean chuckles as he takes it, and he admires it.

"It never really worked. I don't need a symbol to remind me how I feel about my brother."

"Just take it. Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean automatically says.

He quickly realizes it's not Sam he's talking to and blushes in embarrassment. Marie laughs at him before turning to you.

"Y/N, look, I don't know what's going on with you, but the Y/N I read about has a love so strong for Dean that nothing can break it. I just thought you'd want a reminder of it."

You take two steps closer to her before Dean has a chance to do something.

"The last thing I'd want to remember is my lame-ass excuse of a husband."

You turn and walk away, not missing the way Dean's eyes fill with sadness and hurt. What you're saying to him and about him is really hurting him, and that fact brings a smirk to your face. Dean pushes back the tears and walks to Sam.

"You know what, Dean? You were right. Staying cooped up isn't helping us. We need--"

It's as if the universe aligned perfectly because the next scene starts with Fake!Sam and Fake!Dean in the car. They're having a conversation that perfectly fits with what Sam was about to say.

"We need to get back on the road, Dean. Doing what we do best."

"What is that?" Marie asks.

"You're right, Sammy. Out on the road. Just the two of us."

"The two of us against the world," Fake!Sam says.

"What she said," Sam smiles and nudges his brother.

The scene moves onto a different one where all the characters get on stage to sing a cover of Carry On Wayward Son. Characters you know in real life. A girl steps on stage that you're not sure you recognize, but when you do, a smirk grows on your face.

"Who's that?" Sam asks Maeve.

"That's Adam. John Winchester's other kid. He's still trapped in the cage in Hell with Lucifer."

Poor son of a bitch.

"Carry on my wayward son / There'll be peace when you are done / Lay your weary head to rest / Don't you cry no more / Once I rose above the noise and confusion / Just to get a glimpse behind this illusion / I was soaring ever higher."

The song continues as Sam and Dean watch with raw emotion in their eyes.

"Masquerading as a man with the reason / My charade is the event of the season / And if I claim to be a wise man / It surely means I don't know / Carry on my wayward son / There'll be peace when you are done / Lay your weary head to rest / Don't you cry no more / Carry on."

You grab both of their shoulders and fit your head between theirs so they both can hear you above the singing.

"I am so glad I don't have a soul because that was painful to watch."

When you leave, Dean turns to Sam with tears in his eyes.

"Purifying her soul better work because I need my wife back."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

last week it was said that sam is a pleasure dom and i cant stop thinking about him holding you to his chest and fingering you while you lay against him peacefully. he would whisper soft praises in you ears, with candles softly glowing in the background. basically being intimate with sam seems serene and peaceful. He would be so selfless.

Oh just the way he'd talk to you would drive me insane. The way he'd hold you and finger your pretty pussy while saying, "Mmm that's a pretty girl. That's my beautiful baby girl. So pretty, sound so fucking pretty when you have my fingers in your soaking wet pussy." He'd just be taunting you while he finger fucks you, holding you tight while he speeds up his pace, your moaning like your brain has melted out of your ears.

"You wanna cum for me, baby?"

"Mhmmm,"

"Yeah? Okay angel, be a good girl, be my good girl and cum for me. All over my fuckin' hand. Oh yeah, there she is. There she is, my fucking baby. Feel good, honey?"

You can only whimper as you bite down on his shoulder.

"Oh, I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, be my good girl and cum for me." He teases with a grin a mile wide. Your body shakes, and your cries are so loud and buried into his neck as you climax all from Sam's slender fingers. His fingers slip out of your pussy after you cum, so gently until he holds you close to him and hugs you even tighter. Kissing your lips, whispering against your kiss swollen mouth, "My good girl. My sweet sweet girl."

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Soulmate- B.Barnes

Summary: Bucky gets introduced to Sam’s childhood best friend, he finally feels love and looks forward to thee future for the first time in over 80 years.

Pairings: Bucky x Fem!Reader, Sam x Platonic!Reader

Fic Warnings: brief mentions of Bucky’s time in Wakanda, brief mention of the Flag Smashers, brief mention of the blip, fem!reader, use of y/n(IDK if thats a warning but it’s here)

Author’s Notes: This is the first fic I’ve written in ages and this is also my first Bucky fic. I hope this was good and feedback is welcome. When I was writing this I was thinking of the song Soulmate by Mac Miller, I don’t listen to many love songs but this is the only one I thought of.

My full Masterlist

Word Count: 1437

gif not mine

It was safe to say that James Buchanan Barnes didn’t have a very easy life. He got drafted for the war at 25, got taken as a prisoner of war, was forced to take Hydra’s super soldier serum, he was rescued by his lifetime best friend Steve, only to fall off of a train a few years later, lost an arm and taken as an experiment for Hydra. The man had a hard life, he was an asset to Hydra for 80 years and he wasn’t free from Hydra completely until the Wakandans stepped in to help. After the blip, he only had his best friend for a week or so until he was gone again and left to navigate the 21st century by himself.

Bucky was never one to believe that love or even companionship was something he’d obtain. When he met y/n, he felt as if a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Sure, she was shy and quiet, typically kept to herself, but she was sweet, kind and caring. She was the most selfless person he had ever met in his life. They had met in a time that Bucky needed somebody the most. After the Flag Smashers debacle, Sam had introduced him to his childhood best friend.

At first, Bucky was wary, he wasn’t quick to trust people, but he was infatuated with this woman. Sam had spoken about her before and so had Steve oddly enough. He can remember Steve speaking fondly about her, how she was like a breath of fresh air from all of this superhero nonsense. 

Bucky and y/n were friends for a good while before anything actually happened, the two of them slightly nervous to make a move on the other. They lived together for a good amount of time, dancing around their feelings for each other. They even got a cat together after Bucky’s new therapist suggested it. His new therapist even suggested that he step away from fighting for a while and to focus on himself, making friends and nurturing his current friendships. Creating a routine and sticking to it.

His routine was a simple one, he wake up every morning at 5:00, made him and y/n breakfast, feed Alpine, go for a jog, come home, take a shower, make lunch, every once in a while he would drop by y/n’s work and eat lunch with her, he’d catch up on some shows and movies that she and Sam recommended, then the rest of his day he’d just do random things around the apartment until she got home then spend the rest of his day with her and Alpine. 

y/n was the one that came up with the idea of having lunch together when she was at work. It was about a month into them living together and Bucky had just gotten his routine down. “Hey B, you know you can visit me and we can have lunch together, whenever you want to. The main office already knows to send you to me if you ever drop by.” And ever since then, Bucky would visit her at least twice a week, always bringing a homemade lunch and a recap of his day.

The last time he visited her, a few of her students were lingering in the room. He lingered in the doorway for a minute until she took notice of him. “Bubs! Come sit! We were just talking about you and Sam,” She had a big grin on her face, her y/c eyes sparkling in the fluorescent lights. 

“Hey beautiful! I didn’t want to interrupt, it seemed like a good conversation was happening in here,” Bucky walked further into the classroom, sitting in the chair next to her, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of her head.

“Mr.Barnes, what was it like being a part of the Avengers?” One of her students asked excitedly.

“I was never an official Avenger, but it was a lot of pressure. I’m happy to be getting a much needed break.”

“I’m happy you’re talking this break, poor bubs, you worked yourself half to death. Sam said you were extra grumpy,” She said in a teasing tone. Bucky rolled his eyes playfully before plopping her lunch in front of her. “You made my favorite! Bubs, that’s so sweet!”

“Only for my best girl. I can see the three of you practically bursting over there. Ask your questions.” The three students bombarded him with questions, all of which he answered to the best of his ability. y/n ate her lunch and listened to how Bucky willingly answered all of her students’ questions. Every once in a while, she would chime in when she could. Then Bucky decided to flip the conversation and started asking the students questions.

“What’s this one making you guys do? Read crappy books and look at stupid things as symbols?” Bucky asked as a joke.

“Hey! That was mean, Buck,” y/n pouted, making him chuckle. He planted a chaste kiss on her pouted lip causing her students to jokingly gag. Bucky turned his attention back to the students to listen to their answers.

“I mean, there really isn’t a set curriculum in our school so the teachers make it. We’re doing fantasy right now so we’re reading The Hobbit. We aren’t going too heavy into symbolism, thank God.” This got Bucky on a long tangent about how it was the best book he read when he was younger. How he used to read it to Steve when he was stuck in bed and how he used to read to his younger siblings all the time. The small group that had gathered only grew when somehow most of y/n’s students found out that Bucky was in the building.

Since her students were so intrigued by Bucky, she set up a little project for the AP Literature and Journalism students. With his okay of course, Bucky was going to come to the school after hours and answer questions that he was comfortable answering for the students. Their project was to write a paper or an article on Bucky. Since more students showed interest, they opened it to the whole school, however only the Journalism and AP Lit students were allowed to ask questions.

The night it was set for, Bucky was nervous, he was about to go up in front of a lot of teenagers and answer questions that were thrown at him. y/n was right next to him, trying to relax him. “Baby, if you want to postpone this or cancel it we can. No problem. Whatever you need I can get it for you,” she offered him. 

“I just need you with me. As much as it pains me to say this, is Sam still in town?” Luckily for him, Sam was still in town and came to the school to be up on the auditorium stage with y/n and Bucky. With the two of them at his side, Bucky was more relaxed, if he needed a little comfort, he had his closest friend on one side and his soulmate on the other.

“Hi everyone! Tonight our AP Literature and Journalism students are interviewing World War Two veteran, Hydra survivor, and my wonderful boyfriend, James Bucky Barnes. I do want to disclose a few things before we start. Bucky is very nervous so I will be beside him as well as an unexpected but welcomed guest. I did warn the students as well as Bucky that any question he is not comfortable answering, he can either pass off to me if I can answer it or he can simply leave the question unanswered. Now please, give a very warm welcome to Bucky Barnes and our wonderful Captain America and my very best friend, Sam Wilson!”

Bucky nearly stayed backstage but when he saw her standing under the stage lights, creating the illusion of a halo on top of her head, her warm smile and soft eyes reserved only for him, his feet decided to move towards her. As he walked towards her, his mind was racing with the thought of growing old with her, having a family and finally being a normal man with a metal arm. Instead of his usual scowl across his face, he had a wide smile that was previously only shown to y/n, but now Sam and at least 100 teenagers. He was finally happy and looking forward to his future with this beautiful woman in front of him, who would always be there for him no matter the time of day or the situation. He felt loved.

[sweetshire]

HI FRIEND (even though this is text I am waving so fast at you)

I hope you’re doing well! A couple questions but also please take this as a chance to talk about what you think is cool. Ok two questions: who is your fav lotr character?? If that’s too hard, maybe top 5? I am such a Sam fan, I love that silly little guy. I also love pippin. And I also love merry. And I also love Frodo. Can you tell I like hobbits.

Ok question 2: do you have a favorite sherlock holmes story? And do you have a favorite adaptation?

Secret third question: do you have a hobby that is not your favorite but that you do enjoy doing? Like if it’s on your list, one that’s solidly in the middle?

Ok that’s it!!! Thank you for being in my notifs, it always fills me with joy to see you there hehe <3

*waves back* HEYYY FRIEND AM I GLAD TO SEE YOUUU!! i was thinking about just yesterday bc GUESS WHO FINISHED READING E.W’S encyclopaedia of faeries? me! i did! this was goood. sweet and wholesome and utterly charming <3 and exactly the kind of book i needed to read atp, given that the next few books on my tbr are mostly classics or hard-hitters. u were so right they ARE giving howl & sophie!! these delightful fuckers- they have me squealing & smiling all day 🥺🥰

1. u should know that this is too hard a question for me & when u ask me anything abt lotr i could ramble for centuries but i’ll refrain from listing every one of my beloved characters, which includes the minor ones too obvsly because i’m me :) anyhow! woo *quivers excitedly* here i go: first would be a tie between frodo and denethor- i physically cannot (& will not) choose. also lmao SUCH a contrast in both their, well, character - lol well done, me! (yet they’re soo similar too. yes i find parallels between their narratives AND everything else as well what of it) then in no particular order- eowyn, faramir, boromir (basically all the gondor men <3), legolas, & as u know i adore the hobbits. all four of them -um 5, including bilbo- but MERRY!! i hate to see him brushed aside & unappreciated. justice for merry, and frodo too!! what selfless, sacrificing, lovely dear hobbits *cries* OH OH AND I ADORE SAMWISE TOO i’d be a fool not to. there’s not a person who’s capable of not loving him. no doubt i’ll be cursing myself later for forgetting other dear ones…

2. charles augustus!! god i’m obsessed w the milverton case. what doesn’t it have?? a master blackmailer. a lady killer (she slays -literally ajdksf). hand-holding. h&w being not at all hesitant abt committing a crime - a master detective who’s always used to solving one!! delicious.. it’s the story™ which perfectly captures the true essence of holmes’ character imho. and ‘a study of scarlet’ ofc. irene adler (nee norton) queen i love u. big shoutout to ‘the copper beaches’ also. i like all the stories with the ladies

3. hmm i do! fav one is - u guessed it - reading. to answer ur question: i looove doing henna!! every summer without practice i’d practice it on any hand i could find. i’m an amateur but still i like it. i haven’t been able to do it this summer :( on account of. me & my whole family has been sick/unwell in some way since the past month & a half or so. but i’m planning on applying mehendi or do a painting soon!! (i also liked to collect coins/stamps/buttons or some such as a child - i habit i’m always in danger of relapsing into but shh)

[starheirxero]

OH GOD, EVERYTHING IS HAPPENING, EVERYTHING'S GOING ON-

I AM SCREAMING, KICKING, CRYING, RUNNING UP MY WALLS, DRAMATICALLY THROWING MYSELF ON THE GROUND AND WAILING-

FIRST SAMS FUCKING PUNCHES AND KNOCKS ME TO THE GROUND, AND THEN MGAFS GIVES ME THE FINISHING BLOW- FUCK EVERYTHING-

OH GOD, WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN-

First of all, we finally reunited with old Moon…BY GOD, DID I MISS THIS SNARKY BASTARD- I am so happy, to see him again!!! He's so nonchalant and blunt, especially towards people outside of his family- It makes me so nostalgic!! His similarlities to Eclipse are clearer than ever, honestly!

Everything about it just makes me so emotional, I can't even begin to describe it-

He's on that same old beach where he gave up his life, the same old beach where he showed empathy and compassion more than ever before, the same damn old beach where he was the more selfless than he'd ever been- It is making me sick to my stomach/pos

He still loathes himself so much, still looks down on himself and his mistakes. He has never been able to let go of it, he'll always hold on to the mistakes he made. One of these mistakes is leaving a part of his code behind, which in turn created Eclipse. His hatred for him comes from the hatred of himself, because Eclipse is the embodiment of everything he hated in himself.

But even though he hates himself, even though he buried himself underneath a mountain of mistakes, he will never regret protecting his family. He has always been a big brother, always been a protector, no matter what! Even after everything, they are the only thing on his mind. I'm going to fucking cry, man-

God, he adores them so much! Everytime he talked about them, I teared up!

He adores and treasures Sun with all of his heart, and only wishes for him to be safe and sound and happy! He knows his brother, knows he's blaming himself, and wants so badly to put a stop to it! But he can't, because that would involve a conversation, and he cannot bare to hurt him more than he already has.

He wants to thank Monty, who has been his emotional support, his best friend. Old Moon is anti-social, apathetic towards anyone outside of his family, even another version of himself, yet Monty got through to him, time and time again. Monty, in their own right, was family too! The two of them always got each other out of the gutter.

God, when he talked about Lunar and Earth, I legit started to cry a little-

He always wanted a sister. He always wanted a little brother. He wished he could've met them, wished he could've gotten to know them, wished to have loved them as much as he loved Sun!

He did know Lunar, but he never had the chance to truly get to know them. Everything he said about them is honestly just so sweet, and shows old Moon beyond his shell.

They were just a kid in a shitty situation, made with a purpose they never wanted.

Old Moon has a hard time caring for others, yet he looked at this child, who needed help and guidance, and took them underneath his wing without hesitation. Tragically, though, he always kept his distance. I don't think, he quite saw, how much they looked up to him. He always kept them at arms length, because he had hurt one brother, and was afraid to hurt another, afraid to open his heart. Yet, despite this distance, he would've ripped Eclipse apart for what he did, without mercy.

God, I can only imagine what his dynamic with everyone would've been like, especially with Earth, who is so incredibly different from him!

Old Moon is such an intriguing character to look at! Especially with how obviously different he is from New Moon!

I want to analyze him so bad, but my brain just won't cooperate👀

I'm really glad, New Moon got his reassurance though, and even learned from Old Moon, it seems!

Now, as for MGAFS….NO, GOD NO, PLEASE EVERYTHING BUT THIS-

THEY WEREN'T JUST SEPARATED- THEY WERE PERMANENTLY TORN APART, NEVER TO REUNITE AGAIN- THEY CAN'T DO THIS, I CAN'T HANDLE THIS-

BLOODMOON'S REACTION TO HIS BROTHER'S DEATH- HE TRIED SO HARD TO KEEP A STRAIGHT FACE, BUT THE MOMENT THEY TRIED TO LEAVE, HE STARTED YELLING- HE HAS NEVER BEEN ALONE, ALWAYS ONE HALF OF A WHOLE. NOW HIS OTHER HALF IS GONE, AND HE IS ALONE, AND HE WILL NEVER BE WHOLE AGAIN-

I ALSO READ YOUR INTERPRETATION OF BLOODMOON'S LAST LINE, AND IT HAS BROKEN ME- THEY COULD'VE BEEN GOOD. THEY COULD'VE BEEN FRIENDS. THEY JUST DIDN'T WANT TO BE CHANGED, DIDN'T WANT TO BE LIKED AS SOMEONE THEY'RE NOT. THEY JUST WANTED TO BE THEMSELF, YET THEY NEVER WOULD'VE BEEN ACCEPTED THAT WAY-

XERO, WHY MUST YOU DO THIS TO ME-

-Stardust

YESSSSSYESYEYSES I DIDN'T TALK MUCH ABT THE TSAMS EP BC I GOT SO DISTRACTED BY MGAFS BUT EVERYTHING U SAID FOR REAL !!!!!! THE BEACH AND THE CONVO THEY HAD AND AAUAGGGHH

I was honestly so worried that there was going to be a sudden change in how Old Moon acted but seeing him just still wholeheartedly be him made me experience sooo many emotions. Like u said, the similarities between him and Eclipse are just wholly on display and it's like,, oh yea! you are who he stems from!

AND YEAH ALL HIS SENTIMENTS ABT MONTY + SUN + THE BROTHER N SISTER HE NEVER GOT TO KNOW. BURSTS INTO TEARS!!!!! For how little people he cared about, he made up for in caring about that small handful of people with his whole entire soul, even if that care could be convoluted and confusing and ultimately hurtful, he never wanted it to be like that. He just wanted the best :(

AND THEN THE LAST MESSAGE FOR NEW MOON AUGHHH I CAN'T EVEN. DIES EVERYWHEREEEE

AND THEN MGAFS. FUCK. I KNOWWWW I KNOW I KNOW IT FUCKED ME UP SO BADDD. THE FINAL BLOODMOON'S DESPERATE YELLING AT THE END FUCKED ME UP EVEN WORSE TO TOP IT ALL OFF I CAN'T EVENNNN.

AND SHAKES YOU SHAKES YOU THEY COULD HAVE BEEN SO EASY TO ACCOMMODATE FOR IT DRIVES ME INSANE!!! THEY WANTED CONTROL OVER THE ONE THING THAT IMPACTS THEM THE MOST, OF COURSE THEY WOULD HAVE DENIED ANYTHING ELSE!!!! THEY COULD HAVE HAD IT ALLLLL AAAAOAUHGHHHH

[siancore]

Feels Like Home | SamBucky | General Audiences | 842 Words

A/N: For @sambuckylibrary SamBucky Summer Bingo. Square fill: Coming Out

It was funny how belonging, and home, was not necessarily linked to a place, but a person. As if home was linked more to the family you had instead of a house you all resided in. Bucky had not had a home in so long – in a whole lifetime, actually, but he wanted that. He yearned for it. Dreamed of it.

So, he had packed up his belongings to leave the city that used to be his home so that he could be with his new family. He was ready to take that leap, to put one foot in front of the other on that journey, but there was one more thing he needed to do.

“I been thinkin’ about you a lot lately,” said Bucky as he stood awkwardly out under the paling Brooklyn sun. “I guess things come back to me in flashes, y’know? Memories. Regrets. All the words I wished I hadda said. I just – I need to say this. I just need to get this out and off my chest, so please don’t stop me.”

A melancholic smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He ran his hand over his hair, smoothing it down, and calming his nerves all at once.

“So, I’m not sure if you know, but I’m leavin’ town. And no, it ain’t like last time. I ain’t goin’ off to fight. I’m not putting my life on the line. I think I’ve finally found some — I dunno — some peace. I know, with what I’ve been through and with what I’ve done, the secrets I’ve kept; it sounds almost laughable, almost seems unfair.”

A cool breeze swept up around Bucky as he took a deep, calming breath. 

“Speaking of secrets,” Bucky continued as he placed his hands in his pockets. “I’m tryin’ not to do those anymore. I met someone who makes me wanna be open and honest. And they really don’t judge me for what I’ve done and the secrets I’ve held inside.”

He let out a wry laugh and said, “I’ve held so much so close to my chest I felt like I couldn’t breathe, y’know?”

He removed one hand and rubbed it over his face.

“But I met Sam, and he just makes everything bearable. He makes me feel like I can breathe. He’s just so — Sam.”

Bucky smiled with joy, then. He removed both hands and gestured with them as he continued to speak.

“I know that doesn’t explain much to you, but if you knew him it’d make perfect sense. He’s the bravest, most selfless man. He’s got this sorta tough exterior, but he’s all soft and warm on the inside. He’s a charmer and a looker to boot. Funny and hilarious and probably the most annoying person I know.”

Bucky laughed at that. 

“He’s also the kindest person I know. He’s a real hero.”

Silence pervaded a beat.

“Did I mention he’s a looker?” asked Bucky as he dipped his head a little. “He’s beautiful, actually.”

He paused a moment, letting more silence settle around him. He thought of Sam and his smile. He thought of how being with Sam felt like home. He continued to speak.

“I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just come out and say it: I’m so sweet on Sam Wilson. Didn’t think I’d ever get the chance, or the guts, to stand in front of the both of you and say that I was sweet on another fella. Wish I’d gotten to tell you both earlier.”

Bucky felt a pang in his chest as his eyes glossed over.

“I think you’d have liked him,” Bucky continued. “He would’ve charmed you, Ma. And you’d see how good he is, Dad. You’d both see how happy he makes me, and you’d be happy for me. I know it. It took finding Sam to figure out who I really am. After all of the fighting — fighting other people. Fighting myself and who I was — who I am. I can finally let myself be happy with him.”

Bucky wiped a tear from his eye, reached into his coat, and retrieved two separate flowers. He placed one single flower down on his mother’s grave, and then the other to his father’s.

“I’m leavin’ now,” said Bucky as he crouched down and ran a hand over his Ma’s name etched into the cold stone. “Don’t know when I’ll be back to visit. Delacroix is a lil’ faraway. Sam and I have a place. We’re gonna give this whole bein’ partners thing a good go.”

Bucky stood up and dipped his head once again.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you both when you were still here,” he said as a tear rolled down his face. “That I liked fellas, too. Not sure I’d even know what to say. I just know I love Sam, and I’m sure if you both knew him, you’d love him, too.”

With that, Bucky said goodbye to his parents and walked away, wearing a sad smile and carrying a heart so full of hope and love.

[thedeadedhooman]

They have the same expression 🤧

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Sam Winchester request… something that starts of sweet and gentle (he doesn’t want to hurt reader), but ramps up into primal fucking. Biting. Nails digging in. Both Sam and reader fully consenting and enjoying it.

fem!plus size reader, wc: 564. nsfw.

a/n: this one was absolutely insane! i just closed my eyes and allowed my fingers to write! 🙈

Despite Sam's intimidating appearance, he couldn't hurt a fly. He was kind, caring, selfless, family oriented, and all around the guy that you would take home to meet your parents. He hunted things every day, constantly having to be on alert, always having to kill things. So, when it came to your bedroom life, he made sure to worship you, gently loving your body.

Of course, you loved the extra attention, but sometimes you just wanted him to fuck you instead of making love. Maybe that made you selfish, but you wanted him to let go, so fucking badly, because you knew that he could.

You had no idea how long you had been laying there, Sam seethed deep inside of you as he gently rocked his hips, lips attached to yours as you let out miniature moans.

"Sam.." You gasped against his lips, the pads of your fingers putting pressure on his shoulder blades. "Are you okay?" He husked, eyes glazed over with something dark, a clench in his jaw as he matched your gaze. "You can let go." You whispered, head falling back onto his pillows as his lips skidded across the column of your neck. "I don't wanna hurt you." You couldn't help but let out a sound of frustration, "Would that be such a bad thing?" You whined. His lips that were dragging up and down your skin latched onto that sensitive spot below your ear. You yelped at the pain, but a pleasant shiver shot up your spine, your walls clenching around him. He groaned, his hips snapped into you roughly, sending you up the bed slightly.

"Like that, hm? 'Want me to fuck you so good you'll feel it for the next week?" You nodded profusely. "I need you to use your words, pretty girl."

"Yes, yes! Please make me feel it, need to feel it, feel you!" You all but begged. Sam let out a satisfied growl. He allowed his cock to roughly hit your g-spot repeatedly, your pads being replaced with your nails as they dug into him. Despite you laying down in missionary, he pushed your knee up, the new position having you gasping as your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head.

"Sam!" You moaned aloud. "I always knew you were less innocent than you made yourself out to be," He husked into your ear, "But I didn't know you were such a cock whore." He finished. You couldn't think straight as he slammed into you. You weren't the only one leaving marks on the other's skin, Sam's own nails dug into the fat of your meaty thigh, dragging them down as welts began to form behind them. The pain burned deliciously, your back arching up into him, your pussy selfishly drawing him in deeper inside of you as your body practically begged to cum.

"'M gonna cum, Sam. Cum inside me, please, need to feel you." You panted. "I'll cum in you, babydoll. How about I try to knock you up too while I'm at it? Leave you all swollen so I'd have to take care of you. God, imagine how much of a whore you'll be for me." He punched into you, his own orgasm playing at his nerves as his cock twitched. "But you don't gotta worry, I'll take care of you."

You most definitely held him to that promise.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback

[unfinished-projects-galore]

Thank you so much for this opportunity! This is my oc Mazarus "Maz" Hatter. Based on the Mad Hatter from Alice in wonderland! He is 6'0" without his hat and about 6'7" with it.

He tends to act a little snarky when you first meet him. Coming off as a cartoony grifter just trying to sell you something. When in reality it's an act that he uses to keep people away. His powers are considered dangerous with how he man make anything the opposite of itself. Water becomes dry. Ice becomes hot. You get the picture. He sells discounted items from Sam's shop in order to earn money for himself since his parents don't support him financially. He comes off as kinds distant but really he's quite selfless. Even giving up good chunks of his money to other students in need.

I ship him with Riddle as an "opposites attract turn out to have more in common then they realize" sort of thing. They definitely don't see eye to eye at first with Maz unintentionally messing up things around Heartslabyul leading to him getting collared without even realizing he's made a mistake. However after Riddle's Overblot the two do their best to mend things and find understanding in each other. They both have a volatile homelife so they find genuine comfort in each other. Maz being the one to offer all of hims love and time to Riddle when the other needs it. The dynamic is quite gentle and sweet with the occasional upset caused by Maz's manic powers. However Riddle helps him worth though those upsets. They make quite the team.

Thank you for listening to me ramble about my oc I hope it wasn't too long! Thank you so much!

Hello!! Thank you for your request!! I'm sorry it took quite a long while until I could get to your request, but here it is!! I had a lot of fun trying to figure out how to go about piecing these two characters together, so I hope you enjoy it!!

I made three copies, just in case you wanted to colour it (change the background, add additional elements, etc.)!! Hearing about Maz was definitely interesting!! Although I didn't really get to portray his Unique Magic here, I figured that I could show him trying to amuse Riddle when he's in one of his moods so as to distract him for a bit by making the tea look like ribbons that help the aroma permeate the surrounding air.

Thank you again for requesting!! I look forward to hearing more about him.

- Vinnie

[scrunchiesandsquips]

MY CBS GHOSTS OCS INFODUMP!!

first of all, our main character, layla olivier!!

layla (she/he) is a 13 year old cancer patient who got put on a clinical drug trial with a strange side effect- it allows her to see ghosts. he doesn't find this out, however, until she ends up at the woodstone b&b and gets taken in by sam and jay...becoming best friends with 8 silly little ghosts in the process. (yes, she is overly attached to pete. pete and sass, specifically. they're my two favorites so i'm projecting that on layla.) layla is an incredibly talented musician and composer, and his favorite hobby besides music is playing pranks on the ghosts!! she is also incredibly selfless and loyal, and loves to laugh.

next, layla's girlfriend, kaviarasi bhuiyan!

kaviarasi (she/her) and layla bumped into each other at the hospital when layla and kavi's brother had an appointment at the same time, and the rest is history. she's head over heels in love with layla- layla is absolutely everything to her. kavi plays soccer and writes poetry a lot in her spare time, and she's super sweet and a little shy. what she doesn't know before meeting layla...is that she's had a ghost attached to her since the day she was born.

and the ghost oc, bristol sayavong!

bristol (she/they) is 18 years old, and is the ghost that's attached to kaviarasi. bristol died in 2002 in a freak ziplining accident, so she died with her helmet and ziplining harness still attached to her- just pretend the bucket hat in the picrew is her helmet. bristol is sarcastic and snarky- but is incredibly sweet and has HUGE mamma bear tendencies when she needs to. besides pete and sasappis, bristol is the ghost that layla is closest to.

[conscriptur]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE !!

Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

Tagged by: @myriadxofxmuses

Tagging: @soulwaned (annie) @blightcn @deadlynightshcde (peeta), @esc0rted @etrinkett @imprvdente @lazaruhs @poormad @sacrificus (enobaria) @hvbris (cassia)

► NAME: finnick odair

► NICKNAME: finn, capitol darling, pretty boy, darling, my boy

► TITLE(S): victor, annie's husband, rebel, survivor

► AGE: 24

► SPECIES: human

► SEX: male

► NATIONALITY: district four

► INTERESTS: fishing, weaving nets, writing poetry, collecting seashells (for annie mainly), swimming, boating, star-gazing

► PROFESSION: being a capitol whore

► BODY TYPE: athletic, mesomorph

► EYES: sea-green

► HAIR: dirty blond/golden, kept short with waves at the top, coloring is done to his hair to make it more *golden* until after the rebellion and he lets his curls grow out to his shoulders. his roots become darker as his hair grows out but does lighten from exposure to the sun.

► SKIN: warm with an olive undertone, pales during the months he is not out in the sun every day

► FACE: sam claflin (fc), after his survival; has scars on his face that travel from his left cheek curving down his neck, scars also begin at his hairline and travel to the crown of his head (these aren't as noticeable with his hair grown out.)

► POSTURE: he carries himself very proudly with very good posture.

► HEIGHT: 5'11"

► VOICE: confident and smooth with a seductive undertone, on his worst days his voice is hoarse from screaming, and he can have a stutter. overall his speech is relaxed and soft. he tends to stretch out his vowels.

► SIGNATURE OUTFIT: a loose white henley shirt or cream oversized sweater and navy linen pants. however; he is mostly found wearing nothing but shorts or pants that have a rugged woven look or shades of blue and netting that leave not much to the imagination. rarely a shirt is worn and if he does have a shirt, it exposes most of his upper body.

► SIGNIFICANT OTHER: annie cresta

► COMPANIONS: mags flanagan (the resemblance of a mother for him)

► STRENGTHS: expert at knot-tying, fighting with spears, knives, and tridents, loyal, dutiful, caring, charming, persuasive, selfless

► WEAKNESSES: flighty, too caring, emotional, codependent at times, vulnerable, crumbling psyche

► FRUITS: nectarines/oranges, peaches, sweet apples

► DRINKS: water, homemade juice (orange juice) 

► ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES: he prefers not to drink alcoholic beverages; however, there are times when he is urged to drink by his trysts and will accept only sweet cocktails

► SMOKES: no

► DRUGS: on occasion when it is offered to appease patrons, he regrets the times when he has given in

► DRIVER'S LICENSE: n/a