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silversodas · 1 year

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Wilson’s Dad energy

Something I don’t think Wilson Higgsbury gets credit for, is while it’s questionable wether or not he should be put in charge of the kids he does care about them and supports them in a way he wishes he could have been supported as a kid.

Also, as a pleasant surprise, Wilson loves children in general, a trait not usually given to the scientist character. This is evident in his quotes on the children and their stuff, I have been wanting to compile as many as I could in a post for a while. The game has rapidly evolved, especially Don’t Starve together so if I miss any let me know.

Let’s start with Wendy and Abigail

Abigail is considered a mob since she is a ghost, but she counts especially with the miss information that gets spread around about how Wilson dos not like her which isn’t true, far from it. I mean yeah, Wilson constantly quotes OTHER ghosts about how much he does not like them, but not his ghost child, or any other ghost child interestingly

Pipspook- “Awww, does someone have a little boo-boo?”

It sounds condescending in text, but from Wilson it sounds genuinely nice, especially since his other quotes on random ghost consist of “you got a lotta nerve existing!!” Each character has an observation quote on Abigail, and each one is either scared, sad, or in Willow’s case just curious, but what is Wilson “that offends me as a scientist” Higgsbury’s impression?

Abigail- “Aww, she has a cute little bow”

That’s a flower Wilson. But it doesn’t make his first impression of Abigail any less endearing, and he has more enduring quotes about both sisters in the Wendy rework, or more he has dos not always understand but try’s to be supportive Dad energy quotes like the Sisturn.

Honestly, I didn’t think the game would take Wendy in a Green Witch direction but I am here for it. A lot of people think that the ashes you use for the urn are Abbeys but it’s kinda part of the “spell” for lack of a better word. It’s similar to the mini shrines Japanese families keep in their house of their loved ones when they pass but with a magic twist, the ashes are for protection and the flowers are offerings.

When the Sisturn is full of flowers it raises the sanity of every survivor near it. Technically, that good calming aura is actually Abby herself calming the others with her presence. That’s why characters like Wickerbottom are shocked at the presence they feel, it’s Abby.

Wilson isn’t fazed by the Sisturn, or freaked out by it, and shows his support in true Dad fashion

Sisturn (empty)- “Some flowers would liven it up a bit”

Sisturn (some flowers)- “A few more should do the trick”

Sisturn (full)- “What a brilliant boo-quet!”

The first pun kinda made me roll my eyes but the last one was really cute. He treats the Sisturn like it’s a normal thing to have, him and Webber are the only two not acting brand new, and contributes to gathering flowers for it like the rest of the characters but doesn’t think it’s weird or even a big deal. It’s when the Sisturn is full that they feel Abby’s presence and people start going “woah, what!?” But Wilson exclaims “what a brilliant boo—quet!” To feeling Abby’s calming presence and I think that’s beautiful.

In the rework, Wendy is interested in plants, and in the constant becomes a full blown green witch with her ghostly elixirs for Abby. Wilson, who has a distaste for magic still shows support for the elixir’s and they are technically science the same way Wilson uses science, with the line between magic and science being razor thin.

All Ghostly Elixirs- “Ah yes. Vary science-y”

Not really high praise, but Wilson being a man who speaks without thought and is actually choosing his words carefully here, shows him caring about the person listening to him. He knows this is something she cares about, he doesn’t have to understand it to support it. Also is it just me, or did Wilson name these potions?

Revenant Restorative, Spectral Cure-All, Unyielding Draught, Distilled Vengeance, Nightshade Nostrum, and Vigor Mortis

I know everything is a pun in this game, but Vigor Mortis definitely sounds like something he would come up with.

Side note on Wendy- Wendy speaks in deadpan and has a dry sense of humor like Maxwell, but she isn’t needlessly mean either and she is actually really attached to the other survivors (love is found in the trauma bond). As a matter of fact a lot of her quotes is her expressing fear of them leaving her. She shows signs of abandonment issues, and that’s not surprising, the sudden death of an immediate family member can sometimes cause the child to feel abandoned, even when they know it wasn’t their choice to go. She has some interesting quotes on the ghost forms of the survivors.

Wendy to Wilson: That was a bad experiment Wilson….I’ll get a heart

Wendy to Willow: Say hi to Abigail while I go get you a heart Willow

Wendy to Maxwell: should I give you a heart? Hmm..

Wendy to Webber: A heart could bring back my friend

Wendy to Wortox: did you lose a game Wortox?

These are all in good humor and fondness but she has a bit more interesting quotes for a few of the other ghosts players

Wendy to Wolfgang: Everyone leaves…

Wendy to Wickerbottom: everyone that leaves takes a piece of my heart

Wendy to Wigfrid: Don’t go Wigfrid…take my heart..

Wendy to Wes: you won’t leave us if we give you a heart, right?

At first I thought maybe she liked them a bit better since she shows a fear of losing them and maybe wasn’t that close with Wilson or Willow. But then realized that she has similar reactions to Webber, her vary best friend, and Wortox, who has done the impossible and made Wendy laugh! So now I am thinking it’s the other way around.

Kids feel like they can be teasing and mischievous with people and adults they trust and know like them. Perhaps she doesn’t know where she stands with some survivors and she gets more desperate for them not to leave because she is afraid they will leave her. With Wickerbottom I think it’s more her being hard to read so Wendy doesn’t always feel reassured, even if Wickerbottom watches her and the kids a good chunk of the time. Wendy may feel like she can tease and be calm with Webber, Maxwell or Wilson because she is more reassured they don’t want to leave her.

This story is notorious for being all over the place, they have bits of their story and lore everywhere, it’s like your seeing the notes and story board at all times and your witnessing the story be put together in real time. Recently, they have been leaning more to the original don’t starve together origin of Wilson and Willow being the OGs and everyone showing up a little later (don’t starve inevitable being an example). But that could change, let’s be real.

My point is, if we see it from that point of view, Wendy was actually the third character to be added to the game. It would explain why she seems so comfortable with Wilson and Willow, she even has this sweet quote for when Willow sets something on fire

Wendy to fire starter Willow: come Willow, let’s watch the world burn together

Wendy may have a harder time understanding Wilson, but I get the feeling that he is a positive constant presence, and she is VARY used to having him around. So if he leaves the main base for more then a couple of days, she may not ask where he is, but she will visibly start looking for him. And when she eventually finds where he Galavanted off to, she will just stand there and wait for him to notice her, it never fails to make him scream and jump a foot in the air. Abigail thinks he’s funny

Next Up is Webber

Now Wilson HATES spiders, and I mean really hates them, and yeah there are quotes of Wilson being wary of Webber

Attacker Webber-I’ll roll up a news paper, just in case

I think it’s to show that Wilson didn’t trust Webber right away, I think what brings Wilson around is how much Webber likes him. It’s heavily hinted that Wilson reminds him of his Dad, and we recently learned that his Father never had time for him. Maybe Wilson learns this and they started getting closer from there, because he definitely does go out of his comfort zone for Webber. Like with the spider care addition to the game. Wilson has some pretty cute quotes for the spider care iteams

Healing goop is an item that heals Webbers pet spiders

Healing Goop-If I see any spiders around I I’ll be sure to give it to them. Maybe

He is REALLY not a fan of the pet spiders, but he is willing to get over himself for Webber, or at least he is trying.

There are also these cute treats Webber makes for them

Wilson has two quotes for them

1) “oh wow that looks….delicious Webber”

2) “Ah I…just ate! Why don’t you give it to one of your spider friends?”

Wilson may be a bit more graceful then Willow, but just like her, he is as blunt as a brick. So him holding back to not squash his enthusiasm, especially when he knows Webber holds his opinion in high regard, speaks volumes.

Next is Wurt

Wurts back story is no doubt painful, but thankfully her reasons for hanging out with the survivors isn’t. The survivors have kids her age to play with, kinda implying that it’s vary rare for kids to get turned into merms, and as a bonus they have this stuff called candy!! Also books are neat

Wilson is not a fan of many of the monsters of the world, but she is a kid and now one of them so he acts accordingly

Being revived by Wurt-“why thank you, Wurt”

I don’t know, Wurt kinda has a hard time communicating and is still learning human stuff, so I thought Wilson’s clear, direct and cheerful thank you was especially sweet.

Craftsmerm House- “it’s actually kinda cute”

Wurt has a quote on the craftsmerm house “made it with own claws” so it’s sweet that he supports her enthusiasm.

Finally we have Walter

Walter is (as far as we know) the oldest of the survivor children, like a lot of kids his age he has something to prove. Walter actually brings something new to the table in terms of gameplay, Walter is presented as a support class player, much like Wortox and Wormwood.

Wormwoods position is defense, he can create traps to create a line of defense in battle and defend bases.

Wortox’s position is technically medic, he can collect the souls of fallen enemies and release them near allies to heal them. He also does not need the same resources humans do, he doesn’t eat food, so he easily acts as an extra set of hands to gather supplies.

Walters position is overwatch, not the game, the actual position overwatch is to be that extra gun that waits outside an operation and comes in if their is trouble. Walter is ment to stay on the side lines and be supporting fire. He also has vary handy ammo that confuses enemies and momentarily stops agro towards fellow survivors. As an added bonus he fears vary little and can tell stories around the fire

Being a supporter he has the personality of someone you can rely on, he wants to be Johnny on the spot. So I had a new respect for Wilson for his quote on being revived by Walter

Reviver- “I can always count on Walter”

Wilson knows how important it is to Walter to be seen as helpful. To be seen as that person you can count on. This quote really made me smile. Wilson’s quote on ghost Walter is cute as well

Walter, Ghost- “I know your having fun, but we’d best find you a heart”

I love that Wilson never try’s to over parentify himself on the kids. Instead of trying to be an authority figure, he prioritizes being a comforting parent figure rather then an authoritative one.

Maybe it’s because he knows what it feels like to be without one, and how hurtful it is to have your interests dismissed when your young. But that’s just my take on it, it’s still a popular theory that Wilson is a remittance man. And with the Wilson rework of him just kinda being dropped at his house may be starting to prove that right

#dont starve together #dont starve #ds wilson #ds wendy #ds abigail #ds webber #ds walter #ds wurt #wow I had way more to say about Wendy then I thought #I really hope this is coherent #this was so hard to structure for some reason

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bked0n-lorazepam · 14 days

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"RSV"

The cold atmosphere surrounding the two men dampened the mood plenty, and the harsh coughs of the patient in front of them made it worse.

House had taken a case of a seven year old girl who hadn’t been able to walk since she was three. Whenever pressure was put on her left leg she would get a shooting pain all the way up to her spine.

No doctor knew why, other than that it was immovable and that she would probably never use it again. She and her mom had come into the clinic due to a respiratory infection, and House found her background ‘interesting.’

After a plethora of examinations and not-so-legal operations, he and his team found a tumor in her calf and in the middle of her spinal cord. How all of her other doctors missed them baffled the man, truly.

But that was how he was now sitting next to the girl showing her magic tricks as Wilson discussed with her mom possible treatments.

“We could remove them and the dead tissue that surrounds the tumors, but it’s a tough and long operation that doesn’t have the highest chance of working.” Wilson stated lowly to the crying woman.

“How high?” She choked out, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

“A good, twenty-percent chance.” He estimated and thought about the severity of the girl's illness. “Her respiratory infection also doesn’t help much in the process, but if we don’t take those tumors out now, they might not be able to come out at all.”

The mother looked over at her daughter and watched as House pulled out a card from behind her ear, and then she saw him flick the girl’s forehead when she said it was the wrong card. Her mother laughed slightly, and then looked back at Wilson.

“Where do I sign?” Wilson smiled at her words and nodded to the door, “I’ll show you the reception.”

=======

The woman came back to the room and hugged her daughter, kissing her forehead. “Are you ready to get better, sweetie?”

The girl nodded her head and grinned, a tear falling from her eye.

Wilson walked in and snorted at House, who had fallen asleep in the chair with cards spread out all over him.

“House.” He called out to the man, repeating it louder again. House still didn’t wake up, and Wilson scoffed before looking at the girl and the woman.

“It’s about to get a little loud.” He warned them before he stood in front of the girl and offered his hand out. She took it, and he used his other to take off a cord that connected her to her heart monitor. It beeped loudly, repetitively, and House jolted awake.

“Huh?”

“Welcome back, we almost lost you there.” Wilson said sarcastically, and House rolled his eyes. Wilson looked back at the girl, and he and House both grimaced when she coughed on his face.

“I am so sorry.” The girl said and covered her mouth as she finished coughing.

Wilson smiled tightly at her and connected her back to the heart monitor, “It’s all right, it happens more than you think.”

=======

“Where’s Wilson?” House barged into Cuddy’s office, completely ignoring the man she was with.

“House!” She scolded him, gesturing to the other man. “I’m in a meeting with someone. Knock next time.”

“Oh, really? In that shirt I thought you were trying to proposition him a little something-something, if you catch my drift.” He raised his eyebrows to punctuate his sentence and grinned.

Cuddy gritted her teeth, and excused herself from the other man before walking out of the office with House trailing behind her.

“Wilson is at home sick with RSV. I told him to leave when I saw him this morning with eyebags heavier than yours and when I heard him cough his lungs out in his office from outside his door.”

House looked at her and hummed before taking off without a word. The woman groaned and turned around, stopping one of the assistants. “Clock Dr. House out of work, please.”

=========

House lifted his cane up to Wilson’s door and knocked to the tune of ‘Shave and a Haircut’. He didn’t get a response, so he jiggled the handle and opened the door when he noticed it was unlocked.

“You know, I could kill and rob you right now.” He shouted out as he walked into Wilson’s living room. It was eerily quiet, and he didn’t like it. The man thudded his cane on the ground three times and heard a faint cough as three other knocks followed from Wilson’s bedroom wall.

House’s eyebrows furrowed and he went to see the sick oncologist, roughly opening the door and turning on the lights. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

Wilson groaned loudly and grabbed one of his pillows to cover his head with, coughing underneath it. He groaned even louder when House poked him with his cane, right before House jabbed it into his side.

“Ow! House!” Wilson uncovered his head and looked at the other man, holding up his hand to the light above them. He coughed a bit, and House let out a quick ‘yikes’ when he saw just how bad Wilson looked.

The man in question had eyebags darker than his own hair, and his eyes were incredibly red and puffy. His lips were dry and cracked, and he had dried drool on his chin. His cheeks were red as well, and his hair was tousled like he just got thrown off a bull.

“Jesus Christ.” House murmured, taking in the sight of his best friend. The said man had only grunted and thrown his face back into his pillow, coughing into it.

“If you’re gonna gawk, at least turn the lights off.” His voice was muffled, but House understood it enough to flick the light switch and leave the room.

The man stood there for a second, staring at the door before going into the kitchen and grabbing Wilson’s keys from the glass bowl, and leaving to go to his own house.

=======

Wilson’s eyes opened when he heard his front door slam shut, and he inhaled deeply and sat up. He ran his hands through his tangled hair and carefully stood up, making his way to his bathroom. Washing his hands when he was finished with his business, he turned off the water and dried his hands while trying to sniff the air.

He couldn’t smell or breathe very well, but there was a slight smell of Thai food that caught his attention. He fixed his hair and left the bathroom, and wobbled to his kitchen, where he saw House sitting down on his sofa and eating noodles while watching ‘General Hospital.’

“Save any for me?” He croaked out and cleared his throat.

“Fridge.” Was the only thing House said through a mouthful of noodles, and Wilson made his way to his fridge.

He pulled out a box of more noodles, and noticed the grocery bag on his counter. He reached out for it, and pulled out a bottle of Nyquill, Aspirin, Tylenol, allergy medications, and Motrin.

He opened the bottle of Tylenol and grabbed two, tossing them into his mouth and fitting his head under the sink to down them with the tap water. He grabbed the Thai noodles and sat down next to House, digging into his food.

They both sat there in enjoyable silence until Wilson noticed all of the new pillows and blankets that sat on his reclinable sofa and spoke up.

“What’s all that for?” He mumbled through his noodles.

“Doesn’t matter.” House said simply, pushing himself off the couch with his cane and taking his trash and bowl to the kitchen. Wilson stared at the cushions and shrugged, continuing to watch the TV.

When he was finished, he got up and also took his bowl to the kitchen, and he coughed into his elbow as he placed his bowl in the sink. “Are you going to pay rent, at least?”

“Nope.” House popped the P and typed away on Wilson’s laptop, not bothering to look at the man. Wilson deadpanned at House until he decided to walk away and go back to his room, flopping onto his bed and falling asleep there.

The other man was searching for drug cocktails that he could inject his friend with to get him better, and he grinned devilishly when he found one that he had access to all of the drugs.

He leaned over slightly to see if Wilson’s door was open or not, and stood up and quickly made way to his bag when he saw it was closed. He pulled out what should have been a med-kit, and took out the drugs in it. He chose what he needed, and made sure all of the right ingredients were put into a syringe.

He slowly limped to Wilson’s room, opting out of using his cane so that he didn’t cause too much noise and wake him up. House opened his door carefully, and his nerves eased when he heard the loudest snore he’s ever heard in his life.

He ticked his tongue and made his way to Wilson, pulling out a sanitisation packet from his pocket. He lifted the sleeping man’s shirt and carefully rubbed it onto his back, freezing when he stirred. Pulling out the other packet, he wiped down the needle slowly and injected Wilson with the cocktail quickly.

He froze again, expecting Wilson to wake up and yell at him, but he didn’t. He was still fast asleep, and still snoring. House smiled in success and tossed the syringe into the trashcan by Wilson’s bed, and covered it up with crinkled tissues. He then left the room and closed the door, and went back into the kitchen where the laptop was.

House re-skimmed over the article with the side effects and he stopped when he saw something slightly alarming.

“Patient may fall unconscious for any time ranging from 16 hours to 2 days. Watch closely and monitor all the time. Any illnesses that the patient may have when the cocktail is injected will dimishness.”

“Shit.”

=======

Wilson woke up after twenty-six hours with cotton mouth, a diaper on, and no idea where he was until he saw House sitting on a chair reading a magazine.

“House?” He grumbled, lifting himself up to look at his clock. It was late, 1:24 in the morning to be exact. He looked back at House, and the man stood up and slapped the back of his hand onto Wilson’s forehead and held it there.

“Feels fine.” The man said, and he grabbed his cane and left the confused Wilson to his own devices.

Wilson didn’t know what happened, or what to do, so he chose to take a shower and freshen up. When he was done, he saw a glass of water on his bedside table and downed it immediately.

He sighed and stood there, unsure of what to do once again. That was until he noticed he felt much better than when he fell asleep.

He went to find House, and saw him in the kitchen again making what he assumed was an omelet. Staring into the back of House’s head, he felt that something was wrong.

He went to sleep with RSV and the worst headache and cough of his life, and now he felt like he could run a marathon.

“What did you do?” He questioned, and locked eyes with House when he turned around.

“What, no ‘thank you?’ No, ‘Oh my goodness, House. I feel so much better, thank you for your help and kindness?’” House mocked, tossing the omelet onto a plate and holding it out for Wilson.

Wilson felt iffy taking the food, but he still did and he sat down at the table as House served him a glass of orange juice.

“It’s two in the morning-” “I don’t care, eat your food.”

“M’kay.” Wilson didn’t argue and he grabbed his fork and ate, huffing down all of it and drinking every drop in the glass. “So, what’d you do?”

“I drugged you with seven different drugs.” House told him, grabbing Wilson’s plate and putting it in the sink before filling his glass back up with more juice. Wilson sat there and stared at him in disbelief, no words could come out of his mouth.

“Right.” Was the only word he could say, and he downed the drink in his glass. His mind was racing with many things he wanted to tell his friend.

He was in awe that he would put him so close to death, and that he would even think of doing such a thing that could one again, put him so close to death. It was insane of him to do, and he was flabbergasted. But what came out instead of yelling was,

“You cared that much?” House turned on the water to the sink and grabbed a sponge and soap and started doing the dishes, ignoring Wilson’s question.

That was the only answer Wilson needed, though, and he smiled at the back of House’s head.

“I’m telling your team when I go into work.”

“No the hell you aren’t!”

“Oh, yes the hell I am!”

#james wilson #gregory house #wilson x house #house md #medical malpractice #drugs #drug cocktail #RSV #respiratory illness #cancer #oncology #doctors #medicine #treatment

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thealogie · 7 months

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"#this might be the most impossibly romantic Wilson ever says or does even though it’s the beginning of the end he ruins both of their lives#and their relationship by doing this"

could you elaborate on this?? re: the beginning of the end. it's been ages since i last watched hatecrimes md but i love reading your takes on it

Well Wilson tricking house into believing he didn’t solve that case led to house giving up on his leg getting better and going back to Vicodin and there’s a straight line from this betrayal to house stealing Wilson’s prescription pad to get himself Vicodin to test their relationship and like ruining Wilson both financially and professionally in the process and then Wilson betrayed him again and then Wilson offered to go to jail for him and so on and so forth

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harveyb-wabbit92 · 10 months

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[Audrey is talking with a strange tattooed woman she met in the ink world, The woman's name is Carol-Valley Maine and she's been trapped in the ink world for months...The two ladies get to talking (While Bendy crawls around Valley trying to look at her Tattoos) they get on the subject of fears .]

Audrey: So you're afraid of Airplanes?

Valley: Yep..

Audrey: Why?

Valley:...um

[Flash back in time to Valley as a little girl with her mother Irene on a sightseeing trip of a cornfield in the Midwest. ]

Irene, holding her daughters hand: This is what a cornfield looks like, honey

Valley, looking around in awe: Oh.

[A fast approaching buzzing of plane propellers is heard as a crop duster comes into view flying low and attacks Valley and Irene with machine gun fire. Irene and Valley and start running.]

Irene and Valley: AUGH!

[Cut back to the present; Audrey and Bendy are staring at her in shock.]

Audrey: Ok, that would definitely put the fear flying machines in me, among other things....

----

~::Small character bio About my oc Valley Maine under cut::~

Carol Valley Maine is a P.I. who is actually the grand daughter of Sammy Lawrence, who recently got a job as a voice actress/singer at Archgate animations, she was investigating Sammy's disappearance to see if he really did run off with Susie Campbell like her grandmother says or if something else had happened to him? Her hope was to get access to some of the old Drew studio employee records and archives. However she soon finds out the truth when Wilson figured out who she was and what she was doing there.

He tricked her under the guise of helping her and fed Valley to the Ink machine, but it didn't kill her, instead she woke up in the farmers Market very much alive and with strange tattoo like markings all over her body that give her odd powers over her inky surroundings.

How she did she get these powers?

Well, see when Valley's grandmother (Rosalynne) who was unknowing pregnant with Valley's mother (Irene) had accidentally consumed some of the demonic ink when she drank some of Sammy's coffee which he had spiked with ink, aside from feeling a little ill the ink would seemingly have no effects on Valley's grandma or her unborn baby... Even after Irene was born and growing into adulthood there was nothing out of the ordinary with her...

then Valley was born right off the bat the child was odd, what with her deathly pale complexion, dark almost black brown eyes and inky black hair. She didn't really resemble parents much which caused friction between them.

With her father believing her mother had an affair while her mother believed the hospital had switched babies on them, but as she grew up Valley's black hair fell out turning the same shade as her father's ginger hair, her complexion turned more olive and her eyes seemed to lightened to a mossy green like her mothers, putting her parents suspicions to rest... but that didn't mean the marriage was good, it was still very rocky.

Valley's father was very short-tempered and spoiled man when things didn't go his way he'd take it out on the family. one of these tantrums became so bad that Valley's mother suffered a complete breakdown sending her into a catatonic state and was shortly admitted to a mental facility while Valley was sent to live with her grandmother as the family didn't trust her father with her up bringing, Valley would grow up watching re-runs of old Bendy cartoons and eventually learning from her grandma about her family's heritage and her connection with Sammy Lawrence.

Now trapped in the Ink world she does her best to survive, avoiding the ink demon and helping people when she can, she even opened another P.I. office helping solve cases for for any Lost ones who aren't too far gone in madness, Porter is letting Valley crash in one of his safe houses they have sibling like relationship. She meets Bendy at some point and the little Imp seems very attached to her often following her around on cases or helping her do supply runs.

[Notes: Valley, her mother and her grandmother are named after songs. Her grandmother's name Rosalynne Summers comes from the "The last Rose of Summer" by Thomas Moore, Her mother's name Irene comes from "Goodnight Irene by Huddie 'Lead belly' Ledbetter". While Valley's real name Carol comes from "Carol of the bells" and her middle name comes from "Peace in the Valley" by Thomas A. Dorsey.]

#bendy and the ink machine #bendy and the dark revival #bendy and the ink machine incorrect quotes #batim incorrect quotes #bendy the dancing demon #audrey drew #sammy lawrence #grand daughter oc #character intro #afab oc #bendy x oc #platonic! Audrey drew #batdr porter #batdr oc

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every-marveler-ever · 2 years

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Ch 4. Elsa Makes Bucky Fabulous And Sam Laugh

THIS IS CH 4/9 OF ‘Sam and Bucky’s Outside (Spooky) Adventures’

Flufftober Day 31 | @flufftober | A Sweet Treat

SamBucky Halloween Bingo 2022 | 🎃 @sambuckyhalloweenbingo2022 | Trick or Treat

masterlist :: (ao3 link)

A/N: Just a reminder despite the fact that it says this is Chapter 4 this is because it’s the fourth part written, at the end of this Halloween week I will reorganise all the stories to actually make sense chronologically.

Bucky punches Sam, “this is what the scouts wanted,” because it’s always for the scouts, “and besides I think I look fabulous.” | sam wilson/james ‘bucky’ barnes

flufftober 2022 | sbhb 🎃 2022

“Trick or treat,” the kids say with big toothy mouths going up to one of the many neighbourhood doors on the street. Bucky and Sam watch from the drive way to make sure that all the kids are okay with a group of other parens. The difference is that Sam and Bucky aren’t parents, they’re mentors.

Sam looks to Bucky smiling at him but can’t help but laugh when his eyes drag themselves don to Bucky’s costume, “hey why are we doing this again?” He weases, not that he would ver gie this up because Bucky in an Elsa costume is brilliant.

Bucky quickly punches him, “this is what the scouts wanted,” he mutter referring to his blue, icy costume, “and besides I think I look fabulous,” he flips his wig over his shoulder in mockery.

Despite the fact that Sam can’t top laughing he does kiss BUcky’s cheek in consideration, “you are right darling you do look fabulous,” and luckily neither of them really care about the weird parents looking at them, or care about what they might be thinking.

It doesn’t matter much as the 3 kids Sam and Bucky are looking after, Ned Leeds, Peter Parker and Harry Ozborn, quickly run back to them after having their pillow cases full with full-size candy which makes Sam very happy that they don’t have to take the kids home after all this candy. “Can we go to the next house?” Peter asks pulling onto Sam’s Hans costume looking incredibly adorable in his own Olaf costume.

When Bucky had come to him suggesting that the scouts were doing a group costume for halloween Sam didn’t realise in the moment that he would be included in this costume. It wasn’t until this very afternoon when Bucky had placed the stor brought costume infront of him he realised that his would be another scout thing he was being dragged into.

Not that he minded being dragged into scout things, at least not anymore, he was happy for Bucky to share a little part of him with Sam, even if that was 10 routy kids.

“Yes,” Bucky nods along with them all seeing the excitement all over their faces, “we can go to the next house, but remember if the proch light isn’t on we-” there’s a teachers look on his face as he waits for the kids to all respond.

They all respond with big smiles and excitement, “-don’t knock!”

Bucky plays with Neds hair nodding, very proud of his kids, “okay then move on soldiers there is candy to be collected!” They all begin to walk in a joking soldier formation, (as well as 3 6 - 7 year olds can) and for once the formation makes Sam laugh as he joins in, the best use of his tactical training.

Sam leading them onto the next house and Bucky staying at the back of the pack is a good combination, they get to do something nice for these kids. All of their parents are busy working on Halloween and when May had told him Bucky refused to let Peter miss out on a childhood Halloween .

He will dress up as Elsa everyday if it would put a smile on his scouts face’s, Bucky also knows that Sam will do the same (even if he might not admit it).

“Ahead we go!” He hears as they all continue to march and Bucky already can’t eait to do it all again next year.

Cards:

#sambuckyhalloweenbingo2022.#flufftober 2022 #flufftober #flufftober2022 #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #james 'bucky' barnes #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky #day 31 #trick or treat #sweet treat #every marveler ever #every-marveler-ever

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years

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Psychological Horror: Book Recommendations

The Patient by Jasper DeWitt

In a series of online posts, Parker H., a young psychiatrist, chronicles the harrowing account of his time working at a dreary mental hospital in New England. We learn, as Parker did on his first day at the hospital, of the facility’s most difficult, profoundly dangerous case—a forty-year-old man who was originally admitted to the hospital at age six. This patient has no known diagnosis. His symptoms seem to evolve over time. Every person who has attempted to treat him has been driven to madness or suicide. Parker, brilliant and overconfident, takes it upon himself to discover what ails this mystery patient and finally cure him. But from his first encounter with the mystery patient, things spiral out of control, and, facing a possibility beyond his wildest imaginings, Parker is forced to question everything he thought he knew.

Night Film by Marisha Pessl

On a damp October night, 24-year-old Ashley Cordova is found dead in an abandoned warehouse in lower Manhattan. Though her death is ruled a suicide, veteran investigative journalist Scott McGrath suspects otherwise. As he probes the strange circumstances surrounding Ashley's life and death, McGrath comes face-to-face with the legacy of her father: the legendary, reclusive cult-horror film director Stanislaus Cordova--a man who hasn't been seen in public for more than thirty years. Driven by revenge, curiosity, and a need for the truth, McGrath, with the aid of two strangers, is drawn deeper and deeper into Cordova's eerie, hypnotic world.

Reprieve by James Han Mattson

On April 27, 1997, four contestants make it to the final cell of the Quigley House, a full-contact haunted escape room in Lincoln, Nebraska, made famous for its monstrosities, booby-traps, and ghoulishly costumed actors. If the group can endure these horrors without shouting the safe word, “reprieve,” they’ll win a substantial cash prize—a startling feat accomplished only by one other group in the house’s long history. But before they can complete the challenge, a man breaks into the cell and kills one of the contestants. As each character’s journey unfurls and overlaps, deceit and misunderstandings fueled by obsession and prejudice are revealed, forcing all to reckon with the ways in which their beliefs and actions contributed to a horrifying catastrophe.

Social Creature by Tara Isabella Burton

Louise Wilson is an expert at just barely making it. She's mastered the tricks and shortcuts that a penniless small-town girl needs to survive in New York City. When she meets the beautiful, wealthy, eccentric, and aimless Lavinia Williams, she thinks her dreams of a cosmopolitan existence may be coming true. Lavinia introduces her to a rarified life of beauty and indulgence and the more Louise tastes, the more she wants. Lavinia has so much, and Louise so little, despite her yearning. Nightlife--the music, the buzz, the dim lights--is the great equalizer. But morning always comes, and Louise will do whatever it takes to keep the party going.

#horror #psychological horror #Psychological fiction #to read #tbr #booklr #book tumblr #library books #reading recommendations #book recommendations #book recs

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cksmart-world · 5 months

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SMART BOMB

The Completely Unnecessary News Analysis

By Christopher Smart

January 2, 2024

SMART BOMB'S PREDICTIONS FOR 2024!

It's that time of year again when the staff here at Smart Bomb looks forward to the coming year. But since Wilson and the band broke our crystal ball we've had to look elsewhere for help making our annual predictions. So we turned to psychic Helga Olga Helga for some answers that might help guide us and you through the New Years:

— Great Salt Lake returns to capacity as alfalfa farming is banned along the Bear River.

UTA gives up on light rail in favor of a system of gondolas.

The Rio Tinto mining group plans 2034 Olympic Opening Ceremony in Kennecott's open-pit mine.

Major League Baseball comes to American Fork.

Mayor Erin Mendenhall takes Main Street back from Mormon Church.

Mayor Erin Mendenhall excommunicated from Mormon Church.

Utah Legislature approves Critical Race Theory but bans the word “slavery.”

The Utah towns of Beaver and Virgin sign a joint tourism agreement forming the Virgin Beaver Resort.

Gov. Spencer Cox selected as running mate for Donald Trump after signing an NDA.

The Utah Jazz win the NBA championship and then trade away all the starters.

LDS CHURCH BLOWS OUT THE STOPS TO REMAKE DOWNTOWN

Holy Moroni have you seen the new plans for Temple Square in downtown Salt Lake City. It's going to make the Vatican look like a Tooele trailer park. Smart Bomb's old pal, Tribune ace Tony Semerad, blew the lid off the heavenly inspired blueprint that would make Brigham Young blush. No Wilson, we are not making this up. The massive makeover would extend to Temple Square to 400 West in time to welcome the 2034 Winter Olympics and show the world the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knows how to build a mall. Final plans are still in flux, so the staff here at Smart Bomb reached out to architects Dewey, Cheatem & Howe to get a feel for what it will look like. Interesting options include renovating the historic Hotel Utah that morphed into the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in 2000 when Main Street was permanently closed and Temple Square became “A Little Bit of Paris.” It could become the Saints Zion Museum. Inside, Olympic visitors could see life-like robots reenacting scenes, like Joseph Smith receiving the Golden Plates from the Angel Moroni and other Mormon history, such as the Mountain Meadows Massacre. Rather than “A Little Bit of Paris,” the new Temple Square could be dubbed “A Little Bit of The Celestial Kingdom.” Let the Games begin.

GASLIGHTING ALL THE WAY TO THE WHITE HOUSE

Every four years, things get weird. That's because politicians rewrite history to convince voters they're hallucinating on LSD or just demented. Case in point: the Civil War was not about slavery. No, of course not, it was about the economy and state's rights and God didn't make little green apples and it don't rain in Indianapolis in the summertime. GOP presidential candidate Nikki Haley stepped in it when asked what caused the Civil War. "I mean, I think the cause of the Civil War was basically how government was gonna run... ," Haley said. It was, no doubt, a trick question posed by a Democratic political operative. Republicans don't like to say the S-word, 'cause if there was slavery, then there would be the struggle for civil rights, the Voting Rights Act, racial quotas and all kinds of un-American stuff that points to our history of unspeakable... freedom. Or as Florida Gov. Jim DeSantis likes to say: Slavery was good because slaves learned skills they could use when they got free. Or as Supreme Court Justice John Roberts like to say: We don't need the Voting Rights Act anymore 'cause there is no longer any racial discrimination. That's why states such as Florida, Arkansas, Missouri and others are banning African-American History. Rewriting the past can be so rewarding.

Post script — That's a wrap for a warm and wonderful holiday and a hideous 2023 here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of national electoral politics so you don't have to. (WARNING: Watching news on television is harmful to your health.) It's light years to the presidential election, although the campaign has been going on since anybody can remember. Media types and pundits began talking about the 2024 election the minute after Joe Biden was sworn in. Do we really need to hear from Nikki Haley, Ron DeSantis and that Ramaswamy dude blabbing on every single day. In some places words don't mean what they mean. For example, Sec. 3 of the 14th Amendment says: “No person shall be a Senator or Representative in Congress, or elector of President and Vice-President or hold any office, civil or military... who, having previously taken an oath... to support the Constitution of the United States, shall have engaged in insurrection or rebellion against the same, or given aid or comfort to the enemies thereof.” This, of course, doesn't mean Trump can't be president because it just can't mean what it says. And besides, who said he engaged in insurrection or gave aid to insurrectionists. You just can't believe your lyin' eyes.

A new year Wilson and we should be on the look out for good stuff and try to ignore the bad stuff. It's a mean world out there and we ought to listen to the guy who said it's up to all of us to make a difference. So wake up the band and take us out with a little something to help us jettison some of the cynicism:

As I walk through / This wicked world Searchin' for light in the darkness of insanity. I ask myself / Is all hope lost? Is there only pain and hatred, and misery? And each time I feel like this inside, There's one thing I wanna know: What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? Ohhhh What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? And as I walked on / Through troubled times My spirit gets so downhearted sometimes So where are the strong / And who are the trusted? And where is the harmony? / Sweet harmony. 'Cause each time I feel it slippin' away, just makes me wanna cry. What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? So where are the strong? / And who are the trusted? And where is the harmony? / Sweet harmony. 'Cause each time I feel it slippin' away, just makes me wanna cry. What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding? What's so funny 'bout peace love & understanding?

(Peace, Love and Understanding — Elvis Costello)

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openheart12 · 3 years

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Tales of the Heart

A/N: I was so stoked when I found out TC was filmed in NC because it’s finally good for something dihgjkdgjls I’m trying to keep this as gender neutral as I can since I don’t tend to write fics with real people because I try to respect them, but I had this idea and wanted to write it. I’m not completely sure how I feel about it yet though lol but it should be a couple parts!!

Summary: During filming for The Conjuring, reader is living their dream of being an actor. They didn’t think life could get much better, but then again, they never expected they would fall in love.

WC: 1,314

Pairing: GN reader x Vera

You were in Wilmington, North Carolina for the filming of The Conjuring that you were just casted in. It was a movie based on the paranormal investigator couple Ed and Lorraine Warren. The movie itself was actually based on one of their real life cases that you had spent hours researching on to prepare for your role, however minor it was.

Acting has been a dream of yours since you were little. The red carpet had always excited you and now you were just that much closer to achieving your dream.

It was late February and a cold chill was raising goose bumps on your arms. You were on the way to EUE/Screen Gems Studios where the first day of filming was taking place. You were told filming would take just a little over a month and you had planned accordingly, bringing almost your entire wardrobe, but it was better to be prepared than sorry.

At least that’s how you justified it.

This was your first time in the state and you were taking in your surroundings. The window was down, your hair blowing in the wind as you did some last minute research on your phone. You pulled up the first article you found;

The movie was based on the Perron family case, a family of seven who lived in Harrisville, Rhode Island. In January 1971, they moved into a farmhouse where they began to notice strange things happening. It started small, Carolyn, the mother, would notice that the broom went missing or seemed to move by itself, she’d hear something scraping against the kettle, and she’d find small piles of dirt in the center of the floor after cleaning it.

It wasn’t long before the children started to notice spirits around the house.

Carolyn researched the history of the house and discovered that it had been in the same family for eight generations and that many of them had died under mysterious and horrible circumstances.

She found a woman by the name of Bathsheba Sherman who lived on the property in the mid-1800s. She was rumored to have been a Satanist and there was evidence that she was involved in the death of a neighbor’s child, though no trial ever took place. She was buried in a nearby Baptist cemetery in downtown Harrisville.

The Perron’s believed it was Bathsheba’s spirit tormenting them.

The Warren’s made multiple trips to investigate. At one point, Lorraine conducted a seance to contact the spirits that were possessing the family. However, during the seance, Carolyn became possessed, speaking in tongues and rising from the ground in her chair. After the seance, Roger kicked the Warren’s out worried about his wife’s mental stability.

The family continued to live in the house until they were able to move in 1980, at which point the spirits were silenced and the hauntings ceased.

You let out an involuntary shudder. As excited as you were, you were also nervous. You didn’t think that a horror movie would be the start of your career, not that you were complaining.

The car pulled up in front of the studio and you got out, looking at the building standing before you. You thanked the driver and gave him the information of the hotel you would be staying at.

You straightened your shoulders and took a deep breath before making your way inside. The first thing you noticed was the noise and the chaos. There were hundreds of video equipment scattered around and more people than you’ve ever seen before cramped together. You weren’t exactly sure of what to do so you stood off to the side, in a private little corner.

You took in everything, from the people to the millions of lights that were already beginning to make your head hurt. And for a moment, just a moment, you began to doubt if you could do this or not.

“Hey, you okay?” A soft voice called out to you.

“I’m fine,” you replied, turning to look at the person and stopping in your tracks. The voice belonged to no one other than Vera Farmiga, the star of the movie you were here to film, your idol, and the woman you had a slight crush on. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a slight crush, but nonetheless, you stood there in shock.

“I’m Vera,” she said, offering her hand to you. You took it with a shaky hand. Her hand was so much softer than you expected.

“I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled and you returned it, still standing there completely awestruck. You had seen every single movie she’s been in, she was one of the big reasons you wanted to go into acting and standing in front of her, you were speechless.

“Vera?” A male voice called and the two of you turned your head to see James Wan, the director, walking towards you. Yet again, you were awestruck. You loved his directing and Saw was a favorite of yours. “I need you and Patrick to start getting ready. We’re going to start the opening scene of the Warren’s.”

“Okay, perfect. James, this is Y/N,” Vera introduced you and you gave a small smile.

“Hey,” you offered.

“Hey, you’re playing the student at the university, right?”

You nodded, surprised he remembered your role.

“I don’t think we’re going to film your scene today, so if you just want to hang out and get to know the other cast members, that’s fine,” he said before going back to work, leaving you and Vera alone again.

“Maybe we can get together for dinner later?” She asked and you swear you heard her voice waver just a bit, but you played it off as your ears playing tricks on you.

“That’d be great!” You exclaimed, a wide grin on your face.

“It’s a date,” she winked, walking away. A slight blush adjourned your cheeks and you felt very hot. The chilly air from earlier was now gone.

The rest of the day passed by rather quickly, you had stayed on set getting to know the gist of things and of course watching Vera.

She was captivating while in her element, doing what she loved. You were entranced by her beauty. You didn’t think that there were many people who could pull off clothes from the 70s quite like she did. She even caught you staring a couple times, smiling at you when she met your eyes.

You also saw Patrick Wilson, the other star and other half of the Warren couple. You noticed their chemistry right away and couldn’t help but think of how you wished it was you playing Vera’s significant other.

When filming finished for the day, you headed to your hotel room to get ready for your “date.” You were giddy with excitement and bouncing with nerves. A million questions were going through your head: what would you wear? What would you two talk about? Would it be awkward? Where were you going to go?

You weren’t familiar with the area and you didn’t know if she was or not. Dinner on the beach sounded nice to you, but maybe she didn’t like the beach or maybe she would change her mind. There were too many things unknown and your nerves were starting to get the better of you.

Just then a knock sounded at your door and you went to look through the peephole to find Vera outside. You opened it and she smiled, leaning in to give you a hug.

“You ready?” She asked.

“Ready,” you responded confidently. She held her hand out to you and you took it, heading downstairs to the waiting car. “Where are we going?” You asked once getting seated.

“You’ll see,” she smirked.

You smiled at the things you still had to learn about her as you got settled in for the drive.

#the conjuring universe #vera farmiga #vera farmiga x reader #vera x reader #lorraine warren #the conjuring

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honeybunchesofbucky · 3 years

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Bucky and the Pumpkin Patch

Sam x Bucky-Fluff

Warnings: Mention of knives? Other than that just Bird and Bionic Man being adorable.

Summary: After not celebrating Halloween since his childhood, Sam shows Bucky what he's missed.

Halloween in 2024 was a lot different than in the nineteen forties. Kids dressed up scarier, women dressed up freely and showed as much skin as they wanted, and people celebrated it everywhere. The minute October first hit, Bucky Barnes was thrown into the whole new world of spooky. Sam had insisted on showing him everything he missed for the past ninety years. All the halloween movies, new candy, and his favorite traditions from him and Sarah’s childhood. Bucky, though he was still stuck in his usual autopilot of grump, was internally thrilled. He loved to see the joy on Sam’s face when he told him about taking his nephews trick or treating and Sarah’s halloween themed cookies.

Ever since the two started openly dating a few months ago, they have been inseparable. They moved to a small home near Sarah’s, and Bucky easily became part of the Wilson family. Sarah was the most supportive and kind person he’d ever known, and dinner at her house became a regular affair. Slowly but surely the bionic staring machine warmed up, and though he didn’t say it much, he felt the most whole and loved he’d felt in his entire life.

And that’s what brought him to this point. In the middle of a pumpkin patch, with Sam a few feet away with a wagon full of pumpkins they all could carve. It was quite the sight. The SuperSoldier’s crystal blue eyes staring down one of the uglier looking pumpkins, the one everyone seemed to pass by. He was enamored by it.

“Bucky?” Sam walked over to his lover, looking between him and the warty misshapen pumpkin, a smile forming on his lips when he realized. “Do you want to get that one?”

Bucky’s stern expression softened slightly at the idea, his eyes never leaving the gourd. “No, it’s okay. We have enough.” But none of them were Bucky’s. Sam had strolled through every inch of the patch with him and the sergeant had yet to pick one.

“Buck, you’ve been staring at it for the past ten minutes. I think you two have a connection.” He chuckled, “Go ahead and get it.”

Bucky huffed, looking over at Sam. He was right. He did want it. Bucky wasn’t used to getting something just because he wanted it, especially not since the days of being on the run and only buying only essentials. “Okay, no need to pull my arm.” He grabbed the pumpkin and held it in his bionic hand.

Sam grabbed Bucky’s free hand and walked to the counter to pay. As Sam pulled out his wallet, his eyes landed on the cooler of caramel apples next to the cash register and he froze. This time it was Bucky who smirked, gently moving his lover over and saying to the cashier “Five of those please.” Before Sam could open his mouth, Bucky turned to him and said,“You had a connection.”

“Damn it, Bucky.” He laughed, shaking his head and handing the woman the cash.

“Uncle Bucky?” AJ tugged on the Sergeant’s sleeve.

Bucky turned his attention to him, his face softening. It was just recently that Sam’s nephews had started calling him Uncle Bucky, and it always made his heart melt. “What’s up, buddy?” He turned on his seat at the picnic table, wiping the pumpkin off his hands.

“I need help carving my pumpkin.” He looked at the small plastic carving knife wedged into the pumpkin.

Bucky smiled, picking up AJ with ease and sitting him on the table. “Alright. You hold onto the pumpkin and I’ll cut it.”

The little boy smiled, giddily holding onto the gourd as he watched Bucky pull out his pocket knife from his jeans. The blade was massive. Something he always carried in case anyone ever tried to harm him or Sam. It was an old habit he kept from his Winter Soldier days. But he never thought he’d be using it to carve a pumpkin.

He carefully cut through the design AJ had traced on it, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

Meanwhile, Sarah stood in the kitchen, looking out the small window shaking her head. “Is he using his knife to carve a pumpkin?”

Sam, who was eating one of the cookies Sarah and Cass had just decorated, nearly choked on the orange frosting. He walked to the window and burst into laughter. “Yes, yes he is.”

Sarah let out a laugh. “Look how happy AJ is.” She smiled when she saw the excited look on her son’s face as Bucky reached his vibranium hand in the pumpkin and scooped the guts out.

Sam’s chest bloomed with warmth. A few months ago, Bucky was sure he was awful with kids.

“I don’t know how to take care of kids, Sam!”

Yet here he was, his black and gold metal fingers holding up stringy pumpkin guts, making disgusted faces so AJ would laugh.

“I’m going to bring him some paper towels before both of them are covered in it.” Sam chuckled, squeezing Sarah’s shoulder before grabbing the roll and walking out to the yard. “You both are going to smell like pumpkin for a year.”

Bucky looked up at Sam, a huge smile plastered on his face which turned into a smirk when he looked at AJ, nodding before they both turned to Sam and threw some of the pumpkin insides at him.

Sam gasped, the side of his face covered in it. “I know you didn’t just do that.” He set the towels down before smirking too.

“Oh crap.” Bucky picked AJ up and set him on the ground, “Run!” The two of them took off, Sam chasing after them as they laughed, dodging pumpkin guts that Sam threw at them. A chunk of pumpkin hit Bucky’s back and he yelped.

Sam froze before turning and running. “Come on, AJ.” Bucky picked him up and put him on his shoulders, running after Sam as AJ giggled uncontrollably.

Sam laughed, looking behind him before he stopped at the picnic table, bending over as he caught his breath. “Okay, I surrender!”

“Oh come on, Cap! Already?” He chuckled, setting a giggling AJ down on the table and walking over to Sam, patting his back. “Who’s the old man, now?”

“Shut up.” Sam huffed, standing up straight and pushing him playfully. “I’ve had to eat all the imperfectly decorated cookies, okay? It’s hard work and doesn’t make for good running conditions.” He grabbed his stomach.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “You poor thing.” He sat down and smiled at AJ, who was admiring his pumpkin.

“Thank you for helping me, uncle Bucky.” AJ smiled up at him and hugged his arm.

Bucky’s face softened again, a proud smile forming on his lips as he hugged him back. “You’re welcome.”

Sam sat next to Bucky and kissed his cheek. “I told you. They love you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned crimson, his watery eyes meeting Sam’s. “Thank you, Sam.”

#sambucky fic #sambucky #sambucky fluff #winterfalcon #sam x bucky #bucky x sam #honeybunchesfics #I'm so soft for them you don't even know

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diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

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It Had to be Witches

Dean and Sam are on a hunt at Rowena’s request. When Sam is out of commission, Dean has to work with you.

Warnings: Unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!) male oral receiving, fingering, mention’s of witchcraft, brief mentions of ritual style murders, brief mention of animal sacrifice, Dean is a sad boy.

Word count: 3567

All written and proofread (poorly) by me. All mistakes are my own. Please don’t copy or repost my work. Likes are great and I’ll love you forever if you repost and comment. Thanks for reading.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sam and Dr. Philips examined each of the women’s bodies. Carved into their limbs were runes consistent with the ones Rowena described. She said she was sending an expert who lived in the area but the boys hadn’t made contact yet.

“The other agent who was just here asked the same questions. Don’t you guys talk to each other?” Dr. Philips covered the bodies. Some of the women he knew personally.

“Different departments. You said he was just here? How long ago?”

“She. Her name is Diana Luna. She’s down at the evidence locker. All the women had the same necklace. She went to check it out.”

Sam thanked the doctor and set off to find you. First he called Dean. “Looks like Rowena’s story checks out. Her expert was just here. The bodies were marked with runes and all of their tongues cut out. And, get this, they all had the same necklace. Maybe a coven?”

“Of course. Of course it’s witches, Sam. Look, don’t go far. I’m on my way.” Sam was sitting on a bus bench reading coroner's reports when you approached him. Due to the nature of the case, Rowena insisted the elder Winchester carry out the task at hand. “Use Sam as bait.” she instructed.

“Agent Cornell? I’m agent Luna from the Lansing office.” You extended your hand. “Director Macleod sent me.”

“Yeah, I bet she did. Bring me up to speed.”

“Sure. I’ve got what you’re looking for right here.” You blew a very potent powder in his face knocking him out. You put the lankier Winchester into your truck and sped back to your house. Getting his dead weight up the stairs was a task but you did it. “Sweet dreams, Sam.”

Dean searched the entire town square for Sam with no luck. He tried his phone again and it was going directly to voicemail. Sam could hold his own against any witch but Dean was still worried. As he unlocked the door to the Impala, he heard you call his name over his shoulder and turned his head to see who was speaking. You blew the dream dust into his face rendering him unconscious.

He was heavier than he looked. You shoved him into the back seat and pried the keys from his hand. Baby growled angrily when she started but you had her purring for you in no time. You drove him back to your house and dragged him inside where you intended to tie him up. Rowena coached you on all their tricks. You took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and divested him if anything sharp. With his wrists and ankles bound in a pretty decent slip knot you splashed his face with water to wake him.

“Morning, handsome.” he smirked as you wiped his face.

“Big mistake, sweetheart. I’m guessing you’re the one we’re looking for.”

“Pretty and dumb. Rowena was right and you would be guessing wrong. Her name is Teresa Wilson. She came seeking asylum with our coven a few months ago. Said her whole order was obliterated. Turns out, she wasn’t exactly who she said she was.”

His face split into a cocky grin, “They never are. What do you want with me?”

“You need to help me find her. Rowena gave me a locator spell. When I cast the spell, I’ll need your fancy bullets. Problem is…”

He laughed heartily, “Problem is you can’t touch ‘em, am I right, sweetheart?”

“You would be correct.”

“And what’s in it for me?”

You took a step back just out of his reach just in case, “If you help me I’ll let your brother live.”

He strained against the ropes veins bulging in his forearms. “If you touch one hair on his head I’ll rip you apart myself. You hear me, witch?”

Your nails dug sharp into the meat of his cheeks so he would look at you. “Relax, baby. Your brother is safe. He’s asleep upstairs dreaming of puppies and rainbows as we speak. But if you don’t help me, he’ll never wake up. And, Dean, when I kill someone, it sticks. No resurrections for Sammy this time.”

You’ve never seen a human man snarl before. It was pretty cute. Rowena warned you not to be mesmerized by his sweet face and his Disney Princess eyes but you couldn’t help it. The man looked like he would, in fact, rip you apart. And, Hecate help you, you wished he would. You traced a finger along his sharp stubble covered jaw. His eyes turned up to look into yours, throwing daggers at you. “Anyone ever tell you how cute you are when you’re angry?”

“All the time. Get to the spell so I can take my brother out of here.” he growled.

“It’s not time. If I untie you, are you gonna be a good boy or do I have to hit you with my knock out dust again?” You couldn’t take your eyes off of his perfect lips smiling at you.

“Sure, mommy, I’ll be a real good boy.”

You knelt in front of him and parted his knees slightly to undo the first knot. “Such a smart ass.” He growled low in his throat when you peered at him through your lashes. His dick grew painfully hard against his jeans as you slid your hand up his legs to maintain balance. Of course you noticed though he tried to squeeze his thighs together to hide his arousal. “Do you like me like this, Dean?”

Of course he did. You were just his type. A little bratty but you had a good heart. Rowena told them about you. The little warrior for the Grand Council. They constantly sent you to do their dirty work and you did so without question like a good soldier. No wonder Rowena paired the two of you. You were the female version of him. “Like what?” His voice was low and dripping with need.

“On my knees for you. Looks like you do.” You winked at him but he looked away embarrassed.

It had been a long time since he felt a woman wrapped hot around him. Everything in him wanted to follow your siren song and happily crash. He couldn’t do it. This story always ended bloody. “You couldn’t handle it, sweetheart.” He peered down at the bulge in his pants. So did you. Your core heated at the thought.

“Is that a dare or a double dare?.” He spread his legs and licked his lips inviting you to take what you wanted. You shook it off and focused on the task at hand. “Well in any case, I made you dinner. Pot roast, potatoes, peas and carrots. Eat if you want.”

It did smell amazing. His stomach growled remembering that all he had was coffee this morning. The living room and kitchen were well lit and warm. He felt at peace in this place. More so than the bunker where it could sometimes feel clinical and cold. “You got a pretty nice place here. You all alone?”

A sly smile played on your lips, “Just me.” You sat the plate down in front of him with a cold beer and a bottle opener. The oven timer dinged and, when you opened the door, the aroma of cinnamon and spice wafted through the air.

“That pie?” He sounded choked up.

“Apple. I have an orchard in the back. Rowena filled me in on how to keep you happy.” You sit it on the windowsill to cool while you ate. “I can’t have you bashing me over the head and running off before we kill this bitch.”

He shoveled a fork full of potatoes and gravy into his mouth humming in appreciation. “Why me? You had Sam here. He’s much better at this witch stuff than I am. Why drag me out here?”

“You’re more reliable when making difficult decisions. You’re what I need. Another beer?” He nodded breathing in the soft floral scent that wafted off of your skin as you moved.

You didn’t offer any further information and Dean thought that was probably for the best. If he got in his head about the situation he would lose his nerve and that can’t happen. That’s how people die. As of late, Sam has had a lot on his mind. Dean would have to shoulder this burden. At least Sammy was getting some rest.

The two of you shared a comfortable silence only marred by silverware hitting ceramic. “Well that was delicious. Thank you….umm…I don’t think I caught your name.”

“I didn’t give it to you. I’m Y/N. But I wouldn’t mind if you kept calling me sweetheart. Pie?”

Dean's heart beat hard in his chest at the thought of calling you sweetheart “Maybe a little. So when do we do this thing?”

“Eat your pie then meet me outside. I have to prepare.” You slipped out the back door down a dimly lit path to your cauldron. You threw in the mandrake and tobacco. Last was the chicken that you had to slaughter. You grabbed a hen from her coop and stabbed her with your athame. It made a terrible sound which sent Dean flying through the back door ready to fight.

“What the hell was that?”

“Chicken.” You allowed the rest of its blood to drain and discarded the carcass. “periisti. lates. Ego te quaero. I vestrum adprehendet vos.” You chanted over and over until a glowing beacon appeared. “We have to follow it.” The orb circled the two of you then floated towards the Impala. You retrieved his keys from your pocket and started off for the car.

“Whoa whoa whoa. What are you doing?”

“Following the orb.” He grabbed your arm as you started to slide into the driver’s seat.

“No one drives my baby but me. You sit shotgun.” He impatiently waited for you to scoot over. When you reached for the radio he slapped your hand away. “Are you serious?!”

“What? There were other decades besides the 70’s.” He bit his lip and flared his nostrils letting out an unsettling growl. “Driver picks the music.”

“You are a child. Just drive. The spell won’t last forever” you huffed.

“So, just you huh? No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” You didn’t answer keeping your eyes trained on the orb. “Yeah me neither. Maybe later we can grab a drink.”

“My god. Can you keep it in your pants until we’re done? It took a left!”

He sped up taking off after it, “I see it. So that’s not a no.” That was all the invitation he needed. The truth was you would have given it up the moment those green eyes stared into your soul.

“It’s not a no. Let’s focus.”

Baby ate up miles of dirt road before reaching the highway. A couple of miles ahead the orb sped for an exit into town. You were led to the motel where the boys were staying. The door to their room was wide open and there Teresa stood bathed in the light of the orb. You bid it a job well done and sent it on its way.

Teresa, caught off guard, quickly muttered a spell pinning Dean to the wall, sending the gun skittering away. You faced each other down while Dean struggled. “She’s a kid!” he groaned in pain.

“I’m nineteen thank you. You don’t have to do this Y/N. Come on. We’re sisters. We share the same DNA. Let’s take them on together.” Tears welled in your eyes. You may have been blood but you weren’t sisters. She grew up far out of the Grand Council’s reach while you were their trained lap dog.

“Only half little sister. You’re hopped up on enough stolen magic to power the entire city. The Grand Council sent me to take you down. Adiuro te in nomine Hecate. Adiuro te in nomine Dianae. Tuae vires cum luna decrescant.” you chanted. She fought back but the binding spell was powerful. She didn’t have enough magic to hold Dean and fight you so she let him go. When he regained composure, he dove for the gun.

Without warning, Teresa gained the upper hand. She held out her arm and used all of her might to pull you towards her. Blood stained tears fell from your eyes as you struggled to breath. With every last ounce of strength you had you doubled down on the binding spell long enough to hold her so that Dean could put her down. The blast of the shot filled the small motel room filling your ears with a high pitched whining. You collapsed onto the floor where Dean scooped you into his arms.

“Hey, Y/N. Wake up. Stay with me. Shit.” He carried you to the car and gingerly set you down next to him. The drive back to your house felt long. When he got you inside he placed you on the couch and called Rowena.

“Is it done then?” she asked in her thick Scottish brogue.

“Yeah but your girl’s unconscious. She’s breathing but she used a lot of magic. A lot. I don’t think you’ll be calling on her anytime soon.”

“Keep her warm, Dean. I��ll be there soon.” The line went dead. He sat on the floor in front of you and brushed your hair from your eyes.

“Sweetheart, you need to wake up. We were supposed to grab that drink, remember?” He pressed his lips to your temple lingering there for a moment when he heard Rowena’s laugh trill behind him.

“I should add matchmaker to my long list of talents. Out of the way, Dean. I’ll get your girl fixed right up.” She patted his hand and pushed him aside.

His face flushes hot burning all the way to his ears. ”She’s not my girl.”

“Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble, dear?” She placed her hands on your head. Her eyes glowed as she spoke over you. Your lashes began to flutter and you woke up. “There she is. Good as new.” You and Dean exchanged a look. “That appears to be my cue to go check on Samuel.”

“Thank you, Rowena.” your voice was hoarse barely above a whisper.

“Not at all, dear.”

Dean pulled you into his lap rocking you gently, “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I had to stop her. She hurt too many people.” You felt guilty for ending her but even guiltier for letting her go as far as she did. Guiltier still for not pushing harder to be in her life. “It was my fault.”

“Hey, no it wasn’t. What? You think you should have been a better big sister? You didn’t lead her down this path, Y/N.” You rested your head on his shoulder “All these years and all the stupid fucked up shit Sam and I did, I blamed myself. I took on that burden. Alone. It’s a lonely awful place to be. I’m begging don’t do that to yourself.” He held your face in his hands forcing you to look at him. He wanted to kiss you. You would have let him if he leaned in. Instead he brought you back down to his chest just to hold you. He saw so much of himself in you. You were headstrong and self righteous but your intentions were altruistic.

You melted into his arms so lost in him that you didn’t hear Sam and Rowena slip out. Dean offered his brother only a small nod to let him know you were ok. He had several texts from Eileen anyway. Happy to see his brother didn’t have to spend another night alone, he went back to the bunker.

You sat in silence for a while when you started yawning. “Shit. What time is it?”

“After midnight. I should get outta here.” You untangled yourself from his grasp but didn’t stand. His hands stayed respectfully at the small of your back. You locked eyes with him. Your core tingled as he brushed errant hair from your forehead.

“Or you could stay. We haven’t had our drink yet. Though, you don’t need to get me drunk, handsome.” You kissed his jaw and down his neck working your way to his collarbone. A soft moan escaped his lips when you nipped at his neck. “I mean you enjoyed me on my knees and all.”

“As pretty as you looked,” his voice was low and gravelly, “And, I mean you looked gorgeous. We really shouldn’t.”

You genuinely pouted your lips backing off of your ministrations, “Why not? I want to. And you clearly want to. You’re a fucking legend, Dean. Show me just how legendary you are.”

He arched a brow at you and smirked in the way that only Dean Winchester does. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweetheart.” Finally his lips were on yours. The force of his kiss took your breath away. It wasn’t predatory or greedy. It was slow and sensuous bordering on hunger. His whole body was hungry for you. Dean Winchester was hungry constantly looking for something to fill the hole inside him. For the moment, that was you. He felt like he was floating and was suddenly very warm. If he stopped kissing you he knew he would just stop breathing. He couldn’t bare the thought.

“What are you doing to me?” His chest heaved. “I feel like I’m on fire.” Surely this must be a spell or enchantment. He pulled you back in for more but this time his hands strayed from your back. They traveled to your hips then under the hem of your shirt to feel your flesh warm against him. He had to feel you. To be inside of you. Deft fingers unbuttoned your jeans. Without breaking the kiss he stroked your clothed core working up a rhythm that flooded you with arousal.

“Touch me, Dean. Please” you cried. Pushing your panties aside his fingers explored your dripping pussy. His pace is maddening. Your hips snapped fucking back hard. “Fuck, Dean. So good. I need your cock. Want you to split ne open.”

“You’ve got a filthy mouth, Princess. Come for me and I’ll give you what you want.” And so you gushed around him moaning like a witch on fire. When your heart slowed to a normal rhythm you stripped naked. Before he could get undressed he took a moment to kiss and touch every inch of you. If this was only for tonight he wanted to savor you. “God you’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” You pulled him up and undressed him, never once breaking eye contact. His cock was red and weeping just aching to be touched.

On your knees in front of him you took the whole burning thing in your mouth. To Dean, you were the most stunning creature to exist. You swirled your tongue around the head while you hollowed your cheeks sucking him in deeper still.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart. Fuck that feels good.” His hands grasped the back of your head keeping you steady while he fucked your face. It started feeling too good like he would blow his load in your mouth. He had to feel your sweet cunt. “Let me feel you, baby. Fuck I need you.” You pulled off with a pop and climed into his lap. Both of you whimpered when you sank onto his length. The stretch was exquisite. Your pussy held him so tight. You ground your clit over his pubic bone while he fucked into you with a brutal pace. “You feel so good. M’not gonna last. Come for me, baby. I need it.” Your twat fluttered around him, milking him for all he was worth. You kissed once more fighting to hang on to the last tendrils of tenderness and warmth that you could.

“Stay. Please. Just for tonight” you whispered.

He tightened his grip on you. “Of course, sweetheart. All night.”

He hated to leave you but the sun rose like a beacon calling him away. If he didn’t leave then, he wouldn’t have ever left. Last time he stuck around and fell in love, he had to learn the hard way that he could never have this. Maybe he would call you the next time he swung through town. Maybe you’d spit in his face for bailing. He brushed the hair off your forehead and kissed your temple. “Bye, sweetheart.”

You woke when you heard the Impala roaring to life in your driveway. He left a square of paper with a phone number scrawled in pencil “I’ll always answer. -DW” You put on your robe, went down to your cauldron and threw it in with a few bundles of sage and some witch hazel to sever any feelings. On the next full moon, you’d do a cord cutting to make sure it sticks.

“See you around, handsome.” In his eleven hour drive back to the bunker, any feelings that you have would slowly fade. The two of you would go back to being too afraid to feel and far too afraid to fall in love. Dean wouldn’t hear from you again. He wouldn’t really remember where you lived. But, every time he drove through Michigan, he’d feel a twinge in his chest. And, no matter how many rituals you did, you’d feel him too.

#sam and dean #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #Dean Winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #Dean Winchester x witch reader

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 3 years

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NSFW Alphabet (A-M)

Part 1 | Part 2

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Female! Reader

Summary: A-Z of just smut (and some fluff).

Word Count: 2049

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors DNI, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male/female receiving), masturbation (male/female), overstimulation, creampie, multiple orgasms, teasing, slight spanking, sex toys, cursing, language, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note: POSTING IN 2 PARTS! Because Tumblr won’t let you have more than 250 text blocks. Happy Birthday to Sam! I love how this turned out and I hope you all do too! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Sam Wilson Masterlist

Credit @ chrishemsworht for the wonderful gif

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s very caring and attentive to you after sex, especially when it was a little more rough than usual.

He would make sure you were ok before he went to the bathroom to get something to clean you off, as well as a cold washcloth in case you were too warm.

After this, he would do one of two things. Either he would bring you close to his body to cuddle up on you as he whispers in your ear all his affirmation his heart held for you.

“Come here.” His arms were open for you to crawl in them to bask in his love and affection after he had fucked you so good.

There was nothing quite like it. The tenderness of his touches as he held you so close to him. “You did so well. You’re so good to me. I love you. Sleep now.”

The softest of kisses being left on you as sleep took over. Himself following soon after.

Or he would run a relaxing bath for the two of you to soothe both of your bodies down. It would end in the two of you in the sheets again, all snuggled up, clean and relaxed.

Since you were a little wobbly on your legs from the event that just was, he helped you into the bathtub. Your back to his chest as his arms enclosed around to keep you that much closer.

The light was dimmed, and just now, you heard the faint sound of music coming from his phone in the bathroom.

His touches and the warm water lulled you to sleep for just a few minutes. He would wake you to get out before proper sleep took over you, “come on, sleepy girl. The bed is more comfortable.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves his hands. Fingers, palms, everything that makes it possible to grab onto you in both a loving and sexual way.

The feel of Sams’s hand all over you as you made out on the couch was intoxicating. You could never get enough of his touch on your bare skin.

His lips found their place at your weak spot, your pulse point on your neck, as he kissed and sucked on the skin. His hand traveled more down to the inside of your thighs, ready to snake his hand in your panties any second now.

A whiney plea for him to touch you more ever so softly escaped you. “Please, Sam, touch me more.”

“You just love holding my hand, huh?” Sam questioned as your smaller one fit in his for the 10th time today. Everywhere you go, the urge for his touch was immense so finding the two of you holding hands no matter where was no surprise.

“I just love your touch, ok?”

His other favorite and this may sound strange, is his left peck. It holds a special place to him because that’s where you always rest your head to feel the steady beats of his heart. If it was out and about or just the comfort of your house, you always searched to lay your head on there to feel his love.

“It beats only for you, angel,” would be his words always when you found your home there.

On you? He loves your legs, more specifically your thighs. His hand always finds its place at the top of it, giving a reassuring squeeze now and then.

In the bedroom, he always wants you to sit on his face. Your two beautiful thighs at the side of him as he eats you out and his fingers dig deep into the skin. Thighs shaking and trembling as you’re close to releasing brought forward by his expert tongue and the grip on your thighs adding to that sensation.

It always made you nervous when Sam asked you to sit on his face. The fear that you would crush him was enormous.

“I know what you’re thinking. You will not crush me. Now bring your beautiful thighs over here and sit on your throne.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside of you most of the time. The need to feel him deep in your pussy is what you live for. His mind goes absolutely crazy as he watches his load seep out of you. Your quivering hole begging for him to fill you up once again. He can't do anything more than comply with your wishes.

“Where do you want it?” His thrusts were deep as the need to release was creeping up on him. “Inside. Always inside Sam,” you whispered in his ear.

He didn’t need more than that to let go. Grunts and moans of your name were like music to your ears as he came inside. The feel of his seed filling you up and his sounds was what brought your own orgasm.

“Again… I need to feel you again.”

You also love to feel his load in your mouth. On your knees, as he pumps his cock, ordering you to stick out your tongue to receive him. His body language and facial expressions just as he’s about to cum are priceless and so fucking hot and will forever be imprinted in your brain.

“Open up. Show me your tongue.” Like a good girl, you complied with his wishes and opened up your ready mouth. Little flicks of your tongue on him as his hand was working his length is what was needed for him to shoot ropes of him cum all over your awaiting and needy tongue.

Once done, he took some time to admire his artwork. “So beautiful. Can you swallow that for me?” It was like second nature for you to do so. You showed him that you had done what he wished for. “Good girl.”

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sam loves when you dominate him and take control. It’s mostly him that takes the reins in ordering you around in the bedroom, but he doesn’t mind passing the power over to you once in a while.

Whatever you ask him to do, he will do with no questions asked.

Jacking off while you watch? Check.

“Aren’t you going to touch yourself as well?” He questioned as it was only he that was working on himself.

“I don’t think so. Keep doing what you’re doing, Mr. Falcon.”

Not being allowed to touch any part of you as you ride him like a good girl? He´ll try with all the power he has.

“No, Sam.” This was the third time you had to pry his hands from your hips as you rode him. “I don’t want you to touch me. Be good! Just watch and enjoy.”

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sam knows what he’s doing. He’s been with a few women before, so he’s well known in the pleasing department. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what you like and don't like.

What touch have you begging for more? What kisses have you gasping and whimpering out in pleasure?

It's all about exploring each other to the fullest. He learns it all like it’s second nature for him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where he can watch your face contour in pleasure. It’s such an ego boost for him watching you fall apart because of the pleasure he’s bringing you with his mouth, fingers, or dick.

His hand will lightly grab your chin to look at him if you ever turn away because of the intense pleasure.

“Look at me, baby. Look at me. I need to see your beautiful face as I make you cum.”

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He can be earnest when he wants to be, but the two of you wouldn’t take yourselves so seriously all the time. Laughs and giggles would fill the air if the bedroom session were more loving and playful than rough and dominant.

But when it was serious business? There would be no joking matter. The only thing on the mind for both of you was to please each other to the fullest with no distractions.

H = Hair (how well are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it neat down there, and you had never complained, so none of you make a big deal out of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sam is the best lover you’ve had in your life. He takes care of your needs to the fullest and is never greedy with you. It’s all about you.

It’s safe and romantic as he’s whispering praises and encouragements towards you. His touches are warm and delicate as they trace your skin in the act of lovemaking.

He always lets you finish first, and he’s following right behind you in getting his pleasure as well.

It was one of those days when all you needed was to feel that extra bit of love and pleasure from one another as you were tangled in the silky sheets together.

His thrusts deep but careful as his number one mission was to make you feel good on this beautiful day. Your hands had a firm hold of his back to keep the closeness on one another.

His face buried in your neck to whisper words of encouragement. “Cum for me, baby. I've got you.”

The feel of your tight walls around him was what he needed to let go as well.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Why would he when he has you? Of course, if there were a time you weren’t in the mood or out of town, he would take care of himself.

Those times he would find the few videos that were recorded of you and him getting it on. He would focus on the sounds of your moans, whimpers, and sweet pleas of his name on a continuous loop as he brought himself to an end.

It never felt as good as when you did it, all of your tricks and techniques made him cum in record time, but it would have to do for now.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Make you cum all over his fingers in public. He loved how much you try to keep your composure as his long fingers were driving themselves in and out in a steady rhythm.

How you tried to keep talking to the person you were talking to without making a sound that indicated that something was going on underneath the table.

When he finally had you coming on his fingers, he would pull out of you to clean himself of your juices. It would be in the most casual way possible, and no one ever suspected anything.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Call him old-fashioned, but his favorite place to do it is in the comfort of your bedroom door. It’s just easier and simple to play around and explore with one another in the sheets than in any other place.

But that doesn’t mean you haven’t fucked in other locations. All the surfaces in the house have been blessed by the two of you.

As the guests around the dinner table chatted away, your thoughts wandered to just a couple of hours ago when Sam was taking you against this very table everyone was sitting at.

The memory had you whimper out some and legs clenched together as you felt the heat from you increasing. Sam felt your behavior change as he sat beside you.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered in your ear to shield the words from the rest of the crowd.

“No-nothing… I'm just thinking about what this table was decorated with a few hours ago. Not food or drinks, but the two of us.”

His cocky smirk was pretty evident on his face at your confession. “Don't worry. I'll take you against it again when everyone leaves.”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Simply you.

Your words, touch, and smoldering looks were the only things needed to turn him on.

Part 2 HERE

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

Thank you for reading <3 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated if you liked it! As well as a reblog to share it with others!

If you are going to join the taglist please show support in following my blog as well!

Marvel Taglist: @whothehellisbuckybarnes @phoenixhalliwell @x-goddess-of-nature-x @trulysuccubus @skyesthebomb @whoreforsamwilson @natashadeservedbetter @beth-winchester21 @mrs-salvawhore @soldierstucky @missswritings @sariche @claudiaatje @myakai13 @paintballkid711 @ttalisa @teti-menchon0604 @J-e-nster @-im-fantastic- @donut-crazs @tatestripedsweater @feetoffthetablee @uraesthete @mae-black @midnightdragonzero @julia2000love @yvngzxx @midnightzonzz @kaystacks17 @missroro @living-that-best-life @alwaysclassyeagle

Sam Wilson Taglist: @kenbechillin @selenasprompts

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

If your name is in bold it means I can’t tag you for some reason. My apologies!

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sableseb · 3 years

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🎉1.5k Lyric Challenge Celebration🎉

Another milestone…where do I even start? I never expected to gain such love and support for my writing. I genuinely appreciate my mutuals, my followers, and the people just scrolling by and leaving a heart. It means so much. So, to celebrate, I’m hosting my first ever writing challenge!!! I want to show case creative writers on my blog. Anyone can participate and anything goes. The rules and directions are posted below!

Rules

Please choose a lyric below! The lyric does not have to be included in your story, it can be, but it’s not mandatory. The only thing that is mandatory is that you base your story off the words. If you want to listen to the song and get a vibe, you’re more than welcome to. Or, just take the lyric and run with it. It doesn’t have to go with the song.

As I said up top. Anything goes. You can make your story as vanilla or as kinky as you like! I included plenty of diverse lyrics that can be used as smut or fluff. Some lyrics are definitely raunchier than others…as you’ll see😉

Your story can include any au (ex. abo, mob boss, monster, stepdad, rockstar, roommates, greek myths), any kink (ex. spitting, voyeur, choking, praise, degradation, crying), and any trope (ex. innocent!readerxdark!character, enemies to lovers, friends with benefits, soul mates)

It can be as dark as you want or as light as you want. Just use appropriate warnings!

The characters you can choose from are any Seb Stan character, any C. Evans character, Sam Wilson, Loki Laufeyson, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova, and Wanda Maximoff

Once you choose your character and lyric, please send me a message telling me which ones you’re using! I want each person to use a different lyric, but the same characters can be used more than once.

The lyrics already taken will be marked out. If all get taken, I will add more.

You can use two characters if you wish to do so! Either with the reader or without. (ex. Ransom Drysdale x Charles Blackwood or Nat x Wanda)

If you’re comfortable writing for real people, you’re more than welcome to write for Sebastian Stan or Chris Evans

Your story can be as long or as short as you wish! If you feel it gets the point across, that’s all that matters.

Make sure to tag me in your story! I’ll be reading and sharing each one. There will be a masterlist of the stories I receive.

The due date is September 15th

Most importantly, have fun with it! I can’t wait to see what my fellow writers come up with❤️

Lyrics

I just hope you see me in a little better light, do you think it's easy being of the jealous kind? - To Be So Lonely by Harry Styles

My sweet love, won’t you pull me through? - Trouble by Cage The Elephant

I got a man, but I want you - You Right by Doja Cat ft The Weeknd

He’s fucking me I’ve got demons in my head - Demons by Hayley Kiyoko

You been a bad kitty, Imma spank that - So Pretty by Reyanna Maria ft Tyga

Beware the devil woman, she's gonna get you - Devil Woman by Cliff Richard

Rub your crotch, let’s let them watch - Make U Cum by Ayesha Erotica

Maybe fake love is better than feeling lonely - Better Than Feeling Lonely by Olivia O’Brein

Rather see you in a hearse than see you with some other bitch - Rodeo by Lil Nas X ft Cardi B

I’m in love, I’m alive, I belong to the stars and sky - Real Love Baby by Father John Misty

Can’t teach an old dog new tricks, but I can teach an old bitch how to suck dick - Little While by Sada Baby ft Big Sean & Hit-Boy

Cause I'm not real enough without you - You Make Me Real by The Doors

Baby, I'm a bad boy I might hurt you - Asshole by hooligan chase

Damn my foolish eyes, cause that man’s lesson had a price - The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie by Colter Wall

And it’s not your fault I can’t be what you need - Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus

I'm tired of looking at your pictures wanna be up in your face - Magic In The Hamptons by Social House ft Lil Yachty

She's really got a magical spell and it's working so well that I can't get away - Love Grows by Edison Lighthouse

Without you, all things right would feel so wrong - Can’t Imagine by Shawn Mendes

I can only take so much of you all at one time, because too much of you's just too much to swallow sometimes - Never Love Again by Eminem

I dunno what you’ve done to me but I know this much is true, I wanna do bad things with you - Bad Things by Jace Everett

Mutuals Who May Be Interested:

@hiddlestanss @chaoticbucky @bemine-bucky @fuckandfluff @sweeterthanthis @slothspaghettiwrites @navybrat817 @thewritingdoll @thefanbasewhore @multi-stann @babycap @dreamlessinparis @buchanansdoll @fairyevans @ritesofreverie @golden-bucky @buckyblues @belladonnabarnes @divine-mistake @winter-james @certainaesthetic @pepsicup @thicccsimp @holdontorogers @mickey-henry @gwenavibra @buckysglow @bloodorangesoup @buckysbrattybug @bloomingbucky @drysdale-barnes @when-i-was-your-angel

#1.5k celebration

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wizardofrozz · 3 years

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31 Days of Spooktober

Trick (Dean Winchester x Castiel) (slight Sam Winchester x Jessica Moore)

Summary: Everyone celebrates Halloween different, no matter what universe they’re in.

Ghost (Thor Odinson x Asgardian!Reader) (past Natasha Romanoff x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: (Y/N)’s ‘secret’ powers come in handy after Tony’s funeral.

Possession (Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester)

Summary: Castiel forgot about the most important tattoo.

Spiderwebs (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader)

Summary: Peter and (Y/N) decorate Avengers tower for Halloween.

Hell (Sam Winchester, Crowley, implied Dean Winchester x Castiel)

Summary: Sam goes through with slamming the gates of Hell but the aftermath isn’t what he expected.

Haunted House (Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson) (College AU)

Summary: Why not spend Halloween at a haunted house?

Hayride (Dean Winchester x Human!Castiel, Toddler!Jack)

Summary: The boys take Jack to the pumpkin patch for their first family Halloween.

Shapeshifter (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: The Winter Soldier’s gone. Right?

Clown (Sam Winchester x Reader) (background Dean Winchester x Castiel)

Summary: Sam’s distaste for Halloween causes him more trouble than he expected.

Vampire (Steve Rogers x Widow!Reader) (Natasha Romanoff x Clint Barton) (Wanda Maximoff x Vision)

Summary: Creatures lurk in the shadows on Devil’s night and not even the Avengers are safe.

Pumpkin (Gabriel x Witch!Reader)

Summary: Jack wants to carve pumpkins for Halloween so (Y/N) promises to teach him.

Mystery (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N)’s new neighbor is a real menace.

Candy (Dean Winchester x Castiel Novak) (Sam Winchester x Jess Moore)

Summary: Trick or treaters aren’t always what you expect.

Cat (Loki Laufeyson x Maximoff!Reader, Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Bucky disappears on Devil’s Night; the same day (Y/N) finds someone else on the front steps of the compound.

Graveyard (Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Jack Kline)

Summary: Jack disappears on a salt and burn case.

Wings (Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, and Clint Barton)

Summary: The Avenger’s help is requested in Point Pleasant, West Virginia.

Nightmares (Dean Winchester x Human!Castiel, Sam Winchester, Jack Kline)

Summary: Sam and Jack are starting to worry about Dean and Cas.

Doll (Witch!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Vision, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Morgan Stark)

Summary: (Y/N) and Wanda agree to spend the day in Atlanta to babysit Morgan so Tony and Pepper can have a date night. A trip to an antique shop proves to cause problems down the road.

Costume (Dean Winchester x Castiel, Toddler!Jack, Sam Winchester, Claire Novak)

Summary: Claire agrees to dress up with Jack for Halloween, but what she doesn’t know is Dean is seeking revenge.

Demon (Sam Wilson x Avenger!Reader) (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Somethings wrong with Steve when he gets back from his trip to DC.

Zombie (Platonic!Dean Winchester x Reader, hints at Dean Winchester x Castiel and Sam Winchester x Reader)

Summary: Weird things are happening to pets in Shelby, Montana.

Angel (Peter Parker x Widow!Reader, Yelena Belova x Bucky Barnes (can be read romantically or platonically))

Summary: (Y/N) notices that something seems off with Peter and she’s not sure what it is.

Darkness (Benny Lafitte x Vampire!Reader)

Summary: 10 years after losing Benny, (Y/N) ends up in purgatory after a hunter caught up with her.

Howl (Familiar!Thor Odinson x Witch!Reader, and others)

Summary: (Y/N) is the only member of her coven that hasn’t found their familiar.

Straight Jacket (Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester, Anna Milton, Uriel)

Summary: Dean wakes up groggy and confused only to find a group of doctors, that seem vaguely familiar, watching him.

Woods (Thor Odinson x Witch!Reader)

Summary: People are being attacked in Ontario by what is said to be a river monster. Fury decides a couple of Avengers can handle it.

Murder (Dean Winchester x Castiel, Sam Winchester)

Summary: After Jack gives Cas his wings back after saving him from the Empty, the angel makes some new friends.

Footage (Bucky Barnes x Asgardian!Reader, Thor Odinson, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, JARVIS)

Summary: JARVIS finds some interesting footage that gets Tony worried about what else is hanging out in the Avengers compound.

Satan (Jack Kline x Huntress!Reader, background Castiel x Dean Winchester, Lucifer, Sam Winchester, mention Claire Novak)

Summary: One little word can change everything.

Ouija (Peter Parker x Stark!Reader, Tony Stark, MJ, Ned Leeds, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Messing with a Ouija board isn’t always a good idea.

Spell (Marvel x Supernatural)

Summary: When a spell goes wrong the Winchester clan ends up in the Avenger’s backyard.

22 notes · View notes

gifted-burnout-archive · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe and Wine

Word Count: 3.1K+

Author’s Note: So I have had this idea for literal months, one that I really wanted to write but never quite knew how to. So here it is! We started with fluff, we move on to angst, and there will be smut further down the line. Inspired a fair amount by the songs ‘Remeber that Night?’ by Sara Keys and ‘To Love Someone Else’ by Avery Lynch. Plus, Bobby deserves some fanfiction! Also, I know these are kinda short but I thought it would work best so don’t hate me pleaseeee.

Pairings: bobby/trevor wilson x reader - platonic!reggie and alex x reader - former luke x reader

Warnings: discussion of death, general angst, upsetting circumstances.

1999.

Bad habits are a hard thing to break. Doing something over and over, getting used to the action of it, deciding to take that thing out of your life entirely is a conscious and difficult decision. It’s why people fall back into bad relationships, or start smoking again, or pick up that extra tub of ice cream: breaking that habit when it didn’t feel so bad in the first place is hard. People like familiarity, people like to be comfortable, people like to be docile in their own lives.

Well, some people do.

But there is a flip side: when good habits are broken by external factors, they can be hard to retrieve, replaced by bad ones instead over overcome. The external factor varies, of course: moving to a new house can stop someone from exercising; a change of job can ruin a healthy sleep schedule; anxiety over test can stop someone eating.

The lost of a loved one can cause someone to cut of friends, family, places: everything and everyone that held them together.

It was Y/N’s first time back in Los Angeles since it happened.

The incident she never found the courage to speak about: that prompted her to pack her things and move to the other side of the country and live with her grandparents until she finished at college. The incident that forced her to make friends with strangers, to go to church every Sunday to keep good faith despite not even being Christian: and yet she had still arrived back where it started, standing on her parents’ porch, looking down towards the garage she hadn’t seen in years.

“You changed your hair.”

“You got famous…”

The young man walking up the driveway dressed how Y/N expected him to: gone were his hand-me-down too-baggy jeans and the black and white striped top he never seemed to take off, the leather vest jacket he had glued spikes onto the shoulders of. He had replaced it with suede shoes and a leopard print shirt, a hat perched atop his mess of hair like he was still in the southern hemisphere, not LA at Christmas.

“I brought wine. Old stuff, good stuff.” He said with a grin she couldn’t help but smile back to, though it was only ever so slightly. He suited his new look; he exuded an air of confidence that matched the person she had known four years and a half years before.

“Why are you here, Bobby?” Y/N finally asked, finally looked to her old friend, pulling out a cigarette case from her pocket, then a lighter, sitting a stick between her lips and lighting her face with the orange flame from the zippo. “Last I checked,” She said through the cigarette, inhaling before blowing out a stream of smoke. “You were in Sydney, on the big world tour.”

“I go by Trevor now, you know.” The young man corrected her, making his way along the driveway and bouncing up the porch steps, resting himself against the wooden railing beside her. When she offered the cigarette, he accepted, passing it back as wisps of smoke blew from his nose. “Your parents called me; said you were in town again…” He let out a sigh, looking over at the girl he knew, her face lit by the Christmas lights the family had wrangled onto the front lawn’s bushes. “Do you really not want me here?”

“Of course I do.” Y/N replied, her eyes drifting back towards the garage. “I just… I don’t know if I can even go close to it anymore.” Her voice was barely a whisper, her body tense until bobby’s arm came over her shoulders and pulled her close, the taller boy hugging her from behind. They stayed that way for a few minutes, swaying a little when the breeze demanded it, sharing the cigarette and another in mutual silence, all while her parents let Cliff Richards play in the kitchen beyond the front door.

“We said we’d all spend this Christmas in that garage, no matter what happened, remember?” Bobby reminded Y/N of the reason she had even travelled back home in the first place: to fulfil a promise she had made to her friends all those years ago. “1994, we were all 17… We made the promise to one another to spend Christmas together five years from then.”

“They didn’t keep their half of the promise, Bobby.”

“How do you know?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before breaking their embrace, turning Y/N so they stood side by side, his arm coming over her shoulder as she smoked the last of the cigarette, his other hand still holding the rather pricey bottle of red an assistant had recommended before he got on the plane. “We do this together… I have a feeling they may just be waiting for us there…”

Bobby’s words, and his height, weight and strength advantages, caused Y/N to let herself be dragged down her old driveway in defeat, shuffling in a pair of old house shoes her mom used to wear, the rest of her still dressed up in the more fanciful attire she had picked out for brunch with her mother that morning. His hand squeezed her shoulder, a comfort despite their years apart.

It was nice to know they were still friends after everything...

Bobby only let her go to open up the heavy garage door, handing the bottle of wine over to her before doing so, the wood creaking and groaning after years of disuse. Y/N screed the cap off the wine, taking a swig as she watched on, and attempt to calm her heart perhaps; it seemed to be racing a thousand miles a minute and faster with every inch wider the entrance to her garage got.

“Bobby-”

“Too late… It’s open.” Bobby cut in, the door wide enough for him to slip inside and flick on the light switch, the dim glow sparking Y/N’s curiosity as she followed him into long lost memories.

The room was almost exactly how the guys had left it those years before: blankets strewn over the couch; instruments sat, set up for the next band practise. The only difference seemed to be the excessive amount of dust that covered the furniture, and the deflated air mattress on the far side of the room. But there it was: under the flickering solo lightbulb, with air so thick it had Y/N taking another gulp of booze to wet her throat, the old studio.

“It feels like we’re 17 again, doesn’t it?” She managed to whisper, noticing Bobby in a similar state of awe from out the corner of her eye, him being the first to take a step further into the room, and another. She watched him walk through the furniture, the instruments: all the memories they had made in that little shack at the end of her driveway.

Y/N could see it all too, like a movie being played before her eyes. She saw the boys practicing until the early hours, constantly full of energy and life and adrenaline, no matter her parents’ half-hearted nags for them to abide by quiet hours. She could see nights of song writing on her family’s old patio furniture, takeout ordered in from the Chinese place two streets over. There was a constant sense of joy, of pure unfiltered happiness that came from their music, from the months they spent perfecting their first album and hustling for that fucking gig at the Orpheum.

In an instant Y/N’s subconscious smile turned to a frown. All the happiness was overshadowed by the weeks after; of nights spent sobbing into her pillow, of the three funerals they held within a week, of Bobby leaving when they needed each other most.

“Hey, hey.” Bobby’s worried words brought Y/N back from the daydream, his hands cupping her face as his thumbs swiped across her cheeks, collecting the tears she hadn’t noticed falling. “Are you alright, love?” He asked gently, lifting Y/N’s chin for their eyes to meet.

“I shouldn’t have come home… I should have stayed in Chicago at my job and worked through the holidays.” Y/N said quickly, through shallow breaths, her vision blurring. “I didn’t want to do this but I told myself I should. I didn’t want to do this again; I didn’t want to be here again…”

“Y/N…” Bobby pulled her into a hug, one hand holding her head, the other around her back, opting to rock back and forth slowly, gently, a trick he had learned when they were younger. The other guys never quite knew how to deal with someone crying, let alone a girl, and let alone Y/N. But Bobby did.

It wasn’t every year you changed decade, century and millennium, and Y/N and Bobby decided to call in the 2000s together.

They had been together since Christmas Eve, inseparable really. Bobby opted to stay in LA instead of head for the ball drop in New York, and he felt good about that choice: it meant more time with Y/N, to reconnect, to catch up on the lost years when he was touring the world and Y/N was getting her degree.

Her parents liked it, watching the pair laughing again at Christmas Dinner: it felt like the first time Y/N had laughed since it happened. They didn’t get in the pair’s way when they chose to clean up the garage, spending most of the limbo between Christmas and New Year dusting and vacuuming the shack at the end of the driveway, restoring it to something beyond its former glory.

They strung up lights, washed down the windows and added houseplants, and Bobby took on the heart-breaking job of tidying away the instruments that lay strewn around while Y/N focused on carpet cleaning, on high reach dusting, on anything but the still looming presence of the friends they had lost.

By New Year’s Eve, as Y/N’s parents informed the pair they were headed to their friends’ party, the garage was readied for a night of the two friends drinking: bottles of champagne had been bought, an old antenna tv had been set up to watch the countdown that would take place by the end of the hour. They both dressed up, Bobby in a suit, Y/N in a dress. She did her makeup, he polished his shoes, they styled their hair.

They deserved to have fun, to have something good again.

“And welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the 2000 Countdown! We are five minutes out, and the party is well underway!” The grainy picture on the tv spoke through crackles as Y/N and Bobby lounged on the couch watching, a champagne flute in each of their hands.

“It’s your turn to fix it.” Y/N smirked, gesturing to the television with glass in hand, the sudden gesture causing the liquid within to splash against her hand. “Oops!” She squeaked, the pair sharing a glance before bursting into giggles, both taking another sip of the alcohol. They had been drinking since the afternoon, and as midnight came ever closer the pair became extremely inebriated. It was for different reasons, of course: it was more than just to have fun and get drunk, they were both fighting the urge to run, to shut up the garage and never come back to it.

“Only because you look so darn cute in that dress, alright?” Bobby smiled with his words, pushing himself off the old couch and setting down his drink to fix the antenna. His eyes as he moved the metal rod were on Y/N, watching her reactions to the screen’s picture, stopping when her eyes widened and she smiled wide. “Got it?”

“I love this song!” Y/N exclaimed once the sound came back, some band Bobby hadn’t heard of playing for that particular news channel’s New Year Bash, the only channel they had managed to find after a solid 70 minutes of searching earlier that night. She jumped from her chair, putting her own drink, the slow beat and sweet melody not assisted by the terrible sound quality on the box, but good enough for her to offer a hand to Bobby.

“You know, if you’re not careful I’ll sweep you off your feet.” Bobby teased as one hand landed on her waist, the other taking her hand in his as her second held his shoulder.

They didn’t do much dancing, more swaying to the song as Y/N sang along with the lyrics, her head pressed to his chest, his senses overcome with the scent of her shampoo. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, their eyes closed, they stayed like that through that song and the next. Just holding one another, just being there, the way they wanted to be.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5…” The tv counted them down, Bobby moving a half inch back and letting go of Y/N’s hand to lift her chin. Their eyes met. “4, 3,2 ,1.”

Their lips colliding with the announcement of the New Year was soft, and desperate and sweet. Y/N’s lips were soft against Bobby’s, the heat of his body radiated and blocked out the chills of the cold LA night. His hands came to her cheeks, cupping them as the kiss heated up, the pair stumbling back and into the heavy doors. She kissed him back for a moment, allowing herself the chance to have fun, to feel something other than grief.

But it was short lived.

“Bobby-”

“I’ve been waiting years to do that… I even brought along mistletoe on Christmas. I chickened out, of course but-”

“Bobby.” Y/N said again, louder that time, stopping the man in front of her in his excited rambling. He looked in her eyes, his smile fading when he saw her frown.

“Why not?” He asked before she had a chance to refuse him: he had expected something like it happening as a worst case, of course he had… But this wasn’t meant to happen. “We’re good together, aren’t we? Hasn’t the last week proved that?”

“I’m saying no, Bobby. Can’t you just leave it at that?” Y/N found herself snapping at him, moving from his hold and towards the centre of the room again, downing her champagne glass in one go.

“What did I do wrong? Whatever it is I’ll fix it, Y/N.” Bobby’s words were sincere, a promise to amend anything she asked of him, but her face stayed deadpan as her hands switched from the glass to drinking straight from the bottle.

“Nothing.”

“Then why don’t we give this a shot?!” Bobby demanded, the short fuse on his temper gone. Y/N wasn’t shocked by it, in fact she was angry at herself just as much as Bobby was. “Because I don’t understand how we’ve gone by years and years of grieving and we can’t choose to be happy now! I don’t get why I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen and you won’t even give us a fucking trial run or something, Y/N!”

“Because of him!”

“Because of who?”

“Luke!”

Silence hung heavy in the air, nearly suffocating the pair as they faced off, Bobby stood by the doors and Y/N stood by the booze. The moment the name left her mouth, tears slipped over, running down her cheeks and ruining the makeup she had worked so hard on earlier that evening.

“Luke?” Bobby asked, his expression clearly one of astonishment as he processed the information. He walked over, until they stood at dancing distance again, and wiped away a tear from her cheek. “I didn’t know…”

“We were dating. Four months.” She confessed with a shaky breath, the relief lifting the dead weight from her shoulders. “We didn’t want to say anything: he and Alex had just finished; I didn’t want to ruin the friendships over something so little…” She paused, stepping back from Bobby. “I didn’t want to come here. I never wanted to come back home, because I knew he’d be here. They’re all here, just watching on, knowing how much I screwed up my life after they went… Bobby, I…”

“Y/N.”

“Don’t fucking pity me!” She snapped again, the raising of her voice causing Bobby to back up, to take a seat on the couch as she began to pace. “He just left. Everything with the Orpheum gig meant we didn’t say goodbye that morning, when you all headed out. It was so instantaneous, so easy… He was just gone. I loved him and he just left, and I’ve been trying to pick up the pieces since and every time I get close I drop the all again, and they scatter, and I have to start all over.” She explained through tears and quick steps, stopping only to gauge his reaction and frown. “Don’t look at me like that. God, I hate when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Bobby asked, defensive, having done his best to just listen to what she had to say.

“Like I’m 17 again and attending funerals every other day!” Y/N yelled. “Like you need to fix me!”

“What if I can though?” Bobby suggested, standing up from the couch. “What if we fix each other here? You didn’t go through that alone, Y/N.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be fixed, Bobby.” She stated decidedly, eyes cold as she fumbled for her cigarette case from her dress pocket.

“You’d rather mop over someone who died five years ago than be with me?” The words were ones of hurt, of disbelief, of anger and sadness and something else Y/N didn’t want to discover. Tears stung her eyes.

“I’m not saying that I-”

“He wasn’t some fucking saint!” Bobby yelled, cutting her off in an attempt to make her see sense. “Y/N! You’ve clearly got some image, some fantasy in your head about Patterson that differs from fucking reality!” He reminded her of their dead friend’s faults quite happily, and Y/N slammed down the champagne bottle.

“You’re one to fucking talk!” She countered. “It’s a shame that only I know you stole his entire fucking song catalogue!”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. It was true, after all. He had reasoned that letting the music go unheard was stupid, selfish even, when he had the means and talent to release it to the world. He had told himself it was good, what he was doing, and for a moment he pondered if it was a mistake.

“To think I gave up New Year’s in New York for this shit…” He muttered, watching Y/N light a cigarette with shaky hands. He ran his own through his hair, taking a heavy sigh as Y/N processed his words.

“Get out.”

“Gladly.”

“And don’t ever contact me again, Trevor.” She added, the smoke trailing from her lips as he marched out. Leaving her alone in her memories, without friends or hope for any sort of future.

Alone on New Year’s, with bad habits she couldn’t break and haunted memories of a life she might have had.

Tags (same as last time ish because i am lazy... oops.): @reggiesleatherjacket @parkeret @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @delicatelukepatterson @lukespatterson @kcd15 @siennanoelle01 @eries45 @lolychu @lazydaisy19 @reggieandthereggies @writerinlearning @mjflower @uhmitstori @walkingonshunshine @kristencoontz @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @ritz-hell-hotel @mishappend @dovegranger @dmcfarland1 @cherrymaybank @oswinsleaf @only-here-for-jatp @jatpfan99 @n0wornever @bookdealer5 @epikskool @thesweetestsinner @fangirlangioma @moviesbooksandfandoms @ohyoureaqueenbutuncrowned @saroo-hawks @charliessunset @bigdesi @avngrsinitiative @emotionalbruv @korydickson @uglypeachh @rogersangel @independentgirl @mon-charmante @writingforphantoms @musicconversedance @heimdoodle @-episkey- @obxmermaid @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @simp4madi @aliciameix @kinda-just-chillin-here @blueyed-one @ghostlyb1tch @leahstypewriter

what comes next? wait and see

#abby's twelve days of christmas #bobby wilson x reader #jatp bobby x reader #luke patterson x reader #jatp luke x reader #julie and the phantoms #jatp #jatp alex #jatp reggie #alex mercer #reggie peters #angst

152 notes · View notes

averagejoesolomon · 3 years

Text

Surprise! I thought this chapter was going to take me a full two weeks, but I really should have known better. These are my boys, and they come to me easy. Please enjoy the final chapter in 1982, and thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing this with me. It has been an absolute delight.

TW: Some blood

Chapter Fifteen

“Now, Mama, you know I’d be home in a heartbeat if I could.” He switches the phone from one ear to the other, cradling it against his shoulder as he scribbles aimless shapes along the back of a torn-open envelope. “I promise I’m not missing your pumpkin pie voluntarily.”

“The whole town misses you, Matthew.” She adds a twinge of guilt to her tone, but that trick doesn’t work on him like it used to. “Rich Wilson is already in a tizzy after you missed Thanksgiving this year. Had to put the lights up himself.”

“He couldn’t get Eddie to do it?”

“Eddie drove down to Omaha for the week—had to go see about a girl,” she says, and the immediacy of the town’s gossip only makes the distance seem even farther. “Imagine driving all that way for a girl.”

Matt’s flown to South America for Abby, and he’s met Rachel in Europe on more than one occasion, but now ain’t the time to say so. “Depends on the girl, I guess.”

His mama gives a little grunt. A steady, metallic scrape clutters up the line, and he imagines that she's whisking up butterscotch pudding on the other end. “You’re sure you can’t make it home?”

“I don’t know what else I can do.” He glances toward the window once more, just in case the scene has somehow changed in the past few minutes. The glass has frosted along every edge as a draft creeps in through the aged, wood frames. Fat, white snowflakes catch on the streetlights below while the inches pile up, up, up into the night. “All the flights are cancelled, and the mountain roads ain’t in any state for driving.”

“Don’t you even think about driving that distance,” she says, and there’s a halt to the background noise. He can practically see her taking the whisk from her bowl and waving it at him. “You’ll drive straight through the holiday altogether. God forbid you have to stop in Iowa or some nonsense for morning mass.”

When he talks to his mama, his laughs fall straight out of him without any help. “What’s so bad about Iowa?”

“Iowa’s fine,” she says, back to her cooking. “But not if it means you’re spending Christmas alone. I’d just as soon have you stay in DC with your friends—Pops and I will have to find something else to do with ourselves.”

He won’t be spending Christmas with his friends, either, but his mama doesn’t have a high enough clearance to hear why. “Ain’t the Fishers around?” he offers instead. “I’m sure they could use the company, what with Danny being deployed.”

“Nah, they drove out to Crawford to see Bill’s family this year.”

“Well, what about the soup kitchen?” he says. “They’re always looking for extra help.”

“They’re fully staffed this time of year.” He hears the clattering of her glassware, and he wishes that scents transferred over the phone. What he wouldn’t do to smell his mama’s sweet potato casserole. Her homemade biscuits and some fried squash straight from the fields. Honey ham that fills the house from bottom to top. “We’ll pitch back in once January rolls around.”

“I dunno, Mama,” he teases. “Sounds like you and Pops are just gonna have to have a nice, relaxing Christmas.”

“You bite your tongue,” she teases right back. “I’m sure we can find some project to get up to out in the barn.”

“I figured as much,” he says, and it’s nothing but the truth. Not even Christmas could keep his mama off her feet. “Well, hey, you two should come out this way when the weather clears up. They just finished up that Vietnam memorial—it’s really something. I’ll buy y’all dinner and take you on a tour around town. Make it up to you.”

“We’ll try our best,” she says. “But you know how Pops can be. So hard to get him away from the ranch, sometimes.”

It’s about the answer he expects, though it still carves a little deeper into him. He’s largely shaken the homesickness since he first left Nebraska, but the holidays draw it to the bitter surface until it oozes just below his skin. “Alright, well,” he says. “I’ll come your way soon. Promise.”

But his mama is no stranger to a little holiday loneliness. There have been plenty of years when the roles were reversed, and Matt was the only one home with her while his pops spent Christmas overseas. “Darn right,” she says, not a single tear shed. Then, with a warning to her voice, “And sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes ma’am—love you, Mama.”

“Love you, baby.”

It’s his third attempt to say goodbye, but this one finally sticks. When he hangs the phone in its cradle, the silence gives way to the hum of a rusted radiator and the muffled, evergreen music coming from the apartment above. Church bells sound out in the distance as the streets begin to slow against the storm. The freshly fallen snow brings a rare peace over the world and Christmas Eve settles evenly across the soul of the city.

The quiet doesn’t last long before it’s interrupted by the restless scratch of a key. The fervent click of a deadbolt. Icy air soaks into his blood, freezing him from the outside in. Spirits past, present, and future are hovering over his lonely evening and lately, Matt has been spending a whole lot of time with ghosts. He can’t help the thought that maybe one of them has come to visit.

But of course, no ghosts come. Of course, it’s only Joe.

At first glance, there ain’t much difference between the two. A biblical exhaustion lingers in Joe’s sunken eyes and hunched shoulders. He’s drudging through a dense and unbroken haze. Joe has always had a certain weight about him, but it has only pulled him further down over time, as though each step forward gets just a little heavier. He looks empty. He looks sick. He looks ghostly.

There ain’t nothing left to him, plain and simple. He’s withered, and worn, and his voice crackles with the cold, a cough building somewhere at the base of his lungs. “I thought you were in Nebraska.”

“Flight was canceled,” Matt says, and it doesn’t seem to land. His words go straight through Joe. Everything goes straight through him, as though he isn’t even there at all. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Greece?”

“Came home early.”

They’re lit only by the golden glow of their humble Christmas tree. It’s a small, neglected thing, and neither of them are home enough to water it. The needles are already turning brown, littering the makeshift skirt below. A single strand of bulbs sends starbursts of light across the room, cast along the walls, the ceilings, the drapes. One burst of light lands along Joe’s face as the two of them wait. Just wait. What for, Matt ain’t sure, but he’ll wait until Christmas morning if that’s what it takes.

With a blink, Joe finally comes to his senses. He shuffles across the carpet and shuts the door behind him, checking each lock once, then twice. Steady hands turn to subtle shakes as he finally comes in from the cold.

He walks with frozen joints, keys jingling as he sets them in the bowl. He strips himself of his jacket, and his scarf, and all of his warmth as the storm continues to build outside. A wind knocks down a heavy bunch of icicles as a Salvation Army bell rings out down the street, scoring Joe’s wordless journey from door to kitchen.

A familiar sense of panicked unease curls up in Matt’s stomach as Joe grows closer. It’s true that knowledge can be enlightening, and empowering, and strong, but it can also be horrifying and grim. The secrets hiding below the surface of American history are darker than night and colder than ice. Matt doesn’t know much about the Circle of Cavan, but he knows that they’ve killed. They’ve lied. They’ve manipulated on a massive scale. He knows that they’re damn smart spies, and he knows that Joe is one of them.

But it’s Christmas Eve, after all, so maybe Matt can play dumb for just one more night. “Did everything go okay?”

Joe flicks on the kitchen switch, casting the room in a sterile, white light. It cuts through the evening and highlights Joe’s sullen withdrawal. Shadows carve deeper into his face and Matt spots the hollow cheeks, the glassy eyes, the knotted twist of too-long hair. “Classified.”

“No, I know.” Matt wishes his pops were here. Or maybe his mama. They’d know what to do. They wouldn’t get so lost in their own helplessness. “Just ain’t often we get home early. You’re safe?”

Joe doesn’t meet Matt’s eyes. Instead, he busies himself, peeling open a cabinet. He digs through their cereals, and their oats, and whatever else they’ve bothered to throw inside. “M’fine.”

Matt’s spent enough time translating interrogation reports to know when his questions aren’t welcome, but he’s never seen Joe look this bad, and he’s seen Joe among some of his worst. “You’re not hurt?” he tries, but his voice is hard. “You look—”

“Ask less questions, Matt.”

Another chunk of icicles fall from the roof, shattering across the cement below. It leaves behind a sharp crack that splits through the center of Matt’s ribcage and tears him into two. More secrets. More lies. Joe’s hollow words do nothing to fill the space they steal. With each ingenuine moment, Matt feels himself shrink, growing thinner and thinner as his patience withers away.

Joe, for his part, doesn’t seem to notice.

Instead, he digs toward the back of the cabinet until he finally pulls out a brown paper bag, rolled over top of itself. It’s wholly nondescript, lacking any labels or logos, but it’s coffee. Matt knows it’s coffee, because Matt’s watched this scene play out a hundred times over. Joe has a system for every step, from grind to brew, and he’s leaning on it now. He’s looking for anything to lean on.

Joe peels open the bag and Matt can smell the caffeine from the other end of the kitchen. “S’little late for coffee,” he says, “don’t you think?”

Joe pulls the pot from the machine and swings toward the sink without a second thought. This is his habit. This is his home. This is all he can manage. “Nope.”

But his grip is too tight and he spills the water twice before he finally gets the stream to land in the right place. His usual military precision has been trampled by heavy blinks and distracted attempts at awareness. “C’mon, seriously Joe,” Matt says. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Fuck, Matt.” It comes out as a short, spiked shot, straight through the hole in Matt’s chest. “What is with the third-degree?”

But the words don’t have any bite, because there ain’t much left of Matt for him to bite into. “I ain’t givin’ you the third-degree,” he says, and he can feel his voice getting louder, but he doesn’t know how to stop it. “I just asked when you last slept—”

“That’s enough.”

Yet another chunk of icicles fall—except that it ain’t icicles. Not this time. The coffee pot makes a similar sound as it shatters against the edge of the sink, but it’s so much closer. So much more immediate. Shards of glass scatter across the tiny kitchen, catching in the cold, white light as they fall. Some clatter and echo toward the drain while others slide across the countertops, bounce off of the cabinets, or land atop the tile to create their own cacophony.

Water washes over it all, splashing over each surface and drip, drip, dripping from the counter’s edge to the fresh puddle below. Everything happens fast enough that, even with all of his training, Matt doesn’t notice the blood until Joe calls out.

“Dammit.” Joe holds his own hand out stiff, examining a deep red gash on the outer edge of his palm. “God, dammit.”

Matt’s across the room in the time it takes for Joe to fumble for a dish towel. Glass crackles underfoot and he reaches out for the wound. “Joe, let me—”

But Joe pulls away. “I don’t need your help.”

This, above all else, sends a flash straight up Matt’s spine. “You can’t mend your own damn hand.”

Joe wraps the towel once, then twice, around his palm. “Watch me.”

If the night so far has proven anything, it’s that Joe ain’t thinking straight. He’s too tired for logic. Too exhausted for reason. The cut is deep enough that it begins to bleed through the towel within moments of applying, and he’s only going to hurt himself more.

But when Matt reaches out, Joe pulls away once more. “I don’t need your help.”

The kitchen ends at Joe’s back, and the only way out is through Matt. After all of these months, he’s finally got Joe pinned down, and he’s not going to let him run again. When he reaches out for a third time, he grabs Joe’s wrist and doesn’t let go. “Quit being so goddamn stubborn.”

Joe doesn’t pull away this time. Rather, he shoves. It’s quick, and strong, and desperate, all in one. Before Matt can fight, he’s thrown into the refrigerator door, the wind tossed from his lungs as the fridge rattles and shakes at his back. Joe’s arm presses tight up against Matt’s shoulders, blood spotting through the towel on his bad hand. It doesn’t take long before Matt realizes he ain’t looking at a spy. He’s looking at an assassin.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Morgan.” It’s a threat. It’s a threat from someone who knows how to follow through on it. “I swear to god—I swear to god—”

“Go ahead,” Matt spits, his own breaths struggling against Joe’s grip. “What? What do you swear to God? Because you ain’t never needed His help before either. Never needed anyone’s help, because you’re Joe fucking Solomon, huh? I’m just trying to fix your damn hand.”

A prayer builds up in his head, but he’s afraid to say it. He’s afraid that if he says it, the angels will hear him, and heed him, and welcome him. He’s afraid that once the gates are open, his wrath could fill the heavens, and his shame would know no match. Joe’s secrets have brought him to the edge of a furious temptation, and suddenly his faith fails him in a way it never has before.

“You can’t just—fix everything.” Joe’s only a few inches from his face, but still, he screams. He screams like he has to. “You want to fix everyone, all of the time, but some people don’t deserve fixing.”

So Matt screams right back, because maybe he needs it, too. “What in the Hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re not even supposed to be here,” says Joe. “You’re supposed to be home, and I’m supposed to finally get some goddamn sleep.”

“What are you—?”

“How am I supposed to sleep, huh?” He shakes Matt further into the fridge, pressure building at his shoulders and across his lungs. “How am I supposed to sleep, knowing that all I’m gonna do is run from my nightmares?”

He grabs Matt by the collar now, then shoves once more.

“How am I supposed to sleep, knowing that I could wake up with a knife to your throat? Or to mine?”

Grab. Shove.

“How am I supposed to sleep knowing that I’m the worst of the worst—that I’m dangerous. That I’m—I’m bad. I am a bad, bad guy.”

Instantly, immediately, the angels relieve him of his anger. Joe ain't mad. He's terrified, and that's no good. Not when Matt can help it. “You’re not a bad guy.”

“I am—”

“No, Joe. You ain’t.”

“I’m a killer.” It’s a confession, wrapped up in wrath. It’s a prayer, all his own. “Is that what you want to hear? Is that why you followed me to Georgetown? Why you snuck into my safety deposit box?”

Matt’s jaw tenses up. His heart freezes. He swallows down the inherent vulnerability that comes with being seen as he realizes, not for the first time, that Joe Solomon is an even better spy than he originally thought. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t.” The word is dangerous. Everything about Joe is dangerous. “Don’t lie. You’re shit at it anyway.”

It occurs to him that for all of Joe’s secrets, maybe Matt tried to keep a few of his own, too. Maybe Matt's got no right to be angry at Joe, when he was doing the very same thing. “I’m sorry.”

Joe doesn’t know what to do with the apology, so he only buries his hands deeper into the grip, knuckles turning whiter and whiter. Blood spilling richer and richer. “I was recruited into the Circle of Cavan as a kid, and they gave me the world. They gave me everything. They gave me safehouses, and training, and a steady source of food for the first time in my life—what was I supposed to do?”

Matt listens. All Matt can do is listen. “Joe.”

Joe doesn’t know what to do with that either, so he just keeps going. It falls out of him. All of it. Everything. It’s a secret he’s kept even from himself, finally finding a way to his lips. “I was finally a part of something. I’ve never been a part of something. They were happy to have me and I was happy to have them and there’s nothing—nothing—that I haven’t done for them since.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“Joe.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“And now you—” He searches for the words, eyes bouncing back and forth across Matt’s face, but they don’t seem to strike him. Instead, he just lands on the same ones again. “And now, you.”

Weakness wraps around Joe’s hands, and they fall from Matt’s chest. Joe’s eyes catch on the red in the towel as though seeing it for the first time, and his face grows pale. The shadows eat at him. The shadows devour him.

Joe falls before Matt, begging for judgment. Pleading for wrath. Praying that someone ends it all for him, so he doesn’t have to do it himself. “What are we supposed to do?” he says, but his voice cracks at the end. The exhaustion crawls back into his head, his shoulders, his slouch. The tears start before he can stop them and it’s wrong. Everything is wrong. Joe Solomon does not cry. “Oh, God. What are we going to do?”

The weight of it hits Matt for the very first time. Up until now, it’s been theory, and research, and speculation. But as he watches Joe bleed across the floor, strands of red twisting in the glassy puddle below, the gravity of the situation pulls him down too. He slides with his back against the fridge until the water soaks into his jeans. “We fix it.” He wraps his arms around Joe’s sobs, and he falls easily into Matthew Morgan’s ready embrace, as though he’s been waiting for it to come. “We fix this. We fix everything.”

Matt does his best to hold his friend steady, arm wrapped around his waist, hand steady on the back of his neck, but Joe shakes with his own sadness. Fear falls with every tear and Matt can’t help a few tears of his own. Joe’s pain soaks into Matt’s skin, years of solitude finally at their breaking point, shared with someone for the very first time.

Before long, Joe’s sobs sink beneath the snowfallen silence and he falls asleep with his head in Matt’s lap. With one hand holding pressure on the cut and another running through Joe’s unkempt hair, Matt finally says a small prayer for his friend, because he just knows he’s going to need help with this one.

From the shattered floor of the kitchen, Matt waits sleeplessly for Christmas morning to come. He waits for Santa and his sleigh. He waits for a Christmas miracle. And he waits for Joe, just as Joe waits endlessly for him. The bells for midnight mass chime early, but Matt will have to worship from afar. For now, he’ll just let Joe sleep.

When the morning does finally come, they will begin to set everything right. Together.

#Full Circle #I do not know when 1984 will be coming out #but I'll be writing a book in the next few months #so give me some time!#we will also do a live for 1978-1982 so keep your eyes peeled for that

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