#Rosie Sturgis | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carewyncromwell · 2 years

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“It's a beautiful lie: It's a perfect denial -- Such a beautiful lie to believe in... So beautiful, beautiful, it makes me -- Oh! Everyone's looking at me -- I'm running around in circles -- A quiet desperation's building higher: I've got to remember this is just a game... So beautiful, beautiful...”

~“A Beautiful Lie” by 30 Seconds to Mars

x~x~x~x

Mia had always had faith in the Ministry of Magic. She really hadn’t ever been the sort to actively act out against authority, even back at school, and she generally believed that most of those who’d reached a position of authority in the Wizarding World wanted to do sincere good for their constituents. But as 1995 wore on, even Mia had to admit that Florean had had a point, that the information put out by the Daily Prophet (and by extension the Ministry of Magic) didn’t always make sense.

For one, there was Florean’s first-hand testimony regarding Harry Potter’s character. If he was truly as modest and unassuming as he’d seemed when Florean had meant him, then why was he suddenly so seemingly obsessed with getting attention? Even the quotes credited to him by Rita Skeeter in the old articles Mia had managed to scrounge up from her coverage of the Triwizard Tournament -- in retrospect -- seemed oddly theatrical. Mia had certainly never encountered a teenage boy who would admit to crying about his dead parents at night, let alone to a complete stranger.

If Olin or Skylar ever rambled about crying themselves to sleep every night, I’d be convinced they’d taken a Babbling Beverage, Mia thought to herself, thinking of her sister Tia’s two young sons. After getting chucked in the head with a miscast Confundus Charm.

Then there was the arrest of Stugis Podmore. Mia hadn’t known the man very well at all, but according to Tia’s husband, Dirk Cresswell, he was a rather stoic, but dutiful man who’d never once been in any trouble with Law Enforcement before. Tia herself had remarked on how when she’d once had Sturgis over for tea, the man had caught Skylar in the act of trying to serve him tea in a nose-biting teacup, but merely patted the boy on the head and told him to stay out of trouble. Even Florean had had nothing but nice things to say about Sturgis -- his grandfather was apparently on very good terms with the Podmores, given their respected position in multiple departments of the Ministry. By all accounts, a man like that would have no reason at all to try to break into the Department of Mysteries -- and yet for some reason, he apparently had. Was it because he’d been framed? Or...

Then there was the troubling letters Mia received from Olin. The older of her two nephews had just started his fourth year at Hogwarts (Skylar was set to start in the fall of ‘96), but the teenager still dutifully wrote to both his mother and his favorite aunt, so as to keep them in the loop of the goings-on at school. His letters to his mother were often idealized and rosy -- with his witty, firebrand aunt, he felt more comfortable venting his frustrations. In the past the Ravenclaw boy had frequently complained to Mia about his previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professors (except for Professor Lupin -- Olin had loved him), but the stories he sent along about Cornelius Fudge’s hand-picked candidate, Dolores Umbridge, made Mia cringe.

I had my first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Umbridge today. I hate to pass judgment on someone so quickly, but...I really don’t like her. At all. I’m hoping we get to do more in our next class.

Tuesday marked yet another awful class with her Royal Toadliness, Professor Umbridge. I swear, I can’t help but feel like she’s here to watch us, more than teach us.

As for Defense Against the Dark Arts -- it’s just painful, Aunt Mia. Every class period, we do nothing but read from our textbooks, while Professor Umbridge sits behind her desk the whole time, just staring at us. Normally I wouldn’t mind reading, of course, but these textbooks are so dull! There’s so much prattling-on about how to be a ‘fine, upstanding wizard’ and ‘promote proper magical safety’ and such, and absolutely nothing practical whatsoever! No charts, no diagrams of spell movements, nothing actually useful -- just Wilbert Slinkhard talking down and lecturing us through the page like we’re a bunch of misbehaving kids! I’ve never been so frightfully bored in all my life!

In other news, Professor Umbridge has now been named Hogwarts’s new “High Inquisitor,” which is basically a professor whose only job is to pick apart every other professor at school. The idea that a teacher as dreadful as Umbridge is taking pot shots at the likes of Professor Flitwick is just insulting.

In regard to what Mum and Dad have heard about Umbridge -- that’s utter rubbish! I don’t know who this Percy Weasley bloke has been talking to, but Umbridge is hardly an ‘unqualified success!’ Just about everybody dreads going to her class -- the only ones who don’t are probably the fifth year Slytherins, since they get to watch her smack Potter around. I even saw him leaving detention with her the other night, holding his right hand, which looked like it was bleeding! I really hope it was nothing she did...but I hate the fact that I even have to wonder that!

P.S. This morning Filch stopped me, saying that he'd gotten a tip that I was trying to order some contraband goods from Zonko’s, and confiscated this letter, so as to bring it to Umbridge to look over. Fortunately Professor Flitwick stepped in when I chased after him, demanding he give me my letter back, and I was able to send this in peace.

I am beside myself! In Defense Against the Dark Arts today, Umbridge remarked that we haven’t any competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, aside from her. When I rose my hand and immediately brought up Professor Lupin, she shut me down, calling him a ‘dangerous half-breed’ and saying that no one of ‘that sort’ is safe around children! Ginny Weasley snapped that she would take Professor Lupin’s ‘sort’ of teaching over hers and ended up getting detention for it, but I quite agreed with her. I don’t care that Professor Lupin was a werewolf -- he was a wonderful teacher, and the fact that him being a werewolf is all Umbridge cares about...UGH! It’s disgusting!

Umbridge is being rotten, as per usual. With this new Decree she’s put up, she’s banned all Hogwarts clubs, teams, and organizations unless they get her explicit approval! Sure, the Dragon Club’s been able to reopen again, no problem, but I heard that she almost didn’t let the Gryffindor Quidditch team reform until Professor McGonagall put her foot down. I mean, sure, it’s not my house team, but if Gryffindor wasn’t allowed to play, that would completely ruin the Quidditch Cup for everyone! And it was clearly all just because Umbridge doesn’t like Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker.

Honestly, all I’m hoping is that Father Christmas leaves a bucketful of coal in Umbridge’s stocking this year. And a letter firing her once and for all.

What worried Mia more than anything else, though, happened right after the New Year.

The mass Azkaban breakout in January 1996 was the worst in the wizard prison’s history, up until that point. Not only did it result in ten prisoners escaping, but these prisoners were all ex-Death Eaters who’d been placed in some of the highest security cells in Azkaban: Augustus Rookwood -- Antonin Dolohov -- even Rabastian, Rodolphus, and Bellatrix Lestrange. Cornelius Fudge had told the Prophet that the Ministry suspected Sirius Black’s involvement, which Mia had to grant could be true...but she remembered that Barty Crouch Jr. -- who had originally been arrested and imprisoned for what happened to the Longbottoms, along with the Lestranges -- had been captured and his soul sucked out by a dementor, right after the Triwizard Tournament. At the time, it was supposed that he’d gone mad, acting like he was working for his old master even after he was long dead. But now...thinking of that and Sirius Black’s own unexplained escape from Azkaban, alongside these news stories of dangerous Death Eaters suddenly walking free...Mia couldn’t help but wonder if Florean had been right, to compare Fudge’s behavior to those of Ministers Fawley and Jenkins.

“I hate to question the Minister,” Mia told her sister Tia over tea one January afternoon, “especially when I’m sure he’s doing his best...but it just seems...well, suspicious. I can’t be the only one who sees it.”

Tia put down her teacup in her lap, her green eyes (very similar to her sisters) drawn down to the gray liquid within as she considered this.

“It is troubling,” she said quietly.

Her sweet, level voice was much more measured and methodical than Mia’s -- as if she weighed each word very carefully.

“...Dirk has said that people are starting to whisper at work. Apparently there have been multiple cases of people receiving letters or packages through Owl Post that have already been crudely opened by persons unknown. Some cases have been traced back to open investigations by the Auror Department, but others...well, no warrant has been linked to them. Some think it could be the Department of Mysteries at work, but others worry it’s someone within the Ministry who doesn’t want to be identified, for whatever reason. Some of those letters have even come from Hogwarts that way.”

“Olin said something about Umbridge telling Filch to bring him a letter he’d written,” Mia recalled.

Tia was startled. “What?”

“Apparently Umbridge had heard a rumor that he was ordering some kind of contraband and had asked to look over Olin’s letter to me. Fortunately Professor Flitwick stepped in before either Filch or Umbridge could read it or Olin could get in any trouble.”

Tia smiled softly, clearly relieved. “Thank the stars for Filius -- he always was so good at bringing the temperature down...”

Her demure, lady-like face then gained a much more solemn expression. “...Oh, but that couldn’t be true, could it? If any of those opened letters were read by Dolores Umbridge -- think of what a violation of trust that would be. Among our government officials -- our student’s teachers...”

Mia’s lips knit together tightly. “...I know. Surely the Ministry could claim they have good cause, to enact such awful measures -- normally I’d be tempted to think so...but what cause could there be, if our World is not in active danger? If everything is fine, as the Minister claims?”

“Could it be because of the break-out that they’re so alarmed?” Tia pondered. “Everyone’s been so shaken by that -- I’m sure the Minister must be too...”

“But that stuff had to be going on before Tuesday, for Dirk’s coworkers to be so concerned,” said Mia.

She put her own cup of hot water and lemon (her usual substitute for tea) down on her sister’s parlor table, her posture visibly restless.

“Tia,” Mia said slowly, “a few months ago, Florean expressed some concerns that the Prophet might be...well, not telling the whole story.”

Tia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean? You mean, on purpose?”

“No. At least Florean didn’t think so...”

Mia told her everything Florean had said about Harry Potter and how it didn’t match up with the Prophet’s depiction of him, as well as how Olin’s accounts about Dolores Umbridge didn’t gel with the Prophet’s view either.

“It just doesn’t add up,” said Mia. “Harry Potter can’t simultaneously be quiet, modest, grateful, and kind and obnoxious, arrogant, deceptive, and attention-seeking. Dolores Umbridge can’t be ‘revolutionizing education’ while doing nothing but sitting in her classroom watching her students read and refusing to teach them any actual spellwork at the same time.”

She crossed her arms.

“Florean didn’t think the Daily Prophet was getting things wrong on purpose, but I’m...I’m not so sure. It almost feels like the Prophet isn’t writing what’s true -- but rather writing good or bad about people solely based on who agrees with Fudge and who doesn’t.”

Her pink lips twisted into a troubled frown, Tia put down her own cup of tea and reached out to take hold of her sister’s arm.

“Do you really think it’s as bad as that, Mia?” she asked softly.

Mia looked down. “I don’t want to think so, but...”

Her eyes welled up with anxiety as she looked back up at Tia.

“Tia, if it is true, then how do we believe anything they write? How do we believe the Ministry has things under control, or that Hogwarts is in good hands? How do we know...?”

How do we know You-Know-Who isn’t really back...?

She choked on the end of the question, unable to finish.

Tia squeezed her sister’s arm gently.

“Maybe we should talk to Callie about this,” she suggested. “She works for the WWN -- maybe she’ll have heard something...”

“All of Callie’s ‘interviews’ are utter fluff -- what good could come of that?” Mia muttered.

“Not all of them,” Tia pointed out. “Remember, she had Jacob Cromwell on about the Chamber of Secrets, several years back...”

Mia scowled. Jacob Cromwell’s name was like an irritable fly, continuously getting in her face.

Tia offered her younger sister a softer smile.

“Mia...I know you and Callie don’t always get on, and I know you’re still mad about her giving Jacob Cromwell a second chance...but family comes first. I know you believe this as much as anyone.”

She gave her arm another light squeeze.

“We have to find out the truth from somewhere,” Tia said earnestly. “Maybe Callie will have heard something through the grapevine of where to get actual information, about these goings-on. If something is happening, behind the scenes...” her eyes darkened with anxiety, “...then Dirk and I have to make preparations -- to protect the boys.”

“We’d all have to make preparations,” Mia agreed.

Dad wouldn’t be in any fit state to fight off anyone who might be a threat. If these Death Eaters on the loose are running wild...

Mia exhaled softly through her nose.

“Okay, I’ll ask her.”

Hopefully she’ll refrain from gushing even more about Jacob Cromwell within my earshot.

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atc74 · 6 years

Text

Honey Butter

Written for @kathaswings 1K Celebration; my prompt is “For a clever guy you can pretty stupid.” This will be in bold italics below.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~3100

Warnings: Language, nudity, mentions of hunting injuries (not graphic), Sam being completely cute and clueless, excess showering, brazen flirting

Beta: @just-another-busy-fangirl Thank you so much Laura for helping me tweak this to make it better postable. Hope y’all like it. Feedback is appreciated.

Bold indicates text between Reader and Sam.

The sounds of the forest were drowned out as the blood rushed through her veins, thumping in her ears. The harsh, ragged breaths burned her lungs as they struggled to expand and let in new oxygen. The ground below her pounding feet flew by as Y/N pressed on.

She gasped for breath, looking around frantically and there was nothing but an expanse of forest in any direction. I’m fucking screwed, was the only thought as she changed direction, trying to throw the newly turned wolf off her scent, leaving blood in one spot, only to change direction once more. Y/N repeated the process until she had left enough blood and false trails to confuse an entire nest of vampires. Come to think of it, she thought, vamps would be a welcome change to this fresh Hell.

Y/N paused only momentarily to ease the cramp in her side and tighten the belt around her wounded arm in an attempt to stem the bleeding. She knew she needed to get out of there, but wasn’t sure which direction was which anymore. Pulling her phone out, she was shocked to find a faint signal.

Y/N thumbed out a quick message to the best hunters she knew and prayed for the best.

Need assistance with new wolf. BHNF between Sturgis and Deadwood. I think. Wounded but alive. Y/N/N

She waited a few moments after she hit send, not wanting to risk losing the signal, but the howl that echoed off the surrounding forest forced Y/N to stow the phone and head in what she hoped was the correct direction of her car.

Sam flipped on the table lamp and stared at the flashing green light. He unlocked the phone and blinked away the sleep. He knew from experience that a text or call at two in the morning was never a good thing. His thumb swiftly opened your text and his eyes widened at the words and his heart thumped wildly in his chest. He blindly typed his reply:

Just finished salt n burn in Custer. On our way. Be safe. Sam

“Dean,” Sam’s voice broke the quiet of their motel room and he flipped on the lights, causing Dean to grumble.

“Dean, I just got a text from Y/N. She is about an hour north and in trouble. We have to go.” Sam explained, his voice frantic as he threw his belongings into his duffle.

“Got it. I’ll be ready in ten,” Dean threw back the covers and moved quickly.

Within fifteen minutes, they were packed, fueled up and filling their stomachs with old gas station coffee and stale donuts. Dean gunned it north on 385.

“Dean, watch the road; we don’t want to hit a buffalo,” Sam advised.

“Buffalo? Like ‘Tatanka’ buffalo?” Dean’s faced scrunched up in disgust when he realized what kind of damage an animal the size of a buffalo could do to his Baby and flipped on the high beams.

“Dude, you just quoted ‘Dances With Wolves’,” Sam shook his head in disbelief at his brother.

“What? It was a historical movie and it had horses, just like a good western!” Dean protested.

“Anyway,” Sam’s exaggerated pft bounced off the dash. “I was able to track her phone from where she texted me. She is only about a mile west of Deadwood. She said it was a new wolf. So something in Deadwood or nearby is playing with their food.”

“Deadwood? Like Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane Deadwood?” Dean perked up.

“Pull up, Dude! Our friend is in trouble and I need you to focus,” Sam lectured.

“Right, sorry. New wolf, Y/N, Deadwood. You said about a mile west. So we’ll start there,” Dean recounted the info Sam had given him and pressed harder on the gas.

“She said she’s wounded, Dean. What if we don’t get there in time? What i-” Sam babbled.

“Sammy, you can’t think like that. She is one of the smartest hunters we know, smarter than me for sure. She’ll be just fine. We will find her, take out the wolf and you can nurse her back to health. It’s about time we invite her to the Bunker anyway,” Dean insinuated, looking sideways at his brother.

“Dean, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam denied.

“Sam, she is even smarter than you,” Dean laughed.

“You’re going to have to go straight into Deadwood, then head west on 14, there is a Kamground of America about a mile outside of town that is close to where she was last,” Sam directed.

~*~

Dean pulled into the back of the lot at Deadwood KOA and they grabbed their gear, ensuring their guns were loaded with silver bullets. Sam checked his GPS one more time before they headed into the wilderness surrounding the campground.

“The KOA is only about two thousand feet from her last known location,” Sam estimated as they hiked through the darkness on foot. Ninety minutes had passed since her first text and he hadn’t heard from her since. He internalized his fears for her and trekked on with his brother.

“Sam!” Dean called out. “Look, blood.”

“It’s still fresh, Dean. Come on, we need to find her,” Sam demanded as he started scanning the ground and trees for any other signs of her. He and Dean searched the area, finding more blood and that was when Sam finally figured it out.

“She backtracked to hide her trail, leaving her scent everywhere,” Sam marveled at her genius. He closed his eyes and took slow, deliberate breaths, letting his mind empty of all thoughts but what he would do next if he was in her boots. He turned around, opened his eyes and looked again; maybe there was something he was missing.

They were enclosed with trees on every side of them, no trail in sight. Sam surveyed the trees that had the most blood on them, but one had more than others. He shined his light up the bark toward first few branches, taking note that several were broken or cracked. His heart pounded with hope as he shone the light farther up the branches and there she was. Her body was prone over one of the larger branches.

“Dean! I got her!” Sam’s voice quaked and Dean ran to him. There was a small spattering of blood at the base of the tree. She was injured and they needed to get her down.

The nearest intact branch was about ten feet above ground, but Sam couldn’t reach it. Dean braced himself and Sam stepped into his brother’s handhold. With a push of force, Dean was able to boost Sam high enough so he could grab the branch and pull himself up.

Sam climbed the next few branches until he reached Y/N. He shook his head at her genius; she had strapped herself to the tree branch using her belt. Sam quickly checked her for injuries, but before he could wake her, his attention was drawn below him as the wolf had found them and thrown Dean against the tree, knocking him out cold. “Shit.”

Sam carefully drew his weapon, bracing himself on the branches above and below, taking aim. “Hey, Spot!” That got the newborn’s attention and Sam fired once, hitting the beast in the face, dropping it to the ground next to his brother. Sam unloaded two more rounds to the heart.

“Sam?” Y/N was groggy and Sam’s face blurred in her vision. “Am I dead?”

“Not today, Y/N/N. Not on my watch. Let’s get you down from here, okay? You think you can help me help you?” Sam questioned as she sat up.

“Um, yeah, I think so. Just, go slow, okay?” she cautioned.

“No worries there. I was counting on Dean to help me get you down, but he’s out cold, so slow and easy it is,” Sam agreed.

Sam asked questions about the case as they made their way down. “Was it just the one werewolf, Y/N?”

“There were two, and I got the first one. I didn’t know about the second, but it was new, the sire must have turned it just this cycle,” she theorized as she sat on the bottom branch. Sam was on the ground and checked on Dean. “I think they were targeting the bike rally in Sturgis.”

“Okay, Y/N, I am going to need you to jump, but you have my word; I will catch you,” Sam promised.

“You better, Winchester,” she groaned and let herself slide off the last branch, landing neatly in Sam’s arms, her own tight around his neck.

“You caught me,” she looked up at him, her eyes hazy, then passed out. Sam laid her on the ground next to Dean as he dug a grave to bury the body. Dean woke up first and they decided to get going.

Dean was well enough to walk on his own as Sam carried Y/N back to the Impala. Even with the bike rally in full swing in nearby Sturgis, the trio was able to find a vacancy at the Gold Dust Casino and Hotel, although they paid three times what the room was worth.

Dean grabbed the first shower, giving Sam time to clean and stitch up Y/N’s arm. The cuts weren’t all that deep, but ran the entire length of the inside of her forearm and she was passed out again by the time he finished. Sam cleaned the wound once more for good measure, then bandaged it up. He retrieved a clean wash rag from the bathroom and a pitcher of warm water and set to cleaning the dirt, grime and blood from her face.

He paused as each swipe of the cloth revealed her natural beauty to him. Her long black lashes cast shadows over her cheeks where her color was returning, a rosy pink in her skin. Y/N’s lips were slightly chapped, but he still pondered what they would feel like against his. He imagined they were soft and sweet, like the honey butter he preferred on his pancakes. He ran his thumb against her bottom lip, when she sighed, her lips parting slightly, then gasped as she bolted upright.

Sam jumped back from her, “Welcome back, Y/N/N. You gotta quit doing that.”

“Doing what?” she puzzled.

“Passing out on me. That’s twice now. But uh, um, you’re good to go; all patched up,” Sam stammered, as he bumbled the supplies.

“Thank you, Sam,” she laid her good arm on his shoulder, making him tense up and swallow hard. “For, well, for everything.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, watching as a blush crept up his neck and spread over his face.

“You’d do the same for us, Y/N,” he replied.

Dean sauntered back in the room with a few pastries and three cups of coffee. “Hey, you’re up! So, I was thinking, you should probably come back to the Bunker with us. We’ve got plenty of room and you gotta give that arm some time to heal up. Isn’t that right, Sammy?”

“Yeah, don’t want to rip open those stitches. And sure, we got room,” Sam added with a shrug, staring at his brother, silently telling him to fuck off. Dean just grinned like a fool because he got Sam’s message loud and clear.

“That would be great, thank you both. I, uh, just need to get my car. It is parked off 14 about three miles west of here,” Y/N stated.

“No problemo. We can drive there, then Sammy here can drive it back for ya; rest that arm,” Dean shoved a pastry in his mouth and continued to smile.

Sam spent the entire drive back to the Bunker sparing sideways glances at Y/N when she wasn’t looking. He had been such an idiot. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get too close. He needed to keep his cool. Between him and Dean, Sam was the level headed one; he always thought things through before acting on them and there he was, ready to lean in and kiss her. God this is going to be a long week filled with cold showers.

~*~

“Sam!” Y/N’s voice echoed through the Bunker and Sam took off at a sprint toward the kitchen, gun drawn.

“Y/N?!” Sam shouted for her.

“Hey, there you are! Can you get me that olive oil off the top shelf, please?” she asked so sweetly, but what caught Sam’s attention was the state of her clothing, or lack thereof. She was wearing short shorts, that barely covered her rear and a tank top so tight, it left little to the imagination, but that didn’t stop Sam from using his…

“Uh, um, yeah. Here ya go,” Sam easily reached the oil and passed it down to her, getting a good look at her displayed cleavage. Sam, stumbled over his own feet in a rush to get out of there. He decided multiple showers per day were perfectly acceptable.

~*~

Y/N walked into the library one afternoon, finding Sam alone at his laptop, no doubt looking for another case. “Hey, Sam?”

‘Hmmm?” Sam looked up briefly from his screen.

“I wanted to cook for you guys tonight, but Dean is doing an oil change on my car. Would you mind driving me to the market so I can get some fresh vegetables? I know you prefer them over the processed, grease filled dinners Dean normally makes,” she remarked.

“You’re right about that. Just give me a few and we will head out, okay?” Sam agreed.

Y/N stepped closer to Sam, placing her hand next to his on the table. Her breasts brushed his arm as she leaned into him a little. “So, you find us a case?”

“Uh, no, um, just doing some research for another hunter. You’re not ready to go out yet and, I, uh, we, wanted to wait until you were fully healed,” Sam’s breath faltered as his words tumbled nervously from his mouth. His eyes remained locked on the screen, not daring to meet her gaze. Her hot breath fanned across his cheek and the open collar of his flannel, littering his skin with goosebumps.

“I need to take a shower before we leave,” Sam pushed back from the table abruptly, almost racing to the bathroom. Y/N took his vacated seat, propping her feet up on the table, a satisfied smile on her face.

~*~

“Sam, do you prefer asparagus or brussel sprouts? I have an amazing balsamic that would pair nicely with either,” Y/N inquired sweetly as she looked up at the tall hunter, her eyes shining bright in the sunshine of the open air market.

“Oh, um, asparagus, I guess,” Sam couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way the sun lit up her hair, setting the strands ablaze as they danced on the breeze. She brushed them from her face and loosely tucked them behind her ear, tugging one corner of her lower lip with her teeth.

“I agree, we have everything I think I’ll need,” she looked over their purchases, paid for the asparagus and handed it to Sam, her fingertips lightly brushing his as she removed her hand.

~*~

“Sam!” Y/N called for him from the library late one evening.

“Yeah, Y/N/N?” Sam asked as he rounded the corner from the kitchen hall. She was standing on her tip toes, legs bare and wearing nothing but one his red flannels. His breath was punched out of his lungs at the sight of her and his pants were suddenly too tight in a certain spot.

“Can you reach that book for me, please? I wanted to read it before bed tonight and I just can’t get my hands around it,” she giggled, the soft sounds floating through the library and straight to his groin.

“Um, sure, no problem,” Sam tripped over his words for the second time that day with her. He reached up and easily snatched the book she wanted, handing it over swiftly, almost dropping it. “I am going to hit the showers and turn in. Good night, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Sam. Good night,” she replied, a silvery lilt to her voice as watched him rush from the room.

~*~

“Sam!” Y/N called through the empty hallway.

“Y/N?” Sam rounded the corner to the shower room and stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. Y/N was standing in the middle of the room, hair dripping onto her ample chest, wrapped in a towel, that didn’t cover as much as it should.

“Sam, I need your help?” she murmured. “I need to put a new bandage on and I am just all thumbs with my left hand.” She coyly pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked up at him through her lashes. “I wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

“Uh, sure. Right, let me just get those bandages,” Sam turned on his heel but she placed her hand on his arm to stop him.

“I have them here,” she turned her back to Sam, bending down to grab them from the bench when her towel fell away completely, leaving her fully exposed to Sam when she turned to face him. “Here.”

Sam’s brain told him to look away, but the way his cock was twitching in his jeans, he was torn on his current moral course of action. He turned around instead. “Your, um, towel, Y/N.”

“Sam, you know for a clever boy, you can be pretty stupid,” she laughed, her lilt echoing off the tiled walls.

“Um, what are you talking about?” Sam babbled.

“Sam, I have been hitting on you constantly since I got here. And don’t try to tell me you’re not interested; no one takes that many showers!” she teased.

Sam turned around, allowing himself to admire her in her natural state. “So you think I’m clever?”

Y/N took a step closer to him, but he was just out of her reach. “I also said you can be pretty stupid.”

Sam closed the gap, pulling her naked form to his body and crashing his lips to hers. He pressed his tongue against them, prodding for entrance which she granted, their lips slotting together as their tongues fought for dominance. Sam pulled back first, his breaths ragged.

“I was right,” Sam whispered.

“Right about what, Sam?” Y/N asked.

“Your lips do taste like honey butter,” Sam ducked his head down for another taste.

Taglist - do the thing if you like: @iwantthedean @chelsea072498 @paintrider13-blog @d-s-winchester @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @just-another-busy-fangirl @winchesterprincessbride @waywardjoy @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @mamaredd123 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @sis-tafics @katymacsupernatural @tankcupcakes @wonderange @meeshw777 @tmccarney @ruprecht0420 @theoriginalvicki @hexparker @nanie5 @docharleythegeekqueen @megansescape @notnaturalanahi @impalaimagining @mrswhozeewhatsis @blacktithe7 @emoryhemsworth @dracotomanddeansprincess23 @bringmesomepie56 @devilgirlsarah @spnbaby-67 @emilycollins11 @myoutletforfanfiction @deansangelgirl @mizzzpink @jerk-bitch-and-an-angel @kayteonline @rockhoochie @percussiongirl2017 @fanfreak07 @tattooedmomster13 @sandlee44 @moonstar86 @uttertrash–butlikecutetrash @squirrel-moose-winchester @growningupgeek @charliebradbury1104 @evansrogerskitten @feelmyroarrrr @itseverythingilike @smoothdogsgirl @evyiione @ashstrom87 @supernatural-jackles @ryantherandomhero @love-kittykat21 @kathaswings @crispychrissy

Sam/Jared: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels

#lina's chiliad #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester flangst #sam x reader fluff #sam x reader flangst

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petrificushq · 4 years

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𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕠𝕘𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, sturgis podmore & greta catchlove! make sure you’ve unpacked your trunk within the next 24 hours or peeves will empty it in the halls. chance perdomo & sydney sweeney are now taken. please complete our checklist here.

( cis female | she/her | sydney sweeney ) —— isn’t that GRETA CATCHLOVE? yeah that is them, sitting there at the HUFFLEPUFF table with those other FIFTH years. when sybill looks into that crystal ball of hers, she sees golden curls, rosy cheeks, slices of pie with hot chocolate, sunflowers, oversize sweaters, loud laughter. anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty HONEST, FRIENDLY, and LOYAL. apparently they’re a ALIGNED WITH FOR THE LIGHT and PUREBLOOD but i’m sure that’s not related. —— [ quinua : GMT-5 : 21 : she/her ]

( cis male | he/him | chance perdomo ) —— isn’t that STURGIS PODMORE? yeah that is them, sitting there at the GRYFFINDOR table with those other SIXTH years. when sybill looks into that crystal ball of hers, she sees beautiful smile, pack of cigarettes, dark coffee, autumn leaves, golden hearts, wristwatch. anyway i’ve heard they’re pretty FUNNY, CLEVER, and BRAVE. apparently they’re FOR THE LIGHT and HALFBLOOD but i’m sure that’s not related. —— [ quinua : GMT-5 : 21 : she/her ]

#petrificus.accepted #open rp #appless rp #marauders era rp #marauders rp

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thenonconformistcurmudgeon · 4 years

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The Monsters are Due on Maple Street

Dateline, North America, 2027: The break-up of the former United States is near completion. The last refugees are streaming across the borders to their newfound homeland, not always welcomed. Hostility has been rampant for the last seven years as the disintegration of societal mores was rapid and rampant. Maine through Maryland is a new nation, as is the former states of California, Oregon, Washington, Nevada and Colorado. Minnesota decided to join Canada. The rest of the nation stayed together with Fearless Leader. These homelands were now divided by politics and race and millions and millions were forced to move so as not to be killed.

In 2020, Fearless Leader declared Marshall Law, disbanded the supreme court and congress, and halted elections. He traveled to his preferred states with gifts of toilet paper and sanitizer rallying his followers and promising a rosy future and blaming his enemies for the virus, the poor response to the virus, failing markets, and the thorough dissolution of everyday life.

The disloyal print and video media were disbanded and sent to educational facilities. They were subjected to listening to loud speeches of Kimberly Guilfoyle around the clock. Media members were told that they could be released if they passed quizzes about the speeches but since no one could understand what she was saying, not one was allowed to exit.

The fair and balanced media were allowed to continue on air providing hourly updates about fearless leader’s new pardons, his daily oratory and his greatness. He knew it would get high TV ratings so he pardoned Ghislaine Maxwell and wished her well. The remaining TV programming were old Westerns and re-enactments of what made America great. Pioneers in covered wagons, Buffalo Bill taming the wild west and frequent sing-a-longs of Davy Crockett, King of the wild frontier.

The troops were called back from NATO countries and stationed at the southern border, shooting hordes of Mexicans trying to leave the country. With great compassion, fearless leader declared Dreamers would be allowed to live and be deported if they gave themselves up voluntarily. They can live out their dream of going back to a country they have never been to, indicating the US Government was sponsoring their vacation plans. Fearless leader said it was a beautiful thing.

The military was reformed to better protect our interests here at home and abroad. Fearless leader’s love and devotion to the military was apparent when he declared that no minorities including women and transgenders could serve, ensuring and preserving loyalty to the commander in chief.

A reign of terror ensued. Militia groups were emboldened to pursue “swift justice” in the name of nationalism, the flag, and returning America to its former and future glory. Shootings in the street were rampant. Dead bodies were left in the gutter to remind others to keep their mouths shut. Chief of the Department of Justice said the disposal of revolutionaries were justified. Homeland Security built walls around “shithole cities” that were previously run by the radical left. No one could leave but those brandishing weapons and had the proper identification could enter to enforce law and order.

After years of deprivation, famine, disease and death, Fearless leader in his kindness set some of these areas free to form their own nation in order to bring peace, economic prosperity, and perfection to what he considered the patriotic parts of his beloved nation. Manufacturing prospered as former factories that produced ventilators were now assembling flags, bibles, bullets, guns, and rocket launchers so that each home could be well armed in case of a return of leftist revolutionaries.

As of this writing, ground is being broken for the monument to fearless leader and his children in the hills of South Dakota. Mike Pence is dedicating the site with the motorcycles of people who died in Sturgis from the China virus that was unleashed by the deep state to try to derail the presidency. A small bust of Herman Cain will also be unveiled in Oklahoma City to remind folks of fearless leader’s love for the blacks as well as a memorial about the heroes that were killed by anarchists. Fearless leader accomplished what Reagan couldn’t, eradicating big government as no checks and balances existed. Perfect. A beautiful thing.

#The Monsters are Due on Maple Street

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