#digs up a statement to get sam interested again

[duuhrayliegh]

what’s it like

a/n: idk what this is, it’s smut but it was written in pieces and idk if it’s any good, sorry y’all i’m all over the fucking place rn

@slutforsexyseabass

check out my other writings (more coherent writings)

      Red wine flowed from your glass into your mouth, swirling enticingly as you gulped down the sweet liquid. You followed the pleasant burn of it as it slipped down your throat.  

“I’m not kidding.” Natasha leaned forward, topping off her own glass with more of Tony’s expensive wine.

“And he just kept going?” Wanda’s mouth dropped open as Natasha giggled while nodding in ascent to her question.

“Had my legs shaking, I swear.” She held up three fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

You laughed, digging your hand into the bowl of Cheetos tucked between your legs. Wanda shook her head, seemingly not believing what Natasha was telling her.

“I didn’t know that Sam had it in him.”

“Wan,” Natasha’s hand landed on Wanda’s knee, “Neither did I. It was almost too much, almost.”

Her voice dropped an octave on the final word, waggling a perfectly sculpted brow at her gaping teammate.

“What?” Natasha stole a few chips from your bowl as she questioned Wanda. “You’ve never had that kind of experience?”

“Mm,” you mumbled behind a mask of Cheetos, “yeah, how’s that work with Vision? I mean, it’s not like he has a—”

“Ah, bup bup.” Wanda cut you off quickly, “Vision knows everything, so he’s very skilled. Apparently not as skilled as Sam, but I mean he’s still learning so…”

Wanda let the statement hang, clinking the body of her glass with Natasha’s. She turned her attention your way, clearly readying herself to ask you a question.

“Well, it’s late, ladies.” They both began to protest, but you simply waved off their remarks. “No, no. I’ve got to get up and, like, be productive tomorrow. Sorry, loves.”

You tapped them both on the shoulders as you passed, dropping your glass off in the sink on your way out of the living room. There wasn’t a single thing that either of them could’ve said to keep you there any longer. Not if that was the topic of conversation. The ‘that’ being sex, of course, because it’s hard to talk about something that you’ve never experienced before.

You trudged back to your room, two floors above the common room. Deciding that you were too lazy to take the stairs, you pushed the button for the private elevators. The ones that Tony made specifically to avoid the other SHIELD agents who worked at the tower on a regular basis.

The railing of the elevator held your weight as it made its climb up the floors. Your eyes slid closed, mind running back to the conversation that you were just a privileged party of. You couldn’t even think of the last time someone took a particular interest in you, much less left you with your legs shaking.

The elevator slowed to a halt, doors opening to reveal a flushed looking Sergeant, your favorite Sergeant. Bucky smiled at you before wiping his brow with the towel that hung over his shoulder. You weren’t particularly good friends with the Sergeant. Not by choice. Honestly, if you had it your way then you two would converse freely, without the worry of judgment by either party.

As you began to prepare yourself for an awkwardly silent ascent alongside Bucky, a hand forced its way into the closing elevator doors. Sam shot a look at Bucky before speaking.

“Dude, I told you to wait for me.”

“You were taking too damn long.”

You snorted, remembering Natasha saying quite the opposite of him. Bucky furrowed his brows at the noise you made, clearly not caring enough to make him question you, though.

“I was not taking too long.” He shifted his bag to his other shoulder as the elevator began to climb again. “I’m just movin’ a bit slower today.”

Bucky grunted, a sound Sam took as a question.

“Super fucking sore from my mission the other day.”

A singular loud laugh escaped your lips, making you slap your hand over your mouth as both men turned to look at you.

“Something amusing, Y/N?”

You looked at your feet, giggling as the doors opened onto the floor your room was on. You slapped Sam’s shoulder as you passed.

“It’s just funny. Natasha was saying something about being sore earlier, as well.”

Sam’s jaw dropped as Bucky whipped his head around to face his friend, eyes wide in shock. You watched as Bucky punched Sam’s bicep before stepping out of the elevator too. He muttered under his breath as he walked to his own room.

“Sore from a mission, my ass.”

*

No matter how hard Bucky tried, he always got up with the sun. He would love to be someone who could sleep in until the later hours of the morning. He typically found himself lying in bed a few extra minutes, delaying his daily routine as long as he could.

This particular morning it was easier. He had something to think about. Usually, he would be laying there with no thoughts in his head other than the seemingly endless list of names that he needed to make amends with. No, this morning was different.

He was thinking of that damn elevator ride last night. He was kicking himself for not making conversation with Y/N for one floor. With his eyes closed he could recall you perfectly. He thought of the rosy tint to your cheeks and the subtle scent of Tony’s plum wine on your breath. Then he remembered you pushed through him and Sam, your chest just barely grazing the metal of his left arm. The nerve endings that Shuri created for the limb allowing him to feel your nipples through the fabric of your t-shirt.

Great, now he had to deal with his hard-on before he could do anything else.

Bucky couldn’t think straight around you, so he just stayed silent. Not wanting you to see him as a fool, opting for you to think he was standoffish so he could admire you from a safe distance. That’s where he belonged anyway. A safe distance from you. He knows that a relationship would never be something you consider with him. He’s a 106-year-old man for Christ’s sake, what would a twenty-something year-old woman want with him?

He untwisted the lid of his protein container, adding the proper amount to his shaker bottle before dumping the scoop back into the protein jar. He shoved the container into the cabinet on the top shelf, turning back to find you walking into the kitchen. His eyes roamed your figure before stopping dead in his tracks as he registered what you were wearing.

His favorite red henley covered your body, stopping just below your ass cheeks, giving him the show that he didn’t know he needed until this very moment. Your socked feet padded along the kitchen tiles as you gathered the ingredients for what looked like pancakes.

“You going to work out this morning or do you want some pancakes?” You pushed the question out through a yawn. Your eyes closed with the motion, allowing Bucky the opportunity to watch as your nose wrinkled. The freckles decorating your face begging to be traced with little, feather-light kisses.

Bucky watched as you stretched to reach a bowl in one of the high cabinets. Against his better judgment, his eyes dropped to the rising hem of his shirt, lifting just enough to expose the round globes of your ass. The seams of your underwear indented the plush flesh there, letting his mind run wild with the thought of digging his teeth into one of your cheeks.

He turned away from you, cock stirring in his shorts as he leaned his hands against the countertop in front of the sink. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves as he promptly dumped his protein shake down the drain.

“Yeah, I’ll take a few pancakes.” Bucky crossed the kitchen, opening the fridge to pour a glass of orange juice. By that time, you had set about mixing the batter together. Unfortunately, you were standing right in front of the cabinet containing the cups.

There were a few ways that Bucky could navigate this situation. One would be to ask you to hand him the cups from the cabinet directly above your head. The more dangerous option would be to move you himself. The latter offered him the opportunity to feel your supple form through the fabric of his fucking henley. He went with his initial gut reaction. Should he have? Probably not but fuck it.

His right hand cupped the skin of your hip, feeling the slight bulge of skin there. As Bucky leaned forward, he attempted to keep his lower half from pressing into you as much as he could. He truly didn’t want to push any boundaries with you, knowing that you were too damn young for him. That fact didn’t stop his body from reacting to your presence in the most agonizing fashions.

“You know,” his voice barely a whisper as he reached for the cups above your head, “I’ve been looking for that shirt.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered down to your face before turning away from you with two cups in his grasp. He yanked the fridge door open to reach for the orange juice container.

“What’re you talking about?”

He could hear your exhaustion clinging to your words. He decided to push a bit further as he placed the now full glass beside the stove you were working at.

“The henley.” Bucky paused briefly, leaning against the granite countertop opposite you. “More specifically, my henley.”

His head tilted to the side as you dropped your chin against your chest, seemingly taking in the item of clothing on your body. Bucky smiled softly as the bun on top of your head flopped forward with the motion. You turned around to face him quickly, spatula in hand.

“I’m sorry.” He watched as you stuck your arm out, gesturing for him to take the utensil. “I’ll go change really quick. I thought it was Sam’s.”

Bucky stepped forward, his metal hand resting on your wrist and pushing it downwards.

“Would you leave it on if it was?”

He watched the split second of hesitation flash in your eyes.

“Probably.”

The word was paired with a slight shrug of your shoulder, and a dip in your mouth making your chin wrinkle in the most adorable way. God, he wanted to just hold your face in his hands and just stare into your eyes for as long as you would let him.

Bucky took another step forward, effectively pinning you against the countertop beside the stove. His eyes locked with yours as he leveled his face to yours. He glanced down at the red fabric covering your torso. He found his fingers bunching the middle of the fabric, pulling it away from your body to roll between his forefinger and thumb.

“Then it’s Sam’s.”

Bucky promptly dropped the fabric and walked away just after the words left his mouth. Again, should he have done that? Probably fucking not, but Bucky’s learned to let himself enjoy the little things in life. Like the way your thighs just clenched together at his close proximity to you.

*

You sat on the couch, a plush throw blanket covering your legs and a mug of steaming tea in your hand. You trailed your finger on the rim of the cup, mind running back to your latest interaction with Bucky. It wasn’t unusual for you to obsess over your own actions because you were always worried that the other person was going to think you were an asshole. It was rare that you focused so heavily on the actions of your conversation partner, but god damn.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

You might be a twenty-three-year-old virgin, but that man could get it if he wanted it. ‘It’ being your virginity. Any day of the week.

You knew you probably shouldn’t be having thoughts about a man who, for most of the time you’ve known him, has shown you little reason to believe that he was romantically interested in you. Or physically attracted to you, for that matter. Though, you couldn’t deny that you saw a flicker of something behind his eyes in the kitchen a few days back.

He was closer than usual, granting you the privilege of seeing the dark ring of blue circling his irises. You wondered what it would be like to watch his pupils dilate in reaction to something you did.

To watch the subtle twitch of his very controlled emotions because of you.

“Whatcha watchin’, doll?”

You jumped at his voice. The man that’s kept your mind captivated for the past week.

Bucky fucking Barnes.

He settled his large frame on the couch beside you, lifting your legs that were sprawled out on the cushions to sit underneath them. His metal hand laid on your knee above the blanket, but you could feel the palm of it burning your skin.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this one, yet.”

Your eyes never left Bucky’s profile, barely registering that he was still speaking to you.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

He scooted closer to you, placing his flesh hand on your cheek before dragging it to your forehead. Bucky’s eyes ran over your face, worry dancing across his brow. You snapped from your trance, the back of his palm still pressed against your forehead.

“You run hotter than all of us. Do you think you’d be able to tell if I had a fever that way?”

It came out harsher than you wanted it to. Bucky didn’t seem bothered by your comment, pinning you with a lopsided grin that made your cheeks heat.

“My Ma always checked that way.” He jerked his head to the mounted TV, “Whatcha watchin’?”

“Nothing in particular. Do you want to watch something?”

Bucky shook his head, pulling out his phone and opening the notes app.

“I don’t know, Sam wrote down a bunch of stuff I should watch now that I’m ‘acclimated to society’ or some shit.” He handed you the device, “Anything look appealing to you?”

Yes, you look appealing to me.

“He wants you to watch a rom-com?”

“The fuck’s a rom-com?”

“It’s a romantic comedy.” You reached for the remote. “You okay with that?”

“As long as you pick a good one, dolly, I’m down for anything.” Bucky’s words made you flush, trying to concentrate on finding the movie you thought of.

About thirty minutes into 27 Dresses, you shifted causing the blanket to slip from your calves, exposing your painted toes. A chill ran up your spine at the sudden temperature change, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by your companion.

“What’s wrong?” His question was immediate.

You waved it off, “Nothing just a chill. Can you cover my feet, please?”

Bucky glanced at your bare feet. “You aren’t wearing socks. You always wear socks.”

The movie was still playing in the background, but you were fully focused on the words leaving Bucky’s mouth.

“I don’t always wear socks.” You stressed the ‘always’ sarcastically because you knew that was a damn lie. “All of mine are in the wash right now, so I’m making do.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, scanning your face. He tapped your legs and abruptly left the room.

“Bucky!” You had just managed to get yourself untangled from the blanket wrapped around your legs to pause the movie when Bucky returned.

He held a pair of his own socks in one hand and one of his henley’s thrown over his shoulder. He plopped back onto the sofa beside you. Bucky nodded down to his lap, in which you carefully placed your legs with curious eyes watching on.

Bucky tugged his socks onto your feet then covered your toes with his hands, rubbing them between his palms to create heat from the friction. He refocused on the show after tossing his henley at your face.

“Put it on. I know you’re still cold, even with this damn thing on.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” You stared at the soft shirt in your hands as you spoke to him.

“Can’t have my dolly being cold, now, can I?” Bucky ran his thumb over your ankle. You felt his eyes on you as you pulled the shirt on. “Sorry, it’s not Sam’s. You’ll just have to make do with mine.”

He threw you a wink before immersing himself back into the movie, his movements on your ankle never ceasing. Meanwhile, you could feel your cheeks becoming as red as the fabric of Bucky’s henley.

*

It became a bit of a ritual between the two of you. Over the next few months, Bucky was sure to do whatever he could to spend time with you. Despite knowing you had no real interest in him, Bucky made it his mission to be around you as much as possible.

“Hiya, dolly.”

Bucky had been stationed at one of the punching bags in the corner of the room when you walked into the gym. He dropped his stance, taking in your frame in another one of his stolen shirts. This was one of the more recent developments. One that he was enamored with.

Bucky adored seeing you in his clothes, even in this undefined, in-between platonic relationship the two of you shared.

“Hey, Buck.” You smiled at him, dropping your bag onto the floor in front of the wall of mirrors. He watched as you walked over to the bag across from him as you wrapped your knuckles.

Bucky had a much harder time concentrating on his own workout. How the hell was he supposed to? You were behind that damn bag, letting loose all those cute little groans and grunts as your fists connected with the leather.

“Here.” He walked over, tired of seeing you stop your workout to halt the swaying of the bag. He braced himself for the impact of your fists.

You glanced up at him through your lashes with raised brows, waiting for his go-ahead. Once Bucky gave you a nod, you continued your work-out.

Was Bucky a creep? There’s a very real possibility that’s a true statement.

You kept his shirt on, allowing him to take you in with sweat glistening on your body in his clothes. The thoughts beginning to formulate weren’t helping his situation. You had just finished a particularly intense pattern of hits when you groaned. Bucky took in your new stance away from the bag, hands on your hips as you pulled his shirts over your hips, using the fabric to hold your hands.

“Will you spar with me?” You took a step back again to grab your water.

This is a bad idea, but that didn’t stop Bucky from saying yes. He wasn’t sure if there was a situation that he would say no to you in.

The both of you began fighting. Bucky was always impressed with the force of your hits. He thought back to when he first started integrating into the team. You were already recruited by Natasha, and had been training with her for about three years before Bucky was brought in.

He could tell you were becoming fatigued, your movements sloppy and uncalculated. You threw a punch to his left side, but it was slow and careless. He caught your fist, spinning your body around while placing his right arm around your chest. Bucky paused a minute, his breathing syncing with the rapid rise and fall of your breasts against his arm.

“What’s up with you?” His breath bounced off your ear and hit his neck, only to be quickly flipped. You stepped under his arm during his concern for you, knocking the back of his knee before using your body weight to pin him to the ground.

“Nothing.” You smiled wide at him, giggling a little as you had his hands pressed against the mats by his wrists. “Sympathy is a powerful weapon.”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek to stop from laughing out loud. He suddenly hooked one leg behind yours, planting his foot on your hip and slamming your back onto the vinyl mat of the floor. Bucky remained snug between your legs, holding your hands to the floor with just one of his.

He stretched his arm out, pulling yours along with it as he leaned down to you. Bucky didn’t want to think about how he felt in this position with you. He didn’t want to let his mind run wild with thoughts about having you pinned like this in his bed. He didn’t want to think about having your hands tied to his headboard while he pulled every delicious sound out of you that he could.

He especially didn’t want to think about how his cock was rubbing against the fabric of your leggings, but fuck was it a good thought.

“Distraction is better. And I’ve got a few years on ya, so experience doesn’t help.”

“That’s cheating.” You laughed, “I had you pinned, I won!”

“I didn’t know we were competing, dolly.” He let go of your wrists, settling his weight backwards as you sat up on your elbows.

“But let’s be honest, if we were competing in who could finish a fight I would win.” Bucky took the opportunity to squeeze your hips before getting up and offering his hand to you.

You laughed beside him as the two of you exited the gym to go to the elevators. You shoved his arm as the two of you entered the elevator, going down a floor to the shared kitchen area.

“Hey guys. We’re having a movie marathon tonight. Want in?” Sam was leaning over Natasha's shoulder as she sat in one of the bar stools. Bucky envied his friend, he wanted to be close to you like Sam was with Natasha.

“I’m down. You comin’, Y/N?” Bucky peered down at you hoping you would say yes. You seemed to be in a bit of a daze as you answered though.

“I’ll come for you anytime.”

All of Bucky’s blood rushed to his cock as you stammered an explanation.

“Uh— wait, no, I— ugh, damn it. You know what, I'm going to go shower, I’ll see you guys tonight!”

*

“What the actual fuck? Who the hell are you? When did we just start speaking our mind?” You muttered under your breath as you raced up the stairs. Away from the awkward situation that you created for yourself.

“Oh god, let’s be honest, you’ve always spoken your mind, but not that kind of shit, you dumbass.” You slapped your forehead lightly, dragging your hand down your face in frustration.

“And now you’re talking to yourself. Wonderful.” You trudged to your room, hoping that a hot shower would make you feel better.

The spray of the showerhead beat down onto your body, relaxing the muscles as you washed the shampoo from your hair. You let your hands rest on your shoulders, a sigh of exhaustion escaping as you turned your face toward the water.

As much as you didn’t want them to, your thoughts ran back to your training session with Bucky. You hadn’t known that he was in there, but you were pleasantly surprised when you first saw him. Your relationship with the Sergeant was rocky at the start, but you were ecstatic that it began flourishing as well as it is. You were content to harbor the little school girl crush a little while longer, knowing that it won’t amount to anything in reality.

The longer you lingered on the memories of your most recent encounter with the man, the farther your hands began to drift. Your fingers danced over your own skin, eventually landing right where you wanted them to.

With your eyes closed, it was Bucky’s hands on your body.

With your eyes closed, you were bending to his will.

With your eyes closed, Bucky was knocking at your bathroom door and asking if you were okay.

“Oh shit!” Your eyes popped open as you yanked your hand away from your body, slamming into the tiled wall.

“Dolly?” Bucky’s fist hit the door, the damn thing bouncing in the frame with the force of his pounding. “What was that? You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Your voice strained as you wrapped a white towel around your body. “Hang on.”

How the hell were you going to play this one off?

You held your towel to your body with one hand, the other reaching for the doorknob only to have the whole damn thing ripped away from you as Bucky bent to your level. His hands roamed your arms, confirming that there weren’t any injuries before settling both large palms on your cheeks.

“What the hell, dolly?” His blue eyes locked onto yours. It felt like he’s trying to read your mind with how enrapturing his gaze is.

“I’m fine, Bucky.” As much as you wanted to have his hands on you for as long as humanly possible, you needed to create some distance between you. If you don’t, you might make a bigger fool of yourself by asking to kiss him.

“I’m sorry if I worried you, but really I’m okay.” Bucky hadn’t moved from his original place in front of your bathroom door. You could feel his eyes follow your movements about your room, watching as you gathered clothes for the team movie night.

“I need to bandage your hand before we go down.” He left no room for argument, so you ducked your head as you escaped back into the en suite.

*

At this exact moment, Bucky was happy to have been injected with the serum.

Bucky stared at the closed door of your bathroom. He knew he wasn’t imagining when he heard you moan. He wasn’t lying when he said he was worried. No, that part wasn’t a lie.

He wasn’t sure how entirely truthful he would be if you asked him how long he stood there before knocking on your door.

Bucky needed to cool down.

Like, right now.

He backed away as he dragged his fingers through his hair. Every sound that came out of your mouth was running through his head on a loop. He did try to ignore it, he shouldn’t be thinking of you that way. You deserved more than to have him think of you like that.

Truthfully, he just wanted to have a reason to think of you that way, one that came directly from you.

Bucky felt a billow of warm air blow from the swing of your bathroom door. Your hair, still damp from the shower, stuck to your bare shoulders. He could tell you toweled your hair off in an effort to lessen the amount of water in the strands by the bit of frizz that began forming at the top of your head.

“Sorry.” The closer you got, the easier Bucky could see the droplets of water clinging to your skin. His eyes followed their path as they raced down your exposed flesh. He wanted nothing more than to lick the remaining water off you, if you’d let him.  

“It’s fine.” He said quickly.

Bucky jerked his head toward the door, smiling down at you as he led the way to the theater room. He pushed his way into the darkness that was immediately contrasted by the flatscreen of Tony’s design.

“Where do you want to sit?” He saw one of your shoulders lift out of the corner of his eye. “Alright, I get that you don’t want to pick. Just grab us a seat in the back corner, I’ll get us some snacks.”

“Thank you.” You practically skipped to the seats, making Bucky smile as he grabbed a few junk snacks in his arms.

Bucky’s smile remained as he watched you snuggled into a blanket that was draped over the back of the couch.

“Scootch over.” Tapping your thigh with the back of his hand, he took his seat beside you.

“As we all know, we trade off on who picks the movie.” Tony stood beside the screen, waving his hand emphatically as he spoke. “You’re all so lucky that it was my turn to pick.” One of his hands rested on his chest as he leant forward in a mock bow.

“What do ya think he picked?”

The heat of your body radiated pleasantly into Bucky’s as you spoke to him. The scent of your body wash wafting to his senses, taking his mind back to the noises he listened to outside of your bathroom door.

“I don’t know. It’s always something stupid with him.”

Bucky couldn’t care less about Tony’s choice of movie. What he was really concerned with was how close you were to him.

And how much he wanted to be closer.

*

About halfway through the movie, your body stretched with a yawn. Both of your legs kicked off the couch, relishing in the rush of blood to your limbs before settling back into your original position.

“You can lean on me, ya know?” Bucky tilted his head toward you, whispering to you as the movie continued playing.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you leaned your head against his shoulder, murmuring a small thank you. Your eyes slid closed as you soaked in the warmth that Bucky provided. Like a goddamn walking space heater.

It took a few seconds to readjust your position, only for Bucky’s metal hand to rest on the bare skin of your knee after you stopped moving. A shockwave raced up your spine at the contact.

The lighting of the movie changed. A buttery filter settling over the screen, the little starlights in the ceiling of the theater changing accordingly.

You nudged Bucky’s side, making him drop his gaze to you before following your pointer finger to the lights in the ceiling.

Suddenly, the lights changed again.

A deep red overtaking them as a guttural groan played through the speakers.

Your eyes snapped back to the screen, seeing the two main characters in the throws of intimate passion. It didn’t take long for your curiosity to overtake you, making you more than invested.

You felt your head leave Bucky’s shoulder, tilting slightly to the left as you leaned forward. Bucky’s hand never left your leg, you distantly felt it slide down to your inner thigh with your quick movements. He must’ve asked you a question because he squeezed the inside of your thigh making you jump in your seat.

“Dolly?” Another squeeze. “Are you okay?”

Your body flushed, finally fully recognizing that it was Bucky’s hand on your inner thigh.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

*

You couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from the screen, flashing him a small smile without looking at him. Bucky’s eyes narrowed as he examined your body language.

You had the blanket covering your lower half bunched between in your grip.

The scene progressed and it seemed you couldn’t decide to be relaxed or tense. Your jaw dropped slightly as the male character thrust into the female. He glanced at the screen, watching as the shot focused on the man’s hand on the outside of the woman’s thigh. Back to you, your head had tilted to the side again, brows furrowed at the progression.

He flexed his hand against your own thigh before rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“Feeling a bit hot, dolly?”

Your face whipped around to his, lips parted as small puffs of air escaped. Bucky watched for any sign of discomfort from you as his hand slid a bit higher.

“Is this okay?”

A tiny nod that received a small smirk in reply.

“Words, dolly.”

“Yes.”

Bucky felt his harsh breath bounce off his bicep as his fingers dragged up to the apex of your thighs. He traced the crease of your thigh several times, familiarizing himself with the fabric of your shorts. His pinky slipped under the hem, accompanied by a quick inhale from you.

“Shh, dolly.”

He felt your heart rate increase, smiling into your skin as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“You don’t want everyone to find out what we’re doing back here, do ya?” Bucky felt your thighs clench at his words, making him quirk a brow at the thought.

“You might be into that, dolly. But, I don’t share what’s mine.” He pinched your thigh making you jump closer toward him, a reaction that he thoroughly enjoyed.

He repeated the pinch, pulling you into his lap as you jumped yet again. Bucky fit his arms around your body, keeping your legs spread just enough for his hands to fit comfortably, his knuckles brushing against each other. The surround sound system that Tony installed in the theater room drowned out the little yelps that escaped your lips, much to Bucky’s dismay.

“Be a good dolly,” his right hand pulled your hips back into his, “and stay still.” His metal hand remained in between your legs, the temperature difference causing little goosebumps to rise over your skin. Bucky leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before whispering to you, “Please.”

His hand traced the waistband of your shorts, running his fingers over the indentions that the elastic left on your stomach. Bucky hummed into your neck as your breaths shuddered. After a few minutes of torture as the movie progressed, he gave in. Pushing his hand further into your shorts, the fabric peeling away from your heated skin.

“Bucky.”

It was breathy.

Heavenly.

The very implication of it, of what he was making you feel, made his soar on cloud nine.

And all you said was his fucking name.

“What do you want, dolly?” He stopped the downward descent of his hand, resting just above where he knew you really wanted him. But he wanted more.

“Please touch me.”

Fuck him. The quick rise and fall of your chest and increased heart rate reverberated from your body into his.

His metal hand pinched your thigh again.

“I am touching you.” His fingers danced across your slit, humming lowly to himself at the wetness that began gathering there.

A little groan slipped past your lips, a little too loud for Bucky’s liking in such a public forum. His metal hand covered your lips as he brought his mouth to your ear.

“Don’t be a greedy dolly and be quiet.”

One of his fingers breached your slit, the heel of his hand brushing against your clit in the process. The slight friction makes your back arch away from his chest.

“If any of them turned around, what would they see?” He kept his finger stationary, wetness pooling around his digits as he refused to move. “They’d see you spread out on my fingers. My dirty little dolly. Such a good girl for me.”

He felt your walls clench around him.

“You like me tellin’ you that you’re my good girl?”

He took the opportunity to begin to pump his finger in and out of you. Your walls sucked him back in as he continued to move back and forth.

“Of course you do.”

“Bucky, please.”

He twisted his hand, rubbing the heel of it against your sensitive clit. God, he’d barely touched you and you’re already a writhing mess beneath him.

“Such a dirty girl.” Another pump. “Getting all hot and bothered from a movie,” He removed his fingers, circling your clit, “then begging for my touch?”

Your mouth dropped open as he pressed a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Bucky quickly replaced his digits, resuming his steady rhythm.

“Be a good girl for me.” He whispered into your ear as your legs began to shake. “Come on, cum for me.”

“Bucky.” Your hand reached his bicep, nails digging in and leaving little crescent shaped marks.

Moon shaped badges that he would brandish with pride.

“That’s it, just let go, Y/N.”

Your body stilled in his arms as he continued pumping his fingers, the wetness pooling there thoroughly coating his digits. He smiled into your skin, covering your mouth with his metal hand to muffle your moans.

“I told you I don’t share, dolly.” His pace slowed as the lights in the theater room brightened. Bucky watched as his teammates began to rise from their seats, grasping blankets at their waists while they stretched their arms above their heads.

“That includes your little noises.” Bucky shifted you from his lap to the cushion beside him, his arm still wrapped protectively around your back. He stood from the couch, leaving his skin in contact with yours for as long as possible.

“We’ll continue this later, little dolly.” Bucky watched your eyes widen as he brought his fingers, the ones covered in your cum, to his lips. He fought his eyes rolling back to take in your shell shocked expression as he moaned from the back of his throat at your taste.

*

Your fist hovered near the door. You’d been debating on how to broach the subject with Bucky since the team movie night. Just as you went to pound on the door, it swung inward. Your eyes darted up to the mass of a man standing in front of you.

“Hiya, dolly.” You felt your face flush and Bucky’s eyes roamed your figure.”How are you doing today?”

“I’m alright.” You hesitated for a second, wringing your hands at your waistline. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure, come on in.” He stepped back, revealing the room that you had become acquainted with over the past few months.

You walked in, pausing at the foot of his bed. Bucky’s hand rested on your bicep.

“You sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

You whipped around to face him, eyes wide as they focused on his face that was closer to yours than you originally thought it was.

“I’m fine. Swear, Scout’s honor.” You held up three fingers to which Bucky snorted.

“You weren’t a boy scout, dolly.”

“I could’ve been a boy scout if I wanted to.”

“Oh, I have no doubts about that.” He inched closer to you, bumping the back of your knees into the plush edge of his bed.

You chewed the inside of your cheek as Bucky’s chest pressed against yours. His hand lifted to your face, cold fingers tracing your cheekbones before swiping your hair behind your ear.

“Didn’t you come in here for a reason, dolly?” You started to stammer out an answer when Bucky continued talking, eyes roaming your face. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having you all to myself, but you seemed to be on a mission.”

“Right.” You evacuated his immediate vicinity, facing the window on the opposite side of his room. You fumbled with the drawstring of your sweats, twisting the string between your fingers.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” His hand reached out, resting on your arm to turn your body toward his.

“I wanted to just talk about what happened with us the other night.” Bucky nodded as he took a seat on the edge of his bed. Bucky followed your movements as you paced in front of him.

“Well, it’s just like I’ve never actually done that before or had that done to me so it really kind of made me nervous. But then like it happened and I tried to kind of just forget about it and put it out of my mind because I knew it was probably a one time thing. But it’s been occupying more space in my head than I feel like it should if I’m going to be able to forget it. And now I just want it to happen all over again. And I really liked experiencing that with you and I hope that you liked it too because I mean well you had your hand down my pants and then you, ya know? With the fingers? And then your mouth? And the sucking?”

*

Bucky sat attentively listening to your rant with his head tilted to the side. You continued to wear down the patterned rug you had claimed ‘looked like him’ in the store. The same rug he wanted to get carpet burn from because he was on his knees for you.

“So I just assumed that you liked it too but now I’m freaking out because what if you were just being nice and you didn’t actually enjoy it and I had just happened to be the closest to you at the time when you were feeling a little frisky?”

Bucky dropped his head to his hands. His weight shifted forward as he leant his forearms against his thighs as you kept talking. He knew you were really talking to him, you had already made a decision before coming in here. He had done this same routine with Sam about you.

“But no that wouldn’t make sense because I feel like we’ve been building up to this the past few weeks, but I thought that you weren’t interested in me because I was too young for you but if it turns out that you are then I would be super excited about that because I’m super into you too and then it would make this whole thing less awkward for me and then we could just bang it out, right?”

He pushed up, halting your movements by placing his hands on your shoulders and turning your body to face his. He titled his head forward, raising a single brow as he spoke.

“Of course I want to bang this out, dolly. But, I need you to understand a few things first.”

Bucky stepped around you to stand beside the door. He watched you from his new position, nudging his head to his bed for you to take a seat.

“I don’t plan on this being just a one time thing.” Bucky took a step forward, crossing the rug he bought in hopes you would spend more time in his room— with him.

“If we do this, you’re mine and I’m yours for as long as we both want it to happen.” A few more steps and he dropped to his knees in front of you. He tipped his head backwards and lifted his hand to reach your knee.

“Now,” he rubbed your thigh up and down, “do you want this? Do you want me?” Your eyes were slowly widening as the words left Bucky’s mouth. Your head began to bob back and forth, pupils blown with desire.

A half laugh escaped through Bucky’s lips, “No, dolly. I need your words, Y/N.”

“Yes, Bucky.” You leaned forward, tracing your fingers against the day old stubble growing on his jaw. A wide smile split his face, and he bit his lower lip as you touched your forehead against his. “I want this. I want you. I want us.”

“Oh thank god.” He shot up, shifting your body up his bed. Bucky’s lips attached to your neck, lightly biting the exposed skin there as your head fell back in what he hoped was ecstasy.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you for?” He felt your blunt nails dig into his shoulders, sucking in a harsh breath against your skin at the feeling.

“No need to be greedy, dolly.” Bucky leveled his face with yours, easily melding his lips against your slightly chapped pair.

“I’d give you anything you’d ask for. Without. Question.” He punctuated the last words with small pecks to your cheeks.

“Bucky.” His head snapped up, that breathy little whisper of his name engraving itself into the grooves of his soul. If he died right then he would be content.

“Will you go out on a date with me?” Bucky hands, which had previously been tracing the hem of your t-shirt, found their new home on either side of your head.

“Did you just ask me out, dolly?”

A nervous huff escaped your lips, the subtle scent of your mint toothpaste permeating Bucky’s skin. He hovered over your body, watching every little squirm and shift as he remained silent. He took pity on you, saving you from any further discomfort.

“I would love to go out on a date with you.” He brushed his nose against yours twice.

“Now, can I fuck you into oblivion?”

“Yes please.” You squealed as he shoved his face into your neck, blowing cool air onto the sensitive skin.

“Thank fuck.” His hands dug into your hips, pushing you into the plush mattress below.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, balling the soft fabric of his shirt. Bucky shifted his weight, settling a thick thigh between your legs to press against the heat radiating from your soon to be throbbing center. He groaned as your dull fingernails indented half moons into his exposed skin, badges of honor in his opinion.

*

“Dolly, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be with you.” He pressed open mouthed kisses to your neck, feeling his dick begin to pulse against you.

You felt Bucky’s hands trail down your body to your waistline, tugging at the soft material of your sweatpants. Your breath began to quicken as he pulled your pants down your legs. Just as they dropped to the floor, Bucky’s eyes immediately met yours, foregoing the newly exposed skin.

“Let’s make this even, dolly.” He pulled you up, standing at the foot of his bed and placing your hands on the band of his shorts. You could feel the elastic material of his boxers cutting into his skin just under the plush fabric of his shorts.

His pants joined yours on the ground as he went to remove both of your shirts. You hadn’t been doing anything terribly important earlier in the day so the decision to not wear a bra was one of comfort. Now though, you kind of wished there was yet another step Bucky would have to take to see you.

Bucky’s hands fell to your rib cage, thumbs grazing the sides of your boobs. One slight reposition and he would be cupping your boob in his hand. Your fingers grasped his wrist, eyes darting to his before he could move any further.

“What’s wrong?”

You swallowed the lump stuck at the base of your throat, “I’m just-- nervous? I guess.”

Bucky leant forward, cupping your cheeks. “I’m not going to push you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. If I do, please stop me. Okay?”

“Okay.” You met his eyes before pushing forward and locking lips with him. Bucky released a grunt of approval before returning in kind.

He broke the kiss before you, replacing his hands on your ribs. “Lay on your stomach for me dolly.”

Your heart began to pound hard enough you thought Bucky could hear it. Turning away from him, you attempted to seductively crawl on top of his bed, but you’re sure you looked like an injured gazelle.

Bucky’s hands came in contact with the backs of your calves, the juxtaposition of his hands causing a shiver to race up your spine. He breathed a laugh onto your skin, stamping butterfly kisses on your back.

Everytime Bucky got close to where you wanted him, he would immediately back off and start the process over again. Tracing his hands up your legs, little kisses on your shoulders, the dip of your spine, blowing cold air on your lower back, then retreat. He seemed to revel in your whines as they only served to prolong his torture.

“Bucky please.” You breathed into the comforter below you. He mumbled into your skin, words you couldn’t make out.

“I’m getting there, dolly.” He flipped you over, making you release a squeal and then stare at him with wide eyes. “Let me enjoy my meal.”

His tongue darted out, tracing the gusset of your underwear. A breathy moan left your lips and Bucky took the time to wrap his arms around your thighs to keep them spread. His nose nudged against your clit, loving the sharp intake of breath that met his ears.

“Oh goodness.” Your thighs tensed at the feeling of Bucky’s lips beginning to suction around your throbbing clit. He continued to mouth at your center, the fabric starting to become sticky with your juices. Shots of pleasure ran through your body as Bucky licked.

“I’ve never been happier than right now.” He pulled back a bit, turning his head to press the words into your thigh. You felt his right arm shift as his fingers began to trace your slit.

“Dolly, you’re so wet for me. Am I making you feel good?” He tilted his head against your lower thigh, watching your face as he continued to feel your wetness.

“Am I? Talk to me, Y/N.” He pressed harder at the top of your slit, feeling the engorged clit underneath the thoroughly soaked fabric.

“Yes-- yes, you are.” You reached down, fingers winding into the dark locks on his head. “Please, Bucky.”

His eyes lulled up to yours, watching your reaction as he pulled the crotch of your underwear to the side. It took everything in you to not let yourself completely disappear into the sheets, but god you were glad you didn’t.

“Fuck me, dolly.” Bucky leaned forward, flattening his tongue up your slit. “You taste so good.” He continued to lick, repositioning with both of his arms around your thighs. Bucky pressed his face further into your center, He groaned as the gusset of your underwear attempted to interrupt his meal.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

You let out a small groan when Bucky removed his mouth only to feel the fabric of your underwear down your legs.

“You still doin’ okay, dolly?” He suctioned around your clit as he saw your mouth open to answer him. You felt him smile into your slit, then abruptly felt his tongue roll against your clit.

“Bucky?” You were nervous to ask, but you wanted to experience this.

“Mmhm?” His head tilted to the side, but he didn’t stop his fondling.

“Will you--” You paused as Bucky crawled up your body, pressing kisses into your skin. “Will you make my legs shake?”

Bucky’s head whipped up, eyes meeting yours with a fire blazing behind his. His jaw tensed and you weren’t entirely sure what he was thinking.

“It would be my goddamn pleasure, Y/N.”

*

You felt fingers in your hair as you were roused from a peaceful sleep. Your nose scrunched as you buried your face further into the warm pillow beneath you.

“Don’t start something you aren’t ready to finish, dolly.”

Bucky’s gruff voice sounded off from above your head, his fingers still fumbling in your hair. His opposite hand was tracing random shapes onto your exposed shoulder. You pulled back a bit, a smile working its way across your face as you looked up to him.

“You feel okay, dolly?”

You went to answer when the door of Bucky’s room burst inward with Sam tossing a water bottle toward the bed.

“Yo! If we’re going to get this run in this morning we’ve gotta get cracking!”

“Sam!” Bucky yanked the covers over your shoulders, concealing you from Sam’s view.

“Oh my god!” Sam backed out of the doorway only to turn his head and shout, “Nat! Nat! Natasha!”

“Why the hell are you yelling at me?” Sam pointed into Bucky’s room where you were cuddled against Bucky’s bare chest. “What’s up, Y/N?”

“Hi, Nat.” Your voice was soft as Bucky played with the ends of your hair.

“Leg shake?”

“Big time.”

“Okay! Everyone out of my room, I’ve got a girl to ravage again!” Bucky quickly turned and covered your body with his as Natasha and Sam left the room in a fit of giggles.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan fan fic #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfiction

[irradiatedsnakes]

btw in the tmagp launch celebratory stream alice's voice actor said her favorite scene that'd been recorded by that point was "alice and sam go to a place". so i suppose we'll be getting that next week :]

other notes. this statement (hey! actually a statement this time! what the fuck) was SOOOOO GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD

the cursed dice angle is so good, the way the statement giver took on that role (roll), played the part, UGH it's so fun. the theme of choice that was brought up is also so good- just. ONE more roll for old time's sake :) especially given that this is a TMI statement and how HUGE IMPORTANT of a theme choice and free will were in tma, felt very fitting. fantastic, loved that.

continuing on my stuff about the entities in tmagp- once again some things here feel very on the nose, particularly the statement giver literally calling himself a mysterious stranger. this feels like a fun little red herring to me, for people a bit hung up on the entities stuff. that's how i interpreted it, anyways. i wanna know more about this world so fucking bad, dude.

also, the institute's in manchester in tmagp, not chelsea/london. which means no milbank prison, no panopticon. interesting. (though soemthing that was known from the arg already- i really need to deep dive on that. tomorrow, maybe.) statement taking and artifact storage are still a thing, evidently, but noting that there's no mention of an archivist or anything like that. and the subject/agent/catalyst stuff, that's Very interesting.

once again, chester bringing up a magnus-related statement, here in obvious reply to what sam was talking about- just when he was considering to celia about dropping his investigations- clearly (imo) to goad him into not leaving it behind. excellent. and fun given the first TMI-related incident with redcanary had the obvious conclusion of THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE IS WEIRD AND DANGEROUS while also having enough mystery to draw sam in further. sam's seen the canary die in the coalmine and has made the decision to keep digging and that's fantastic.

now! characters! sam's paperwork :) VERY intriguing that he's getting all this stuff and celia's got none of it- he said it was due to that box about the response department, but i've got my doubts about that being the reason he's being saddled with all this weird stuff. also the questions on the thing made me laugh, very good. sam and celia have such good interactions, i love how they bounce off each other. also, with regards to the paperwork- i think there's a connection to be made about the statement giver's continued rolling of the dice (it always felt like my choice.) and sam filling out all this creepy, utterly pointless paperwork to "refuse to give it the satisfaction of giving up".

GWEN AND LENA. nigel dickerson, you know, from tv? possibly. i don't watch television. i do hope we'll be seeing exactly what gwen is being told to do next episode.. delivering something, keeping calm, recording the detailed reactions to what's being delivered. maybe we'll get a bit more of a clue as to what the oair is actually for. i do like that gwen's not become one bit less indignant, skeptical, and disrespectful towards lena now that she's got this job. i'm very excited to see her on her fist job she's gonna suck at it i think

i'll admit i was a little surprised to see teddy again. i was worried for a sec he might be going in the direction of getting dragged back to the oair, but nah. not yet, at least :) and ALICE. ALIIIIICE auaaaaagh!!! i don't know if i have much to say baout this part that isn't just (shaking a plushie in my mouth like a dog). very neat that she has agreed to help sam investigate this and actually go to the institute when she's been so staunchly don't get caught up in the creepy stuff! leave the magnus institute stuff ALONE you don't want to get into this spooky shit! like.. she does not want to get involved with spooky shit and she doesn't want sam to get involved with spooky shit but she cares about him and their friendship a lot and this is obviously important to him. so. (plus, the thing about alice's brother having been at the institute alongside sam and gerry..) i like them both so much. i am so excited for next weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers

[rowanraven08]

Unsolicited tmagp rant no one asked for part 3 (hang in there guys this is a very all over the place one):

So. Idea. We know someone, presumably the OIAR, is listening. They’re able to tap cellphones and things too, not just listening through the office computers. It definitely could be the OIRA, they do seem like a likely suspect, they’re a government branch, they’d have the power, but what if it’s not them?

It’s not unreasonable to say the OIAR is connected to the eye, if the fears work the same in this universe (I’m running on the assumption they do) the it makes sense. Cataloging supernatural statements, sounds familiar. But we don’t know how long the recordings been going on. My thinking is that it’s Jon, maybe Martin? And Jonah, who is the most likely Augustus. So we’ve got two eye avatars in these computers, how do we know it’s not them listening in and tapping the phones and everything? We don’t know how much autonomy they have currently, I don’t think Jon (Chester) would choose to listen in, but maybe he’s making an exception since it’s a new universe? Or it’s involuntary, that he’s not able to control it, just needs to watch.

There’s also the case of Colin. He knows something for sure, whether that’s mainly paranoid driven conspiracy theories or actual information is yet to be seen. But it’s not hard to figure out whatever is going on is connected in some way to FR3-D1. Now the fact that Colin is sneaking some time on the computer in episode 10 is pretty telling. He knows he’s that messing with them could raise suspicion, seeing as he asks Celia to not tell Lena. He was using the work computers specifically so he needs to access something in FR3-D1’s program presumably. If he’s poking around in that code, digging through stuff he knows he shouldn’t, it makes me wonder if he knows about Jon, Martin, and Jonah(?). Because this man is thoroughly obsessed with this system, has spent nearly two years trying to figure out how it works. The voices have been reading out statements for a year.

I think the big thing about how much he’s noticed has to do with whether or not Jon and friends are actually coded in. Ofc with eldritch powers and stuff it’s possible they’re just there, consciouses stuck in there by spooky magic stuff. But to me at least, having their brains coded into this computer on its own is scarier. Think back to tma 65. About how you just couldn’t code someone’s mind into a computer, how the one story of a man who tried ended up stuck and awful and in pain. “The angles cut me when I think.” And I’m terrified that’s what’s happening to my boys right now, that they were somehow coded into this, and in pain because of it.

So if that’s the case and they have actual code there’s no doubt in my mind that Colin has seen that. And of course he’d know it’s not right, even if he doesn’t know for sure what it is. He also said that a YEAR ago (around the same time the voices would have started) he figured out it was “written with some kind of propriety German source code,” further supporting the idea that Augustus is Jonah. I also find it interesting the use of “propriety” here, maybe I’m looking into it too much, but a code isn’t something I’d describe like that. But the thoughts or brain of Jonah Magnus or something? I’d describe that as propriety. But if that is why it was in German, then they can affect the code in some sense, again, likely written in. He read what that code said, and if it said anything about Jonah, he would have seen it. He’d combed through this whole system enough to see something was written in German for god’s sake, IF THEY’RE CODED IN HES SEEN IT AND HE KNOWS.

I also find the interaction with Sam a bit weird, obviously, but I don’t mean the paranoia about being watched. When Sam brings up the email, he brushes it off. “If you’re going to get this worked up over a weird email, you’re going to freak when you see the real stuff.” I initially assumed he meant the statements by “real stuff.” But he doesn’t actually deal with statements. He could definitely mean the OIAR and how they’re (maybe) surveying them all. But just because the branch they work for is terrible and spies on them, that’s not really a good reason to brush off a weird INTERNAL email so quickly. Okay.

The OIAR is probably awful and evil. But they’re not gonna start sending emails from their servers from people who don’t officially exist. If I (someone who knows next to nothing about computers so don’t take my word for it) heard that there were internal emails being sent by someone not apart of the company, my rational assumption would be hacking, or some sort of security fault. But that’s not even a possibility to Colin, he accepts it’s weird without even thinking, and just says that there’s worse things. So if he’s not worried about it being hacking, I’m ready to guess he knows the emails are coming from the little computer men. So this isn’t a new thing. And I wonder if Jon tried sending Colin something before. So if a weird email is normal to Colin, and he knows where it’s from, then that’s probably what he’s referring to as “the real stuff.” Because the real stuff to him is computers, nothing else, to the point he dumps therapists cause they’re not tech savvy enough.

The bit in episode 1 is clearly suspicious too, “Best Colin can figure, something broke and whichever genius made the program ran some redundancy through the sound card.” BUT THATS NOT HOW IT WORKS. It was such a bad reason, that even Alice and Sam (who don’t have much knowledge of computers as far as I know) saw through it. Knowing Colin there’s no way in hell he’d come up with that theory and just be content to leave it be, and not spend all his time trying to figure out WHY. It was a lie, it has to be.

Now that was a very long and chaotic ramble, so uhh, to sum it up for folks who are smart enough not to read this, I think It’s Jon, Martin, and Jonah listening in and tapping phones, not the OIAR. And I think Colin knows they’re stuck in the computer, and is choosing not to tell anyone.

#jonathan sims #the archivist #the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmapg spoilers #rambles #tmagp theory #chester tmagp #norris tmagp #augustus tmagp #colin becher #oiar #guys i think i have a problem #I’ve finally gone off the deep end #either that or #connected all the dots /j

[restlesschilled]

TmagP 011 reaction

Note: I am a backer so this was made on 9th April, and set to post on 11th April

Pre statement- Celia's phone

sorry what... "again?"

celia you good?

whose jack?

what

Pre statement- Oiar office

"good morning [night]"

THIS OR ANY OTHER WORLD???

okay what was that sound at 4:39? after alice said "its nothing"

"Alice.... was that a lie?"

WHOS FOLLOWING ALICE

WHAT

THERE IT IS AGAIN

ooo walking her home hmmm?

Case/Statement "and were off"

chester <3

...dig

"units" for coffins is very interesting

oh shit

WAIT SAILORS

UM

LONELY TATTOO

"the waves are so close and getting closer"

calling it now its a lonely graveyard that is punishing those who are digging her up

KRACKEN?????? PLEASE BE A KRACKEN

oh its the vast

ITS THE VAST

"the deep will care for his bone"

"My thoughts and opinions on maritime matters will no longer be included in my emails." AHGRFWGJFERA

"I want to see the body again. I dug him up, he’s my responsibility. I just need to see it. I need to know what’s in the water."FUCK

CHEST GOT GRUFF FUCK IM SCARED

OKAY CAPTAIN AHAB

Post Case

SAME HAT SAM

the sound again

"Oh, but I am concerned. So very concerned. I can’t decide if you look more like a bog witch with caffeine withdrawal or that Cheddar Gorge mummy." ALICE JESUS FUCK

new elditch sound unlocked and celia is making it happen too

*Alice takes a breath for a devastating putdown.*

Lena's office

ummmm... what?

"externals"

Final Thoughts

I.... I have questions....

#the magnus protocol #tmagp thoughts #tmagp spoilers #tmagp 11 #tmagp 011 #celia ripley #sam khalid #alice dyer #gwen bouchard #mr. bonzo #lena kelley

[huggybearsunshine]

A Personal Question

Takes place during 5x04. Dean has questions about his future life. Features some references to drug use.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean asked his future self, a few shots in of bad whiskey and feeling bold.

“We both know you’re going to, so get it over with,” the other him replied without a glance, dropping into a chair across the table from him.

“You’re not going to like it…”

“Not surprising,” future Dean quipped, then motioned for him to hurry it along with a swirl of his wrist.

“You and Cas…” the unfinished statement hung heavily, obviously not needing to be clarified as both men tensed up at the same time.

“It’s complicated,” his future self huffed, grabbing the bottle and taking a long pull of the liquor within.

“Honestly, that’s more than I thought I’d get out of you,” the younger of the two Deans admitted, not sure what else to say.

“I’m talking to myself so what does it matter,” future Dean sighed bitterly.

The imposing Dean stole the bottle back and took a swig before settling his eyes back on the other man’s, “That’s not Cas…”

“It is now…” this world’s Dean replied, voice suddenly hollow and hushed, as if afraid to say the words aloud.

“What happened?” there was a long pause, and the visiting Dean wasn’t sure if he’d get a response until the older him’s eyes cut toward the hunter with unmistakable disgust behind them.

“We happened,” he bit out roughly, stealing the bottle back, and downing it for an impressive amount of time.

“What do you mean?” the younger Dean pressed, receiving an eye roll from the other him, “You’re talking to yourself, remember?”

“Look just cause you’re me, doesn’t mean this is something I have any interest in talking about,” the older Dean stood suddenly, “I’ve got shit to do…”

With that he was out the door leaving his younger self behind. He reached across the table for the remaining whiskey, downing the rest and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, I thought he might do that…”

“Do what?” Cas’ voice spoke from the doorway behind him, startling the hunter into swinging around and up onto his feet.

“Shit!” Dean yelped, “Still doing that, I see!”

A grin spread instantly across this future Cas’ scruffy face, and he motioned to the other chair as if asking permission to join him. Dean’s nod seemed to please him as he plopped down into the chair next to him.

“I was expecting to find two of you,” the former Angel commented cheerily.

“Yeah, I- uh… might’ve chased him off for a bit so it’s just the two of us…” Dean’s words suddenly felt like innuendo.

Did that sound like I was propositioning Cas? Why am I suddenly so aware of my word choices? Am I overthinking?

“Dean,” Cas spoke his name softly, pulling the hunter back to him, “He’ll be fine once he’s found something to hit… but I’m curious now- would you tell me if I asked what you said to him?”

“I… It was abou- was just asking some personal questions…” the words tumbled awkwardly from his mouth.

“That’ll do it,” Cas smirked.

“About you,” Dean looked surprised by his own words.

Cas’ breath hitched slightly, but he played it off so well that Dean had to question wether he saw it or not.

“That’ll definitely do it,” Cas added, digging into a bag of-

“Are those mushrooms?” Dean asked incredulously.

Cas seemed almost grateful for the shift in subject matter as he looked down at the bag in his hand.

“Yes,” he smiled back up at the hunter, “Would you like some?”

“Nah, little drunk already…” Dean grinned fondly at the offer, pretending not to notice Cas melting next to him at the sight of it, “Probably best with just the one vice…”

“I understand…” Cas responded, putting the bag away.

“You… um… visit me often like this? Dean, I mean, the- the other one…” Dean cringed outwardly at himself as his words settled around them.

Cas’ mouth curled up into a grin. He seems to do that a lot here.

“I do,” he responded simply, now studying the hunter with increased intensity.

“What do you guys-” Dean cleared his throat, “What do you guys do?”

“Dean,” Cas’ grin widened as he spoke, “Are you trying to ask me if you and I have… an intimate relationship?”

“I- a what? No!” Dean coughed as he choked on his own breath.

“This is what scared you- the other you- away?” Cas asked with a raised brow, pulling some weed from a drawer under the table and stuffing it into a pipe he pulled from his pocket.

“It… might’ve come up…” Dean half admitted.

“It’s a tough subject for him…” Cas responded before lighting and inhaling the herb.

“But not for you?” Dean asked pointedly.

“Yes for me, but… not in the same way,” Cas’ eyes locked onto Dean’s again and held them there for a long moment.

“I want to know…” Dean’s words seemed to soften something in Cas’ gaze.

“The world falling apart is a lot to cope with…” Cas began, taking another pull from his pipe, “Before this place, it was just us… we were all we had… Sam was gone… everyone.”

Dean nodded before taking the pipe from Cas’ hand, feeling chills run down his spine as their fingers touched. Dean lit the contents and inhaled but immediately fell into a coughing fit.

“So… we were… there for each other?” Dean asked once he’d recovered, encouraging Cas to continue.

“We were…”

“In what way?” Dean pressed, needing less of the cryptic and more of the straight-forwardness he was used to from the Angel.

“In every way…” Cas seemed distracted by the memory for a moment, causing a blush to spread across the hunter’s face.

“How did-” Dean suddenly finds himself clinging tightly to the edge of the table, knuckles turning white, “How did this happen?!”

“Slowly…” Cas responded with that same fond smile.

“I don’t know what to do with all this…” Dean breathed out roughly, “Were we happy?”

“We were for a time…” Cas’ voice was abnormally quiet, and Dean felt himself relax, suddenly aware of his friend’s worn expression and sad eyes.

His hand seemed to instinctively reach for Cas’ shoulder, the act so natural but their touch seemed to hold more weight to it than usual.

“What did I do?” Dean growled the words out through his teeth, a protective and violent glint in his eye.

“We found people and this place and… I don’t know, Dean… It wasn’t the same after that…” Cas reached for the pipe again to busy himself, “I misunderstood what we were…”

“Doesn’t sound like it…”

“Well, the other you would disagree…” Cas’ voice cracked, and it was all Dean could handle.

His hand on the other man’s shoulder tightened and he found himself closing the gap between them.

“The other me is a dick,” Dean spoke, now just a breath away before closing that last little bit of distance as well.

#castiel #dean winchester #endverse #castiel x dean #ficlet #spn 5x04 #spn #supernatural #destiel fanfic #destiel #endverse!destiel #endverse!cas

[dragon-kazansky]

Made with love | Helmut Zemo

Chef Zemo AU 👨‍🍳

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 3

It had been a whole year since your trip to Sokovia. Here you were again, exiting the airport in Navi Grad, excited to be back. You had invited Wanda to come along with you, of course she couldn't say no. This was her home country, she hadn't been back here in years.

She looked so excited as she looked around, taking in the familiar and unfamiliar sights. The city had been improved on a lot since she was last here, yet a lot of the buildings still looked the same.

"My home."

You chuckled softly. She looked like a child who had been told they could explore all they like in a new area.

"Your photos didn't do it any justice," she said, playfully glaring at you.

You glared back, just as playful. "Oh, thanks."

She gave a little giggle and grabbed your arm, wanting to look around immediately. You just let her lead the way.

Along the way she pointed out some places she remembered, telling stories of things she and Pietro used to get up to. She had many stories to tell, and you loved listening to all of them. It gave you a little more insight into her life.

Eventually you came across the square. Wanda looked rather smug as you both stood in the middle of the semi-busy square.

"Ah, yes, just as I remember it."

Up ahead was your new favourite restaurant. It looked just as it did a year ago. It was like a warm welcoming hug to see it again.

Wanda was looking at you, smug grin on her face. You looked down, blushing.

"Want to see him?"

"Not yet," you grab her hand and pull her along, walking in the opposite direction. You ignored her teasing comments as you marched onward.

It's not like he would remember you anyway. You were just one person he met a year ago.

You took Wanda to the little hotel you stayed in last time. You booked a room for the pair of you, only staying a few nights. Wanda instantly lay down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling.

"We should eat there tonight," she says.

"Why? There's plenty of other places to go eat," you tell her, trying not to make it obvious you really wanted to go and see Helmut.

"You know why. Play coy all you like, but I know you want to go."

You turn to see her looking at you.

"You just want to see him," you say, turning back away from her.

"I do. Maybe I can be your wing woman."

"Wanda!"

She sits up, crosses her legs, and looks at you intensely. You sigh and sit on your bed, looking at her.

"Fine, we'll go. Just don't do anything Wanda. He's just a nice guy, so be nice, and enjoy his food. Seriously, it's the best."

Wanda chuckles and gets up.

"Why don't we go now. Maybe he will recognize you."

"I doubt it," you tell her, "it's been a year."

You find yourself standing outside Escorpión Morado. You have missed this place. You can tell just from where you're standing that its hasn't changed in the last year.

There were a few people dotted about enjoying their meals. It gave you that homey feeling again.

You go inside.

Wanda looks around you both make your way over to the bar. You each take a seat. You turn to Wanda.

"Well?"

"It's very nice. I can see why you like it so much," she smiles at you.

A man comes to a stop in front of both of you. He's not someone you immediately recognize, perhaps he is new, or you didn't see him last time.

"What can I get for you both."

You look to Wanda to see what she wanted first, but you did not anticipate her to say what she did.

"We'll have the chef please."

The man blinks, trying to comprehend if he had actually heard what she said. He was about to ask again, but she beat him to it.

"The chef, please."

You stare at her, mouth agape, eyes wide.

"Wanda!" You hissed.

The man left and went into the kitchen, fetching the man Wanda had asked for. You sat there in great embarrassment.

"What are you playing at?"

Wanda laughs, ignoring the way you were glaring at her. You bury your face in your arms against the counter and try to block out her laughter.

Wanda is still giggling when you hear someone stop in front of you. A cold sweat began to break as you dreaded looking up. Was this him standing over you? You hoped to high heaven it wasn't.

"Someone ordered the chef?"

Well fuck it all. You kept your face hidden, not daring to show your face. It didn't matter if he remembered you or not, you were far too embarrassed to look at him.

You knew his voice. Remembered it. The smooth way he spoke, that amusement that hung off the end of his sentence. They sexy tone he uses.

Helmut Zemo.

Oh, you have missed this friendly stranger.

"Yes, my friend here wanted you." You hear Wanda say. You could murder her sometimes, you were sure.

"Is something the matter? Sam, get them some water, would you?" You hear him say.

You hear, presumably Sam, fetch you some water.

He didn't recognize you. Good.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," you reply, though your voice was heavily muffled by your arms. You wouldn't dare lift your head.

"Perhaps if you sat up. We could move you closer to the door, get some fresh air, yet sit in the shade," he offered.

You felt Wanda place a hand on your shoudler.

"Come on, Y/N. Look at him," she whispered.

You sigh and take a deep breath. You slowly move your head up, looking up at the beautiful bastard across the bar. Is it even legal to look that good?

He stops his worrying when he sees your face.

He remembers?

"Y/N?" He smiles.

"Yes," is all you can bring yourself to say. His smiles drops a little.

"Helmut, remember? Last year?"

"I remember."

His smile is soft as he looks at you. He doesn't look any different than you remember. If anything, just more handsome than memory serves.

"Did you forget me?" He asks, seeing your laid back reaction.

"No. I'm just surprised you remembered me."

He stands there, hands on his hips as he grins at you smugly.

"How could I forget someone so interesting. Also, you are wearing that coin." He nods, respectfully, at your chest where the coin was hanging.

"I am." You clasp it gently between your fingers.

"It's good to see you again," he speaks softly, genuine happiness lifting his expression.

"It's good to see you too," you smile back at him. He looks far more elated now you're smiling at him.

"What can I get for you? I can't imagine you came here only to see me," he grins smugly again.

"Food," Wanda said. "Though he is quite a snack, isn't he?" She whispered the last part. You turn to her sharply and glare. Zemo hadn't seemed to notice what she had said.

He was too busy watching you.

"Shall I surprise you again?" He asks.

You turn back to him and smile.

"Yes. Do that. I trust you."

Hearing those made him happy. Helmut points his chin up a bit and glides back into the kitchen, though not before telling Sam to fix you up some drinks.

Wanda nudges your shoulder.

"You sure do have taste, and I am not talking about the food."

"Wanda, please, stop!"

She laughs as Sam puts two drinks down in front of you both. You resist looking at her any more and thank Sam for the drinks, he smiles and then leaves you two alone to enjoy them. You take a sip.

"We're going to get you a boyfriend, Y/N."

"Wanda, please, I am begging you, stop!"

She laughs again.

"I'm joking, but it would be a real big shame if nothing came out of it. You two would look so good together."

You ignore her statement.

Zemo returns and places a dish in front of each of you. He stands back, smiling, and watches you both take a bite.

Wanda let's out the strangest moan you had ever heard. You have to cover your mouth as you laugh at her.

"What was that noise?" You ask, just about getting through your mouthful of food.

"This is so good."

Helmut chuckles.

"Success!"

You take another bite and nod. You swear there isn't a bad thing on his menu. This man knows exactly what he is doing when it comes to his restaurant.

"Do you like it?" He asks, specifically asking you this time.

"Yes, very much."

He smiles at you.

"I got your letter, by the way."

"My letter?" You ask, confused on what he was talking about.

Helmut digs into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. It's crinkled and has been early opened several times.

Now you remember.

"Oh, that letter."

"You wrote him a letter?" Wanda looks at you. "You didn't mention that."

"It's not important," you tell her.

"It is to me. It's the only goodbye I got when you left," Zemo said, holding the letter carefully in his hand. His dark eyes were scanning over the words you had written a year ago.

"It meant that much to you?"

"Yes, actually," his eyes cast to you.

You sat there, biting the inside of your cheek softly, pink dusting your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

Helmut smiled at the sight. He folded the letter and tucked it away into his pocket.

"I'll keep it forever," he says, mostly just to tease you.

"Please don't."

He chuckles and leaves your side to see to other customers. Wanda sits next to you, smiling wickedly. You dare not look at her, nor do you let your eyes follow Zemo as he walks away.

"You have it bad," Wanda chuckles, giving her nose a little scrunch with a grin.

"I know," you admit.

Wanda chuckles softly and leans in a little closer.

"He likes you too, you know. I think you left an impression on him."

You glance behind you, seeing Zemo taking an order. He was talking to the customers, smiling at them.

"Really?"

"Yes. I saw it in the way he looked at you."

"You do realise I only met him last year. I only saw him twice," you look at her, doubt written all over your face.

"Doesn't matter. It only takes a moment to fall in love with someone." She winks at you.

Zemo smiles at you as he passes by, disappearing into the kitchen.

"I think you're overreacting a little."

She shrugs and sips her drink, eying you with a mischievous glint in her gaze.

Zemo brings the couple their orders and returns to you and Wanda. Meals finished and drinks empty.

"Went down well I see."

"Very much so," you say, smiling softly.

"Would you like another drink?" He asks, his gaze lingering in you more than Wanda.

"I would," Wanda says, holding up her glass.

You chuckle, "just one more."

You had no idea how happy he was you agreed. He wanted you to stay a while longer. He grabbed your empty glasses and took them away, bringing you fresh drinks.

As Zemo poured behind drinks, he chose to ignore the way Sam was looking at him.

You took your drink gratefully as he handed it over. He stuck around again, seemingly happy to spend his time with you two.

Wanda carried most of the conversation. Zemo and yourself were sharing glances, though always just missing each other.

Wanda finished her drink and made an excuse to leave. You wanted to follow her, but the look she was giving you, and the way Zemo was looking at you, told you to stay.

You watched her go.

Zemo leaned forward on the bar, arms folded and supporting him as he smiles handsomely at you. You smile, though slightly awkwardly.

"It is very good to see you again, Y/N."

"You too. I see business is booming."

He chuckles softly.

"For now."

"For now?" You furrow your brow and tilt your head slightly.

"You didn't see it?"

"See what?"

"There is a new restaurant being done up in the city. Bigger, grander, more elegant than this place. At least, that's what they're saying."

"Oh? We didn't see anything like that. We have only been here a shirt while though. Wanda was showing me some of her favourite places."

"I see. Do you like Sokovia?"

"I do. It's so pretty here."

He smiles.

"I'm glad you think so. You would do wonderful here."

"What do you mean by that?" You watch him curiously, wondering what he was implying.

"I mean, you would be well suited to Sokovia life. If you were to live here," he smirks, hands flat out on the bar as he looks at you with sparkly eyes.

"Really? I don't think so. I stand out too much from the locals."

"Exactly. They wouldn't care. They would have someone so stunning to see every day. I would get to see you more too, a bonus for everyone." He winks at you.

"You're such a flirt!"

"Of course I am. Money keeps the business going, but charisma brings me my customers. I have to make an impact, no?"

You chuckle softly.

"I see how it is," you say, sliding off the stool. You take some money from your pocket and place it on the counter. Zemo tries to stop you, but you don't let him.

His hand hovers over yours as you leave the money on the counter.

"It was nice seeing you again, Helmut, but I must go."

"Will you come again?"

"I expect so."

He smiles.

"Don't leave without saying goodbye this time," he tells you.

"We shall see."

"I'll come looking for you if I have to!"

"No, you won't," you grin as you leave.

Zemo watches you go, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. How could one stranger make him feel so much?

Sam looks at his boss and grins.

"You have it bad, Zemo."

"Get back to work, Sam."

"Yes chef."

Zemo glances down at the money you had left for the drinks. He slides into his palm and puts it into the register.

He will count down the seconds until he sees you again.

@namethathasnotbeentaken @belle82devart @cathrin2405 @lieutenantn @wilder-fangirl @latenightartist-author @lucky-luck-lucky @hb8301 @charistory @thatoneartgalsstuff @thesuitkovian @malkaviangirl @zemosimp420 @realremyd @the-chaotic-cow @lostghostgirl94 @zafiro-draco @lazygurl05 @pinkcutiepiee @goddessofmischief03 @whovianayesha @myybebe @awesomesauce-abbie @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing @zemo-is-my-muse @nonamec0s @apparrio @scuttle-buttle @alex-the-nb

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #marvel #AU #chef zemo au

[insaneasgardian]

Haircut Of Love - Sambucky

Summary: Confessions are made, and lives are changed the day Sam gives Bucky a haircut.

Genre: FLUFF

Warnings: Bucky being slightly sad while thinking of Steve, Bucky thinking that his feelings for Sam are unrequited (they're not), Idiots in love.

A/N: I have actually worked on this for longer than I should've XD A big thank you to @cassiecasyl and @aixabi for being such great friends and helping me out by proofreading, and making suggestions!

He knew he should've stopped Bucky tagging along, but the moment that infamous, "I'm coming with you!" so eagerly left the super soldier's lips, Sam knew it was pointless to persuade him to stay behind.

Not that he really minded, the mission he'd been assigned with was a tough one, and it would've been lonely if Bucky hadn't been so adamant about accompanying him.

Sam stared into the fireplace and focused on the embers as he let his thoughts wander. There were some terrible people to be stuck with in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, but Bucky certainly wasn't one of them. He was an interesting character for sure, and Sam was sure he still didn't know a whole lot about him, but their relationship had developed all the way from 'a couple of guys' to 'almost best friends'.

"Hey", came the voice of the man Sam had so deeply been thinking of. He turned around with that signature smirk he reserved especially for Bucky, and watched with delight as the White Wolf turned a light pink color, and it wasn't because of the cold.

"I thought you might want to catch a shower, the water's nice and warm" the brunette said, and Sam nodded as he noticed his friend's damp hair from his own shower.

"Man, you need a haircut" Sam remarked, and much to his pleasure elicited a chuckle from Bucky.

"Do I?"

"It has gotten kind of longer..."

"Well, it's not easy to find a hairdresser in the forest"

"I could cut it for you"

The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop himself, and he didn't miss the way Bucky's widened ever so slightly. Sam internally scolded himself, feeling that he'd made things awkward somehow.

There was a slight pause in the atmosphere, but the ex Winter-Soldier eventually smiled. It was a weak smile, but genuine nonetheless.

"I'd like that," he told his friend, "would you mind?".

Sam shook his head, a bit too enthusiastically, and that made Bucky raise his eyebrows

“I can do it now if you want, so I don’t get your greasy ass hair all over me after I’ve gotten out of the shower”, Sam casually slipped in to look less ecstatic than he really was.

Bucky scoffed and crossed his arms at the statement, but his grin only grew wider.

“So… are you gonna give me something to cut your hair with?” his friend asked him, making a scissor snipping motion with his fingers.

The brunette’s lips tugged downwards into a frown and bit his lip as he often did when pondering. Sam couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the bottom lip in between those pearly white teeth, but he forced himself to snap out of it.

After a brief moment, Bucky snapped the fingers on his vibranium arm and turned to walk towards the room he was staying in. “Wait there!”, he had instructed Sam, who had no intention of getting up from the comfortable position he was in anyway.

Promptly, Bucky had returned, clutching a pair of scissors that Sam immediately identified as a pair of Captain America themed kiddie scissors he had recently bought for his nephew, AJ. He burst out cackling.

“What’s so funny Samuel?” the White Wolf pouted, plopping next to his friend who was dying of laughter.

“You stole that from AJ didn’t you?” Sam pried, inwardly dancing at the thought that his secret crush would want something with his face on it.

“Psh, no… I permanently borrowed it, that’s all”, Bucky insisted, moving from the couch to sit on the floor in front of Sam’s legs so that the other man would be able to cut his hair with more ease.

“Mhm”, Sam hummed, already weaving a piece of Bucky’s hair between his fingers, and snipping it off, just like that. It seemed easy enough, so he kept on going, chopping bits of hair here and there, trimming the areas which really needed it, and taking care not to overdo the cut and end up making Bucky look bald in certain places. He was doing quite well considering that he was equipped with nothing but a pair of small, blunt kiddie scissors, which Sam was certain professional hairdressers did not use

A lovely period of pure silence fell in between the two men. The only sounds were the scissors delicately doing their job of cutting the brown locks, accompanied by the gentle crackle of the fireplace, creating a relaxing atmosphere.

“Steve used to cut my hair, you know… Used to do it all the time in the 40’s” Bucky said, breaking the silence. Sam froze in his movements, but only for a second. It was rare for this man, who had been through so much to talk about his past like this.

“We’d sit outside on the street in the summer, he’d be on a chair with his scissors and I’d sit down in front of him, punk gave a damn good haircut to be honest”, he continued, and Sam chuckled.

“People would give us dirty looks as they walked by, it wasn’t uncommon for people to think Steve and I were a couple, but it was frowned upon to be in a same-sex relationship back then… sometimes still is of course”, his tone was now sad, as if he wanted to admit something, but was refraining from doing so. Sam stopped what he was doing, and set down the scissors, obviously sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Still, Steve and I were just friends, that’s all he’d ever wanted to be anyway”, Bucky finally finished.

Sam got off the couch, and slipped down onto the floor next to the 107 year old. “And what about you? Did you ever want to be more than friends?”

Bucky ran a hand over his face, which donned a neutral expression, “It’s complicated Sam… I’d be into a girl one second and thinking about Steve the next”.

Sam gently nudged Bucky’s shoulder with his own, and gave him a small smile, “Bisexual then?”, he questioned.

The other man nodded, and looked at Sam with a grin now gracing his features, “Yea, but you know what? I forgot all about Steve…” he paused to dart his tongue out his mouth and wet his lips, “The day I met another guy I haven’t been able to stop thinking about”.

Sam’s world shattered the moment those words left Bucky’s lips. The thought that the man he had pined after for so long was yearning for another made him want to burst into tears right there. However, Sam Wilson was not the kind of man to be salty over the choices of others. So he kept on the smile he had been wearing the entire time his heart broke over and over again. Yet, he had been so absorbed in his own mind that he failed to notice the longing glances Bucky was shooting at him, the ones he had been giving Sam ever since he first met him.

“Happy you could get that sorted out for you man!” He said brightly, patting Bucky’s back and climbing back onto the couch to resume the haircut.

The ex winter soldier was dumbfounded. Had Sam not noticed how he felt? What if he had? What if he didn’t appreciate the advances?

There was stillness once more, but this time it was incredibly awkward. The two sat absorbed in the silence, no longer so focused on their own thoughts, but on every movement and action the other did.

“All done,” Sam finally said, and gestured towards the large wall mirror in the living room. Bucky looked into it, and nodded.

“You’ve done a nice job, thanks”, he mumbled.

“No problem” Sam told him, getting up from the couch. “I’m going to go take a shower now”, and with that, he rose and climbed the stairs to get to the bathroom. The footsteps faded away and when Bucky heard the bathroom lock click shut, he leaned his back against the couch with a sigh. He ran a tired hand over his face.

What had he done wrong? He’d watched all the movies, read all the books and listened to all the music Sam had suggested. He’d come to see Sam’s family as his own, he cherished Sarah, AJ and Cas with all his heart.

Hell, he’d even taken dating advice from Zemo…. Maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong.

Bucky wasn’t sure. He may have lost the charm he had back in the 40’s, but Sam had always accepted him for who he was. He never questioned Bucky’s past, or forced him to be more social and open. That’s the reason Bucky developed more than platonic feelings towards him. He was so easy to be around.

However, the white wolf figured that if Sam didn’t want anything to do with him romantically, the least he could do was to maintain the relationship status they had now. Not to mention, he had the perfect way to do that.

Mac and cheese. Sam’s favorite food.

A grin grew on his face as he scrambled to the kitchen. It was a tasty and easy thing to cook and would be done before Sam even got out of the shower. Bucky proceeded to locate all the necessary ingredients they had brought to the cabin, and got straight to work.

It wasn’t a difficult job at all. With his swift speed, and his mind set only on the task before him, he was done within minutes. He even managed to get two servings plated beautifully, and just in time too, because as he finished setting the table, Sam descended the stairs and made his way into the kitchen. A smile was drawn on his face at the smell of the meal, and all the previous tension seemed to have dissipated.

“Smells good in here!” he exclaimed, his eyes then landed on the beautifully presented plates of mac and cheese. He gasped and clapped his hands like an excited child, and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. He thought it was adorable.

“Alright, alright, take a seat Sammy,” Bucky said, gesturing to the bar stools next to the kitchen island which the food rested on.

Both of them rushed to sit down and dig into their dinner. Bucky watched his friends expression as he took the first bite of his food.

Sam’s eyes closed in pure bliss, as his taste buds thanked him. “Buck, this is heaven in my mouth, tastes even better than what Sarah makes”.

Bucky blushed, but quickly tried to hide it with a chuckle, “Sarah’s my teacher, I owe it to her”.

Sam nodded at the statement, but commented no more on the topic. Instead, he took another bite and made eye contact with Bucky. “So… who’s this guy you’ve been crushing on?” he inquired.

Bucky was taken aback by the question, he blinked rapidly, “huh?” he mumbled, earning an eye roll from Sam.

“Listen man, I’ve never pressured you to tell me anything before, but we can’t pretend like that conversation didn’t happen” Sam said gently, setting his cutlery down, and reaching a hand over to place it on Bucky’s vibranium one.

The brunette gulped, closed his eyes, and took two deep breaths. He’d have to get it out. Or else it would slowly kill him to watch Sam find someone else. Even if his feelings were unrequited, the man had a right to know.

“It’s you” he said quietly before he could chicken out.

Sam slowly blinked, and shook his head, “Sorry, repeat that?”.

Bucky groaned and looked up from his plate which he’d been staring at the entire time. He gazed into Sam’s doe brown eyes with his own piercing blue ones, “It’s you! You’re the guy I’ve been crushing on!” he agitatedly replied.

Once more, there was that silence that seemed to be consuming the two of them so much lately. Bucky wanted to cry, to hide the humiliation. He was certain that Sam’s lack of words meant he didn’t feel the same, because Sam always had something to say.

“Forget it,” Bucky choked out, getting up from his seat, but Sam’s hand tightened its grip on his wrist, stopping him from getting away. The super soldier turned around slowly, trying not to make eye contact with Sam so that he wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

Then, all of a sudden, Sam rose from his seat and his lips met Bucky’s in what was a tender, loving kiss which shocked the latter, but he readily returned it. They stayed like that for a while, embracing each other as their arms snaked their way around each other's torsos. It was a moment neither of them wanted to break, but were forced to. Eventually, when they pulled apart gasping for air, they looked at each other in surprise, but merriment. Wide beams adorned both of their gorgeous faces, and their eyes glinted with excitement.

“So…” Bucky began, “you were desperate to get a piece of me, why, is it the new hair?” he said teasingly.

“The next time I give you a haircut, it’s gonna be turned into a mullet”, Sam threatened, making the other man raise his hands in surrender.

The mac and cheese was long forgotten as they clutched each other once again. Their hearts were bubbling and overflowing with love for one another, and it was not a love that was going to fizzle and die out. They fit perfectly in each other’s arms, like it’s where they belonged.

Two men, who had their own individual problems denying them a place to be truly content in the world, had finally found their refuge in each other.

Finit

#sambucky #sambucky fluff #tfatws #tfatws fanfiction #tfatws fluff #bucky x sam #sam x bucky #marvel #mcu #tfatws sambucky #sam x bucky fluff #bucky x sam fluff #insaneasgardian #haircut of love #haircut of love insaneasgardian #sambucky fics #sambucky fanfiction #sambucky fluffy fanfiction

[justreadingfics]

It’s a Deal (Chapter 6)

Chapter Summary: It’s time for the anticipated party.  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Warnings boytoy!Bucky, mention to casual sex, open relationship, someone catching feelings.

A/N: No smut in this one… Thank you to my sweet Les for having my back. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated.

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Bucky takes a sip from the whiskey in his hand and, for a glimpse of a moment, he thinks of the time he would absolutely hate the scenario around him right now, crowded with people of all imaginable sorts, loud chattering and music, dance floors flashing with bright and colorful lights. A party, but not just a party, a Tony Stark Party, filled with all of that and also the best food in the country and even better drinks. He used to loath them, until he freed himself from his own mind restraints and remembered what a party really was: an opportunity to let yourself lose, follow no rules except to have fun and, of course, meet some nice people, especially women – lots of them- to spend time with… in his bed. 

What had never crossed his mind, though, is that would come a day when he would be interested in meeting just one. And he holds his gaze on her right now. She’s there, among the sea of bodies, sipping from her drink while laughing and talking with her friends, Nat and Sharon.

Bucky can’t help the smile forming on his lips at the sight of her having her fun. As she should be…that party is all for her, after all. She looks beautiful, as usual, in a shimmery short dress and heels high enough to make a desert of his mouth. But it’s that loose laugh of hers, when her head falls a bit backwards as her shoulders shake and she puts her hand over her stomach, that makes his heart flutter inside his chest… He doesn’t even notice when his smile turns into a shuddering sigh.

He clears his throat before taking a long taste of his whiskey, hoping the strong liquor down his throat would help to put himself together. This is getting ridiculous… He needs to figure out what this huddle of… strange feelings growing inside him every time he sees or even thinks of her means… He needs to figure that shit out soon. 

“Well, well, well.”

Steve’s voice grasps his attention as his eyes advert from her to meet his friend walking closer to him.

“What’s up, punk?” Bucky doesn’t even know why but he immediately hates that little teasing smile on Steve’s face, he decides to ignore it, though.

“That’s one vision I’m not really used to. Bucky Barnes drinking all alone at a party. Where’s the mini harem that it’s usually seen surrounding you at such events?” Steve asks, not trying to disguise the playful sarcasm in his words.

“Night is only beginning, pal,” Bucky answers, putting on a cocky smile and tapping on Steve’s shoulder, using a bit more strength than usual.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve chuckles, not thoroughly convincedby the excuse, “You know, ever since Nat and I came back from the mission, I’ve been hearing some interesting speculations from some members of the team who stayed here…”

“Do I wanna hear it?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

Steve hums, “The word is out you’re just not the same anymore,” he shrugs and sips from his drink, peeking Bucky from under his eyelashes.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

 “They don’t see the usual parade of women coming and going from your apartment. Sam says there’s been one mysterious lady, though… but none of them seem to guess who.” With no hint of subtleness in him and with a teasing smirk on his lips, Steve turns his gaze to her direction across the room.

“Jesus…” Bucky huffs, shaking his head before drinking from his whiskey, “Fucking all mighty Avengers… Don’t you all have a World or two to save instead of gossiping about my private life?”

“Which was never really that private, let us be honest.”  Steve laughs.

Bucky can’t help but to let out a small laugh, too, shrugging at the incontestability of the statement. He was never one to be much discreet about his shenanigans.

“What is that exactly?” Steve insists, nodding his head in her direction, where she still talks animatedly with her friends, “I didn’t know you were, ahm, close friends with Y/n from the tech department.”

“Didn’t you walk in on us the other day?” Bucky puts on a mocking frown at him, “Do you need me to reenact it for you, pal? You know I would have no problem with that, but we’re gonna have to ask her-“

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve cuts him off, his cheeks already showing a shade of pink at the memory, “And don’t you think I didn’t notice that little stunt on movie night, too,” he adds in a chastising way, but the scowl quick breaks into a smile when Bucky laughs, “You know what I’m talking about, you’re Bucky, you love ladies, as in plural, you have loved them ever since you were a kid in the 30’s, I have to admit you’ve always been respectful in your own way, but you were never been a guy to settle for just one for longer than a night or two…” Steve follows Bucky’s gaze, which has automatically navigated towards her. He lets out a knowing hum before speaking again, “But I guess your path just hadn’t crossed with hers, yet…”

Bucky looks back at Steve, whose eyes are gleaming with something like excitement. Bucky doesn’t know exactly how the words sink into him, but he feels like he can’t just disagree, not if he’s going to be completely honest. Never has he felt the need to be with only one woman for that amount of time until… until her.  

“I mean,” Steve continues after no answer from Bucky, “I think it’s great, it was about time for you to find someone-“

 “Don’t go imagining unrealistic scenarios on your romantic little head, Punk. My name is not Steve Rogers to get off on,” a grimace twists Bucky’s face as he speaks, “Love, attachment… or any tacky sort of shit you’re into.”

Steve opens his mouth as if he were to say something, but lets out a frustrated sigh instead, pressing his lips into a taut line.  

“No, seriously, pal,” Bucky continues, in a less snapping tone, “Our, ahm, friendship is based exclusively on what you’ve seen and heard so far,” he smirks, “Sex. She had just gotten out of a long relationship and needed to get off, Nat thought of me - of course -introduced my dick to her pussy, they’ve become best of friends and here we are now,” he holds back a laugh, knowing damn well how the vulgar choice of words would make Steve’s 40’s little brain short-circuit, being the precise reason why he chose to put it that way.  

“Alright, alright, you’re just messing with me now,” Steve seems in a hurry to make his friend stop talking.

Bucky lets out the laugh he was holding and punches his friend’s shoulder, gaining a dirty look in response before resuming, “I mean… It’s nothing like you’re insinuating, she’s great and we’ve been having fun, that’s all,” Bucky adds as his gaze falls upon her again. Yeah… she’s great. And beautiful, sexy, funny, smart, kind- clearing his throat to dismiss his own betraying line of thoughts, he turns back to his friend.

“If you say so.” A small smile curls Steve’s lips, showing he’s anything but convinced. 

Goddammit, he does have a lot to figure out.  

~~~

“I knew something was up, Bucky never stays for movie nights.” Tears fill Sharon’s eyes from how hard she’s been laughing.

“I felt like a horny teenager in my parents’ home,” you resume the story you’ve been entertaining Sharon and Nat with, “Not that my teen years were that exciting,” you add with a grimace, “Far from it exactly, I was a tech nerd since I was eight, not really something that rocks teen boys’ worlds.” Bucky seems to really dig it, though, is the immediate thought that pops into your mind, but you see no reason why you should say it out loud.

“Well, it did bring you far enough,” Nat winks at you, moving her glass around the party being held to celebrate you to emphasize her point.

“Damn right,” Sharon agrees, raising her glass, which you and Nat quickly follow in a cheerful toast.

You can’t shake the smile of your lips. You wouldn’t go as far as to connect the events, but after your breakup with Eddie, it seems like you’re living another life. A new and more exciting life, both personally and professionally… That’s why it shouldn’t bother you so much that you still haven’t seen him. He said he would be there after you called to tell the news and invite him to come. But it does bother you to casually look around the party and not spotting him…

“So, it’s been like a month since this deal of yours started, right?” Nat asks, catching your attention after gulping from her customary vodka.

“Yeah,” your eyebrows furrow as you nod, “Sounds about right… and what a month, holy shitballs…” You round your eyes, letting out a puff.

“Care to share more details?” Sharon asks, wiggling her eyebrows.  

“Well…” You quickly survey the area around you and sneakily lean closer to them as they mimic you, “I had no idea what my body could do, I mean, I’ve been in positions I’ve never thought were humanly possible to perform, there’s not a day I don’t feel sore on every little inch of me, it’s a constant state by now,” you add, and the grin on your face tells how little the soreness really bothers you.

“Super soldiers…” Sharon smirks and winks before clinking her glass of champagne with yours.  

As Nat chuckles, you let out a giggle, “Yeah, I mean, my poor pussy hasn’t seen that much action her entire life.”

Nat’s jaw drops as she scoffs and turns to Sharon, “Check this out… this woman wouldn’t even say the word “sex” without choking before,” she points at you and you shrug, keeping the smile on your face. 

“That’s the Barnes effect,” Sharon comments, before turning to you, ”But wait a minute, how often you two have been keeping this encounters up?”

You take a second to think about it before answering, “Almost daily, I guess. When I don’t call him, he ends up calling me and so we go.”

“Really?” Nat asks and when you give her the confirmation, her brows snap together as a wondering “huh” slips out of her lips.   

She seems surprised by the fact you’re seeing Bucky practically every day, but you think nothing of it, “I’m sending you a whole box of this vodka you like so much, by the way.” You point at her glass, “You deserve it. I was just waiting for you to come back from that long ass mission of yours.”

He expression shifts to an amused one, “Oh, well, cheers to that,” she says before gulping down the rest of the liquid in her glass.  

“But let me ask you something,” Sharon cuts in, “You’ve been seeing him almost daily, having amazing sex with the Adonis we all have to agree Bucky is…” she looks at Natasha for support, who just nonchalantly shrugs her agreement, before turning back to you, “Don’t you think it can become a bit complicated? In the feelings area, I mean, Bucky can be pretty charming, but when it comes to commitment, well-” She tilts her head as a hint of concern is present on her voice.

Nat too focuses on you, interested in what you have as an answer.

You snort and waves dismissively at their concern, “No way. Don’t worry, you two. Neither of us are looking for such a thing. It is what it is: just sex. Bucky is amazing, I don’t think I would be able to have that sort of relationship with anyone other than him. He’s so relaxed and laid back, no games… he’s pretty clear with his intentions, which is no romance at all and that’s exactly what I need right now. We both want the exact same thing, that’s pretty clear ever since we set this deal and it’s not going to change,” you say with tranquility and firmness in your words.

“Are you sure?” Nat insists, giving you that look you know it’s all about her making sure you’re ok. “This whole idea came from me but I know Bucky for a long time, I know he’s not one to do feelings, but I’ve been worried about how you would take it.”

“Absolutely…” you guarantee “And to be honest, I know I need to work on it, I do, but when I think about a relationship, I mean, a conventional relationship, I still think of Eddie… I feel like I’m still too caught up on him to think of anyone else that way,” You shrug, pressing your lips in a line, “Bucky’s being really important to help me get through it all, though, I have to admit it.”

“Well… I’m glad.” Nat gives you a sympathetic smile, brushing a hand on your arm.

“Alright… I guess you have a boytoy, then, huh?” Sharon teases.

You laugh, before conceding with a nod, “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Nat says in a quiet mumble and nods to behind your shoulder.  

Before you have the chance to turn around you hear his voice. That deep and raspy voice that usually makes your skin burn and tonight is no different, “Well, well, if it isn’t the power trio… Am I the devil by any chance?” Bucky steps beside you, narrowing his eyes at Natasha, before shooting you that captivating smile of his, the one that prompts a smile of yours to swiftly twist your lips too, “Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” you answer, seizing the moment to take him over. He looks absolutely ravishing with his styled fluff hair, light scruff shadowing his jaw and beautiful eyes stuck on you, wearing an untied blue suit over a casual white t-shirt that not every man could make it work. Sharon was damn right, Bucky really is charming… too charming for his own good.

“So, talking about me, ladies?” He insists, tilting his head and focusing a piercing gaze on you, despite addressing  all three.  

There’s something about him… you just can’t stop smiling at his presence and, even worse, don’t seem to be able to tell a lie, not even an innocent one to save your ass, so you decide to take a sip of your champagne and leave it to your friends to answer the question. You guess boytoy can’t be worse than “human dildo”, like you called him before, but that has been just between you two...

“Yeah, yeah,” Sharon is the one to step in, holding back a laugh just like you, as Natasha, ever a pro, sustains a perfect poker face, “I haven’t seen Steve, yet and I was wondering if he would be with you.”

If you’ve seen a flicker of disappointment in his eyes it quickly vanishes as he turns to Sharon, “Oh, yeah, he was. Look, there he is by the bar,” Bucky points, “And you might wanna check the amount of Asgardian Liquor is being sneaked to him, the guy is already talking nonsense.”

“Oooo, Asgardian Liquor Steve is the best, I give twenty minutes before he starts summoning Mjölnir from wherever Thor is now,” Sharon’s face twinkles with excitement, “See you guys later,” she adds before rushing towards the bar and her boyfriend.

As a girl from the staff comes along and refills Nat’s glass with her special vodka, Bucky looks back at you. You smile at him but soon frowns a bit. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you and you can’t just pinpoint what it is. There’s always sheer hunger in his gazes for you that makes your spine tremble, but tonight… there’s something a bit more… introspective in it, maybe?

“So, enjoying your night?” he asks.

You brush your thoughts away to answer, “Oh, shit, yeah… This is unbelievable. I was never one to party that much, but I could get used to this.” You sign with your glass around, still marveled by the over the top event being held in your name. “Tony is out of this world.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s true, though,” Natasha comments with an exaggerated eye roll.

You chuckle before a sight behind Bucky’s shoulders catches your eye.

“Hey, I-“ Bucky starts.

“He’s here,” cutting out whatever Bucky was gonna say to you, your voice comes out in a gasp as your hands run cold and your heart races.

“Who? Tony?” Bucky asks with a grin, turning his face towards the direction you’re staring at with startled eyes.  

“Eddie,” Nat is the one who answers, pointing at the man standing alone by the entrance, seeming a little lost as he glances around.

Not you nor Natasha sees when the smile on Bucky’s face falls. When he looks back around, though, he already has a lighthearted expression put on for you.

“I should go talk to him, right?” You check, shifting looks from him to Nat. As she just shrugs, curling the corner of her lips down - and by that, expressing exactly what she thinks -  you appeal to Bucky, focusing pleading eyes on him. Deep down, you know what you wanna do, but for some reason, just needs someone to back you up. 

“Yeah-“ he clears his throat, “I mean, you invited him, haven’t you?” He tightens his lips at an attempt of a smile.

“You’re right.” You nod, biting your lips nervously and looking straight ahead,  “See you guys later.” You wave, after taking one or two deep breaths.

Your shoulder brushes against Bucky as you walk past him and he turns his body around, following you with his gaze. He takes a long sip of his drink and places a hand inside his pocket, watching as you approach your ex-boyfriend.   

He tries hard to bury deep down inside him the tug on his chest.

“Oh, fuck…”

Natasha’s curse reminds him she’s still right there and he realizes she’s been watching him, with a dumbfounded expression he’s not used to seeing on her face.

He lets out a deep breath, “What?” 

Natasha scoffs and shakes her head, seeming in a state of disbelief, “This whole time I’d been worried about the wrong person.”

~~~

To be continued.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

#kuroko no basket #knb #kuroko no basuke #aomine daiki #aomine smut #knb smut #knb drabbles #knb scenarios #anonymous #popz

[lilbabycee]

bunny // steve rogers (part two) 🐰

READ PART ONE

↳ summary: the reader gets an unwelcome visitor

↳ relationship: soft dark!steve rogers x brat!reader

↳ word count: 5.3k

↳ warnings: sugar baby au, eventual dark steve, daddy kink, eventual smut, mentions of substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms + relationships, the reader is rich and a little bit of a bitch

↳ author’s note: it’s back! :) enjoy my loves! x

chapter two: it was for me too

---

"if you really listen, then this is to you mama, there is only so much I can do tough for you to witness it but it was for me too"

- r.i.p 2 my youth, the neighbourhood

---

You can do nothing but nod dumbly, eyes roaming the large figure standing in front of you. The only thing that snaps you out of your trance is Natasha’s quiet exhalation of breath through her nose, her little laugh making you woman up and place your hand in Steve’s larger one.

“Likewise,” you speak lightly, your words little more than puffs of air escaping your mouth. His eyes don’t leave yours for a second and the longer you look at his face, the more that you start to believe that you know him from somewhere. But he drops your hand the moment that recognition starts to claw at your brain and the up-and-down look that he gives you snaps you out of any deep thought.

“So, bunny,” a teasing voice comes from beside you, causing you to tear your eyes away from Steve’s. From the way he’s smirking at you, you assume that Sam was the one who spoke up. Turning your whole body away from Steve, you saunter up to the handsome man glowing like bronze underneath the warm light and take the drink he pours for you with a sultry smile - and you know that you should never take drinks from strangers but without really knowing why, you already trust this man.

“That’s me,” you throw him a wink, sipping from the glass slowly.

“Where’d you get a name like that?” He pats the arm of the sofa and as your smile grows, you perch yourself on it, crossing one leg over the other. Natasha follows your lead, situating herself on an armchair to your right, in between the couch that Steve sits on and the one that holds you, Bucky, and Sam. You open your mouth about to answer Sam’s question, but Natasha swiftly steps in.

“I gave it to her,” she grins, running a hand through her loose waves. You can see both Sam and Bucky’s eyes follow her movements which makes you laugh a little, the hunger displayed in both the pools of brown and blue almost overtly obvious.

“Why?” Bucky’s voice rasps, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. Your eyes can’t help but follow the movement - you’re not blind and he’s a very attractive man - but you stop short when you realize that someone is searing holes into the back of your neck. Looking to the side, you can see that Steve has sat down in his previous seat, hands resting on thick thighs and legs spread wide.

His eyes are on you - unflinchingly, you note, even as yours meet his; it’s obvious that he saw your eyes glued to Bucky’s lips. You engage in a quick staring match and even though you’re not usually the type to back down easily, the way that your face heats up and his gaze makes you feel has you looking away after merely a few seconds.

Your eyes refocus on Natasha and stay there.

“It’s because she’s like the energizer bunny,” your best friend snorts, taking the proffered glass of rosé from Sam’s hand and taking a sip. Her statement makes all the men laugh - apart from Vision because he’s too busy whispering in Wanda’s ear for him to be involved in the rest of the conversation and by Wanda’s reaction, you can tell that their conversation isn’t exactly fit for public consumption.

Natasha continues, tracing a finger along the rim of her glass, “Once she gets on something, it’s… she’s, like, stuck on it, you know? Can’t get enough of it - she goes crazy over it, gets super excited and stuff. It’s cute-”

You interrupt her with a groan, causing a chorus of laughs and ooh’s to rise from the group. “Nat- I-I don’t even like that nickname anyway. I’d rather you call me literally anything else-”

“Okay, bunny,” Bucky grins at you and you reach over Sam to swat at his very hard arm, all traces of your previous nervousness having dissipated with the alcohol. Your hand comes back sore but to humor you, you suppose, Bucky recoils from you and dramatically sinks down in his chair, wailing exaggeratedly.

“Sounds good, bunny,” Sam joins in, flashing you a cheeky smile that only earns him a blow on his equally thick bicep that leaves your hand stinging but he too rubs at his arm after drawing a sharp intake of air through his teeth. They’re funny, so you throw your head back and laugh - really laugh - and find yourself slipping off the side of the couch and into Sam’s lap. You let out a little squeal as Natasha and Bucky laugh at you.

“Whoa there, bunny,” Sam chuckles, hands immediately coming up to grip your waist tightly. “Slow your roll.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, but you’re only mock-annoyed: “Christ, Sam, take a girl out on a date first.”

The response you get from the man underneath you is mirthful - “You’re the one who landed on me, darlin’” - and causes you to smile, but then you feel it again , his eyes so intently focused on the side of your face. You choose to ignore it because if this guy has a staring problem, he can take it up with-

“-you,” Bucky flicks Sam’s ear playfully. “I get plenty of women.”

“Oh yeah, Barnes? ‘Cause your lap is lookin’ awfully empty -”

And the two go back and forth like this for what seems like an eternity. You know that you’ve lost Wanda to Viz , the seat that they once occupied currently vacant. You kind of want to be annoyed at her because she promised that she’d help you with what you really came here for in the first place, but you can’t because, for the past few weeks, you and Natasha have kind of maybe been avoiding her to some degree because, really and truly, she’s been such an uptight bitch - and you say that in the nicest way possible - so you want her to get some dick in peace so that she can release all of that backed-up tension.

You love her, really, but a sexually frustrated Wanda has the potential to rival your mother in terms of how completely unbearable they are to be around.

You turn to speak to Natasha but then Steve clears his throat loud enough for everyone to hear which causes all chatter to cease. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his bearded jaw before he speaks. You can’t help but take some more time to admire the beauty of his jawline, so defined and sharp that you wonder if it could cut up the skin on the insides of your thighs-

“I mean, while I’d love to continue this,” Steve checks his Rolex, “we should probably get down to what you girls really came for.” His eyes land pointedly on you, and you realize that you’re still sat comfortably on Sam’s lap. You sit back even further, wrapping your arm around Sam’s shoulders. Steve’s fists are clenched so hard that you’re sure that his blunt nails are digging into the palms of his hands.

You decide that you’re not going to move.

“Right,” your best friend leans forward to put her empty glass on the coffee table where your own lies and clears her throat. She then says your name and gestures vaguely to where you’re sitting, “she’s looking for an arrangement similar to what Wanda and Vision have-”

“-and since Wanda isn’t here to help us explain exactly what all of that consists of,” you butt in, pressing your long thumbnail to your lower lip and pushing it into your mouth, “we were wondering if you gentlemen would be kind enough to help us out?”

Natasha’s head snaps to yours, her eyebrow raised in a way that says this is not what we agreed on and you reply with it’s fine, but then she responds with why don’t we just wait for Wanda and you don’t even think that warrants a reply. You give her a deadpan look and she physically holds her hands up in surrender; you both know that Wanda’s not coming home with the two of you tonight. The three men around you look lost so you direct your attention back to them.

“So?” you follow up, sucking lightly on the end of your nail. Even from where you’re sitting, you can see Steve’s darkened eyes - his pupils are blown and they only leave a thin ring of blue around them. The rise and fall of his broad chest has gotten just that little bit faster.

He’s so pretty.

“The arrangements are different for all of us,” Bucky downs the amber liquid in his glass. “So it’d just depend on who you’re interested in gettin’ to know, doll. Got anyone in mind right off the bat?”

Oh wow - you didn’t expect to be put on the spot like this so early into this conversation. But you don’t mind; the pressure or awkwardness that should come with a question like this in a situation as unique as this one doesn’t come. You only smile coyly, batting your eyelashes and looking down.

“Oh, well,” you start shyly, swinging your legs innocently. “I don’t really know about all that yet-”

“It’s alright, bunny,” the voice ignites a fire in your veins so you know who’s just spoken. “We’ll make this decision easy for you. She’s mine, boys.”

This makes you choke yet again, causing you to clear your throat loudly. Your fingertips press down on your cheeks just to see how warm your face really is from this blatant stake of his claim on you. Normally, you’d be the first one to protest, completely indignant that this man thinks that he owns you in any capacity. But there’s none of that kind of passion here; rather, you’re more- no, probably not- no, definitely turned on by his words.

The two other men, much like Natasha did only a minute ago, throw their hands up in acquiescence. In fact, they both seem so moved by Steve’s words that they trip over each other to speak.

“Yeah, that’s all good, man.”

“Sounds good to me, pal.”

There’s a lull in the conversation while you all digest the implications of Steve’s exclamation. You twist your fingers together, scraping your nails against each other.

“So,” you drag out the last syllable. “Is there some kind of… contract or something?”

---

You wake up in a bed that feels far too crowded to be your own. There’s a body wrapped around yours, another set of legs intertwined with yours and an arm draped over your torso. In your groggy state, it takes all the willpower that you can summon to turn your head to the left and check who the fuck is sleeping in next to you in- your bed (???).

The hand of the arm that isn’t currently being pinned down by another human being comes up to rub at your eyes, clearing up your bleary vision so that you can try to successfully identify your intruder.

You could say that you’ve never woken up in a situation like this but that would be a lie and your New Year’s resolution this year was that you’d try to be more honest - so the truth is that this is definitely not the first time that you’ve woken up in a situation like this and if anything, this is probably the safest you’ve felt out of all of those scenarios.

Half of the person’s head is buried underneath the duvet so you squint a little in the obnoxiously bright morning light - you silently curse the sun for not wanting to take a fucking day off today - so that you can try to make out a defining feature of the body on top of you. Once your eyes focus, the mop of red hair spread across the white sheets makes you groan and close your eyes again.

You honestly didn’t have a game plan if it wasn’t Natasha.

Confused, you attempt to think back to exactly what happened last night. Since you’ve woken up with Natasha, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt and assume that nothing too compromising happened last night. After nights like Peter’s, you normally cannot immediately recognize the person next to you, so you’re going to take this as a glass half full kind of moment and call it a plus.

Nothing illegal took place as far as you can remember which is another first for you - apart from your excessive underage drinking but you turn twenty-one in a year so you shrug it off.

Wow, maybe I am growing.

After your conversation with those men - there was no contract - you had sent Wanda a text to let her know that you and Natasha were heading home. There was nothing at this party that you hadn’t seen before, so frankly, your work there was done and you had no more business at Peter’s. Speaking of, you did manage to run into him right before you left just to say goodbye to him - ever the gracious guest - and tease him some more about MJ. Naturally, he turned redder than the burgundy suit pants he was wearing and gave both you and Nat kisses on the cheek before almost running away from the two of you.

That gave you a good laugh.

You were halfway to Nat’s car when none other than Steve Rogers appeared from the shadows to put your number on his phone. He said nothing other than I’ll call you before walking further down the valet parking to get his own car. Natasha beeped her horn at you when she saw you lingering - you were staring at his ass - so you hurried to hop in the passenger’s seat of her black sports car after she shouted for you to get in the Porsche or I’m leaving your ass on the side of the road.

And now your phone rings; you can’t help that the weaker side of your brain wants so badly for it to be Steve. He left you with a promise - albeit a vague one - and you think that you’re going to hold him to that, although you don’t know how exactly how you’d go about that since he’s the one who has your number.

Shit.

Natasha groans loudly at the shrill noise coming from your phone speakers, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over her face.

She says your name exasperatedly, “I thought I told you to put that shit on silent-”

“Sorry, sorry,” you tell her, rolling your eyes because you don’t remember her telling you that, and then you sit up. At this moment, you realize that you actually aren’t in your own apartment and are in Natasha’s very grey and white bedroom that you always have something critical to say about. Reaching for your phone, you’re shocked that it’s not dead and is at a respectable 16%. The caller ID shows you nothing useful - unknown caller - and this only gives you some more hope that it’s the handsome man you met last night. You clear your throat before pressing that green button.

“Hello?” you wince at the dryness of your throat, spying an unopened water bottle next to where your phone lay. You grab it and pop the cap hastily, taking a swig while you wait for the reply of the other person.

A very distinctly feminine squeal makes you sigh in disappointment before you pause, the familiar voice making you smile sleepily.

“Shit- fuck, get out of my way- brother-” the person says your name loudly and you know by the rich accent and the impatient tone that it’s-

“Shuri,” you muster up as much enthusiasm as you can for a call this early in the morning - you pull your phone back from your ear to see that it’s actually already 10:33 a.m and wince - because you are actually genuinely excited to hear from your Wakandan best friend. Natasha pulls the pillow off her face at the sound of the girl’s voice through the speaker, and a grin of her own lights up her face.

“Hi, bitch!” Shuri yells and you close your eyes, shaking your head but smiling nonetheless. “I’m almost at your place - I’ll be there in ten.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your chest and you rub the sleep out of your eyes. “Whose phone are you calling from? And Shuri, I’m not at home right now-”

“‘Koye’s - mine’s dead and in the back. Are you with Nat?”

“Well, yeah-”

“Are you two fucking? Without me? ”

The redhead next to you can’t contain her laughter either, curled up in the sheets next to you gasping for breaths.

“Sorry to break it you like this, babe,” you play along. “No, Peter had a party last night-”

“I know - I heard about it. Sounded like fun, but my Baba and I had to do some appearances in D.C yesterday before we came to this goddamn crowded city- brother, I’ll call it whatever I want to call it - Bast, get out of the car.”

There’s some rustling and the sound of a car door slamming before Shuri releases a deep, tired breath.

“I didn’t know you were coming this week,” Natasha has sidled up next to you, resting her head on your shoulder so that Shuri can hear her voice after putting your phone on speaker.

“Neither did I,” the Wakandan princess snorts, the sound of deafening car horns and faint yelling in the background almost drowning out her lilted tone. “It was kind of a last-minute decision. But enough about me - you don’t care about all this stuff. I heard you guys met with Bucky Barnes last night-”

“How do you know Bucky?” You frown, picking at your nails.

“Long story,” she says flippantly, sighing before clearing her throat. “But that’s not the point - I know what kinda guy Bucky Barnes is. What kinda business did you two have hanging around people like that?”

“Well, I wanna hear the story-”

“Shut up,” Natasha doesn’t even look at you when she says the words. “We’re- actually, it’s not even me- she’s looking for a-”

“-sugar daddy?!” Shuri exclaims so loud that both you and Natasha flinch as you move the phone further away from you. Maybe putting her on speaker was a mistake. “What- no, Okoye, not me...yes I’m sure,” the princess’ voice becomes more hushed, “bunny...what do you of all people need a sugar daddy for, miss princess of New York?”

Nat chortles louder than you like so you shoot her a glare, smacking a pillow over her face before redirecting your attention back to the confused girl over the phone. “Daddy cut me off and-”

Shuri;’s laugh is completely mocking and would definitely be offensive if it were anyone else, but you can do nothing but sit there and pout. Natasha’s laughter becomes louder and you roll your eyes, standing up and stretching your arms over your head. You throw your phone at your best friend, causing her to almost fall off the side of the bed trying to dodge it.

“Shut up, both of you,” you scowl. “Shuri, let me know when you’re here - I’m going to go take a shower and reflect on my taste in friends. You guys are both the worst-”

Already halfway inside the en-suite, you only hear a faint chorus of “ We love you too!” before the lock clicks behind you.

---

When you stroll out of the private elevator that leads directly to your apartment, you’re staring at something funny that Shuri’s sent you on Instagram as you walk through the front door, a blindingly white smile on your face. The chunky black and white Balenciaga sneakers on your feet pound the floor lightly and your hand comes up to tug absent-mindedly at one of the strings of Natasha’s black hoodie before running it down the leg of the matching cycling shorts. You push your sunglasses to the top of your head, the minty flavor of your gum filling your tastebuds and the loud sound of your nails clicking against your phone screen echoing against your high walls and tall ceilings.

The sound of a throat clearing makes you blink hard, your eyelash extensions brushing your skin as you look up to determine the identity of your intruder.

Once you see who it is, you physically are unable to prevent the loud “fuck” from falling from your lips. So when she stands up from your couch in your living room with her arms folded over her breast implants and her full, fake lips pursed while her eyebrows shoot to her hairline, you can’t help but laugh, surprised that she can still look like a raging bitch with all that botox in her face. 

Her grating voice squeaks your name indignantly making you roll your eyes as you drop your oversized black bag by your shoe rack. Kicking off your trainers, you breeze right past her and flop down on one of your sofas, the plush material soothing your aching bones.

It’s been five days since Peter’s party and since then, Wanda had given both Bucky and Sam your number upon their request - you’ve been texting them all week. As much as you love your friends, these men are hands-down two of the funniest people that you’ve ever met. Despite your frequent conversations with his two best friends, there’s been radio silence from Steve Rogers. You don’t want to give these men the impression that you’re desperate - even though that’s exactly what you are - but you’re getting impatient. You don’t chase anybody; not once in your entire life has anyone made you work for their attention, so this whole situation is making you antsy.

You’ve just returned from the gym with Sam and Bucky where you were shocked to turn up outside only to see the two men shirtless, a huge but not unwelcome surprise in more than one way - “you have a fucking metal arm?!” - and it was truly a gift from above to essentially watch them work out from your place on the treadmill. You couldn’t even run - you almost fell on your goddamn face - because you were so distracted by the strong, glistening men across from you. You had instead slowed to a walk, texting Natasha and Shuri, sending them videos of these gorgeous men lifting seemingly impossibly heavy amounts with such ease and agility.

You couldn’t deny that it was making you feel things.

They then insisted that you should come and lift with them because “it’s rude to stare, bunny” and that was definitely less fun than just watching them.

And now here you sit, lounging carelessly and purposefully ignoring the presence of the woman sitting across from you. She sighs loudly, drumming her freshly-manicured red claws on the armrest of the couch, her eyes glued onto your face. Clearing her throat louder this time, you can feel the heat of her gaze on your profile burn hotter.

“Honey, are you just going to let me sit here all day?” your mother whines - like a child, you think - and flicks her hair face from her face.

“Yup,” you pop the ‘p’ and then fall silent, chewing your gum audibly, satisfied when you see her eye twitch in your periphery.

The two of you sit like this for a while, the deafening quiet weighing heavily on your mother’s shoulders. She’s always been a woman who’s liked to talk, fill moments of peace with mindless chatter and you’ve hated it all your life.

“Stop slouching,” your mother suddenly snaps, letting out yet another sigh, but one of relief as if it’s been painful for her to hold in her chest. With the silence effectively broken, you give a sigh of your own and finally meet her eyes, the same pretty color as yours shining back at you like a mirror. Then you assess the rest of her: the bleached blonde extensions, over-lined lips, and the designer coral pantsuit. You hold her gaze as you slip further down onto the couch, your posture even more relaxed than before. She narrows her own at you and a Chesire cat grin spreads on your face.

“You didn’t come here to correct my posture, mother,” you tell her, looking back at your phone, “so to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You haven’t been returning my calls,” she arches an eyebrow, dusting an imaginary piece of lint off of her pants, “even though I told your dad to tell you when you called him a week ago-”

“You don’t think there’s a reason that I’ve been dodging your calls?” you ask rhetorically, running the pad of your thumb over an eyebrow. Your birth giver cocks her head at you curiously, as if she’s truly confused as to why you don’t seem to like her-

“I don’t know why you don’t like me,” she states airily, examining her nails contemplatively. Your eyes dart back to hers in surprise, your jaw literally dropping because you’re that floored. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you-”

“Get out,” you say quietly, immediately shutting her up.

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out,” you repeat, tossing your phone onto the couch behind you and standing up swiftly. Your mother is still sitting across from you, so you gesture with your hands so as to emphasize your point. “You should be lucky I haven’t fucking blacklisted you from this apartment-”

She exclaims your name, “-don’t cuss at me-”

You power through, “-after all you’ve done to me - so what I mean, mother, is get the fuck out of my apartment!”

Your voice carries through your home. When the echoes finally stop, the woman in front of you turns her nose up at you, clutches her taupe Birkin, and clicks those stupid stilettos all the way to your elevator. When she presses the button, she turns around to glare at you, failing to notice your defensive stance or how you’re fighting tears that you thought you’d already spent years crying out.

“Your father will be hearing about this,” she smirks and the doors open, bathing the side of her face in bright, artificial light. You don’t even look at her as the elevator chimes and the rose gold doors slide closed. But when they do, all of the breath leaves your body in a loud sob, your shaking hands coming up to wipe at your eyes.

The ringing of your phone interrupts you, the caller ID a number that you don’t recognize. In your current state, you answer it unthinkingly, not even registering that you’re about to be speaking to a total stranger.

“Hello?” You sniffle over the phone, running your sleeve over your cheeks to rid them of any tear tracks.

The person over the line greets you by saying your name in a deep tone that shoots straight to your panties, meaning that you know exactly who this is. It’s the call you’ve been waiting for the whole week and of all times, this is when he decides to pick up his damn phone and remember that you exist?

Motherfucker.

“Steve,” you breathe, gulping down large amounts of air to try and keep any residual tears at bay. “I-, uh, hi.”

His chuckle on the other end of the phone causes your cheeks to heat up because it should be illegal to sound like that. “Hi to you too, bunny-” you interrupt him with a shaky breath that’s louder than you anticipate, “-hold on, have you been crying?”

Shit, you think, massaging your temples. “Yeah,” you admit, sniffing again. It’s likely that your ears are deceiving you, but you think that you hear him groan, a sinful sound from deep in his throat that makes even more moisture pool in your underwear. “It’s not a big deal though - it’s nice to hear from you.”

“Are you doin’ okay?” he asks softly, making your heart do little flips in your chest.

“I’m fine,” you state almost automatically, hoping to brush off any concern and move on. You walk over to your fridge, scanning the contents before your eyes land on the row of clear, blue-capped bottles with a pink flower on the front. You put your phone on speaker and place it on the counter as you snatch one of the bottles of water from the shelf, cracking it open and taking a long swig from it.

“You don’t sound fine,” Steve protests, sounding borderline amused. “Maybe you can tell me all about it when I take you out to dinner tonight.”

He tells you mid-swig and of course, there’s no way for him to know his, but you’re so taken aback that you falter, subsequently choking on all of the water in your mouth. The coughs that wrack your body are violent, and there’s a burn in your throat from the strength of your body’s automatic reaction. You have to shut the fridge door and turn around, bracing a hand on the island counter where your phone lies.

“Sweetheart?” he probes, probably holding back a laugh but you can’t really discern whether or not that’s true over the ear-splitting sound of your coughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologize, wheezing through the paralyzing attack on your body. “That sounds great - where are we going?”

You finally recover, taking another - slower - sip of your drink, tears stinging your eyes.

“Hey now,” Steve laughs again, and you can’t help but notice how carefree he is now compared to the night you met him. It makes you smile. “That’d be telling. Just be ready by 8 - I’ll get my driver-”

“-oh no, that’s okay - if you give the location to my driver, he can take me-”

“No,” his voice is booming, even through the phone, and it gives you pause. His authoritative tone should’ve made you cry, especially with all that’s happened in your past, but instead, a tidal wave of desire makes you shudder and threatens to pull you underneath the surface. “My driver will pick you up at 8,” he repeats and you press the power button on the side of your phone so it shows you the time: 2:49, “and I’ll send over something appropriate for you to wear. Are we clear?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“I asked if we were clear, sweetheart,” his voice has taken on a warning tone now and you can’t deny the heat that courses through you.

“Yes, sir,” you give him the answer almost instinctively, frowning afterward because you feel like you’re in school.

“Good girl, bunny baby,” he coos and it’s this that makes you almost audibly moan.

You? A praise kink?

Absolutely.

“I’ll see you then, hmm, honey?” he prompts you to respond. Normally, you don’t let anybody that you’re romantically involved with call you honey because it reminds you so acutely of your mother, and you suspect that she knows that which is why she keeps calling you that stupid nickname. But with Steve, you already feel like you’re in no place to be making demands.

And for the first time in your life, that doesn’t bother you all that much.

“Yes, Steve,” your eyelashes flutter and you squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease yourself of the growing discomfort at your most sensitive area.

“Good, good,” he speaks, sounding distracted. “I’ve got a meeting now, bunny - talk later.”

You don’t even get an opportunity to say your own goodbye before he ends the call. You save him to your contacts quickly before you forget, and then a thought hits you that makes you freeze.

How does he know your size and - more importantly - how the fuck does he know where you live?

tagged: @evnscvll​ @donutloverxo​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @literaturefeen​ @smutdiariess​ @90sinspiredgirl​ @cruelsummer-s​ @honnneyybee 

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers blurbs #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfiction #sugar daddy au #soft dark steve rogers #sugar daddy steve rogers

[writtenonreceipts]

If you have time! If you don’t no worries! 111. “You can’t just hug me and think everything’s okay.” For Rowaelin, Rowan cheats make it angst. Don’t beat yourself up about your writing! Thanks! 😍

Thanks for the prompt!  This was interesting to write, I deff pulled on my years of watching FRIENDS and Greys Anatomy for this, haha.

Also, no matter what happens, my friends in America, we can get through this.

 Warnings: Angst. 

#

“All I’m saying is that you’re not supporting me in this,” Aelin said.

She threw her purse down on the dining room table of the small apartment she shared with her best friend, Lysandra.  It was a tiny place, but it was cheap and neither girl made much money.  But they loved it.  Aelin had spent all her spare time fixing the place up and shopping clearance racks at the home furniture and renovation stores to make their home more inviting.

“I do support you,” Rowan said.  Again.  

It felt like it was all he ever said these days though Aelin could never see the fruits of his words.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed.  “Then what's the problem with me going on this trip for work?  Is it because Sam will be there? And Chaol?  Do you not trust me?”

Rowan froze on his trip to the fridge.  He turned around to look at her, his green eyes digging into her. “What?  Fireheart, of course I trust you.”

“Then what’s the problem, Rowan?” Aelin asked.  “This trip could mean so much for me.”

“We barely had any time together this whole month,” Rowan said.  He looked as though he wanted to say more but he bit the words off, turning back to the fridge.

“You knew this would happen when I accepted this job,” Aelin insisted  for what felt like the millionth time this past month. “We both did.”

Rowan grunted and grabbed a beer from the fridge.  He popped the top off without second thought and took a long sip.

Aelin waited in silence until he was done.  Until almost half the bottle was drowned.  She waited, hands on her hips where her stupid pantyhose were digging into her gut and the waist band of her skirt didn’t help any.  She looked gorgeous today and the only person who had complimented her had been Sam.  If Aelin really wanted to, if she really wanted to piss Rowan off she would tell him.  Let him know that another man was checking her out.

Because for as much as Aelin loved Rowan, lately she’d felt like they’d barely been treading water in their tumultuous relationship.  She felt like they were adrift in a seat of rapids and maelstroms.  For as much as Aelin loved Rowan, she felt like their relationship these days was slowly drowning her.

“So what you’re saying is that our relationship is alright to sacrifice for the sake of your career?” Rowan asked.  

The words were cold and hard.  They struck Aelin and latched onto her heart tugging sharply.

“Excuse me?” she asked.  The words were barely more than a whisper.  She couldn’t seem to bring herself to speak any louder.  It took all her energy to even be able to scrap those two together.

“You care more about this job than us,” Rowan repeated, not backing down from his previous statement.

Aelin dragged her hand over her face.  So many different things were working through her body.  Anger among them, but never before had she felt such a strong desire cry.  Her chest tightened with each passing second.

“How dare you,” she finally said.  She tore off her coat and flung it down beside her purse.  “How dare you say that.  I’m doing something I care about Rowan.  I am trying.  I am trying to be better than I have been before, to be better than the spoiled rich girl that would never amount to anything than daddy’s fortune.  I found a job I love, one that can help us, help me, get a little further than this place.”

She gestured around the apartment with all the decorations she had managed to scrape together and the small collage she’d made of pictures of them.  There were the mismatched chairs for the dining room table they’d found at a garage sale, a lamp that seemed to be paying homage to the garden gnomes, and even the rug that took weeks to get the stink of cat out of it.  It was all there's.  What they had tried to make together.

“I get that,” Rowan said carefully, though she noticed how white his grip had become on the bottle of his beer. “You know I do and I am proud of you for that, but we hardly see each other anymore.  I’m tired of our relationship being texts and missed calls.”

Aelin shook her head and paced the kitchen. “I can’t keep having this same argument, Rowan.  It’s going to drive me insane.”

“I’m trying to offer solutions.”

“No, you're offering me ultimatums.”

They stilled.  Noise from the streets below filtered into the apartment.  A police care zipped passed and the lights of the siren reflected through the windows in the living room.

“I need a break,” Rowan said.  He downed the rest of his beer and grabbed his keys from the table.  “I can’t do this right now.”

“Rowan,” Aelin said as he stalked past her, he didn’t look at her, “Rowan Whitethorn.”

The door slammed behind him.

#

When Rowan entered the bar, he slumped down on the first open stool he found.  He didn’t remember ordering but found a whiskey passed his way.  And another.  And another.  

Too often lately did he find himself in this bar.  It was one that his friends rarely came to.  One that Aelin never visited.  It was dimly lit with a few tables scattered about.  No dance floor.  Occasionally there was an open mic night for wash-up bands or slam poetry.  It was a place one could easily go unnoticed in.

Someone slid into the stool next to him, but he didn’t look up.

“Another round, Cain,” a soft, musical voice said.

Rowan looked up as another whiskey found its way into his hands.  The woman seated beside him had rich brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail.  Loose strands framed her round face and brought out her chestnut eyes.

“You look like you could use a distraction,” she said.  A knowing smile flitted across her mouth as she leaned into him, one hand brushing up his thigh. “I’m Lyria.”

#

It was seven in the morning when Aelin found herself outside Rowan’s apartment.  She’d texted him twenty minutes ago saying she wanted to stop by before work.  Even though she knew it would only result in another frustrating argument--she wanted to try.  She needed to try to make things better with Rowan.

He buzzed her up just as the front doors to the building ratted open and a young woman stepped out.  She was pretty, Aelin noticed immediately.  Even with her disheveled hair and clothing that let everyone know what she’d been up to the night before.  But she smiled confidently at Aelin as she held the door open.

Aelin frowned, glancing at the woman's shirt, tucked into her black skirt.  It looked familiar, though Aelin couldn’t quite place it.  She shook the thought off as she got on the elevator, rehearsing what she would say to Rowan the entire way.

I love you.  I’m sorry.  We can make this work.  We can do better. We can make it through this.

She was almost ready to suggest therapy.  Because in all honesty, despite how hard things had been, she’d always imagined a life with Rowan.  A long life together.

The first words were on the tip of her tongue as she knocked on his door.  He opened it.  Not an ounce of sleep remained on his face.  Rather, he was alert.  Strange, he slept in as long as possible until his nine o’clock shift started just down the street.

“Hey,” she said, her speech forgotten.  She was just grateful to lay eyes on him after her texts went unread all last night.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost too soft, but he opened the door for her to come in.

The apartment was familiar and almost as much a home to her as her own place.  Not only because they were dating but because he lived with her cousin, Aedion.  But it seemed like Rowan was home alone.  Not surprising considering how Aedion was practically living with his girlfriend Lysandra.  

“I was worried about you,” she said, turning to face him as he shut the door.  “You didn’t reply to any of my messages.”

“I was drunk,” he said.

True enough, despite how awake he was, Aelin could see his bloodshot eyes and the rings under his eyes.  He looked like hell.

“I want to talk,” she said.  Her hair was in a messy side bun that allowed for loose tendrils to wave in her face.  Brushing them haphazardly aside she eyed Rowan as he stood bare chested before her, his gym shorts slung low around his hips.  A black shirt was balled in his fists.

His mouth worked silently as he stared at her, as he stared at her with broken eyes and...shame.  But it was not the sort of shame Aelin had expected.  Especially not when he dropped his gaze almost immediately from hers.

“I want to talk too,” he said, the grip that he had on the shirt tightened.

“I want to make this work, Ro,” Aelin told him before he could continue. “I know it’s been hard, but I love you.  I need this to work.”

It wasn’t the speech she had planned on, but the words were simple and got her point across.

“Aelin,” Rowan rasped, stepping away from her. He raised a hand to tug through his hair that had grown out in the past month.  It wasn’t quite as long as when they’d first gotten together, but it was distinctly longer that Aelin remembered it being for a while. 

Aelin waited for him to keep talking, but his voice trailed off slowly.  She tilted her head to the side, dread began boiling in her belly though she had no idea where it could be coming from.  This was Rowan after all.  Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“Rowan,” Aelin said slowly.  But now she was the one who couldn’t continue.  Not when there was a ling scent in the apartment.  Something like flowers.  Not when the couch was in disarray and the pillows strewn about.

“I made a mistake,” he said.

And then Aelin knew.  The girl she saw leaving the building wearing that familiar shirt.  It was only familiar because it was a shirt Aelin had bought for Rowan months ago.  She stumbled back a step as the truth came to her. No matter how badly she wanted to believe it wasn’t true she couldn’t convince herself otherwise.

“I was drunk, dammit I was so drunk,” he said.  His voice kept coming.  That voice that had brought her so much pleasure was now a screech to her ears. “Baby, I didn’t even realize what was happening before it happened.”

He wouldn’t shut up.

Aelin was aware of the rambling though none of it made sense.  Because her Rowan wouldn’t do this.  Her Rowan never could have done this.

She didn’t notice when he stepped forward, one hand extending towards her.  When his hand landed on her shoulder, she flinched away.

“Fireheart.”  He pulled his hand back, but kept moving closer until she could feel the heat rolling off his body.  Until she could practically smell that floral perfume on his body.

“No, don’t you dare.” snapped.  Pushing him away she glared up at him.  A mix of pleasure and misery worked through her when she saw the anguish on his face.  Her emotions quickly melted into nausea.  “Who was she?”

Rowan stared at her. “I don't--”

“Who the hell was she?”

Rowan swallowed stiffly. “Her name was Lyria.  She was at the bar with me last night.  Dammit Aelin, I never wanted this to happen.”

“Then why did you let it?” Aelin couldn’t help the way her voice broke, the way tears burned in her eyes.

She was too busy trying to keep herself in one piece that she didn’t step away when Rowan moved for her again.  His arms came around her in a quick, warm embrace and his voice rumbled in her ears.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.  You have to believe me.”

“No.” Aelin said again.  Firmly pushing him away she spun around toward the door and dragged her fingers beneath her eyes. “You can’t just hug me and think that everything’s okay.”

“Aelin,” Rowan tried speaking again, but Aelin was already ripping his door open.

She stared at him as tears leaked down her cheeks. “You were the one person I never thought would hurt me like this.”

“Aelin!”

She slammed the door behind her and ran for the stairs of the building.  There was no sound that he was coming after her, but Aelin wouldn’t take chances.  She ran down the stairs and for the door.  She didn’t stop running until her car was speeding down the highway and she was flinging out a hasty text that she wouldn’t be into work that day.

And as she drove Aelin found that she had no idea where she was going.  The city rushed by in hasty disarray and still she drove.  Faster and faster.  And she didn’t think she would ever come back.

#

tags:  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @elinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx

#throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #aelin and rowan #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #rowaelin #angst #oof #this hurt #queen of shadows #kingdom of ash

[shirtlesssammy]

7x07: The Mentalists

Then:

Dean’s drinking professionally this season

Now:

At a seance, a couple inquire about their Uncle Danny. The woman is interested in knowing if he’s happy and with the family dog. 

The man wants to know where some important papers are located. The psychic seems in control at first, but when the lights flicker and the flames in the fireplace grow, she looks surprised. The planchette moves ALL on its own and the air gets frosty. Then the planchette impales itself in the psychic’s neck. 

Dean’s all alone and driving a crappy, stolen car after his bust up with his brother and the Leviathan’s making the Impala a wanted vehicle. He learns of deaths in Lily Dale, the most psychic town in America, and hits the road. 

At the crime scene, he finds all the tricks the psychic employed, and then heads to Good Graces Cafe.

It’s not his type of place, but he hears his brother’s voice. Sam’s in town too to investigate. Dean jumps right into his everything’s good and let’s work the case spiel, but Sam is not happy. 

Dean gives up the facade and tells Sam they might as well work together to get the case over with. A woman walks in and recognizes them. They convince her that they’re not the Winchesters, and then her dining partner comes up and recognizes them as FBI. They both express their shock at the deaths. The man introduces himself as a spoon bender. 

The brothers start looking at the victims. Dean notes that they both had the same necklace, possibly a cursed object. 

They head to interview Melanie, the granddaughter to one of the victims. They ask about the necklace, and she tells them all her things went to the emporium. They ask to see the necklace. 

And then they take it under the FBI pretense. The shop owner says it’s the Orb of Thesulah. Dean wonders what that is. Sam points out that it’s a fake --and a town of fakes. Shocking. 

That night, the man from the cafe pulls out his utensils to practice his craft. Suddenly they all stand on end and he gets whisked above them, only to fall to his death. 

The brothers check out the crime scene and learn the man had a vision of his own death. Dean then gets a call from Melanie, and they head to her house to talk. She tells them that her grandmother left her a voicemail message of her own coming death. When she mentions that the air got cold, the brothers tell her they’re dealing with a ghost. 

She does not believe them. 

They tell her their story. She needs a drink (and so does Dean.) 

Sam and Dean realize how difficult their situation is --fake and probably real psychics, ghosts, and a whole lot of confusion. They split up to canvas the town. 

Camille Thibodeaux, a friend of Melanie's, has a death vision. She calls Melanie, and her friend brings Dean. 

Camille tells him about her death vision. Dean cannily surveys the room and spots a security camera. Cut to later, where they watch her get attacked by an actual G-G-G-GHOST on the camera footage. Melanie remembers seeing a picture of the ghost in the museum. 

At the museum, the tour guide spins a little backstory towards us. Hooking into the “brothers rift” theme of Season 7, we hear about sibling fights in the psychic gallery PLUS one success story of two brothers who got along famously. “Of course, that was just a stage name. They weren't actually brothers. That was a cover for their, um... alternative lifestyle.” Cut to a closeup of Dean.

They spot the Fox sisters’ portrait. One of the sisters (the ghost) was known for her death prophecies and telekinesis. The older sister, the museum guide reports, “didn't have her sister's charisma, but she looked after Kate. Sometimes, one's true gift is taking care of others.” Sometimes I watch these thesis statements on Dean and shriek at such a high pitch that I break every pane of glass in the gas station. Sam heads off to dig up some Fox sister skeletons, but the tour guide grabs Dean. “Do you know an Eleanor or an Ellen?”

“She seems quite concerned about you. She wants to tell you – pardon me – if you don't tell someone how bad it really is, she'll kick your ass from beyond. You have to trust someone again eventually.” ANYWAY. The tour guide fucks off and leaves both Dean AND myself shattered into a million pieces. 

Dean storms out moments later and demands that Sam treat him with a modicum of courtesy. Sam entrenches in his anger. When Dean defends his choice to kill Amy, he then also dredges up Sam’s best pal, Hallucifer as reason number one to coddle Sam.

Later at the cemetery, Dean stands watch while Sam digs up a grave. They wonder why the ghost is warning all the psychics before killing them. The ghost zooms up just as they’re about to salt and burn the body. She seems relatively stable for a murderous ghost and pleads with them to listen to her. WHY won’t anybody listen to her? GIRLFRIEND, I feel you.

Sam and Dean torch her and she flames out dramatically. Camille and Melanie celebrate the good news: the ghost is, uh, dead. Re-dead-ified? Back at Camille’s place, they pack a quick bag. The death omens start to spiral around poor Camille. The older Fox sister arrives as a desperate Melanie calls the Winchesters for help. Melanie ineffectually tosses an empty salt container at the spirit before watching her friend get killed before her eyes. UUUUGH.

Later, a grieving Melanie shoos the Winchesters out of her home, telling them that Margaret (the ghost) enjoyed killing her friend. That morning, they dig up Margaret’s grave. “I feel naked doing this in daylight,” Dean observes. Oh, sunshine. From the shadowed forest, something lurks. Unfortunately, nothing lurks in the actual grave. Margaret’s coffin lies empty. Later, Dean notices a flyer for an upcoming psychic festival. All the headliners featured in the poster are now all dead. Dean runs this theory by Melanie, who realizes that she’s the next logical successor to the Lilydale psychic throne.

Sam heads back to the thrift shop to pursue new necromancer leads while Dean tries to ghost proof Melanie. He surrounds her in a great big salt circle. (SALT HULA HOOP, I whisper in Dean’s ear.)

Sam bursts into the suspected necromancer’s house only to find a lamaze class. He and Dean realize that the pawn shop owner is the necromancer, trying to feed them false leads. This is all very useful, but it doesn’t help Melanie. Margaret shows up at the house ready to REDRUM. 

Breaking into the pawn shop owner’s house, Sam finds a spooky altar complete with a skull. The necromancer levels a gun at Sam. 

The ghost appears, blowing out Melanie’s windows. RUDE! They fight while the necromancer monologues over them, telling Sam that he’s a real psychic. He just doesn’t get top billing because he’s not that pretty or charismatic. 

Sam grows weary of the villain-splaining and shoots the necromancer. He then heads into the dude’s bedroom where he finds Margaret’s bones...in his bed. Welp. Good night, everybody!

After Sam torches the bones and saves Melanie, Dean gets the full recap at the psychic diner. 

For Dean and Flowers Science:

Sam bows out of the conversation when Melanie arrives. Dean desperately tries to minimize his feats of heroism. She thanks him anyway and they both circle around the mutual-attraction-imcompatible-lifestyles hole. Honestly, I am so firmly entrenched in the Cas endgame but WHY don’t I read more of Dean/Melanie in fics? She’s a cutie! And then we can have Shipper!Melanie too.

Dean leaves the diner to find that Sam’s moved his duffel to Dean’s car. Sam tells Dean that he understands why he killed Amy now. He ALSO tries to get Dean to admit that he’s swirling around the black hole of drinky drinky despair. Dean tells Sam that he killed Amy out of instinct - he didn’t trust her. “Ever since Cas, I’ve had a hard time trusting anybody.” GUH. Dagger to the heart.

They trundle off into the next episode. (GUYS, this was written by THE Acker and Blacker duo! I had no idea!)

Look Into the Crystal Quotes:

See, there’s fake woo woo crap. And there’s real woo woo crap

This is gonna be looking like a needle in a stack of fake needles

If you affirmate me, I’m gonna punch you in the face

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 7x07 #the mentalists #supernatural season 7

[sir-elyan]

Listen. I really cba about Jared because I'm more interested in Misha and Jackles, but it honestly seems like people are just leaping at an excuse to go for his jugular about this whole Eileen thing.

I mean I get it. He's not the chillest dude and quite a few times I've seen something he's said and just thought 'dude, just stop digging and shut up'.

But at the same time he's entitled to have his personal opinion on a character he's lived as for 15 years? Like idk. I know they set up Eileen as his endgame and thats fine, but he's also allowed the personal opinion of not liking the relationship or wanting it to be endgame?

Everyone is acting like he personally fired the actress and trashed the ship and forced the writers to scribble her out. But all he said is (albeit his reasoning is pretty skewed bc Dean was supportive of them anyway) that he personally was fine with it/preferred Sam having a different relationship.

Ik Jared is stanky but to me it just seems like Samleen or whatever its name is shippers are just jumping on an excuse to be bitter over their ship?

to me, it wasn’t about his personal opinion, it was mostly the fact that he considers dean’s ending “successful” when it clearly was not (for many reasons, but the main one being that the death of an already suicidal character who has been shown time and time again as wanting to live and then dying instead on a rusty piece of rebar is a damaging narrative to tell and bad storytelling overall) and that he thinks that dean would not have wanted sam to have a life with eileen when...he literally, in canon, says the exact opposite.

i don’t consider myself a hardcore saileen stan/shipper--if anything, before this i just liked it a normal amount and thought “hey, good for sam! eileen’s a badass!” and i think that a lot of people felt the same way. i just don’t think it’s jared’s prerogative to be talking about dean’s opinion and ending when he himself did not play a part in it or (obviously) give dean’s character much thought. if anything, it should be jensen, who actually lived as the character for 15 years, who is entitled to his opinion on the matter. and i also think that eileen, as a minority character that meant a lot to a lot of people, deserved more than to be dismissed like that so easily when the statement that dean wouldn’t want her for sam is literally not true. 

i just think that jared should watch the show before giving his opinions on it

#ely answers #anonymous #spn wank #cw suicide #just a mention but just incase #suicide tw

[honey-andtea1889]

The Cold Autumn Evenings (H.S.) Part Two

AN: Hello again lovies! So this part is kind of a filler but it’s not awful! I had to go and reread some bits to fix them up a bit but I think it’s decent! I’m sorry it took so long for this to go up as well. I was down in Arizona for a week and let me tell you I miss it a lot. Anywho, enjoy part two! Requests are open! 

Summary: Y/N got caught up in reading Harry’s story, unfortunately this is the reason for her being late

Warnings: none

Song: A Slow Death In Pacific Standard Time by HUNNY

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

The next morning seemed like a blur. Y/N woke up super early and continued where she left off in Harry’s story. In the chapter she was on, the man was about to profess his love for the girl, but she had been seen with someone else, leaving the man heartbroken and confused. Y/N could feel the tears slowly falling down her face as she continued the sad chapter. Her phone began ringing as she set the packet down to get breakfast. 

“Hello?” Y/N answered, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Y/N! How’s my favorite- are you okay?” Harry questioned over the phone.

“Oh I’m fine! I was just reading something that got me a bit emotional is all. Is everything okay?” Y/N asked. 

“Yes, everything is fine. I usually hear from you by now about meetings or issues with clients but my phone was silent the entire morning and I just got worried. Are you at the office yet?” Harry said as he walked out of the fancy building in the middle of London. 

Y/N checked the time and nearly tripped on her way from the coffee machine. 

She was almost 45 minutes late. 

“Oh my god, I didn’t realize what time it was! I’m so sorry Mr. Styles, I’m leaving for the office right now!” Y/N squealed as she bolted to her bedroom to get dressed. 

“Y/N! Y/N, relax! It’s fine. I’m actually on my way to the office right now, I can pick you up if you’d like?” Harry suggested. 

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked. 

“Definitely! Send me the address and I’ll be there in 20.” He said as he hung up the phone. 

Y/N smiled as she texted him her address and entered her bathroom to brush her teeth. When her teeth were all brushed, Y/N did her hair and makeup. She wasn’t sure why, but she was nervous for Harry to see her flat. He was her boss and probably lived a lot better than she did, it made her a bit self conscious about it. 

The flat wasn’t awful. It was small, definitely built for one person or a couple who had just moved in together. The walls were a deep forest green with a brick accent wall that held a fireplace, a lighter shade of pine wood covering the floor. It had an open concept that led from the living room into the kitchen/dining area. Off of the living room to the left, there was a hallway that held the bathroom on the left side and Y/N’s room on the right. 

Her furniture was all given to her from her mother. A simple beige couch that was comfier than most couches sweetly decorated with green throw pillows and a dark brown recliner chair surrounded a small coffee table in the middle of the living room facing the fireplace. She had a small white blanket folded on the lower shelf of the table just in case it ever became too cold. She had shelves that were covered with books on both sides of the fireplace and pictures of family members and adorable plaques which gave an aesthetically pleasing look to her small flat. 

It was her cute little home that she loved dearly, but Harry doesn’t really come around so you could understand the nerves that ran through her as she scampered to get ready. As she fixed up her throw pillows and straightened up some books on her shelves, a loud knock echoed through her flat. Sam barked and ran over to the big mahogany door. 

“Sam, sh! Go into your bed please!” Y/N begged. 

The little frenchie snorted and ran over to his dog bed set along one of the walls. Y/N opened the door to see Harry dressed in black slacks, a white button up shirt, and a peacoat that ended right above his hips. His hair was slightly tousled due to the cold Autumn wind but he didn’t look anything less than perfect. Y/N swallowed hard at how ravishing this man looked. She had to make sure she wasn’t drooling in front of him. 

“Hello, Y/N! Are you ready?” Harry asked, cocking his head slightly to the side. 

Y/N shook herself out of her trance and blushed, hoping he didn’t notice her staring. 

“Almost, I just need to grab a few things. Please come in! Make yourself at home whilst I finish up.” Y/N smiled as she stepped to the side. 

Harry entered into her home and took in his surroundings as Y/N went back into her room to grab her bag and her phone. He thought her flat was adorable and it suited her perfectly. As he admired her cozy little home, Harry soon felt small paws scratching at his legs. He looked down to see Sam shaking his little stubby tail with excitement. 

“Okay, I think I’m all- oh my god I’m so sorry! Sam, don’t jump!” Y/N rushed over to pick up her sweet pup. 

“It’s alright, love! I didn’t know you had a dog. You said his name was Sam?” Harry questioned. 

“Yeah. He doesn’t usually jump on people like that. Guess you’re an exception!” Y/N giggled. 

Harry chuckled and rubbed behind Sam’s ear. The happy, little pooch licked his fingers and snorted with joy. Harry and Y/N laughed as she set Sam down. Harry looked at the small coffee table and saw his novel laying with the cover in clear sight. Smirking, he looked over at Y/N. 

“Is that why you’re late? Too busy reading  m’novel, eh?” Harry smirked.

Y/N could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. 

“Y-yes. I-I just couldn’t put it down. It’s really good, actually. I’m not done with it yet but I’m getting close.” Y/N mumbled as she grabbed the packet. 

Harry chuckled and opened the door. Y/N kept her eyes on the ground as she exited her flat and made her way to the elevator. 

Harry thought it was cute whenever she was embarrassed about stuff. He specifically recalled the day he first started calling her “Love”. She turned three shades of pink and toyed with the strings on her blouse that hung around her breasts. He wasn’t sure as to why he enjoyed making her blush, maybe it was just the thought of being able to make her flustered is what made his ego skyrocket. Harry has always thought Y/N was attractive. She was his type for sure, with her Y/H/C hair and Y/E/C eyes, not to mention the curves she had, Harry was absolutely smitten to have a girl like her work for him. 

As Harry entered the elevator, Y/N was digging in her purse. 

“Leave something in you flat, love?” Harry asked. 

“I can’t seem to find my glasses. I don’t understand, I had them this morning.” Y/N sighed, still digging into the small brown bag. 

Harry had seen a slight glare on the top of Y/N’s head. He slowly reached and pulled the glasses she was looking for. Y/N shot her head up as soon as she felt his hands in her hair.

“Don’t move.” Harry said. 

Y/N’s knees nearly buckled as she kept still until the glasses were off of her head. 

“Are these the ones you seek?” Harry chuckled. 

The eye contact between the two was intense. They were looking at each other as though the other person was the only thing in the world. It was almost like a movie scene when the love interests had realized their feelings for one another. Harry and Y/N could feel the tension between them as she grabbed the spectacles from his large hands. As Y/N took ahold of part of the frames, her fingers brushed against Harry’s. It felt like sparks when the skin of their fingers grazed one another. The sudden jolt took both of them by surprise.

Y/N blushed again and thanked him. Harry smirked and slipped his hands in his pockets. The two travelled down the building in silence until Harry spoke up as they entered the lobby. 

“You really think m’novel is good?” He smiled, holding the door opened for her. 

“Mr. Styles please excuse the next statement but are you serious? It’s amazing so far! I mean there were a few spelling mistakes and you accidentally used the wrong ‘there’ for ownership once but other than that, it’s stunning so far!” Y/N gushed. 

It was Harry’s turn to blush now. He had been working on that stupid thing for months now. He couldn’t count how many days he suffered writer’s block for the novel, so to hear Y/N praise it as much as she was just filled his heart like no other. 

“Thank you, love. It really means a lot to me that you’re reading over it. It’s been a challenge writing it.” Harry said as they made their way to his car. 

Harry was driving  a newly redone 1970 black Ford Capri. Y/N’s jaw dropped as she slowly walked to the passenger side. Harry chuckled, opening the door for her again. She carefully slipped into the vehicle and looked around the interior. The seats were made of leather and the steering wheel was black with silver lining around the logo. Y/N felt like if she were to move something would happen to the car, she couldn’t start to think how much Harry paid for this. 

“Do you want to stop and grab some coffee before we head in? There’s a shop close to the office.” Harry asked. 

“Won’t we be late?” Y/N asked, looking at Harry as he buckled up. 

“Love, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we’re already an hour and fifteen minutes late.” Harry chuckled, starting the car. 

Y/N giggled as she fixed her hair. Harry smiled and drove to the small coffee shop close to the office. The two bought small coffees (her’s with extra sugar and pumpkin spice creamer, his just black) and made the last few miles to the office.

The pair had entered the office and parted ways when they reached Y/N’s desk. Claire had bolted over to Y/N once Harry had closed the door. 

“So..a meeting, huh?” Claire smirked as she sat on her friend’s desk. 

“Oh please Claire. He was at the meeting, I was simply running late this morning. I was reading something and just lost track of time I guess.” Y/N sighed, trying to get her things organized. 

Claire chuckled and leaned back slightly, trying to get a glance of Y/N’s neck. 

“What’re you doing?” Y/N asked.

“Just checking for hickeys.” Claire said, still trying to peak. 

Y/N laughed and nudged her friend softly. 

“I’m serious, nothing happened! I mean..there was the elevator when he picked me up from my flat.” She sighed. 

Claire’s eyes almost bulged out of  her head. She nearly jumped over the desk asking for details. 

“Okay! Okay! I couldn’t find my glasses this morning when we left my flat, but of course they were on my head. Mr. Styles had seen them and grabbed them for me, however when I took them from him, I had accidentally touched his hand and Claire, I’m telling you I felt sparks. I’m sure he felt them too! It just seemed like something out of a romance novel or something.” 

Like Harry’s Novel Y/N thought. The slight pink color in her cheeks obviously gave away how she felt for Harry. Claire smiled as she watched Y/N beam. She’s not seen her this happy about someone in a while and that absolutely filled Claire’s heart. The last guy Y/N had dated was a total tool. He was gross and never treated her the way she deserved to be treated. Claire knew Harry respected women more than anything. That’s what made him the most attractive! She wouldn’t have to worry about beating his ass. 

“Maybe see if he wants to hang out after work! I don’t see why he wouldn’t say yes to you.” Claire said as she made her way to her desk. 

Y/N chuckled as she grabbed the packet she had gotten lost in this morning. She turned to the page in which she had left off and began reading again, annotating little notes for ideas and questions she had. She had glanced over to the door that led into Harry’s office and smiled. 

Maybe she should see if he would like to hang out later. 

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles photoshoot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #niall horan one shot #Niall Horan #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #liam payne #liam payne fluff #liam payne one shot #liam payne imagine #liam payne smut #louis tomlinson #louis tomlinson one shot #louis tomlinson imagine #louis tomlinson smut #louis tomlinson fluff #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction one shot #one direction imagines

[heli0s-writes]

Fuckin’ Legit

Pairings: Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary: Follow up to Fuckin’ Teamwork, based off this ask. A/N: More silly shenanigans. Dumbass reader :) 2.1k words

Bag of Tricks Masterlist

Bucky watches from a distance as you hurl through the air and land right heel-first on the training dummy, knocking its head off and making it bounce off the floor with enough force to lodge itself into the ceiling. The room of SHIELD recruits clap and cheer, and when the dummy’s head flops back down you kick it like a hacky-sack at Maria Hill.

“Great demonstration,” Hill catches the head and tucks it under her arm. “Are you interested in teaching a course in hand-to-hand combat with a focus on aerial recovery? Legitimately?”

“Only if you promise not to fall in love with me.” You send a wink at her and then, as soon as you see Bucky’s bewildered face through the other side of the glass, you leap after him. He’s convinced you’re dumber than a bag of rocks, but you’re not deterred by it—especially not after Maria Hill’s validation. Puffing your chest, you skip forward, “Hey, Buck! I’m legit!”

Immediately, you trip and face plant into the nearest surface. The room collectively hisses in discomfort.

“I take that back.” Maria hurriedly ushers the recruits out before they can witness anything else.

Bucky slips through the door and roughly yanks you up by your elbow, wincing when your nose reveals a line of blood dripping into your mouth. “Legit, my ass. Come on. Stark called for us.”

-

The air in the conference room is stagnant and overwrought with a million unsaid—unscreamed—expressions. Tony pivots on his lifted heels, finger jabbing toward the big screen where a dark and grainy image is projected.

“Care to explain this? Friday pulled it from a broadcast coming from the cell.” He narrows his eyes at you as you slump down into the swivel chair until only the top of your head shows. “How about you?” Tony gestures to Bucky.

Tony has a laser pointer in his other hand, and he shines the red spotlight on the picture where Bucky’s knees are bent and planted to the ground. The dot trails over his thigh and then over the smaller frame beneath him.

You’re there, arched upward into his torso, legs hooked around his tapered waist, heels digging into his spine. Four of his thick flesh fingers are shoved inside your mouth, pulling your cheek open, and the dim light catches a sliver of your wet tongue. His other forearm is pushed onto your sternum, holding you down.

It looks bad.

It looks like Bucky is dry humping the daylights out of you in an abandoned Hydra facility.

Sam erupts into a screeching laugh when he finally pieces it together, pitching forward until he’s flattened against the wood table. “Ho-Homygod--- This is the best day of my life. Is this the cyanide incident?”

Bucky is red from head to toe.

Natasha rolls her eyes and slides away from the table. “Tony, she ate two cyanide capsules. Barnes was wrestling them out of her mouth.”

Tony stiffens for a moment as he ponders the truth behind her statement. Then, he quirks his head like an owl, flares his nostrils, and stoops beneath the table to find you resembling a boneless pile of flesh.

“Everyone is dismissed.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. “I wish I could fire you.”

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, the most pathetic noise to ever come from a human being. “But…” You whine pathetically, “I’m legit.”

-

A few nights later, you find yourself sneaking through yet another dusty old hideout. Surprise, surprise, Hydra is bad with maintenance and loves asbestos.

Steve made you an outline of all your tasks on his mission, written in all caps, folded neatly, and shoved it into your back pocket before departure. You skimmed over it on the plane before crumbling it up. The first bullet point had glared: NO CANDY.

Tightass.

You easily clear the wing and dispatch your status to Sam who is waiting patiently in the jet, fingers on the console. Bucky is patrolling the perimeter and you are taking the east side while Redwing zooms through the west.

There have been trip wires (newbie shit) and also surprisingly advanced attempts at entrapment so far (motion sensors, temperature regulated alarms). They’ve all been expertly pulled apart and rewired and you are taking a short break fucking around in the hallway, peering at dusty paintings of – some old dead bald guys. You take a picture of one and send it to Tony, labelled it’s like looking into the future.

Chortling, you continue down the corridor aimlessly until you hear a creak.

The knife in your hand is blade-first and coming down hard on the body sneaking up until— “Oh Barnes!” You cry happily, tucking it back into the strap on your wrist. “Good. You’re here! There’s only one more room—I’ve been crushing it.”

Literally two seconds after you say that, you turn the corner and run face-first into the door. Bucky pauses as if he doesn’t quite register what just happened before slowly reaching forward and gently applying pressure to the handle.

It’s written all over his face: you’re an idiot. You are seriously lacking some brain cells.

He leads the way carefully, swatting cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and taking stock of each corner, rifle pointed forward and alert. Behind him, your boots thump noisily against the floor and a chair is tipped over when your arm crashes into it.

Bucky spins on his heels and catches the chair before it can fall on top of what looks like a very obviously placed … box.

It’s a box.

A giant red box is on the floor, outlined with a square of white tape. Two abnormally unsoiled items in a room made almost entirely out of forty-year old dandruff. Your hands are already on both sides of it before Bucky can knock you out of the way.

“Don’t!” He screams because fucking anything could be under there!

A wild animal! A toxic chemical! A bomb! Snakes, for fuck’s sake! His eyes widen at the fading shadow cast on the floor as you lift the top away. Then, his heart stops beating.

It’s a slice of cake. And a cup of tea. A single slice of vanilla sheet cake neatly decorated with a blush-pink rose and two perfectly piped green leaves. The faint smell of jasmine wafts into the air.

Bucky barrels into you before you get the chance to lick your lips.

“Wilson!” He calls into the comm as you push his face away with an offended yelp, “They’re in the east side—set a trap for us! Get over here and bring your stupid bird too! I swear to God—NO! DO NOT!”

 -

In the hovering Quinjet, Sam Wilson leaps to his feet and swoops out of the cabin, wings folded as he dives. “Come again?!” He taps on the comm wedged inside his left ear, “Barnes!?”

“-- fuck-- gonna—fucking--- stop BITING ME!”

A furious row of explosions blare in Sam’s ear as he banks a sharp left and lands on two feet, tearing his way inside the facility, checking on his wrist all the while. Redwing’s camera is glitching, but he can make out flashes of gunfire and what looks like at least five bodies, not including his two teammates. Bursts of white erupt on the screen and Sam’s heart picks up a tremendous pace before he kicks the door down, pistols out and aimed.

A silence smothers the room before grunting and screaming erupts again over Sam’s shout of, “What is going on in here?!”

-

“And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the exact moment I came upon my fellow Avengers,” Sam pauses, waving his hand with a bow at the image projected on the conference room screen.

Friday pulled another image from the broadcast before Sam shot out all the cameras in the facility.

It seems that the previous video of you eating cyanide had been intercepted through a bounced signal from the original recording’s output and those on the other end decided you were enough of a proper imbecile to be tricked by something as simple as a slice of cake.

They weren’t wrong.

Tony’s laser is in Sam’s hand and he points the dot in flashes five times, “Dead dudes. Check.” The dot moves on, landing on two splayed out legs before it runs up the side of Bucky’s body pressed to the concrete. “Barnes. Check.” Bucky shuts his eyes and slams his head into the table. “And… here we have this.”

Sam points to you, bottom lip clenched tightly between your teeth as you lurch forward, one hand outstretched and smeared with frosting while the other holds your torso barely an inch from the ground, paying no mind to the two elbows digging into your stomach. Sam points again to where your crotch is pushed right into Bucky’s face.

“Jesus Christ.” Steve mutters, flushing red, “I wrote you directions for a reason…”  

“Excuse me,” You huff, “Cake is not candy.”

“Really?!” Bucky snaps, “That’s the hill you’re going to die on!? You ran into the door! You knocked over a chair! You looked at the one thing that did not belong in the room and you picked it up even after I told you not to!”

Steve jumps back into the grilling, “And if you would have read the rest of the list—NO FOOD AT ALL was number two!”

“Oh yeah!?” You’re near hysterical now, shrieking at the top of your lungs. Stupid men ganging up on you. “What was number three? No fun!? I’m Captain America and I’m such a tightass--”

Bucky cuts you off, throwing his hands up into the air, “Number three was get the blueprints!”

“Oh.”

The room falls silent as you tuck your hand into the pocket of your pants. “Why didn’t you just say so? I nabbed ‘em as soon as I got in there. Marked off the locations of all the cameras and security alarms—not like that matters since Wilson shot them and I disarmed the rest in the east wing. Also, there were corridors and secret entryways not in the file. It’s on here now.”

Carelessly, you chuck the flash drive from your pocket at Steve and it smacks him in the chest. Sam crosses his arms and cocks his head at you, “Shit. Didn’t know you were all that.”

You frolic to the door, “See ya later!”

Three men watch on in shocked silence as you prance down the hallway, banking a sharp right towards your room. Steve stares from Sam to Bucky and then to the flash drive in his hand.

Sam clucks, “You know what… All things considered… the girl is legit.”

-

He calls your name, bangs on the door with a hard fist and when it cracks open, you peek your head out with tired eyes. “Sup, buttercup?”

“Why are you like this? The cyanide? The cake? You had the flash drive the whole time!”

You shrug off what sounds like an accusation, “I dunno. I’m good at my job.” Bucky crosses his arms. “Barnes!” You scold with a growing grin, “I’m legit! I just… you know. Why put all the pressure on myself when you’re around?”

You snort a little, scratch your tummy underneath an oversized shirt absently, and shrug your shoulders repeatedly like you’re dancing. Bucky narrows his eyes. “Are you telling me you’re an idiot because of me?”

“Yeah, Buck. I know you’ll take care of me.”

He freezes. Feels a sudden swell of heat rush from his chest to the top of his head. Bucky opens his mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. He closes it. You give him a sleepy grin, leaning on the door and swinging it wide, faltering against the knob with a yelp.

Swiftly, and true to his character, Bucky catches you with one arm.

Hanging from his hold, body twisted around, you look up into his blue eyes. They’re strangely tender, dancing over your face with an inquisitive glimmer.

The moment shatters when Bucky’s gaze stops at your neckline. “Is that—" he frowns, “Is your shirt on backwards?”

You nod. “Uh huh. Inside out too.”

His eyes slip shut. With a sigh, he drops you flat on your back and turns around. “You’re an idiot. I hate you.”

Down the hallway as he stomps off, cursing the moment the thought you were cute or something… he hears your voice calling.

“I’m an idiot— but I’m legit, right? And I’m your idiot, right? Bucky? Bucky!”

Bucky holds back a grin. Flicks you off behind his back. Legit or not, he would never give you the satisfaction of knowing.

-

perm taglist @whothehellisbucky​ @serpentbaby​ @badassbaker​ @alagalaska​ @cake-writes​ @crist1216​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @infinity-saga​ @jamesbarnesthighs​ @pinknerdpanda​ @xoxabs88xox​ @imsoft-barnes​ @momc95​ @typicalangel​ @wretchedgoddess​ @readeity​ @iwannasail​

#marvel #mcu #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #crackfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #humor

[hyperfixation-stations]

So I’m more active on the Glee Reddit fandom, but tumblr is full of Quinn stans so I thought you all might enjoy this analysis on Quinn’s prom arc in season 2. It’s a little bit lengthy but I think you should enjoy it!

Hello folks it is one of your resident Quinn Fabray stans and poster of long analysis and I am back again with another meta-analysis on Quinn's character journey. Today we are here to look at Quinn's season 2 B arc and her obsession with Prom Queen and how it was deeper then Quinn's desire to be popular.

So at this point in Glee seasons storylines have revolved around her pregnancy and her relationship with Sam, but her arc that is in season 2 B is the first that's truly just about her and isn't tied to another character. This storyline starts in Original Song when we hear of Quinn's desire to win Prom Queen so she gets closer with Rachel so that way she can keep Rachel with Finn, who if he gets back together with her will mess up her perceived chances at winning Prom Queen. It is in this episode that we get a small glimpse into what Quinn actually believes her future will look like and what is actually attainable. This is the episode where we get the scene between Rachel and Quinn where Quinn says that she and Finn will get married and start a family and staying in Ohio, while although Rachel gets heart broken will get out of Lime and go on to do bigger and better things. She even says to Rachel that she knows that she is better then Lima and she can't hate Quinn for helping her get out. I do think that Quinn does genuinely believe that Rachel is capable of more than what is being offered in Ohio and in some weird twisted way she is helping her reach those dreams by keeping Finn out of the picture. Then she says an interesting thing to Rachel before she leaves, she says "that's why you can't write a good song Rachel. You live in this perfect school girl fantasy and you are always searching for a happy ending and that you are never going to find one if you keep searching." (that was some slight paraphrasing but you get the idea). This little rant or statement that she goes on is indicative of what Quinn has been through and her new outlook on the world. She used to live in a world of fantasy and believing that the world was a much better place then it ended up being. Then after all of the events in season 1 her view on the world and what she can achieve is more realistic to her, she already knows what it feels like to have some kind of dream crushed because at this point she still believes that she is unable to get out of Lima and that she isn't deserving of that either. We also get the iconic voice over at the beginning of the episode when she is talking about her desires to be Prom Queen and an interesting thing we see is that in her house there is a case of tiaras which is most likely alluding to her mother and sister's former wins and awards they won having to do with Prom Queen and maybe other things like homecoming and stuff like that, more on this later.

The next episode is Night of Neglect which Quinn doesn't have a storyline in, so we move onto Born This Way which is where we learn a very important part of Quinn's character, her past. This is where we learn, at least I think, about why Quinn is the way that she is. So her storyline starts with her confronting Lauren Zieses who is also running for Prom Queen and how Quinn thinks that she'll get made fun of and laughed at because she isn't the typical prom queen candidate. Lauren gets mad, and rightfully so, so she enlists Puck and they dig into Quinn's past to try and find some dirt on her and they do. The next day in school Lauren confronts Quinn and calls her Lucy, her birth name, which gets a reaction out of Quinn and then she finds out that Lauren printed out a picture of her as Lucy and put it on posters for the whole school to see which upsets Quinn a lot. We learn that Quinn was not always this beautiful, skinny girl who had it all together, instead she was nerdy and overweight, she wore thick wire classes and had acne and was ruthlessley bullied at her old school. Suddenly a lot of things about Quinn start to fall into place, we learn that Quinn moved to Lima right before freshman year which means that she essentially gets to reinvent herself how ever she wants because no one knows who she is. If Quinn was bullied for long or bad enough during her formative years it is realistic to believe that she would turn to bullying and status to make friends because that was how everyone who made fun of her seemed to make friends. Its unfortunate, but it is very common for children who were formally bullied in middle or elementary school to become bullies themselves because no matter how illogical that is that is how they believe they will gain status and friends. We also learn that to change from "Lucy" to "Quinn" that she got a nose job, went on a "crazy" diet and started doing sports. Some of these things raise some concerns about Quinn's mental health and the people around her, parents letting a 13/14 year old get a nose job for cosmetic reasons is not good parenting and going on a crazy diet as Quinn says, once again alludes to Quinn's potential problems with food (something she mentions to Mercedes in season 1). The interesting thing is at this point while she doesn't say she regret what she did and she did it because she loved herself, she does recognize that maybe there was something unhealthy about how she viewed herself and went about that change.

Next episode is Rumors which isn't really related to this part of the storyline but we're going to go through it any way just to make sure we cover all of our season 2 bases. So her plot in rumors revolves around Finn's belief that she is cheating on him with Sam and while Quinn denies the allegations she never gives a concrete answer (until the end of the episode) as to why. Clearly in the climax of the episode we find out that Sam has been homeless and Quinn has been helping him babysit his siblings and she found out because they go to church together and Quinn (and Kurt who was also helping) agreed to not say anything out of respect of Sam's privacy. There are also the ongoing issues with Finn and his relationship with Rachel and the inappropriateness of Rachel singing Go Your Own Away insinuating that Quinn and Finn should break up. Quinn gives him an ultimatum because she is frustrated that he is mad at her for believing in cheating when he is being a hypocrite and sneaking around with Rachel (we love an unhealthy relationship). The episode ends happily and everyone is supporting Sam. One of the interesting things I think about this episode is Quinn's loyalty to Sam even though her own relationship is being threatened. Whether she understands what Sam's going through to a degree because she was also homeless briefly or is just sympathetic to his situation, rather then throw Sam under the base and expose him to save her relationship she gets his secret and allows her relationship to suffer because she doesn't want to break Sam's trust. We know that too a degree at this point Quinn is with Finn because they bring each other status and make sense together and she believes that she needs to be in a relationship with him for that, however when all that comes to a head and she almost loses her relationship with Finn she doesn't try to save that because she believes that keeping Sam's secret is more important. This is something that I don't think that season 1 Quinn would do and shows a shift in her personality and values since then.

Now we have the climax of this season's arc, which the Prom Queen episode. The episodes starts off and we find that Quinn and Finn are at this point front runners to be Prom Queen and King which clearly makes Quinn happy because we know that this means a lot to her and something she has been working towards for the past several episodes. Interestingly after one scene in the choir room when she talks about the importance of prom (at least in her opinion) we don't actually see Quinn until Finn comes to pick her up at her house in which she shares a sweet scene with Finn and he calls her the most beautiful girl in the world which Quinn seems to be touched by and seems properly swooned when thinks that Finn got the corsage to match her eyes (though as we all know it was Rachel). Then at Bread Sticks they run into Mercedes, Sam, Rachel and Jesse and Finn of course confronts Jesse because he dislikes him for some valid and some invalid reasons and I think that's where we see Quinn's first flash of concern that maybe things are not as good as the seem. Mercedes pretty much asks them to leave I imagine because she knows Finn and Jesse will try to fight each other. The next time we see Quinn she and Finn are slow dancing at Prom and Rachel is clearly singing at Finn during Jar of Hearts and we see a flash of doubt in his eyes and he is unsure if he thinks that he is with the right person and Quinn seems to be oblivious to this. Next up we have the big fight scene when Finn confronts Jesse because he isn't "keeping things PG with Rachel" and the two start to fight. Both Quinn and Rachel try to separate them and through all the music and shoving you can hear Quinn say "stop you're ruining everything". Then Sue comes in and kicks Finn and Jesse out and we see that Quinn is clearly emotional about how this effecting her chances at winning Prom Queen (and we get the return of her fun Prom theme which is where be little side bar thing comes from). Now we have the climax, her loss of Prom Queen to Kurt, interestingly she's the only character who's reaction we don't see we his name is announced.

Now we have the most important scene in the episode for Quinn and maybe one of her most in the entire season or series, her bathroom confrontation with Rachel. Quinn misguidedly blames Rachel for her loss because at this point in the night she feels humiliated and to my theory may be digging up some old feelings from when she was Lucy. Quinn believes in the sanctity of the Prom royalty voting process and believes that it should be taken seriously, so when her fellow students use it to humiliate Kurt she in turn also feels humiliated because she feels like they are not only making a mockery of the process but also her. Then she slaps Rachel and clearly immediately feels remorseful and apologizes. Then we get the parallels between her, Santana and Kurt who all fell humiliated for a variety of different reasons and when Quinn says she's not going back in there or back to this school she claims she's going to transfer. I think this is once again alluding to her issues she had as Lucy, she believes that this event is going to send everything that she worked so hard to build down the toliet and that she is going to be back to sad, nerdy little girl who was picked on and made fun of in middle school. Then she admits something important and deeply personal. She says to Rachel: "I know you think its hard being you but, at least you don't have to be so terrified all the time." and what Rachel asks what she's afraid of Quinn responds with "the future....all of this being gone." Quinn's self-value and perception is based so heavily on her popularity status and what other people think of her and the events of the previous year and when she was Lucy have validated those thoughts for her. When she becomes pregnant she loses what appears to be a lot of her friends, her parents (and even though her mother comes back we are acting under the assumption that she never see's her dad again), her body and her status and when she rejoins cheerios and moves back home and is essentially back where she was pre-pregnancy she believes that she has to maintain this status and persona because that is the only reason people like her. When Rachel tells her that while she is pretty and beuatiful she is so much more than that Quinn almost seems to not believe it and gets very emotional, it is very possible that Quinn at this point her life as had someone say something like that too her. I mean outside of Sam her boyfriends suck, her parents were clearly very status and appearance based, and when she becomes pregnant Sue calls her a disgrace. The episode ends and Quinn has returned to the gym and is happy and smiling and dancing around with her friends and at this point maybe has some renewed belief in herself.

While that is hypothetically the end of the Prom Queen arc I think it is important to touch upon what happens in The Funeral And New York because they are important to Quinn's arc and are partially resulted in some fallout from this episode. The next episode as I mentioned is the funeral and Quinn's only plot in that does come at the end of the actual funeral but it's important none the less. So during the Funeral, Finn realizes that he is essentially living a lie with Quinn and his true feelings are for Rachel. So after the Funeral when Quinn starts talking about how proud she is of him and how will he did with organizing the whole thing and when she asks why he's crying and he admits that its because he's about to break up with her things start to crumble quickly. This is essentially Quinn's worst nightmare coming true, because this is once again validating her fears that people don't actually like her and that she isn't worth it. When she asks if its because he still loves Rachel, this entire scene Quinn appears to be expecting this but also blind sided, like she believed this day would come but also doesn't believe its happening or even why its happening. Finn goes onto give probably the worst break up speech on the face of the earth and in the worst possible setting. Quinn knows that this all falling apart face so she turns to denial, she believes that if she tries hard enough she can convince Finn to stay with her and that's she worth it and they'll stay together and next year they'll win prom queen and king (a direct throw back to the previous episode). Then Finn does maybe one of the worst things he can do there be reminding her that this is real life and asking her if she even feels anything anymore. Interestingly this is I think another implication about how Quinn was raised. Last year when her parents threw her out Quinn comments about her family does not talk about things much and they just pretend like things aren't happening and live in this perfect bubble (and ironically Finn was there for that conversation), I think that this is another instance that adds to why Quinn was so appearance and popularity focused. It is also very possible based on the hints we have about her home life that Quinn didn't grow up learning how to process and deal with her emotions properly because her life has been a series of extreme's, she went from being bullied to being the most popular, she went from having her parents love and support to not having any at all. Her emotional journey at this point has been such a roller coaster that Quinn I don't think knows what to feel, how to process them and in some capacity how to even act. Then Finn does an equally bad thing when Quinn starts crying and he says that he still loves her and to not go. Quinn freaks out and tells him not to touch her and promptly gets out of the car. Interestingly when she starts crying she says "are you happy now, is this me feeling enough for you." Quinn over the course of the show has been told several times that's she's too cold or doesn't care about people enough so she reacts in a capacity that is based on she thinks others believe she should act in that situation. Side not I did always wonder how Quinn got home from that funeral because like clearly Finn drove her, like did she have to call her mom, did she get a ride home with someone else, did she end up having to go home with him and it was just awkward, I just have so many questions. She does mention she has big plans for NY but as we learn in the next episode that storyline is never actually followed through with.

Then we have the final episode in season 2 New York, once again she really only has one important scene in this episode to cover so this should be short but I make no promises because well its me and we all know I have ability to be a little long winded. Quinn's important scene in this episode comes from her break down scene in the hotel room with Santana and Brittany. The scene starts off innocently enough, Quinn is taking too long in the bathroom and Santana wants to get in to fix her make up. Then when Santana mentions that they have to hurry up because everyone is waiting for them in the next room, Quinn asks if Mr. Schue is going to be there because she wants to tell him that Kurt and Rachel keep sneaking off. Brittany and Santana get considered because they know that means Schue would have to suspend them and that would mean they couldn't compete at Nationals which upsets the two of them but not Quinn. This sets Santana off and tells Quinn that's she is doing this because she's pissed that Finn dumped her and that she needs to get over it and while this is probably true I don't necessarily agree that Quinn has to get over but we'll get into that momentarily. Then we have Quinn's rebuttal which is "I don't want to get over it! and Santana tells her that she's only sabotaging herself and Quinn admits that she doesn't really care about the competition. Santana rightfully tells her that she should because it is the one place they can be themselves and actually enjoy what they are doing (something indicative about both of their personalities and how most of there day to day personalities at school isn't actually the real them, but that's for a different post). This is kind of what truly sends Quinn over the edge and she questions why if they are the popular girls why can't they have their dreams come true. Then she gives one of the most heartbreaking confessions that someone can give which is "I just want somebody to love me". I think this is something that has been building for Quinn for a long time. Quinn has never really had consistent love and affection for anyone, her parents threw her out at the first mistake she made and her mom didn't even invite her back until she found out her husband was cheating on her and from what we seem to be shown is that Quinn ends up never seeing her father again (which has to be difficult emotionally, especially when she seemed to have a close relationship with him and he meant a lot to her), Finn and Puck both were pursuing other girls when she was in a relationship with them and in her mind even though she cheated on Sam she choose him in the end and he left her. Then you have the bullying issues from her child and the drastic social fallout and bullying and shaming that came from her pregnancy. I think for the past two seasons and maybe her entire life Quinn is searching to find someone to love for her for who she is flaws and all because it always that people's love towards her always has a caveat or has a limit or line that can't be crossed and may not even feel like someone's first choice to date or hang out with (we don't often see Quinn hanging around or even talking to others and she's mostly by herself), Quinn has no one that loves her unconditionally and I think that she is grappling with that issue for the first time in her life. I actually think you could argue that this whole thing this set off the chain reaction for the beginning of season 3, aka Skank and baby stealing Quinn (which I personally think relates to why she tried to steal Beth, i.e. Beth was the only person who could love her unconditionally and didn't have any preconceived notions of her or things that she'd done).

I hope you all enjoyed, I'm sorry it was a little long but I don't exactly know how to get things short and to the point. But yeah let me know your thoughts.

#glee #quinn fabray deserved better #quinn fabray #faberry