#Heat Shield for Sams

[grillpartshub-blog]

Replace Stainless Steel Heat Shield for Your Grills (Set of 4) Fits Compatible Models: Sterling Forge Chateau 3304, Estate 2704, Kirkland SKU681955, SKU738505, Glen Canyon 720-0026 ,720-0026-LP, 720-0145, Jenn-Air 420-0032, 720-0061, 720-0061-LP Gas Models SHOP NOW!!

[cloudystevie]

take my heart and start a fire

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 4566

summary || sam and nat play cupid

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, degradation, teasing, dry-humping, daddy kink, pussy slaps, dacryphilia, begging, asphyxiation, unprotected sex, aftercare

author's note || 18+ ONLY. hello, one-bed trope with bucky lives in my mind rent free and i decided to do something about it. enjoy! not proof-read yet. feel free to comment, reblog, and send me requests!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

“Alright, we got two rooms, one with just one bed and one with two beds. Should be enough to cover us tonight.” Sam claps his hands together as Bucky slowly walks up to the group. 

This was supposed to be a quick in-and-out mission. It was not easy by any means, but it was nothing the group hadn’t done before. You weren’t even supposed to be here. Usually, you did most of SHIELD’s groundwork, directing and organizing missions alongside Maria. However, due to issues with communication with one particular agent in the previous mission, Fury had instructed you to be on-site to ensure there would be no gaps in the instructions Maria and Steve were relaying. 

Except there was a gap. There was a gigantic gap in communication when you instructed Bucky to cover the cargo trailers in the westbound direction. Still, he decided you were wasting his time, so he left the trailers unattended, where the enemy was then able to take advantage of his isolation and overpower him. Had Natasha not interfered when she did, you did not even want to think about what could have happened. So you let him know just how pissed off you were the whole ride to the nearest motel since the world decided to unleash torrential rain at this very moment which made it impossible for you guys to navigate the jet out of whatever fucking city you were in. 

Bucky didn’t say a single word. Not when you were yelling at him while patching him up. Not when you wouldn't shut the fuck up because he never fucking listened. Not when you were running into the beat-down motel with its flickering sign on its last life while still screaming at him. 

He just stared at you. And he occasionally clenched his jaw. 

This wasn’t the first time Bucky disobeyed your direct order and it wasn’t the first time he got hurt because of that. You understood him, tried to initiate kindness, and extended a friendly hand toward him. But all he ever did was stare at you. He never spoke to you more than he absolutely needed to. He never paid any attention to you when you would hang out with Steve, Sam, or even Nat and Wanda. And it did sting you just a bit. A pang in your heart every time he walked past you like you didn’t exist because you had developed a crush on him since the first time you saw him a few months ago. When you would put a little extra effort into your appearance every morning because he made you feel little butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach every time you would even cross paths. 

When you did catch him staring at you, the weight of his eyes unmistakable, your heart rate would increase to match the flutters in your stomach, your cheeks heating under his gaze. He would look away immediately as if thrown out of his trance and catapulted into what he truly felt for you.

Disdain. Disgust. Maybe a little lust. 

God, you hated Bucky Barnes. You hated how you didn’t hate him, not even when he dismissed you somehow even more than he ignored everyone else. 

You were going to share a bed with Nat. Bucky and Sam could get the room with two beds because, of course, that was a reasonable conclusion. 

Apparently fucking not.

“I am not sharing a bed with him!” you screeched at Sam and Nat indignantly while the smug pair stood with faux innocent expressions. They needed you and Bucky to sort out whatever tension was between them by any means necessary.

They stayed silent, and you, ever the chatterbox today, decided to refuse. “Nat, I can’t sleep in the same room as him. He hates me! I can’t sleep when I’m stressed!” You whined, pleading with your best friend to take some pity on you. She knew better than anyone what you felt for Bucky, and she also knew love better than anyone when she saw it. 

Sam and Bucky walked a few steps ahead as you approached your door. 

“Sweetie, you and me are the only ones keeping up comms with Steve and Maria. It makes sense for us to be split up tonight so we can at least direct these morons at the same time and handle any issues faster than we’d be able to if we shared a room and they were in the other one.” Natasha knew she was right, and Sam fought back a smirk as their plan was falling into fruition, given the look on your face.

Bucky remained quiet as if he could not possibly care less if you slept on top of him in bed or a ditch.

You were this close to wishing the latter was your inevitable fate. 

“I hate it when you’re right.” As you approach the doors, you mutter and watch Sam take out the room keys.

Sam offers a small smile as Bucky walks in before you, patting you on the head and giving you a forehead kiss, “sweet dreams, pumpkin,” before shutting the door behind you as you roll your eyes.

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.” Bucky’s voice cut through the uncomfortable silence that had fallen after the lock clicked. His voice was raspy because he hadn’t used it in a while, and you barely held back the shiver that ran down your spine at his tone. 

You take one look at the fraying carpet and decide that it has been years since this floor had some TLC. You look up at him to find his heavy-set eyes already on you, “I’m not sleeping on the floor either.” 

His jaw clenches, and another unreadable emotion swirls in his eyes as he replies, “Guess that settles it, then.” 

You roll your eyes and huff out that you’re jumping in the shower, not waiting for his reply- not that there was one. The water takes a while to warm up, and in the meantime, you peel your clothes off of yourself, dirtied by rainwater and the dirt, debris, and sweat that had accumulated earlier. You step into the shower and try to enjoy the feel of warm water cascading over your sore body. 

You rarely made it onto the field as you genuinely preferred doing the background work, planning missions, writing up plans and procedures, assigning responsibilities to each Avenger and guiding them through the field while you stayed at the headquarters. Your muscles were undoubtedly aware of that fact, as you had to do a lot more hand-to-hand combat due to Bucky’s stupid mistake.

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander towards him, knowing you were completely bare just 10 feet away from him, how he would grunt in exertion and deliver calculated blows to his opponent. He was precisely your type: tall, brooding, broad shoulders, thick thighs. He didn’t speak that much, but his words were carefully weighed every time he did. He was so grumpy all the time, such a masculine man. You just loved it. 

You tried not to think about how he didn’t feel the same. And also about the fact that you would be sharing a bed with him. 

The water grew cold, and you realized you had been in the shower for upwards of twenty minutes. You shut off the water and wrap yourself in one of the towels provided by the hotel. You pulled out your pyjama set since there was a possibility that you would have to stay somewhere tonight due to the heavy rain. You didn’t think you were sleeping with Bucky, or you would have grabbed something a bit more conservative. You slip into the white tank top and shorts with a dainty floral design. You mentally prepared yourself to make a bee-line for the bed so you wouldn’t have to face Bucky while wearing next to nothing. 

A few feet away, Bucky was scrolling through the shitty channels playing on the shitty TV, ignoring the way his heart raced when the bathroom door unlocked and you emerged from the small room. He tried so hard not to stare at your outfit, unable to ignore the way all the blood in his body rushed to his dick when your tiny shorts rolled up even higher as you innocently bent over to check over your work laptop for any updates. 

“You really gonna wear that?” He scoffs and immediately realizes it didn’t exactly come out as playful as he would have liked. He winces at himself as you put the laptop back into its case and turn around to face him, and he can't stop himself from quickly glancing over your body. 

Crossing your arms under your chest, unintentionally drawing his attention to your tits, you scoff at him. “If I knew I was gonna be stuck in this shithole with you, then I would have made sure to wear a fucking hazmat suit.” 

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not gonna bite.” He smirked, finally deciding on a channel he liked and turning his attention to it as you stood and stared at him, mouth open because out of all the things you expected him to say, that was not one of them, especially not with the flirtatious lilt to his voice. 

“Do not- do not tell me to relax! And don’t call me that! And- and ugh!” You retort weakly, strutting the few steps it took to get to the other side of the bed, 

Bucky licks his lips as you lay down next to him with your back towards him. Still huffing and puffing like the brat you were. 

He snorts at you, glancing at his watch and turning the TV off. 

“Do not snort at me, James.” Your voice comes out sharp, and he snorts again. 

“Tell me again what I can’t do, sweetheart? " he asks in a mockingly sweet voice. It makes you sick to your stomach.

 With desire.

You ignore him and tug the small comforter towards you, the bed suddenly feeling really small, with Bucky’s large frame taking up more than half of it. 

“Quit stealing the covers.” He grunts out, tugging them back towards him and leaving you bare and exposed to the cool air of the room. You gasp and sit up., using all your force to pull the covers back towards you, and even though you both know he let go, you still stick your tongue out at him. 

He grumbles something under his breath, and you smile victoriously. You’ll let the covers go eventually; you need to bask in your victory for a few minutes. Your mind begins to relax as you snuggle into the bed before you hear a sharp exhale, and somehow, you go from facing the dim wall to being pinned under Bucky. His frame entirely dwarfs yours, and the only light filtering in the room was the street lights and moon, the thin curtains doing nothing to block the shine. You shriek as you’re manhandled so quickly and forced to look into Bucky’s now dark blue eyes.

“Enough. I’ve had enough.” He growls, his hand pinning both your wrists down, and you have to fight yourself to keep in all tells of how aroused you are by the situation. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he continues. “Didn’t shut up for two hours straight. Always think you’re right. Always act like you’re smarter than everyone. Always fucking teasing me with your slutty fucking outfits.” He looks down at your tank top, almost angry when he sees your nipples poking through the thin material, but he doesn’t give you a chance to say anything.

Because now, Bucky’s talking. And he’s going to make sure you hear each and every word. 

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” 

A squeak escapes your lips as he presses his body down on yours.

“You think I can’t hear the way your heart rate picks up when I’m around?” His head drops lower, and his voice drops even lower, pulling a whimper from your parted lips. Your mind is spinning as you realize you may not have been as discreet as you thought you were. You entirely forgot to consider the fact that Bucky is a supersoldier, with enhanced hearing.

His rumbling voice cuts through your flurry of thoughts, “You think I can’t fucking smell you?” He practically sneers at you, and you must be a sick, sick person with the way you’re sure you’ve never been more wet in your life. “You think I can’t smell the way you drip from this little pussy every time I walk in the room? Every time someone mentions my goddamn name? I can smell her right now sweetheart. You like me forcing you down don’t you?” His breath fans over your face as you’re forced to focus on him, his body and his scent and his voice overwhelming you. Your body shudders when he gently rocks his crotch against yours, your eyes rolling back into your head. 

“What baby? Cat got your tongue now? You were being such a brat to me earlier.” He grunts, squeezing your cheeks and jaw in his free hand as you subconsciously buck your hips against his. 

“Bucky please…” You whine, squirming against his impenetrable hold. 

He smirks, “what’s wrong honey? You haven’t been this quiet or polite all day.”

“You- you’re being such a meanie! You knew the whole time and just never did anything about it!” You whine, your voice catching in your throat with each languid rock of his crotch angled perfectly against your clit. 

He laughs in your face and takes in the sight before him, your head thrown to the side as your chest heaves, your hips moving in tandem with his, your pouted lips swollen from being bitten so often. You were even more gorgeous like this and Bucky didn’t know that was possible.

“I wanted to see if you’d break first. But then, you just had to walk in here wearing this pathetic excuse of a pyjama set. And I just had to have you honey baby.”

You look back at him, a fiery expression in your eyes, “I don’t think that’s the real reason. I think you just wouldn’t be able to handle me. I think you can’t fuck me the way I need to be.” You spit back, not wanting to submit without a fight despite knowing that was exactly the direction this was going. 

In an instant Bucky’s metal hand was on your throat, squeezing enough to make your eyes blur for a second as you let out a whimper. “Is that right honey? You think I’ve never dealt with a rotten brat like you before? I know you pretend to put up a fight, I know you’re two strokes away from cumming all over yourself just from a little dry-humping. I know brats like you crave attention, but baby when you finally get it you better not run away? You got that?” He asks earnestly, his eyes locking on yours. 

“Do your worst James.” 

The second the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. The kiss is unlike any you’ve had before, it’s immediately messy and passionate, his tongue sliding in yours as he takes the lead, swallowing all your mewls and whimpers, finally letting go of your wrists and your fingers immediately go to his cropped hair, tugging on the short strands as he dominates you. You scramble to pull your shorts down but his hands flick your wrists away, giving you a glare.

“Did I say you could take these off, huh slut?” 

You whimper and shake your head no, finding yourself wanting to submit to him all too quickly.

He slides his briefs down to reveal his cock. You actually drooled a little at the sight of his length and girth, with beads of pre-cum glistening in the dim light of the room. You can’t control yourself as your hands go to wrap around his length, barely able to hold him in your hands as he hisses, bucking his hips into your hands before swatting them away once again.

“You don’t get to touch honey baby. Not yet at least. You yelled at me for hours today, it really hurt my feelings you know.” He muses, beginning to rub his length against your white shorts that are completely drenched through, your pussy sensitive and responsive. “I don’t think you deserve to be fucked sweetheart. You deserve to have this cunt rubbed on and came on. Just used like a cum rag.” He goes a little further, reading your reaction and when your back arches as much as his beefy body allowed you to, he knows you liked it. 

“Please James please I’m sorry, I’ll be good I swear!” You whine, your voice rising in pitch as his bare cock slides up and down the length of your pussy, and even through the layer seperating you, it was euphoric.

“I dunno honey, might have to beg and cry a little more and I’ll see how nice I’m feelin’ tonight.” He smiles cockily, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants you. Almost instantly your eyes are watering as you clutch his biceps, morphing your features into big doe eyes and pouted lips, jutting your chest out in an attempt to persuade him further. “I’m sorry for bein’ a brat and yelling at you. I’m sorry for talking back and- and I need you James. Need you to fuck me please I wanted it for so long!” You drag your sentence and bite your lip, tears spiling onto your cheeks. 

He inhales sharply at the sound of your begging, stilling his hips for a moment as he restrains himself from cumming before he’s even seen your bare pussy. And in the next second he ripping your shorts to shreds, making you shriek and you can’t even get a reaction out before he spits onto your already soaked cunt, watching his spit mingle with your own arousal. You moan at the feeling, your hold twitching and practically begging to be filled. 

Bucky breathes in your scent since it envelopes his nostrils without any restrictions for the first time. When he opens his eyes again and sees your hazy expression he decides he can’t wait. He’s not gonna take it slow because he needs to feel you clench around him right now. His flesh index finger teases your pulsing hole, shoving the tip of his finger inside you as you whine, legs spreading for him on instinct. “Fuck she’s just begging to be stuffed isn’t she? Just aching to have my cock stretch her open.” He groans, dropping his forehead to yours as you chant breathy yes’s, mouth falling open and tears continuing down your face as he finally spreads you open on his cock. 

You have never felt so full in your life. Bucky was absolutely larger than average, in all ways. And it was exactly what you had been craving. He moans as you clench around him, your hole trying to push him out but pull him in at the same time. Before you know it he’s balls deep inside of you, your cream coating the hairs at the base of his length as you moan loudly, uncaring of the fact that Sam and Natasha were just a paper-thin wall away.

Your nails dug crescents into Buckys bulging biceps as he allowed you both a few moments to adjust to each other. “Oh my god Bucky you’re so- I’m so full.” Your words are breathy and slurred, and Bucky presses a kiss to each of your cheeks as he slowly grinds his hips into yours, not fully thrusting yet. 

“You know I want this to be more than just a quick fuck. When we get back I wanna take you out, wine and dine you properly.” He whispers against your lips, his hands and voice gentle compared to his earlier disposition. 

You nod your head in agreement, “I want that too Bucky, but I need you to fuck me right now.” 

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling almost entirely out of you, allowing your hole to stretch around his tip before he slams into you, making your back arch and all the breath from your lungs dissipates. You squeal his name as he begins fucking into you with little care to be gentle. Your hands scramble to hold on as the headboard slams into the wall with every push and pull of his hips.

“I thought you said I couldn’t handle you honey baby. But look at you now, so stupid on my dick and just taking what I give you.” He mocks you, his metal hand finding its way to your throat once again and squeezing, relishing in the way you cunt clenches against him when he does. You cry out louder than before and he hisses, slapping his palm over your mouth. He grunts through clenched teeth, “shut the fuck up. You want Sam and Nat to hear you crying for my dick huh? What would they say if they saw strong and independent you, stretched open and cock-drunk, pinned under me and crying for me?”

Your eyes clench shut as your words are unintelligible and muffled by his palm. He coos at you and clicks his tongue, making you shiver. “Don’t think too much honey baby, just take it. This is what you’re meant to do, not be a brat. Just take my cock.” He groans, speeding up his thrusts as the sound of skin slapping skin and your wetness squelching fill the room. 

Your chest begins heaving as the oxygen to your brain takes more effort to get there. You were being propelled to your orgasm as you begin chanting the fact, your voice so pornographic and unlike your own but you can’t even find it in yourself to be shocked.

“‘M gonna cum, m gonna cum! You’re gonna make me cum please Daddy please!” The words leave your lips faster than you can process, and what was about to erupt into the most powerful orgasm you have ever had, was left denied and unsatisfied and you cried out, beginning your protests when Bucky flipped you around, your back to his chest as he shoved himself back inside of you. He pulled you up by your hair and brought his lips to your ears, his cock hitting an even deeper angle as you struggled to keep up.

“What did you call me?” He growls, not letting up his thrusts but expecting you to answer.

Your brain struggles to process his words, but once you do you’re quick to realize you let the word you often used in your fantasies about Bucky slip. You immediately apologize, thinking he must be off-put by your lewdness. 

He cuts your scrambled apologies off with his heavy voice, “say it again. That’s what you’ve been really dying to call me isn’t it. Just needed Daddy to take what he needed from you didn’t you?”

“Oh fuck.” Your head falls against his chest as he wraps his bicep around your throat, forcing you upright, “yes Daddy, needed my Daddy to take care of me.” You slur out, Your hands clutching his bicep as his metal fingers begin playing expertly with your throbbing clit. 

“That’s right slut, I’m your Daddy. I’m your fucking Daddy.” He impales you on his dick, his cock reaching all the rights spots as your brain truly begins to leave you, all you can do is succumb to the pleasure Bucky is inflicting on you. Your pussy clenches harder than it has before as your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach, you try to run from it but Bucky’s strong hold doesn’t allow you to move even a slither away. 

“Oh what does this little pussy clenching mean huh? Tell Daddy baby, tell Daddy what it means when I feel you clench around my cock huh? You gonna cum? Gonna make a mess all over yourself like the stupid little toy you are?” His voice is breathless in your ear as he nears his own high, your body shaking as your high begins building to impossible heights. 

You slur out something that resembles his title and an exclamation that you’re gonna cum, and his metal hand slaps your clit once, and then twice, his gravelly voice in your ear degrading you, and your high explodes from your body. You feel it everywhere as you don’t register anything except for pleasure. Pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Bucky drops his forehead to your shoulder, muttering your name through clenched teeth as he calls you a good girl, before stuffing you full of his cum. Thick white ropes paint your swollen walls and it only amplifies your high as you struggle to breathe, your mind and body overwhelmed and overstimulated as Bucky pumps you full of his cum. 

He gently lets you down and your limp body manages to cling onto him, needing to feel him close to you as you reel from your explosive orgasm. He shushes you, kissing your forehead, cooing at you, praising you. Everything you need to avoid experiencing a negative subdrop since he did just put you into such a submissive mindset. 

It takes a couple minutes of his tender words and touches for you to come back to yourself, and when you do he smiles sweetly at you. Pulling out of you and shushing your whines, as he reaches over to his nightstand where there were a few clean hand towels, and he cleans you up, mindful of your sensitivity and he places a kiss right above your clit, his beard scratching the sensitive button making you shudder and mewl. 

He wraps you up in his arms and pulling you closer, nuzzling your cheek with his nose as you blink at him. 

“I was being serious you know, I don’t want this to be a one and done thing. I wanna be yours, if you’ll have me.” He adds, his voice trailing off and you put your hand on his stubbled cheek before pressing your lips to his. 

“That’s all I’ve wanted since I first saw you.” You say softly, basking in being so close to him and having all his attention on you. 

He smiles brightly, pressing his lips to yours with more fervour and flutters in his heart. “You’re mine now sweetie, stuck with me forever. No return policy.” He teases. 

“I think you’re the one who’s stuck with me after you just dicked me down like that. No way am I getting rid of you.” You mumble sleepily, clinging to him as he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and watching you slip into a dreamland state.

For the first time in years, Bucky sleeps a full eight hours. And he wakes up with you by his side.

---------

The next morning, when it’s 9 AM, and you waddle onto the jet, Bucky tailing close behind you, a hand on your back to support your weight, Natasha and Sam share knowing looks, and Sam quickly texts Steve and Tony. He let them know they were on their way, and they owed him and Nat 100 bucks because their plan worked.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Five Times [Loki x Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: An evening of psychological foreplay comes to a head. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x Female Reader. Smut. Established relationship. Possessive/Soft Dom Loki. Non-toxic jealousy. Language. (w/c 1.6k)

“You look so ravishing, I can barely stand to ruin you-” Loki growls unconvincingly as he backs you against the bedpost.

The sweet tang of jealousy seeps from him, clinging to his skin and hair and wicked smile the way the black suit clings to his muscles.

“-But I will,” he promises darkly. It times perfectly to the press of his forearm against the wood above your head.

Before you can muster a response, his face is buried in your neck. Biting, pulling.

His angular jaw presses feverishly against your collarbone, licking and groaning against the skin. This is one of the ways, he has. One of the ways to be his. The deeper part of him that wants to feel he might lose you. It awakens the deepest part that knows he never could.

The sharp of his teeth graze against your pulse-point, and for a second, just a second, you think he might sink in with invisible fangs. Suck you dry, like the vampire you always suspected he might be. And what’s more, tonight you’d let him.

Five times, he'd tried to whisk you away at tonight’s event to take care of dark business in dark corners. And five times, you turned him down. Just as he had asked.

And each time, as instructed, you found one of the others to dance with. Steve, Bruce, Sam, Bucky, Scott. Winding your arms around their necks, running your hands down their chests. Five men, five dances. Pawns in you and your lover's elaborate foreplay. And each time, Loki’s cock had grown harder; concealed only by magic. Just.

His towering body is pressed flushed to yours. Every inch of your god from his dress shoes to the thick muscles straining against the collar of his shirt is in contact with your heated flesh. His stomach melds against your chest, the rise and fall of shallow breaths making you dizzy.

Loki’s hair falls like a veil, shielding you from a reality where anything exists but him. As if you could ever need anything else.

Hot breath and the settled musk of his cologne floods your nostrils in ragged, heavy pants. Possession soaks the hungry pull of his mouth over yours. The god’s lips are wet, a mix of his frantic kisses and the saliva welling in his mouth at the scent of you. The feel of you. The loss of you, if only for a moment.

No. Five moments. Frantically wandering hands find their way up your back, fingers digging beneath the tight back of your sultry gown. This dress cost a month’s salary, and he’s about to tear it right- -riiiiip Ruined fabric skates over your hips, fluttering to rest by your ankles. “Apologies,” he mutters unapologetically.

The god’s hands run up your waist, palming your breasts upwards. He stares at them, mouth hanging open. There’s a noise in his throat that’s an inhuman frequency. That could wake the dead and call them to his will. “Loki,” you whine needily, batting your lashes as his darkened eyes rise to meet your own. There is little of your sentimental lover in those eyes tonight. Tonight, he wants to fuck.

He growls again. It grows louder behind the clench of his teeth as his hands fly to his belt, undoing the buckle with uncharacteristic sloppiness. You begin to yank at his tie, loosening his collar and pulling it free. Loki smiles. It’s a cruel, close-lipped smile he saves for very special occasions these days. But his eyes sparkle.

In a flash, you are airborne. Loki has tossed you over the thick wooden end of the bedstead, and you land with a bounce on the mattress.

He chuckles darkly, pacing with aching slowness around the side. Long fingers toy with the porcelain buttons of his shirt. He un-pops one. And then two.

You shiver, the tension building in your body making you shake. “Lokiiii,” you whine again.

He looks through half-lidded eyes, the outline of his thick cock protruding against black suit trousers that are just a touch too tight. As always. You extend one leg, tracing his hard-on with your toes. The god tilts his head, releasing an impatient sigh. “Do not toy with me, woman” he breathes, sucking in air as you push your foot hard against the solid mass. “You’re toying with me, Laufeyson” you coo. It lights a fire behind his eyes. His chin lowers, dark tendrils falling sluttishly over the blades of his cheekbones. “Present yourself, then” he utters, laden with ceremony.

Holding eye-contact for as long as you can, you arrange yourself as instructed. On all fours. Loki groans behind you as you push your ass up, the inevitable slide of his palms over the round, soft flesh making you tremble. He squeezes firmly, and you feel his breath on your skin just for a moment, before his tongue traces the base of your spine. “My woman,” he murmurs against the curve. You hear the hum of a zipper, the gentle clink of metal as he brushes the buckle from its path. A moan of his name ruts from your throat, and the air in front of you shimmers. An ornate mirror melts into existence. It reveals your spread thighs, your breasts heaving and face inches from the mattress as you await Loki's reckoning.

He looms behind you, pushing his hair back with a rake of his fingers. It piles to one side, errant strands hanging and jutting from wild angles.

His shirt hangs open, exposing a sliver of taut milky skin. The bottom is untucked at the front, the back still holding its shape despite the splayed zipper exposing a flash of densely muscled hips.

In his hand he pumps his cock slowly. A bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip. He looks fucking devastating. And in the mirror, his eyes are fixed on yours.

“Say it, darling kvinne.” he orders quietly. “Fuck me, Loki...” you manage breathlessly. Wetness slips between your legs, and you realise with a shameful thrill that you’re humping air. “Fuck you?” he goads. He tuts. The god bites his lip, releasing it slowly with a slurping groan, pleasuring himself leisurely to the image of your desperation. “Not make love to you?” One brow cocks, awaiting your response. Your forehead dips to the mattress, sobbing in frustration as you gather silken bedsheets in your fists. The cool of his belt buckle presses to your ass, fingers curling around the base of your neck. He urges your face gently upwards, meeting your own eyes in the mirror. “Very well." he purrs. "Then fuck...we shall.” The fat head of Loki’s cock nudges against your sopping entrance, squelching. His ragged moan rips air as he squeezes inside, a thick vein which runs from the root of his manhood up the shaft dragging against your plump walls. “F-fuck. ” he curses as you cling on for dear life.

The joy of him filling you is instant, an utter satisfaction the like of which you’ve never known. Loki seats himself to the hilt, the dual sensation of his pubic hair and the leather belt slung around his hips making you clench.

“I warn you,” he gasps on the exhale, “I am unlikely to last. Not after tonight.” All you can managed is garbled praises as he begins to thrust.

Again and again, he bottoms out. His cock pulls against the lip of your pussy, nudging against the sticky entrance before sheathing tight once more. The gratuitously filthy words dripping from his tongue made even filthier by the rich velvet of his voice.

You can’t take your eyes off him in the mirror, chin tipped to the ceiling as he loses himself in your heavenly cunt. Loki’s fingertips dig into your hips, trembling with the effort of containing his strength.

He delves deeper, disgustingly sensual moans and whines escaping his throat as your arousal slips and slides against his cock. His thrusts are sloppy, desperate. The hard mass of his thighs slaps against the back of your own as he bucks, gyrates, consumes you from the centre of his masculinity.

He’s transfixed, staring down as he watches his slippery, throbbing member disappear inside you again and again. A delicate dangle of drool lands on the base of your spine. Loki is so close already. He won't last, he said. And he meant it. Strands of hair stick against his forehead, buffeting against the pants from his lips as he takes you over the side of his bed.

You grip the bedsheets tighter, losing yourself in his lust. The vein in his neck throbs, pulsing with the need to empty himself inside you. “No one,” he gasps as his hips shake at your back end. “No one, f-ucks you-” He lets out a strangled moan, moist cotton-clad stomach moulding to your back, “no-one fucks you but me. ” “N-no-one,” you cry, voice shaking as climax begins to rattle through your core. “Loki...oh, f-fuck, Loki yes..uhh-god, f-fuckk-” You look up, just as his eyes close to the world and his face flushes pink. The god’s neck is straining, the clench of his jaw and the bulge of his throat pushing you over the edge. He straightens, fingertips digging into your hips as climax thunders through him.

Loki’s jaw hangs, brows peaked as you feel the force of his load explode deep inside your cunt. A roar of your name fills the air. Erratic thrusts continue in the mess, milking himself inside your ripe heat that blossoms only for him. “Only for me...” he rumbles breathlessly as your eyes meet in the mirror.

His stomach curls against your back again, one hand sliding up the curve of your breasts, fingers curling around your jaw. A digit slips into your mouth. You suck.

“Only for you.” you echo, muffled against the finger resting on your tongue. And behind you, Loki smiles.

"One down, four to go." he whispers.

Tags (contd in comments) @wavyhairedvixen @lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @icytrickster17 @buttercupcookies-blog

[pomefioredove]

Saw the flirty prompts list and thought, what a cute idea!!

Of those prompts, maybe Ruggie and "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back" please?? Thank you! <3

AW this one is so cute and so ruggie

summary: "can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back" type of post: short fic characters: ruggie additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, not proofread a part of this event

"You should really quit doing this stuff for free,"

"Hm?" you ask, turning to the boy beside you. "Why, you want me to start charging you for my help?"

Ruggie's face pales at the thought. "Nuh-uh, that's not what I meant. But other people are gonna start walking all over you if you keep giving handouts."

"Tsk. But not you, right?" You roll your eyes.

He grins. "Not me,"

You can't help a laugh, even with the weight of the grocery bags straining your shoulders and the hot sun overhead. It's a long walk back to the hall of mirrors from Sam's on days like this.

...You've always thought that you could probably get by without gym class as long as you keep hanging out with Ruggie.

"What's in these things, anyway? Bricks?"

Ruggie flashes another grin. "Meat. The cafeteria's doing that vegan week thing, and Leona's been fussy about it all month,"

"Now that makes sense,"

He snickers, holding the door open for you and you step inside the much cooler building.

"But anyway, as I was saying," Ruggie goes on, watching a group of students pass by. "You should know your worth. You can't keep being everyone's therapist and not even charge them a session fee."

You scoff. If your hands were free, you might have put one over your heart to show him just how offended you are. "I am no one's therapist, thank you,"

He gives you a look.

"Well... whatever you need to tell yourself to get through the day, I guess, shishishi,"

The cool sanctuary of the school building is gone in a flash, and you're met by the overeager sun again.

"...You could at least bargain a little," Ruggie mumbles, shielding his eyes from the perpetual Savanclaw heat as you make your way inside the dorm. "A give and take system, you know?"

You reach the appropriate fridge, surprisingly emptied out for the occasion, and he begins shelving the meat.

"Why are you so interested in what I give and take, anyway?" you ask, handing him a plastic-wrapped steak.

"Eh... I just don't like seeing you taken advantage of. That's all,"

His tone is casual, though a little strained, as if he's forcing himself to sound uninterested in your personal life.

"Are you sure it's not just cause you'd get to keep all my manual labor to yourself?" you smile, sitting on the floor with him as he packs the fridge.

Ruggie chuckles. "Aw, come on, I'm not that bad. I can play fair, too, y'know,"

"Really? You'd bargain with me?"

"Fair's fair," he shrugs. "I take and I give. I'll even ask nicely. I'm like a saint or something."

You can't help another laugh. "Alright... I'll bite. What do you want?"

He's completely silent for a moment, tapping his chin to give off the illusion of thought. Then, in an all-too casual tone: "Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll give it back,"

Another silence falls between the two of you, and for a moment, he almost looks nervous.

Then, you giggle. "Wow, so polite..."

Somehow, you find yourself closing the distance between the two of you, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to his lips.

Ruggie pauses. He seems awestruck, as frozen as the raw meat in the fridge as you lean back. Then, he grins.

"A worthwhile purchase, I'd say,"

[societyfolklore]

When All Is Said and Done

Title: When All Is Said and Done (Was I Not Good Enough?) Pairing: PostEndgame!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Summary: After Steve leaves to live his life with Peggy, Bucky is left behind, struggling with feelings of abandonment and unworthiness. Haunted by the thought that if Steve could leave him, maybe he was never truly worth saving, Bucky spirals into self-doubt. You try to be an anchor in the storm.

Word Count:  4.3k

Warnings:  // Explicit Content // Mature Themes.18+, Minors DNI, Angst, Slight Dub-Con, Unprotected sex (Wrap it!) NO Beta Read

A/N: Enty for @princessmisery666Daily Mixes Challenge BAD OMENS - Said & Done

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights streaming through the half-drawn curtains. Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, his metal hand resting heavily on his knee, its cold surface a stark contrast to the heat of his turmoil. The letter Steve had left lay crumpled on the nightstand, its edges frayed from Bucky’s restless grip. He had read it so many times that he could recite the words from memory, yet they still cut like a dagger.

‘I had to do this for me,’ the phrase echoed in his mind, over and over, a haunting refrain. What did Steve mean by that? Every time Bucky tried to dissect the words, they only seemed to fracture further. At first, they felt like abandonment, a betrayal of their years together. Then they felt selfish-a stark declaration that Bucky’s struggle didn’t matter. And now, now they had twisted into something darker: confirmation that Bucky wasn’t worth staying for.

He stared at his reflection in the window, the faint outline of his face distorted against the city’s glow. Was this what Steve saw when he looked at him? A broken shell of the man he used to be? The thought clawed at his chest, tightening his breath. Maybe Steve had been waiting for an excuse to leave. Maybe saving Bucky had always been more of a burden than he let on.

Sam had tried to check in, his voice gentle but persistent. “Buck, we need you here. Let me help,” he’d said one afternoon, standing in the doorway to Bucky’s apartment. But the words only grated on Bucky’s fraying nerves.

“You can’t help,” Bucky had snapped, his voice colder than he intended. “You’re not the one he left behind.”

The sting of those words lingered in Sam’s eyes, but he didn’t push back. Instead, he gave a single nod and walked away, leaving Bucky to the heavy silence that had become his constant companion.

It wasn’t long before Bucky stopped answering the door entirely. The knocks came less frequently, each unanswered visit another nail in the coffin of his isolation. Soon, they stopped altogether, leaving him in a vacuum of his own making.

He spent most days like this-sitting in the dim light, staring at nothing in particular. The city outside buzzed with life, a stark contrast to the stillness inside his room. The only movement came from the faint trembling of his hands, the metal one glinting faintly in the light. Sometimes he would reach for the letter, his fingers brushing its edges, as if hoping the words would change. But they never did.

The nights were worse. The darkness brought memories he couldn’t escape: the weight of Steve’s shield in his hand, the sound of his voice promising they’d figure it out together. Those promises now felt like empty echoes, haunting him with what could never be again. Sleep was rare and fleeting, filled with dreams that blurred into nightmares, where Steve’s back was always turned, walking away without looking back.

You had noticed the signs. Bucky’s withdrawn behaviour wasn’t just an avoidance of others; it was a deliberate effort to disappear. He rarely answered his phone, and when he did, his responses were clipped and evasive. Days turned into weeks without a word from him, and your worry grew until it became unbearable.

The aftermath of Thanos had already taken a toll of a lot of you. It felt like your little 'found family' had scattered to the wind. It hurt. Hurt that Bucky was retreating and you'd wanted to give him space, but.. you were worried. You missed him. Standing at his door for what felt like the hundredth time you hesitated before knocking. When there was no answer, you knocked again, louder this time. “Bucky?” you called softly. Silence greeted you, but it didn’t deter you. You tried the handle and found it unlocked.

The sight inside was worse than you had feared. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tightly shut. Bucky sat hunched over on the edge of the couch, his metal hand gripping the edge of the coffee table with enough force to leave faint indents in the wood. He didn’t look up as you stepped inside, his head bowed as though the weight of his thoughts had become too heavy to bear.

“Bucky,” you said gently, your voice breaking the stillness. “You weren't answering your phone, I got worried about you.”

He let out a low, humourless laugh, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were shadowed, tired, but there was a flicker of something else there-guilt. “You shouldn’t waste your time worrying about me Doll. I’m not worth it.”

Your chest tightened at his words, but you refused to let them push you away. “You don’t get to decide that for me,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “I care about you, Bucky. And shutting yourself off from the world isn’t going to help.”

For a moment, he looked as though he might argue, but the fight seemed to drain out of him. He leaned back against the couch, exhaling shakily. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Fix what?” you replied, sitting down beside him, your voice softer now, coaxing him to open up.

He didn’t respond immediately. His gaze dropped to his hands, the metal one clenching and unclenching slightly, as though he were trying to find the right words. The silence stretched between you, filled with the faint hum of the city outside and the rhythmic ticking of a clock on the wall.

Finally, he let out a shaky breath. “Everything,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Why do you come?” he snapped, his words laced with anger and desperation. “I’m not your problem to fix.”

The force of his tone startled you, but you didn’t flinch.

 “I don't want to keep loosing people. I’m here because I care.”

He let out a bitter laugh, getting up shaking his head as he paced the small space. “Care? About what? About some broken soldier who can’t even hold onto the one person who mattered?” His voice cracked, the bitterness giving way to something raw and vulnerable.

“Bucky,” you said softly, of course this was about Steve..  “Steve didn’t leave because of you. He made a choice for himself. It doesn’t mean you weren’t enough.”

He turned away, his hands clenching at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Steve couldn't stand the idea of what I am now. He was wrong about me…You're all wrong about me.” His words trailed off, but the implication was clear. He couldn’t bring himself to believe he was worthy of anything-not forgiveness, not friendship, not love.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him standing there, shoulders hunched as though he was carrying the weight of the world. You took a cautious step forward, your voice steady but filled with conviction. “Steve wasn’t wrong, Bucky. He believed in you, and so do I. You are worth fighting for. You always have been.”

"Then why isn't he still here?" 

He finally looked at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears that he refused to let fall. For a moment, he seemed on the verge of saying something, but instead, he slumped into the nearest chair, burying his face in his hands. His breaths were uneven, his shoulders trembling under the weight of his emotions.

You moved closer, kneeling in front of him trying to get him to look at you. “It’s okay to feel this way,” you said gently. “It’s okay to be angry, to hurt, to grieve. But don’t let it convince you that you’re not worth saving. Because you are.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but it wasn’t empty. Before you could think of what to say next, Bucky suddenly moved. His metal hand shot out, gripping your face with surprising gentleness given the desperation in his movements. His other hand followed, cradling your jaw as though you might disappear if he didn’t hold on. His lips crashed onto yours, hard and unrelenting. It wasn’t a kiss of romance but one of raw pain, a silent scream in the form of a desperate connection. His face was wet, and it took you a moment to realize it was from his tears, tears you hadn’t even known he’d been shedding. They mixed with the salty taste of his lips, painting a picture of the storm raging inside him.

The kiss broke as abruptly as it began, and Bucky pulled back just enough to press his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. His tears continued to fall, unchecked and raw, as he whispered, "I don't know how to be okay. I don't even know where to start."

Your hands found their way to his wrists, holding onto him as if to ground him.  "Shh it.." you murmured, your voice unsteady even as your heart pounded in your chest.   "I'm drowning can I don't know how-" He was kissing you again, this mad scramble for something. Anything to hold onto. 

The kiss was  harder this time, with a desperation that bordered on breaking. His grip on your face tightened-not enough to hurt, but enough to make it clear he was holding onto you like you were his only tether to the world. His tears didn’t stop, and neither did the trembling in his hands. This wasn’t a kiss of comfort; it was still this raw and unfiltered act, a cry for salvation in the form of closeness.

His lips moved against yours like they were begging, pleading for something he couldn’t put into words. His breath hitched between kisses, the sound catching in his throat like he was choking on his own anguish. He pressed you closer, his metal hand slipping around your back, holding you as if letting go would shatter him completely.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered between the frantic press of his lips against yours, his voice cracking. “Tired of feeling this way. Tired of carrying it all.”

“Bucky…” you breathed, your own voice trembling as you tried to keep up with his frantic pace, your hands moving to his shoulders in an attempt to ground him. “You don’t have to do this alone. I’m here.”

“Don’t leave me,” he murmured, his forehead dropping to yours as his words spilled out like a confession. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t- I can’t do this alone.”

Your heart broke at the sheer vulnerability in his voice, at the way he clung to you like you were the only thing keeping him afloat. His lips brushed yours again, softer this time but no less desperate, as though he was afraid you’d disappear the moment he let go.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, cupping his face as your thumbs brushed away his tears. “I’m here, Buck. Promise.”

His breath hitched again, his entire body shaking as his forehead pressed harder against yours. “I don’t know how to stop it,” he admitted, his voice a broken whisper. “It’s like… like I cant breath anymore...”  his voice cracking as his hands slipped to your waist, clutching you tightly  pulling you into his chest between his legs “I don’t know how to stop feeling like this… like I’m suffocating.”

“Bucky, you’re not alone,” you whispered, your hands moving to cradle his face again, desperate to reassure him. “I’m right here.”

But it wasn’t enough-not for him. He shook his head, his eyes wild and glistening with fresh tears. “I need… I need to feel something. Anything that isn’t this.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, harder and more insistent, his desperation spilling into every frantic movement He was out of the chair, you on your back beneath him.  The hard surface bit into you. His metal hand braced against the floor beside your head, while his flesh hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though trying to memorize the feel of you. His kisses were messy, frantic, his breath uneven as he broke away only to return seconds later, pressing his lips to yours as if afraid the connection would slip through his fingers.

“Just… please,” he murmured against your lips, his voice breaking again. “Just let me feel something. Let me forget for a little while.”

“Bucky…” you breathed, your hands finding his chest pushing back a little was his weight got heavy. “You don’t have to do this. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I need this,” he said, his voice raw, trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. “I need you. Just for a little while. Please.”

His words shattered something inside you, the raw vulnerability and desperation in his tone cutting through any hesitation you might have had. Your hands moved to his hair, threading through the strands as you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his with equal intensity. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he shook with barely contained emotion, and you poured every ounce of reassurance you could into the kiss.

“It’s ok,” you whispered against his lips, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you, this wasn’t what you imagined. “I’m here, Bucky-.” He lips cut your off again. His lips captured yours with a bruising force, silencing whatever reassurance you’d been about to offer. The desperation in his kiss deepened, raw and almost frantic, his hand moved from your face.

As his lips continued to devour yours, his hands moved with a desperation that matched the intensity of his kisses. You felt his fingers brush against your waist, and then his hands were on your pants, tugging them down with a force that made the fabric tear. The sound of ripping cloth was lost in the chaos of his kisses, and before you could even process what was happening, his belt was undone, the metallic clink of the buckle hitting the floor a distant echo in your mind. You wanted to tell him to slow down it didn’t need to be like this. But his mouth didn’t relent.

Bucky’s mouth never left yours, his tongue tangling with yours in a heated, frantic dance as his body pressed against yours, the weight of him pinning you firmly to the hard surface. He was driven by a force that was more emotional than physical, and you didn’t have time to think as his body shifted fully on top of you. His hips surged forward, the powerful motion stealing the breath from your lungs, and you let him sink into you completely, your body arching to meet his.

A strangled noise escaped you, muffled against his mouth, as Bucky took what he needed with an unrestrained urgency. The sensation was overwhelming, his body filling yours with a force that left your head spinning. His lips broke away from yours only to crash back again, every kiss bruising and desperate. The air around you seemed to thrum with the intensity of his emotions, his ragged breath punctuated by guttural grunts and growls that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“Ugh-” The sound escaped him, a deep, almost feral noise as he buried himself deeper into you. His forehead pressed to yours briefly before his lips found your neck, teeth grazing your skin as a low growl rumbled from his chest. “I need… I need this,” he ground out, his voice rough and shaking with barely contained emotion.

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his hair and your nails digging into his scalp as if to keep yourself tethered to reality. But he didn’t let up, his hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that bordered on chaos. Each movement was accompanied by another guttural noise from him, a deep, broken sound that spoke of both pain and longing.

“Bucky,” you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his body invading into yours, the weight of his need pressing down on you like a tidal wave. His growls turned into sharp, strained groans, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his body moved against yours in a desperate, almost primal rhythm.

The sounds coming from him were almost animalistic-each grunt and growl carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say. It was as if he was pouring every ounce of his anguish, his need, and his desire into this moment, and you couldn’t help but be swept away by it. You felt like you were being consumed by him, his emotions and his body becoming one overwhelming force that threatened to break you apart and hold you together all at once.

A deep, broken groan tore from his throat as he thrust harder, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. “God,” he growled, his voice cracking as his movements grew more frantic. “I can’t- I need-”

His head snapped up, his eyes wild and glassy as he looked at you. His lips parted, but the only sound that came was another deep, guttural noise as he kissed you again with bruising force. The desperation in his movements was mirrored by the growls that rumbled from deep within him, a constant, broken sound that sent heat pooling in your core as you felt yourself clench and squeeze around him.  The force of the kiss sent a shockwave through you, your body arching instinctively to meet his. Your hips moving back meeting each hard and aching thrust from him.  The endless kiss stole your breath as his need to pull you into the depths of his despair and keep you there with him. And you let him, because beneath the desperation, you could feel the unspoken plea: Don’t leave me. Don’t let me drown.

You felt the tears he hadn’t yet shed in the way his body pressed against yours, the tremor in his hands as they roamed your sides, seeking more of you. His desperation was mirrored in the rhythm of his movements, frantic and erratic, like a man trying to escape a burning building with no clear exit. Every painful thrust, every growl, every trembling breath spoke of a pain so deep it clawed at your chest, forcing you to hold onto him tighter, to reassure him with every ounce of yourself that you were here-that you weren’t going anywhere.

And yet, as much as he needed you, you felt something within yourself stir-something just as raw, just as desperate. It wasn’t just his hands gripping you or the way his mouth claimed yours like a lifeline; it was the realization that his need mirrored your own. You’d felt adrift too, lost in the aftermath of everything you’d all been through. And here, in his arms, in his chaos, you found a sense of purpose, of connection, that you hadn’t realized you were missing, you were tired of being alone..

“Bu-ck.” Your grip on him tightened as you felt the coil inside tighten and build.

His response wasn’t words, but the way he pressed his forehead against yours, his breaths ragged and shallow as his hips moved in a frantic rhythm against you. The weight of him, the heat of his body, the tension coiled in every muscle-it was overwhelming. Your own body trembled beneath him, not just from the intensity of the moment but from the sheer force of his need crashing into you. Shaking under him as it threaten to ruin you, your muscles coiled tight as you felt the end come rushing up to take you. You were lost in the storm, his strained grunting and the sound of him. Your body reached its breaking point. Your muscles clenched, your back arching off the surface beneath you as a shuddering cry tore from your throat. Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that left you breathless and gasping for air. “Nnmgh auh!”

Your body convulsed beneath him, your hips jerking upward to meet his as your inner muscles contracted in a series of sharp, intense spasms. The sound that escaped your lips was raw and primal, a keening wail that was lost in the cacophony of his own ragged breathing and strained grunting.  His hips surged forward one final time, his body locking into yours as he let out a raw, anguished cry. You felt his warmth spill into you, his body trembling with the force of his release.

As the waves of pleasure receded, you felt his body collapse onto yours, his weight crushing you into the surface beneath. You didn't care - you were too busy trying to catch your breath, your heart still racing from the intensity of the moment.

His forehead was still pressed against yours, his breaths ragged and shallow. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his release.

For a long moment, you just lay there, your bodies entwined as you struggled to process the intensity of what had just happened

As the silence between you grew, you felt his body begin to relax, his muscles uncoiling as he let out a deep, shuddering breath. You felt your own body relax in response, your heart rate slowing as you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. Bucky didn’t move for a long while, his body heavy against yours as his head rested against your shoulder. His breaths came slower now, though they still trembled with the remnants of his earlier desperation. You ran your fingers through his hair, the strands damp with sweat, offering him the quiet comfort he so desperately needed.

The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, mingling together in a steady rhythm. The weight of what had just happened hung in the air, but neither of you spoke, too afraid that words might shatter the fragile peace settling over you.

Finally, Bucky shifted, just slightly, enough to lift his head and meet your gaze. His blue eyes were glassy, filled with an emotion so raw it made your chest ache. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and barely audible. “I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t,” you interrupted gently, your hand moving to cradle his face. Your thumb brushed over his cheek, wiping away the tear tracks that still lingered. “Don’t apologise, Bucky.”

He closed his eyes tightly, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to hold himself together. “I’m a mess,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this.”

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you said softly, your fingers tracing soothing patterns along the side of his face. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. None of us do, we’re all trying to..” Move on, build back? “You aren’t alone.”

He opened his eyes again, searching your face as if trying to find some reassurance in your words. “Why?” he asked, the question filled with a vulnerability that cut straight to your heart. “Why would you want to stay with someone like me?”

“We’re in this together,” you said simply, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I see all of you, Bucky-the good, the bad, the broken. And I still want to be here.”  You swallowed hard, it was time to just say it “I still want you.”

A shudder ran through his body, and he dipped his head, pressing his forehead against yours again. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the stillness of the room.

A faint smile tugging at your lips despite the heaviness of the moment. “But I’m stubborn, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A breathy laugh escaped him, shaky and uncertain, but it was the first spark of light you’d seen in him all night. He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing just a fraction more as his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

The minutes ticked by, but neither of you moved to break the embrace. You could feel his heartbeat slowing, matching the rhythm of your own, as the tension in his body finally began to ease. You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, your lips lingering there for a moment before pulling back just enough to look at him.

“We’ll figure this out,” you said, your voice filled with quiet determination. “One step at a time. You’re not alone, Bucky. Not anymore.”

For the first time, he didn’t argue, didn’t try to push you away. Instead, he nodded, the smallest of movements, but it spoke volumes. His lips brushed against your forehead in a gesture so gentle it made your chest tighten.

“Thank you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

You held him tighter, the warmth of his body grounding you as much as you were grounding him. In that moment, the world outside didn’t matter-there was only the two of you, tangled together in a quiet, fragile connection but it was something to hold onto.

[motelsnleatherseats]

By the time John gets back from his hunt, he can tell that his boys were far passed the point of no return. Dean can hardly look him in the eyes without donning a shameful expression, like he can smell the sin coming off him, and Sam's more flighty than usual, keeping as much space as he can between him and Dean as if the sudden distance compared to their usual closeness wasn't a red flag.

Sam's got a bandaid at the juncture of his shoulder and neck, but John can see the outskirts of bruising peeking out from the edges, tiny broken blood vessels darkening the skin caused by careless teeth and lips. Dean's refusing to take off his jacket despite the heat with the collar turned up to shield the obvious marks of blunt nails that were dragged down the nape of his neck and between shoulder blades. Only one bed looks slept in, the other exactly how it was when he left.

A few days go by before they let their guard down a bit, now back in each other's personal space, but John can see the way they look at each other. Dean spends too much time gazing longingly at his little brother every chance he gets, and when he's driving and looking at Sam in the rear view mirror, John has to remind him 'eyes on the road, Dean' more times than he should in the span of a few hours.

They pull off to a gas station to fill up and grab something to eat, and John heads inside, sees the boys head off to the bathroom together around the back, and already he can sense trouble. He gives them a few minutes, but when they're taking longer than they should, he marches his way to the bathroom and calls out for them, one stall occupied, two pairs of feet suddenly scrambling.

Sam's hair is disheveled and Dean looks like he's expecting to get throttled, panic evident. His cheeks that were momentarily red ago were draining color. John cocks his head towards the door in a silent demand that they leave and get back to the car. Sam rushes out but John grabs Dean by the lapel of his jacket and pushes him against the tiled wall before he had a chance to skirt passed him. He can feel his eldest go rigid, face scrunching up some like he's expecting to get hit, but John exhales a rough breath, releasing his hold on him.

"Never in public, do you understand me? And if you're going to mark each other up, get better at hiding it."

Dean stares in shock for a moment like his brain is trying to process what the hell was happening. John can see him trying to make sense of it, to come to the realization that yes, he knows, and he's not going to beat the daylights out of him for putting hands on Sammy.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yessir."

John takes the keys from Dean and lets him leave first to join his brother at the car. He takes a moment to splash his face with some water before scrubbing over it a sigh. Those young, careless boys. What was he going to do with them?

↳ a continuation of this post.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Bucky and queen song

Waving Your Banner

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: We Will Rock You - Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (flirtatious, no pronouns used)

Word Count: ~1300

CW: swearing, some flirting, suggestive jokes, a bit of tickling

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a flirtatious/suggestive interaction between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

Note: Thanks, anon! My initial note-to-self from when you first sent this was, verbatim, "okay but dodgeball would be fucken hilarious with we will rock you" - so we've gone with an Avengers training game vibe with this one

The woods hummed with tension, broken by the occasional crack of a branch or the muffled thud of boots. The Avengers had turned what should’ve been a simple training game into an all-out war, and your team was desperate to gain the upper hand. Somewhere ahead, in the shadow of the tree-line, stood the final obstacle: Bucky Barnes, silent, brooding, and lethal, guarding his team’s flag, the White Wolf circling his den.

You crouched beside Sam behind a cluster of bushes, your pulse steady but sharp as you surveyed the terrain. Bucky was right where you expected him, leaning casually against a tree just outside the flag's perimeter. He looked calm, detached even, but you knew better. The slightest flicker of movement would set him in motion, and if he was after you, there’d be no escaping. Flag perimeters were a no-fly-zone, so you and Sam would have to take it on foot.

“Alright,” Sam said, breaking the silence. “We need a plan. And by we, I mean you, because I’m not getting anywhere near the Winter Soldier.”

You shot him an incredulous look. “You’re faster than me.”

“He’s a wall. A brick wall with trust issues and superhuman reflexes.”

You sighed, pressing your back against the thick trunk of a tree. “Then we need a distraction. Something that’ll actually make him move.”

Sam raised a brow. “Oh, yeah? What’s your genius plan?”

“You,” you said, giving him a pointed look. “You could bait him. Taunt him. Goad him into leaving his post.”

“And get steamrolled by the murder machine? Hard pass.” He scoffed. "Besides, you’re obviously better bait.”

The heat rushed to your face immediately. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on,” Sam teased, his grin widening. “You’ve got that whole… thing going on.”

“What thing?”

He waved a hand vaguely at you. “You know. The whole ‘badass with a secret soft side’ thing. He’ll eat it up. Hell, I think the whole team’s noticed the way he looks at you.”

You glared at him. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

“He does,” Sam interrupted, revelling in your reaction. “Come on, you could probably get him to do whatever you wanted. Just say something like, ‘Oh, Bucky, is that a vibranium arm or are you just happy to see m-”

You shoved him into the bush.

Sam tried to silence his little grunts as he pulled himself out, yanking the twigs from his armour plates. “Fine. You wanna argue about this all day, or should we win?”

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Just send in Redwing.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The plan was simple enough: Redwing would create a distraction in a bush behind Bucky, luring him away from the flag, giving you and Sam time to move in and grab it. You moved carefully, keeping low as you crept through the underbrush. The tension in the air was electric, every rustle of leaves amplified by your own awareness of how close Bucky was.

But, true to form, Sam couldn’t resist screwing with you.

As you crept closer to the clearing, Redwing darted toward you and made a ruckus in the bush partially shielding you from view. It was more than enough to give you away, and before you could even curse Sam’s name, you heard it - the unmistakable sound of boots crunching leaves, closing in fast.

Your head whipped around just in time to see Bucky moving toward you with the kind of speed that made your heart stutter. His expression was sharp, predatory, and - gods help you - just a little amused.

“Shit,” you muttered, bolting from your hiding spot.

“Running won’t help you,” Bucky called after you, his voice dark and smooth, laced with amusement.

You didn’t bother responding, too focused on dodging tree trunks and low-hanging branches. But it didn’t matter how fast you ran; he was faster. In seconds, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you clean off your feet.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice low in your ear.

“Not yet, you don’t,” you growled, twisting sharply in his grip.

You elbowed him in the side, breaking free for a split second, but he was faster. He blocked your next move, his vibranium hand catching your wrist and spinning you around. You didn’t go down without a fight, aiming a kick at his shin and struggling against his hold, refusing to make it easy for him.

“Feisty,” he muttered, almost admiringly, his grip tightening as you wrestled.

You managed to get one arm free, landing a half-decent shove against his chest. He staggered back slightly but recovered in less than an instant, his smirk returning, sharper than before.

“Alright,” he said, his voice edged with amusement, “you wanna play rough? Let’s play rough.”

Before you could react, he was on you, trapping you between his body and the wide trunk of a tree. His fingers darted to your ribs, pressing against your sides with infuriating precision.

You jolted, a startled laugh bursting out before you could stop it. “What the fu- hey! No, that’s cheating!”

“Cheating?” he echoed, his grin widening as he tickled you again, this time catching your waist. “You’re the one trying to fight dirty.”

You squirmed, trying to slap his hands away, but the tickling was relentless, and your traitorous laughter left you weak, your arms useless.

“No! I- dammit, Barnes!”

Seizing the moment, he stepped back, grabbed both your wrists and yanked you against him, hauling you effortlessly over his shoulder. You kicked your legs in protest, but his grip was unyielding, his hand steady against the backs of your thighs.

“Put me down!” you demanded, pounding your fists against his unfairly muscled back.

“Not until you’re in jail,” he said, his voice low and smooth, the vibration of it sending a shiver through you.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you grumbled, your cheeks burning as you felt his arm tighten around your thighs.

He chuckled, the sound warm and agonising. “Unusual, maybe. But I’d say you’re enjoying it.”

“Barnes!” you snapped, squirming harder.

His laughter deepened, and he carried you with an ease that was both infuriating and maddeningly attractive. When he finally stopped, he set you down just outside the jail, his hands lingering at your waist.

“Let me go,” you said, though the bite in your tone had softened.

He stepped closer, his body a looming presence as his eyes bore into yours. “Say please.”

You scowled, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Didn’t think so,” he said, his smirk widening as he stepped forward, forcing you to step back - straight into the jail’s boundary.

You glared at him, your chest heaving as he stood just inches away, his gaze dark and intent. “Happy now?”

“Not yet,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, “but close.”

Before you could fire back, Sam’s triumphant whoop echoed through the trees. You turned just in time to see him flying above your team's base with Bucky's team's flag, waving it over his head like a trophy.

Bucky groaned, his head falling back briefly before he levelled a sharp glare at you. “Distraction,” he muttered under his breath with a shake of his head, the word practically dripping with accusation.

Your lips curved into a coy smile despite yourself.

“You’re too damn good at it,” he said, his tone darker now, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary before he turned and stalked off.

Flushed, you called after him. "This isn't over, Barnes!"

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, turning to face you as he walked backwards towards his next mission. "Not by a long shot."

[jollyhunter]

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings! MDNI, explicit sexual content (light), fluffy smut, but also cuddling and lots of teasing, Dean being needy and touchy and soft!dom

EDIT: Whoa!! I just woke up to 100+ likes and I am speechless! I never found the courage to post any of my stuff, until yesterday. Thank you all so so much - you have no idea how much this means to me, especially since I just joined tumblr and felt a bit intimidated and lost. You’re all amazing <3

Now enjoy! …already sorry for the damn tease kishishi 🦊

A/N: Heya! This is my first fanfic post- woohzaa [throws glitter and anxiety across the post]. English isn't my native language but I tried to make up for it with spell-checking? Also, I'm sorry for the cliffhanger sweethearts! Let me know if you liked it <3

Word count: 1,700

⚝‿︵‿୨♡ ⚝ ♡୧‿︵‿⚝

The smell of musky sweat still hung in the thick air and the sheets around you looked like a strangled mess. So your sleep was deep, exhausted but also feeling all spent and fuzzy from the several rounds you and Dean had a couple of hours ago. Your breathing was serene, your nose nuzzled into Dean‘s arm which worked as a makeshift pillow. The other one was tightly wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, holding your back against his slowly moving chest, keeping you warm and save in his tight locked arms.

A sudden bump against your butt stirred you slightly, but you assumed Dean was just being restless again. His arm tightened around you when you pressed your body further into him in a reassuring gesture, your hand meanwhile untangling itself from the sheets to interlace your slender fingers with his calloused ones.

Then the broad shoulders that were glued to your back, suddenly shift. His breath against your neck coming in short little excited puffs. And his hips gently rock against your arse, slowly and almost testing. You grumble in response and give his hand a little warning squeeze. „You have to sleep, Dean…“ you remind him with a dozily slurred voice. He‘d have to get up in an hour or so, as he and Sam were going to investigate a case somewhere up in Nebraska. It would probably take at least a couple of days, and you already knew he’d miss you just as much as you’d miss him, because he was always especially needy and touch-deprived before he left the bunker for longer.

Another bump against your back. You curl up into a ball, not wanting to leave his comfortable warmth but still trying to get your point across without having to use your voice.

When you cuddled up against him like a kitten, Dean stilled his movements. And you left a soft exhale of something like relief, snuggling under his strong arm, loving the feeling of his shielding presence all around you.

But Dean was not done. And you curling up like a cat didn’t help either - if anything, it just made his hidden sly smirk widen. Just when you went back to dreamland, you felt something brush against your knee. Then your thighs. Dean snaked his leg over yours, trapping you against the mattress. „Dean…“ you grumble again, your eyes still shut and your face buried under his arm while you tried to ignore the shiver that ran down your spine. He doesn’t reply. Instead his foot slips between your knees and he now slowly pushes your legs apart, parking his thigh between them to keep them spread for him. He brushed his nose against your neck, taking in your sweet scent, his fingers slowly dancing down your body, tracing every curve like he knew them by heart. Another shiver went through your body and it became harder to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach, the sleepiness somehow just accelerating your arousal. You wiggle under him when you suddenly feel his hot breath waft against your ear, „uh-uh-uh…“ His gravelly voice earns him a little shaky exhale from your parted lips while he quickly pins you further down.

Dean traced the rim of your pajamas pants with his fingers, teasingly slow while his other hand tightened its grip around yours, to keep you from slipping away. „Just lemme take care of you, baby…“ he murmured with his lips pressed against your ear, his head keeping you flush against the mattress. He wanted you to keep your eyes closed, stay sleepy, just relax and enjoy.

Not sure anymore whether you were dreaming or not, you found yourself nodding against his side, and that quite eagerly despite your half-asleep state. Satisfied with your answer, he slipped his fingers under the rim of your pants, taking his sweet time as his hand traveled down between your legs.

Just when his fingertip brushed against your clit, a loud knock at the door made you startle from your half-sleep-half-needy state.

„Dean? Come on man- we gotta go. Get your arse moving!“ Sam called out from the other side of the door, knocking again just to make sure he’d not ignore him.

Dean’s finger still idly circled your clit, torn between ignoring him or getting out of bed. After a moment he groans, his arms and legs still tightly in position around you, as he opens his mouth to bark back - but then is cut short by your lips on his cheek.

He turns back to look down at your curled up sleepy form, your cheeks flushed and goddamn you‘re already wet between your legs. „’tis okay” You reassure him, although you had to really force yourself to not sound frustrated and needy.

Dean grunted, knowing exactly that you were just trying to get him out of bed and out of trouble for being too late. But man he could have kicked his brother in the arse right about now.

He gave you a quick peck on the forehead and with a reluctant movement pulled his hand from your pants and untangled himself from your body. When he kicked his legs over the edge of the bed and got up, he suddenly turned around again, his eyes darkening and his lips curling into a sly smile.

“C’mere” he said gruffly, making it sound like an order. But you just looked up at him with bleary eyes, blinking in confusion as your mind was still half asleep. “On your knees.” He patted the spot in front of him with an air of authority.

You weren’t sure where this was going but were curious enough to play along. So you sat up, swaying a bit as you scooted closer to the edge on your knees. “Uh-uh,” you stopped and tilted your head in confusion, giving him that befuddled puppy look. He circled his index finger, gesturing for you to turn around. “On your hands and knees.” He said with that iconic deep and firm voice.

You swallowed, a little shiver running down your spine again. Without any protest you did as you were told and backed up against the edge of the bed again, this time facing away from him.

“Wanna get a look again.” He began, while his hands suddenly cupped your arse, squeezing them. „Wanna memorize what I’ll miss.“ You bit your lower lip, glad he couldn’t see your needy eyes right now. With a swift motion, his fingers hooked under the rim of your pants and he pulled them all the way down to your knees. The moment the air hit your bare skin, you were suddenly fully aware of how exposed you felt, unable to see what he was doing, where his eyes were going and what his next move would be. Without a word his hands immediately went back to your hips, slipping up to the back of your waist and pressing you down with a certain strength that made you follow each of his movements like a tamed horse. He ran one hand up between your shoulder blades and pushed down there as well until your tilted head and your chest were flush against the mattress, drawing a small whimper from your mouth. God how he loved seeing you comply like this, exposed, open and vulnerable to him, filling his heart with pride.

He kept one hand on your back to pin you down while his other went to tug at your lowered pants. “Jesus… you’re dripping, sweetheart.” He mutters almost in awe when you felt his eyes roaming your wetted thighs and pants. Suddenly he slides his hand back up along your spine until each of them grabs your hips. He angles them so your butt would point more up for him, pushing you even further into the bed, just the way he wanted you. Then out of nowhere his firm hands grab your arse cheeks and without a warning he pulled them apart, getting a real nice look on your slick folds. „I want to remember this view…“ He mutters, spreading your arse even more while you felt him bend down, his hot breath hitting the inside of your thighs, „Want to think of that beautiful pussy when I‘m alone…“

And then you suddenly feel the tip of his tongue flick against your clit, the unexpected sensation almost making you buckle while a shuddering moan slips your lips. Dean chuckles, relishing the effect he’s having on you. „Hold still, baby.“ He ordered while his one hand trailed over your hip and to the small of your back, holding you down, and his other started to rub your arse cheek, affectionately and proudly. „God… you’re so beautiful… Want to remember your taste…“ He continued before his tongue flicked across your folds this time, wetting his lips with your sweet juice, followed by a deep groan, "God you taste so fucking good...". He pulled the stroking hand back, and then brought it down again with a sharp swat to your arse. You yelped and your legs trembled, which made Dean grin proudly that he managed to surprise you with that move. „You a good girl until I‘m back?“

He didn’t wait for an answer but swats your arse again, this time definitely leaving a red mark he knew you wouldn’t mind. „You be good?“ He asks again, his voice taking that gravely tone which always made you squirm.

„Mhm,“ you mutter against the mattress, trying to hold still for him. „I‘ll be good.“

„That’s my girl.“ He patted your red arse cheek, his lips widening into that cheshire grin of his, „Now you get some rest.“

Before you could protest, he wiggled the soaked pants up your legs and over your hips again. You stifled a soft whine but knew it was no use, he‘d need to go now. Dean chuckled at the needy sound that slipped your perfect cute lips and it took all of his willpower to not just take you right there. He leaned over you to kiss you on the neck, his lips lingering there for a little longer than usual before he whispered in a low rumbling voice, „We‘ll continue right here when I‘m back, sweetheart... and 'till then... I‘ll always think of you.“

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 8✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, angst, fluff

Word Count: 7586

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

The afternoon sun was warm, casting a golden glow over the lake as you and Jody’s girls, Claire and Alex, lounged on the soft grass near the shore. The atmosphere was peaceful, with the sounds of birds chirping and the occasional splash of water breaking the silence. Sam and Jody were a little ways off, tending to the grill, while Dean lay beside you, seemingly asleep with his sunglasses shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight.

You were enjoying the tranquility, letting yourself relax. The gentle breeze coming off the lake was soothing, and the smell of the grill in the distance made your stomach rumble in anticipation of the meal to come.

Claire, who had been lying on her back staring up at the sky, suddenly rolled onto her side to face you. She glanced over at Dean, who remained still, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Satisfied that he wasn’t listening, she nudged you lightly with her elbow, a mischievous grin on her face.

“So”, Claire began, her tone conspiratorial, “Jody mentioned something about a guy named Jake. Care to share?”.

You felt your cheeks flush almost instantly at Claire’s question, the warmth of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Despite all the tough fronts you’d put up in the past, the topic of Jake had a way of breaking through that exterior. It wasn’t something you were used to—being vulnerable, especially not in front of the girls. But here you were, blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush, and it was impossible to hide.

“Uh, yeah”, you mumbled, trying to brush it off casually. “We’ve gone on a couple of dates. He’s nice”.

Claire’s grin widened, clearly enjoying this more than she should. “Just nice? Come on, you’re blushing! There’s gotta be more to it than just ‘nice'”.

Again, you tried to play it cool, shrugging your shoulders as if it wasn’t a big deal, but you could feel the heat in your cheeks giving you away. “Okay, maybe he’s more than just nice”, you admitted, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “He’s… really sweet, actually. And funny. We’ve only been out a few times, but I like him”.

Claire’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer. “Oh, I knew it! You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”.

You laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. I’m just… taking it slow. We’re still getting to know each other”.

“Taking it slow, huh?”, Claire teased, winking at you.

Claire's grin only widened, clearly enjoying the way you were squirming under her teasing. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially, though it was still loud enough for Dean to hear every word, not that she knew that. "So", she began, her tone dripping with playful curiosity, "have you guys… you know, gone down on each other yet?".

Your eyes widened in shock, and your face turned a deep shade of crimson. "Claire!", you exclaimed, barely able to keep your voice down. The question caught you completely off guard, and the embarrassment was almost overwhelming. You couldn’t believe she had just asked that, and in such a casual tone too.

Claire laughed, clearly enjoying your reaction. "What? It's a valid question!", she teased, nudging you again. "Come on, you can't tell me you haven’t thought about it".

You were at a complete loss for words, your thoughts spinning as you tried to figure out how to respond. You hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a turn, and now your mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts that you really didn’t want to be thinking about while lying here next to Dean, even if he seemed to be asleep.

Meanwhile, Dean’s heart was pounding in his chest, his mind reeling from what he had just overheard. Claire’s question had hit him like a punch to the gut, and he felt a surge of jealousy and protectiveness that he struggled to keep in check. The idea of you being that intimate with someone else, of sharing moments like that with Jake, made something primal stir inside him.

He forced himself to stay still, to keep his breathing steady, but it was difficult when his thoughts were running wild. He knew he had no right to feel this way, no right to be upset over something that was entirely your business, but that didn’t make it any easier. The feelings he had for you were a constant battle, one that he was losing more and more each day.

You, still flustered, managed to shake your head, trying to downplay the whole thing. “No, nothing like that”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “We’re just… taking it slow, like I said”.

Claire raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Well, good for you”, she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. “Most guys aren’t exactly known for their patience”.

You just shrugged, still feeling the heat in your cheeks. “Jake’s different”, you replied softly, more to yourself than to Claire. “He’s not pushing for anything. It’s nice”.

Dean’s grip on his self-control tightened. He knew he couldn’t react, couldn’t give away that he was listening to every word, but the combination of your soft tone and the content of your conversation was tearing him apart inside. He had always known you deserved someone who would treat you right, someone who wouldn’t rush you or make you feel pressured. And as much as he hated to admit it, Jake sounded like he was that guy.

Claire gave you a knowing look, clearly satisfied with the information she’d gotten out of you. “Well, just make sure you’re doing what makes you happy”, she said with a wink. “And if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me”.

You nodded, grateful for her support, even if her teasing had been a little too much for you to handle. “Thanks, Claire”, you murmured, your mind still racing with everything you’d just confessed.

Dean lay there, his heart still pounding, his mind a mess of conflicting emotions. He knew he needed to keep it together, to keep pretending he hadn’t heard a thing.

But deep down, despite the turmoil swirling in his mind, Dean couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief—a small, selfish comfort in knowing that you were still a virgin, that you hadn’t crossed that particular line with Jake. It was a complicated, messy feeling, one he didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone explore. But it was there, simmering beneath the surface, mingling with the guilt and the jealousy that had become his constant companions.

He knew it wasn’t right to feel this way. You were your own person, capable of making your own decisions, and you deserved to explore those parts of life on your terms. But the idea of you sharing something so intimate, so special, with someone else made his chest tighten. It was a possessive instinct that he didn’t like admitting to himself. Yet, as much as he tried to suppress it, the feeling was undeniable.

Dean remained perfectly still, feigning sleep as he continued to listen to the conversation between you and Claire. He knew it was wrong, that he should stop eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help himself. Every word you said gave him more insight into where your head was at, and even though it made him feel things he’d rather not feel, he couldn’t turn away from it.

You, on the other hand, were still trying to navigate the complicated emotions brought on by Claire’s teasing. The conversation had dredged up feelings you hadn’t fully processed, feelings about Jake, about Dean, about everything that had been happening lately. It was hard to make sense of it all, especially with Dean lying right there, so close yet so far away.

Part of you wanted to talk to him, to open up about the confusion and the tension that had been building between you. But another part of you was terrified of what that conversation might lead to. Dean was such a significant part of your life, and the idea of risking that connection, of possibly ruining it, was too much to bear.

So, you kept those feelings locked away, hidden behind a smile as you continued to chat with Claire. You didn’t notice the way Dean’s jaw clenched slightly, the way his breathing hitched just a little when the conversation turned to more innocent topics. To you, he was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the turmoil that you were experiencing.

As the evening approached and the sky began to darken, the excitement in the air was palpable. You have decided to celebrate into your birthday. And even though the emotions of the past few days were still lingering in the back of your mind, you were determined to have a good time and enjoy the night.

It was now 10 PM, and you were in your room, sitting on the edge of the bed as Alex sat across from you, carefully working on your makeup. She had insisted on taking charge of getting you ready, declaring that you needed to look “absolutely stunning” for your birthday celebration. Claire, on the other hand, was leaning against the window frame, her arms crossed as she looked outside where Dean was grumbling about some bird having the audacity to leave a mess on his beloved Impala.

“Hold still”, Alex muttered as she carefully applied mascara to your lashes. “You’re going to be the center of attention tonight, and we’re not letting you go out there looking anything less than perfect”.

You chuckled, though you tried to stay as still as possible. “I appreciate the effort, Alex. I’m sure whatever you do will be great”.

Alex grinned, leaning back to admire her work before reaching for another makeup brush. “Trust me, you’re going to look amazing. And you’ll thank me when all the attention is on you tonight”.

Claire snorted softly, still looking out the window. “Looks like Dean’s having a rough time out there. He’s been complaining about that bird crap for the past ten minutes”.

You glanced toward the window, feeling a small pang of affection for Dean. Despite everything, there was something endearing about the way he fussed over his car. It was such a Dean thing to do.

“Well, it’s his baby”, you said with a smile, trying to keep the mood light. “Can’t have anything messing with his precious Impala”.

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Yeah, well, he’d better finish up soon if he’s planning on joining us tonight. Don’t want him to miss out on the fun”.

You nodded, your thoughts drifting back to the night ahead. Part of you was nervous, wondering how the evening would go, especially with everything that had been building up between you and Dean. But another part of you was excited—excited to celebrate, to let loose, and maybe even to see where the night would take you.

“Alright, done!”, Alex announced, snapping you back to the present. She stepped back, a satisfied grin on her face as she looked at you. “Go check yourself out in the mirror. I think you’ll like it”.

You stood up and walked over to the mirror, your breath catching slightly as you took in your reflection. Alex had done an incredible job—your makeup was flawless, enhancing your features without being overdone. You looked… beautiful, more so than you had expected. The sight of yourself made you feel more confident, more ready to take on whatever the night had in store.

“Wow”, you murmured, turning back to Alex with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Alex. I love it”.

Alex beamed, clearly pleased with herself. “Told you. Now, let’s get you dressed and ready to party!”.

Claire finally turned away from the window, her own excitement shining through. “Yeah, come on. We’ve got to make sure you’re dressed to kill”.

After a few minutes of final touches and last-minute adjustments, you, Alex, and Claire were finally ready to head downstairs. The energy in the room was electric, with Claire and Alex fussing over every detail, making sure you looked perfect for your big night. Your nerves were still fluttering, but there was a sense of excitement building inside you.

As the three of you made your way down the hallway, you could hear the familiar voices of Jody and Sam drifting up from the bottom of the stairs. They were clearly eager to get the celebration started, and Jody’s voice carried a playful tone of impatience.

“Where the hell are you three?!”, Jody called up, her voice filled with mock frustration. “We’re ready to go down here, and you’re taking forever!”.

Sam’s deep chuckle followed. “Come on, ladies! The night’s not getting any younger!”.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you glanced down to see Jody and Sam standing at the base, both dressed casually but clearly ready to have a good time. Jody had her hands on her hips, her smile wide and teasing as she looked up at you.

But what caught your attention most was Dean, leaning casually against the doorframe of the living room, a bottle of beer in his hand. His usual confident demeanor was on full display, though you noticed the way his eyes lingered on you as you descended the stairs. The sunglasses he had been wearing earlier were gone, revealing the intense green of his gaze that seemed to follow your every move.

For a moment, you felt your breath catch in your throat. The way Dean was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You could see a flicker of something in Dean’s eyes—admiration, perhaps even a hint of surprise—but he masked it quickly with a smirk, taking another sip of his beer as if to play it cool.

“Well”, Dean drawled, his voice smooth, carrying just the right amount of teasing to make you smile. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence”.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a mix of pride and nervousness at his attention. “I had to make sure I looked good enough for the birthday celebration”, you teased, your tone light.

Dean’s smirk softened into something warmer, something almost affectionate. “You don’t have to try that hard”, he said, his voice a little lower, more sincere. “You already look great”.

The compliment caught you off guard, and you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. Before you could respond, Jody clapped her hands together, breaking the moment.

“Alright, party people!”, she declared, her voice full of energy. “Let’s get moving before it gets too late. We’ve got a birthday to celebrate!”.

The group began to move toward the door, with Sam and Jody leading the way. Claire and Alex fell into step behind them, chattering excitedly about the night ahead. As you followed, Dean stayed close by your side, his presence a steady comfort amidst the buzz of anticipation.

The cool evening air greeted you as you stepped outside, and the sky was painted in deep shades of twilight. The stars were just beginning to peek through, promising a beautiful night. The lakehouse had a cozy, rustic charm that made it the perfect place for a celebration, and as you all made your way down to the lake, you could feel the excitement building.

As the group made their way around the lake, the soft glow of lanterns strung along the path provided just enough light to guide your steps. The sound of the water gently lapping against the shore added to the serene atmosphere, making the walk feel almost magical. The conversation among your friends was lively, filled with laughter and playful banter, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit distracted, your thoughts constantly drifting back to the way Dean had looked at you earlier.

Dean walked beside you, his usual walk slightly tempered by the five beers he’d already downed throughout the evening. You could tell he was trying to play it cool, but there was a hint of something in his demeanor—something almost vulnerable, though he was doing his best to mask it. His steps were steady, but his gaze occasionally flickered to you, as if he was trying to find the right moment to say something.

The lake bar was just coming into view when Dean finally broke the silence between you. He cleared his throat, and you glanced over at him just in time to see him rub the back of his neck—a telltale sign that he was nervous, or at least a little unsure of himself.

“You look great”, he said, his voice lower than usual, and there was an unmistakable sincerity in his tone that made your heart skip a beat. You could tell he meant it, and the fact that he was flustered only made the compliment feel more genuine.

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Dean”, you replied softly, your eyes meeting his in the dim light.

Just as you felt the warmth of Dean’s words sink in, the group reached the entrance of the lake bar. The sound of music and chatter spilled out from inside, a lively backdrop to the evening’s celebration. Claire, always quick to spot the best spot in any place, was already waving everyone over to a cozy booth near the back of the bar. The booth was tucked away slightly, offering a bit of privacy while still keeping you in the midst of the action.

“Over here!”, Claire called out, her enthusiasm contagious as she motioned for everyone to join her. The group eagerly followed her lead, sliding into the booth with a mix of excitement and anticipation for the night ahead.

As you and Dean approached the booth, you noticed the slight hesitation in his step, as if he was reluctant to let go of the moment you’d just shared. But with the group now gathering around, the chance for further conversation was quickly slipping away.

You slid into the booth, taking a seat near the end where you had a clear view of the bar and the rest of the room. Dean sat down next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he got comfortable. The brief contact sent a shiver down your spine.

Jody and Sam were the last to join, Sam carrying a tray of drinks he had grabbed from the bar on the way over. He set it down with a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Alright, who’s ready to kick off this birthday celebration?”.

The table erupted in cheers and clinks of glasses as everyone grabbed a drink.

As the glasses clinked together in celebration, Sam leaned in toward you, his grin wide and playful. “Today’s an exception”, he said with a wink, nodding toward the drink in your hand. “You’re not quite 21 yet, but I think we can bend the rules just this once”.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Sam’s playful tone. “You’re such a rebel”, you teased, raising your glass in acknowledgment. The warmth of the alcohol was a welcome addition to the already buzzing atmosphere, and you were grateful for the way everyone had come together to make this night special for you.

Jody raised her glass again, her eyes twinkling as she glanced around the table. “Here’s to bending the rules and making the most of the night. Happy early birthday, (Y/N)!”.

Everyone echoed the toast, and you felt a surge of happiness as you took a sip of your drink. The music from the bar pulsed in the background, a mix of classic rock and upbeat tunes that added to the lively energy of the place. You leaned back against the booth, feeling the pleasant buzz from the alcohol and the warmth of your friends around you.

Dean, sitting beside you, took a long drink from his beer, his eyes glancing over at you every so often. You could sense he was more relaxed now, the tension from earlier having faded into the background as the night unfolded. There was a comfortable closeness between you, the kind that had been growing for a while now, even if neither of you had fully acknowledged it.

After a few rounds of drinks, the conversation at the table became more animated, with laughter and stories flowing freely. Claire and Alex were sharing funny anecdotes from recent hunts, while Sam and Jody added their own tales, making everyone at the table burst into laughter. You felt a deep sense of belonging in that moment, surrounded by people who truly cared about you.

As the night went on, the bar became more crowded, and the music grew louder. Claire and Alex, now tipsy and full of energy, insisted on dragging you onto the dance floor. You protested half-heartedly, but their enthusiasm was infectious, and soon you found yourself in the middle of the crowd, moving to the rhythm of the music.

Dean watched you from the booth, a small smile playing on his lips as he observed you laughing and dancing with the girls. He felt a mix of emotions—pride, protectiveness, and something deeper. The sight of you, so full of life and joy, was both heartwarming and a little bittersweet, knowing that things between you were shifting in ways he couldn’t fully control.

Dean was still nursing his beer, his eyes occasionally drifting from the crowd of dancers back to you as you moved on the dance floor with Claire and Alex. He was trying to keep his emotions in check, but it wasn’t easy. Watching you laugh and dance, seeing how much you’d grown up—it was a lot for him to process.

Just then, Sam slid into the booth next to Dean, a knowing smile on his face. He nudged Dean with his elbow, drawing his brother’s attention away from the dance floor. Jody had gone to grab another round of drinks, leaving the two of them alone at the table for a moment.

“So”, Sam started, his tone light but with a hint of seriousness underneath, “you finally coming to terms with (Y/N) being an adult now?”.

Dean shot his brother a sidelong glance, recognizing the question for what it was. He knew Sam had noticed the shift in his behavior around you, the way he’d been more protective, more cautious, ever since you’d started spending time with Jake. But this was the first time Sam had directly brought it up.

Dean sighed, taking a long sip of his beer before answering. “It’s not easy, man”, he admitted, his voice low enough that only Sam could hear. “I’ve watched her grow up, you know? She’s not a kid anymore, and I get that, but… it’s hard to see her differently”.

Sam nodded, his expression understanding. “Yeah, I get it. It’s tough letting go of the way you’ve always seen someone, especially when you’ve been like a big brother to her”.

Dean nodded, but the truth was, it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just about being a big brother, or the protective instinct that had always driven him to keep you safe. It was something more.

“Do you think she’s ready?”, Dean asked, glancing back at Sam. “For all of it—being on her own, making her own choices?”.

Sam smiled slightly. “She’s tougher than you think, Dean. And yeah, I think she’s ready. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still need you. Just… maybe in a different way now”.

Dean sighed again, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I know. It’s just… I want her to be happy, but I also want to make sure she’s safe. It’s hard to balance that”.

Sam gave his brother a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ve always been there for her, Dean. And she knows that. Just keep being there for her, in whatever way she needs. That’s all you can do”.

Dean nodded, his eyes drifting back to you as you continued to dance, your laughter echoing across the bar. “Yeah”, he murmured, more to himself than to Sam. “I guess you’re right”.

Sam watched his brother for a moment longer, sensing the conflict still brewing within him, but deciding not to push further. He knew Dean would come to terms with it in his own time, in his own way. For now, it was enough that Dean was acknowledging the change, even if he wasn’t fully ready to accept it.

Jody returned to the table with another round of drinks, her timing impeccable as always. She handed Dean a fresh beer and gave Sam a curious look, clearly sensing the seriousness of their conversation.

“Everything okay over here?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow as she slid back into the booth.

Dean forced a smile, accepting the beer with a nod. “Yeah, just talking about how much trouble we’re all gonna be in if (Y/N) keeps drinking like that”, he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Jody chuckled, her gaze drifting to you on the dance floor. “She’s having a good time. That’s what tonight’s about, right?”.

Dean’s smile softened as he watched you laugh and dance with your friends. “Yeah”, he agreed, lifting his beer in a quiet toast. “That’s what it’s all about”.

As the clock struck midnight, everyone in the bar raised their glasses in a boisterous toast to you. The atmosphere was electric with laughter, cheers, and the clinking of glasses. Dean was especially laid-back, the alcohol loosening him up as he joined in the celebration with a genuine smile. The weight of the past few weeks seemed to lift off his shoulders, if only temporarily. Despite the attention from a few women who seemed interested in him throughout the night, Dean politely declined their advances, his focus remaining on the celebration and, more subtly, on you.

The night continued with more drinks, more dancing, and more laughter. But around 1 AM, you decided to step away for a moment and head to the bathroom. The bar was still buzzing with energy, but you needed a brief break from the noise and excitement. As you reached for your phone to check the time, you noticed a notification from Jake. Smiling to yourself, you assumed he was wishing you a happy birthday. But as you opened the message, the smile quickly faded.

Jake’s message wasn’t what you had expected. Instead of birthday wishes, it was a carefully worded explanation that he had gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend. He was gentle in his words, expressing his apologies and hoping you could understand. But no matter how softly he tried to put it, the news hit you hard. The excitement and joy of the night evaporated in an instant, replaced by a hollow ache in your chest.

You stood there in the bathroom, staring at the message as the reality of it sank in. You had liked Jake, had started to imagine what could have been, and now it was over before it had even really begun. The rejection, even though it was handled kindly, still hurt. It made you feel foolish for getting your hopes up, for thinking that maybe this time, things could work out.

Suddenly, the thought of going back to the party, of pretending to be happy and carefree, felt impossible. The celebration that had seemed so fun just moments ago now felt overwhelming and hollow. You didn’t want to go back out there with this weight in your heart, didn’t want to face everyone with this new pain fresh in your mind.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears that had been threatening to fall finally broke through. You quickly wiped them away, not wanting to smudge your makeup or let anyone see how upset you were. But no matter how hard you tried to push it down, the sadness lingered.

After a few moments of trying to collect yourself, you knew you couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. But the idea of going back out there, of pretending everything was fine, was too much. You needed space, needed to be alone for a little while to process what had just happened.

As you made your way back outside, the alcohol still buzzed in your system, but it did little to dull the sharp sting of Jake’s message. The noise and energy of the bar seemed distant, like you were moving through a fog. All you could think about was getting out of there, away from the crowd, and finding some place quiet where you could process what had just happened.

Dean had been keeping an eye on you throughout the night, more out of habit than anything else. But the moment you reappeared, he could tell something was wrong. Even from across the room, he noticed the way your shoulders slumped, the tightness in your smile that didn’t reach your eyes. The easygoing, celebratory mood he’d been in vanished instantly, replaced by a familiar concern.

He got up from his seat without hesitation, weaving through the crowd until he reached you. The closer he got, the more certain he became that something was off. He thought maybe the alcohol had hit you too hard or that you were feeling sick.

“Hey”, he said gently, his hand resting on your arm as he looked into your eyes, searching for answers. “You alright? You don’t look so good. Do you need some fresh air, or…?”.

You forced a tight smile, trying to hold it together. “I’m just tired”, you replied, your voice not quite steady. “I think I want to go home, but the rest of you should stay here and have fun”.

Dean frowned, not convinced. He knew you better than that. There was more going on—he could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice—but he also knew better than to push you when you weren’t ready to talk. He nodded, understanding that you needed to get out of there, even if you weren’t ready to explain why.

“Alright”, he said softly. “I’ll walk you back. Let’s get you home”.

You started to protest, telling him that he didn’t need to leave the party, that he should stay and enjoy himself. But Dean shook his head, his decision already made. “No way I’m letting you walk back alone. Besides, I’m ready to call it a night too”.

He guided you back to the booth where the others were still laughing and talking, their attention focused on each other and not noticing the shift in your mood. Dean gave them a quick nod, signaling that he was taking you home.

“I’m gonna bring her back to the lake house”, Dean said, his tone casual but firm. “You guys stay and have fun. We’ll catch up with you later”.

Jody looked over, noticing the change in your demeanor, but she didn’t ask any questions. She trusted Dean to take care of you. Sam raised his glass in a small salute, and Claire and Alex gave you encouraging smiles, wishing you a good night.

You appreciated their understanding, but all you wanted was to be out of the bar, away from the noise and the reminders of what had just happened.

Dean kept a steady hand on your back as the two of you made your way out of the bar and into the cool night air. The walk back to the lake house was quiet, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. Dean didn’t say anything, didn’t push you to talk, but his presence was a comfort, a steady anchor as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

When you reached the house, Dean unlocked the door and led you inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled in your chest. You were grateful for the silence, for the space to breathe without the weight of the party pressing down on you.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, Dean finally asked, his voice low.

You shook your head at Dean’s question, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Instead, you slipped out of your shoes and made a beeline for the kitchen, where you knew Dean’s stash of whiskey was kept on the counter. The alcohol you’d already had was making you feel a little unsteady, but you were still too sober for the flood of emotions that were threatening to overwhelm you. You needed something stronger to dull the ache in your chest, something to push away the thoughts of Jake and what could have been.

But just as your fingers wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle, Dean was there. He had followed you, his concern growing with every step, and when he saw what you were about to do, he quickly snatched the bottle from your hand.

“No fucking way”, he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mix of worry and determination. “You’re already tipsy, and this isn’t the way to handle whatever’s going on”.

You glared at him, your emotions bubbling over. “Dean, come on. Just one drink. Join me. It’s my birthday, and I just… I just need this right now”.

Dean softened slightly at your words but didn’t relent. He could see how much you were hurting, and the last thing he wanted was for you to drown your pain in alcohol. He knew how that path could go, and he wasn’t about to let you spiral down it.

He shook his head again, more gently this time. “You don’t need this, (Y/N). Not like this. Let’s talk, or if you don’t want to talk, let’s just… be here, okay? But no more drinking tonight”.

You could feel the tears welling up again, the mix of frustration, sadness, and the tenderness in Dean’s voice almost too much to bear. “I don’t want to talk about it”, you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

Dean set the bottle down on the counter, stepping closer to you. He reached out, his hands resting on your shoulders, grounding you in the moment. “Alright”, he said quietly, his voice soothing. “Then we won’t talk about it. But I’m not letting you do this alone. Let’s go sit down, okay?”.

You wanted to argue, to push him away, but the warmth of his hands on your shoulders and the quiet strength in his voice made it impossible. You nodded, letting out a shaky breath as he guided you to the living room.

Dean sat down next to you on the couch, close but not crowding you, offering silent support. The house was quiet, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves outside, and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but rather a space where you could both exist without the need for words.

You leaned back against the couch, closing your eyes and letting the exhaustion of the day and the emotions of the night wash over you. Dean remained by your side, a steady presence that gave you comfort even when your thoughts were stormy.

Minutes passed, the two of you sitting there in silence, and slowly, you began to feel a little more at ease.

As you leaned back against the couch, the weight of the night seemed to press down on you all at once. The quiet of the house, combined with the steady warmth of Dean’s presence beside you, started to lull you into a sense of calm you hadn’t felt all night. Your eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, you just focused on the sound of Dean’s breathing next to you, the rhythm of it steady and reassuring.

Dean watched you, his concern deepening as he saw the exhaustion etched into your features. He could tell you were fighting to stay awake, to hold onto whatever it was that was eating at you, but he also knew that you were reaching your limit. He didn’t say anything, didn’t push for you to talk, just remained close, offering the comfort of his presence.

As the minutes passed, the tension in your body began to ease, your breathing slowing as you finally allowed yourself to relax. Before you even realized it, the exhaustion won out, and you drifted off to sleep right there on the couch.

Dean noticed the exact moment you fell asleep—the way your body went completely slack, your breathing deepening into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. He stayed still, not wanting to disturb you, but his eyes remained on your face, softening as he watched the tension slowly melt away from your features.

For a long while, he simply sat there, listening to the quiet of the house and the sound of your breathing.

Dean had sat beside you for what felt like hours, content to watch over you as you slept. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but as the night grew deeper, he knew he couldn’t let you sleep on the couch all night.

With a soft sigh, Dean carefully shifted, trying not to wake you as he stood up. He hesitated for a moment, then bent down and gently cradled you in his arms, lifting you with surprising ease. Your head rested against his chest, and he could feel the soft, even rhythm of your breathing against him. Despite everything, a small, amused smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at your sleeping face.

“Fucking lightweight”, he mumbled under his breath, a mix of affection and exasperation in his tone. But there was no real annoyance there.

He carried you upstairs with a careful, steady stride, trying his best not to jostle you awake. But as he reached your room and laid you down gently on the bed, your eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep. Your hand instinctively reached out, grabbing his wrist, your grip surprisingly firm for someone who had been so deeply asleep just moments before.

“Stay”, you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, thick with sleep and emotion. Your eyes were wide and glassy, filled with a vulnerability that made Dean’s heart clench. The look in your eyes, the way you were holding onto him, was almost too much to bear.

Dean grimaced, knowing that this was a bad idea—a very bad idea. Every instinct he had was screaming at him to step back, to leave you to sleep on your own and let the night end here. But the way you were looking at him, the soft plea in your voice, made it nearly impossible for him to pull away. He knew you were hurting, and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse by leaving you alone.

“(Y/N)…”, he began, his voice low and conflicted, trying to find the right words. “I don’t think—”.

But before he could finish, your eyes filled with tears, the glassiness deepening into something more desperate. The sight of you like this, so vulnerable and pleading, shattered what little resolve he had left.

“Please”, you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. “Just for a little while”.

Dean cursed under his breath, feeling his defenses crumbling. He knew this was a bad idea—knew that staying would only blur the lines between you even more, making everything more complicated. But he couldn’t bring himself to walk away, not when you needed him like this.

“Alright", he finally conceded, his voice barely more than a gruff whisper. “Just for a little while”.

You nodded, relief flooding your features as you loosened your grip on his wrist, allowing him to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. He stayed there for a moment, just watching you as you curled up under the covers, your eyes already beginning to drift shut again.

Dean hesitated, then slowly kicked off his boots and moved to lie down beside you, keeping a careful distance between you. He was hyper-aware of the space between you, the way your presence seemed to fill the entire room, but he forced himself to relax, to focus on just being there for you.

You shifted closer to him, seeking out his warmth, and for a moment, Dean froze, unsure of what to do. But then you nestled your head against his shoulder, your hand resting lightly on his chest, and he felt the tension in his body start to ease, just a little.

“Thank you”, you mumbled.

Dean didn’t reply, couldn’t trust his voice to come out steady. Instead, he just wrapped an arm around you, holding you close.

As you nestled closer to Dean, your initial exhaustion started to ebb away, replaced by a growing awareness of the situation. The warmth of his arm around you, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand—it all felt so comforting, yet it also sent your heart into overdrive. The closeness, the intimacy of the moment, was something you hadn’t fully anticipated, and now, with Dean’s presence so tangible beside you, sleep seemed like a distant possibility.

Your mind was racing, despite the physical fatigue that still lingered. Every breath you took seemed to sync with his. It was almost overwhelming, the way your senses were suddenly heightened, every touch and sound magnified in the quiet darkness of the room.

Dean, on the other hand, was trying his best to remain still, to keep his breathing even and not give away the turmoil in his own mind. He could feel your heartbeat quicken against his chest, and it took everything in him not to react, not to let on just how much this moment was affecting him. He wanted to be strong for you, to be the rock you needed, but the way you were clinging to him, the way your body molded so perfectly to his, made it incredibly difficult to keep his emotions in check.

He knew he should move, should put some distance between you before things got even more complicated. But every time he considered it, you seemed to press closer, and his resolve would falter. There was something about the way you were holding onto him, the way you seemed to need him in that moment, that made it impossible for him to pull away.

You shifted slightly, your hand sliding up just a bit, and Dean could feel the heat of your palm through the thin material of his shirt. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, a mix of desire and guilt swirling in his chest. He cursed himself silently, knowing this was dangerous territory, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the connection.

“Dean…”, you whispered, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say, but his name seemed to slip out on its own, a soft plea that hung in the air between you.

Dean’s breath hitched slightly, and he tightened his arm around you, pulling you just a fraction closer. “I’m here”, he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not going anywhere”.

Your heart raced even faster at his words, the reassurance both comforting and overwhelming. The night had taken a toll on you, emotionally and physically, but now, with Dean so close, with his voice so full of unspoken promises, you felt a confusing mix of emotions bubbling to the surface—gratitude, affection.

The room was quiet, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets as you shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. But no matter how you moved, the awareness of Dean’s presence was impossible to ignore, and the thought of sleep felt more and more distant.

The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, the silence in the room thick with the unspoken tension between you and Dean. You could feel his arm still holding you close, the weight of his presence both comforting and overwhelming at the same time. Your heart continued to race, your thoughts a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn’t quite keep in check.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Part 9

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Heat of the Moment

Sam and Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: Gabriel tortures Sam with visions of you dying over and over

“Heat of the moment…”

Sam groaned as he lifted his head from his pillow.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean grinned, much too chipper for so early in the morning.

You groaned next to Sam, pulling your pillow over your head.

“Five more minutes,” you whined.

“Nope, time to go,” Sam huffed as he sat up.

“Not yet,” you huffed. “Please?”

“C’mon honey.” Sam grinned as he poked at your side. “Get up!”

“Hey!” You squealed. “Sammy, no!”

“Then get up!” Sam laughed, tickling your sides.

“I—hI a—ha—AM!” You laughed, squirmed away from your big brother.

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Sam argued. “What do you think, Dean? You think she’s getting up?”

“Doesn’t look like it, Sammy,” Dean chuckled.

“You-hou’re so mean!” You whined.

“Mean? I’m just helping you wake up,” Sam replied, grabbing your arms with one hand when you tried to hit him, continuing to tickle you with the other.

“Alright Sam, let her get up,” Dean said as your laughter fell silent, your face bright red.

“Ok, ok,” Sam relented, pulling you into his lap.

“You’re mean,” you giggled, burrowing against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam ruffled your hair before pulling away. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“I’ll pack the car!” You jumped up, grabbing a few bags and heading for the car.

“She got her energy fast.” Dean chuckled.

“No kidding.” Sam spotted a bag that you’d left behind. “I’m gonna help her.”

“Ok, ok just put it down.” Your frightened voice was the first thing Sam heard as he reached the Impala. He stepped around it to see you, your hands outstretched in front of you, the bags on the ground at your feet. Sam turned to see what you were looking at, only to come face-to-muzzle with a gun.

“Stay back!” The man wielding it yelled, waving the gun from you to Sam, then back to you.

“Ok, ok.” Sam held his hands up in surrender, sidestepping closer to you in an attempt to shield your body with his.

“Stop moving!” The man demanded, pointing the gun at you and…

Bang!

Your body slammed into the Impala after you staggered back from the impact of the bullet. The masked robber dropped the gun in surprise; clearly he hadn’t meant to shoot.

“No!” Sam cried, kneeling down next to your wheezing form.

“Sa-Sam?” You whimpered, your hands searching out his in a panic.

“Hey, hey I’m here,” he soothed, pulling you into his lap. “No no, keep your eyes open sweetheart. This isn’t it, don’t give up, ok?”

You weren’t responding anymore, your eyes drifting shut even as you fought to keep them open.

“No…no!” Sam shook you, but it had no affect as your breathing slowed to a stop. “No…”

“Heat of the moment…”

Sam jolted upright with a gasp.

“Rise and shine, Sammy!” Dean grinned.

“Wha…” Sam looked around, confused. He snapped out of his stupor when you groaned next to him.

“Five more min—“ your whine was cut off when Sam pulled you into his arms. “Sammy, you’re squishing me!”

“Uh, Sam?” Dean questioned Sam’s strange behavior with a raised eyebrow. “You ok?”

“I’m…yeah I’m fine,” Sam breathed, letting you go. “I just…” he trailed off. Just a dream. It had just been a dream.

“I’m gonna go pack the car,” you said, rubbing your eyes as you jumped off the bed.

“No!” Sam yelled, jumping up and standing in front of you. “No, don’t.”

“Uhh…” You looked past Sam and made eye contact with Dean. Dean spoke up for you.

“Ok Sam, what’s going on?”

“Just…just trust me, ok?” Sam said. “Go brush your teeth or something, I’ve got the bags.”

Sam slung the bags over his shoulder, making sure his gun was visible as he stepped outside. It took him only a few seconds to spot the man from his—dream? He was skulking in the corner alleyway, a gun limp in his hands. He stepped away from the wall upon seeing Sam, but disappeared into the shadows when he saw Sam’s weapon.

Now safe, Sam’s mind went back to racing. Was it just a dream? How had he known the guy would be there? Were you safe now?

He had too many questions and no answers, so he decided it was best not to bring anything up to you or Dean.

“So what’s gotten into you?” You asked, a toothbrush hanging from your lips, once Sam came back into the room.

“Nothing, just hungry I guess.” Sam shrugged.

“Sounds good to me,” Dean butted in. “Let’s eat!”

…

“Turn here, Dean.”

“I’m going left, it’s a shortcut,” Dean responded as Sam tried to give directions.

Just as he turned down the side street, a car came backing out of a driveway much too fast.

“Dean, look o—“ your voice was cut off as the car slammed into your door. The Impala spun around, throwing Sam back into his seat. Once the car settled, he quickly took stock of himself and his siblings.

“Dean?” He groaned, and Dean responded with a muttered—

“I’m fine.”

“Y/N?” Sam craned his neck to see you sitting limply in your seat, blood trickling down the side of your head. “Y/N!”

“Heat of the moment…”

Sam sat up with a groan.

“What the…”

“Five more minutes,” you groaned next to him.

“This can’t be happening,” Sam breathed.

“What’s the matter, Sammy?” Dean noticed his brother’s labored breathing and upturned brow.

“Y/N, go brush your teeth,” Sam demanded. You sat up with a groan, punching Sam on the shoulder before begrudgingly obeying.

“Dean, something’s wrong here.”

“You mean besides you?”

“Not funny. I’m serious,” Sam huffed. “It’s like…it’s like this day has happened before.”

“You mean like Groundhog Day?”

“I…I don’t know.” Sam frowned. “But listen, this is the third time I’ve lived through this morning. It keeps starting over!”

“And you’re sure it’s not just…deja vu, or something?”

“Yes Dean, I’m sure. I remember other things, things that haven’t happened today. Like…like Y/N.”

“What about her?” Dean frowned.

“She…she keeps dying.”

Dean stiffened.

“Sam. What are you talking about?”

“I’m starving.” Both boys jumped as you came back into the room. “Can we go eat?”

“Sure,” Sam sighed. “Let’s go.”

He tried hard to ignore the way Dean was staring at him.

…

“Go straight,” Sam instructed as Dean reached an intersection. When Dean started to turn left, Sam grabbed the steering wheel and jammed it straight again.

“Hey!” Dean protested. “It was a shortcut!”

“Don’t.” Sam breathed. “Just don’t.”

He glanced back to see you staring in wide-eyed confusion, but when he looked back at Dean he saw a horrified understanding in his big brother’s eyes.

…

“Finally, food,” you said as you jumped out of the car and headed inside.

“Hey, wait!” Sam ran to catch up to you, Dean trailing behind him. Sam was on edge, and Dean was struggling to figure out how seriously he should take this. Reoccurring days? It sounded ridiculous, yet the thought that you could be in danger kept Dean from completely dismissing it.

To Sam’s visible relief, the three of you made it into the diner without incident.

“Pancakes!” You blurted out before the waitress could even ask. Dean ordered the same, with a side of sausage, and Sam distractedly muttered,

“Just coffee.”

“Are you ok?” Sam seemed to snap out of it when he saw you looking at him. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m alright,” he promised with a fake smile. You looked to Dean for an explanation, but he wouldn’t meet your eye.

Your confusion was forgotten, however, when your pancakes arrived. The thought had barely crossed Sam’s mind that he should tell you to slow down your eating, when you started to choke.

“Hey.” Sam was out of his booth seat and by your side in an instant, patting your back in an attempt to dislodge the food stuck in your throat. It didn’t work, and he was forced to watch as your lips turned blue and your face went ashen.

“No no no.” Sam’s distress only lasted a manner of short minutes before—

“Heat of the moment…”

Sam tried everything after that. The three of you went to four different breakfast places, he tried to keep you in the motel all day, he tried to skip food altogether and just get on the road…

He was running out of things to try.

He’d seen you choke on pancakes, bacon, water, seemingly nothing (you were apparently bad at breathing today). He’d seen you get hit by a car, a bus, a kid on a bike (you were now very fragile). You’d tripped over a sidewalk, a dog’s foot, the air (you were also clumsy).

He didn’t know what else to do, or how else to save you. It was as if the universe didn’t want you to be saved.

Then one day, something changed. As he was yet again leading you and Dean towards the Impala (he stopped letting you go in front of him after that one time you got hit by a car), he noticed the motel desk worker through the window. He must have seen the guy a thousand times without really looking at him, so why was he catching Sam’s eye now? Then Sam saw it; the man was wearing a ludicrously ugly green jacket.

The jacket had been red before.

“That guy!” Sam pointed.

“What about him?” You asked, craning your neck to see.

“His jacket. It’s not red.”

“And we care about this why?” Even Dean was confused.

“Because yester—I mean, today—I mean, before…whatever, it was red! And now it’s green.”

“He changed,” you said, frowning. “Why is this a problem?”

Dean eyed Sam over your shoulder, and Sam knew he understood now. Sam had explained everything to him for the thousandth time while you were in the shower. Nothing changed, not on this day.

“You think it’s something?” Dean asked. He was still skeptical about Sam’s story, but he was willing to follow his little brother’s lead.

“It is. It has to be.”

Dean nodded.

“Lead the way.”

…

“What’s going on?” The man in the green jacket asked in a shaky voice as Sam held him up against the wall.

“I’d like to know that too,” you added.

“Make it stop!” Sam ordered as he lifted the man off his feet.

“Whoa, hey, what?” The man asked.

“You heard him,” Dean spoke up. “We know you’re the one doing it.”

“We know what you are,” Sam said. “No one could be powerful enough to do this except a trickster. We’ve killed one of you before.” Sam wielded a stake covered in lamb’s blood. “And I’ve kept this around just in case it needed to happen again.”

“Not…again,” the man’s face twisted into a grin, before his features shifted.

“The trickster?” Your eyes were wide as you looked from your brother’s to the man you all thought was dead. “What’s going on here?”

“Why are you doing this?” Dean demanded.

“Because it’s fun,” the trickster laughed. “Watching you run around like a maniac trying to save your little sister from inevitable doom? It’s hilarious.”

“Trying to what?” You asked. “What’s he talking about?”

“Yeah, well why just Sam? How come I don’t have repeating days?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you haven’t figured it out? It’s really quite poetic if you think about it. Especially since you’ve kept her in the dark about all this, just like she’s in the dark about another little secret of yours.”

Sam and Dean met each other’s eye. This was about Dean’s demon deal. Dean had made Sam swear not to tell you, because he wanted to do it when the time was right. The secret had been torturing both of them for far too long.

“So, Dean’s left useless in this scenario, your poor little sister doesn’t even know what’s happening, and you, Sam…” the trickster grinned. “Without the help of your big brother, you can’t even begin to know how to take care of that little girl.”

“What’s he talking about?” You demanded. “What secret? Why can’t Dean help? What don’t I know?” Your voice got high and frantic. “Guys, what’s happening?”

“I think that’s my cue,” the trickster chuckled. “After all, you three have a lot to talk about. And if you don’t…I’ll be back.” The man disappeared from under Sam’s grasp, but he didn’t have long to wonder where the man went…

“But you better promise me, I’ll be back in time…”

“What…” Sam groaned as he sat up.

“Do we have to go already?” You huffed from next to him.

“No Asia…” he muttered, before turning to look at the clock. “It’s Wednesday!”

“Yeah, that’s what comes after Tuesday,” you said as you sat up.

“What do you remember?” Sam asked both you and Dean as Dean stepped out of the bathroom.

“You were saying the days were repeating…” Dean struggled to remember.

“The trickster,” you spoke up. “He was here. What did he want?” You looked to Sam for answers, but when he avoided your gaze you turned to Dean, who was equally unwilling to meet your eyes. “What did he mean about a secret?”

“Honey, I gotta talk to you,” Dean sighed as he sat on the edge of Sam’s bed. “It’s about…it’s about how Sam came back after he got stabbed.”

“You said he got better,” you spoke softly, the looks on your brothers’ faces making your voice quaver in fear. “You said it wasn’t that bad.”

You had been staying with Ellen and Joe when Dean went to look for Sam, so the news hadn’t gotten to you until Dean told you when he returned.

“I lied.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Sweetheart, I…I died,” Sam reached over and held your hand.

“Then how—“

“I…sold my soul. To bring him back.” Dean stared hard at the bed, unwilling to lift his gaze. “The demon gave me a year.”

“A year?” You shook off Sam’s hand as you jumped up. “You-you…” you took deep breaths as you struggled to get the words out. “You’re going to hell?”

Neither brother spoke.

“And you knew?” You looked at Sam, who lowered his eyes. You turned back to Dean. “Both of you…just kept this from me?”

“I was going to tell you,” Dean argued, finally looking up. “I just couldn’t find…it wasn’t…”

“There’s really no good opportunity to mention that you’re going to hell, Dean! That’s why you just say it!”

“Hey, look, I know, ok?” Dean pleaded. “I know, and I’m sorry. Just…just please, I don’t want to fight. You know now, that’s what matters, can we just…”

You took a deep breath, turning away from your brothers so they wouldn’t see the tears streaming down your face as you struggled to collect your thoughts. You didn’t want to stop being mad at Dean, but you also didn’t want to be mad at Dean. He wasn’t being fair to you, asking you to just forgive and forget when he and Sam both lied to you. But it didn’t feel fair to him to keep being angry when you knew he just wanted to protect you.

And when you knew that he was going to be dead in a matter of months. You couldn’t stay mad, not when you had so little time with him.

”Y/N?” Sam spoke up. “Honey, say something, please.”

“Ok,” you choked out as you turned back to your brothers. “Ok, we won’t fight.” You took two steps towards Dean, and he met you with open arms, folding you into an embrace.

“It’s gonna be ok,” he promised. “You’re gonna be just fine.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy

@mrvlxgrl

[lanaroff]

Unwanted- Part 3

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/N is an enhanced SHIELD agent who is forced to work with the Avengers. What happens when they discover that she’s not alone?

A/N: Sooo I´m back. After a year I came back with the next parto. Sorry for taking so so long. Hope you like it!!!

The flight back home was one big awkward silence, where no single team member dare to asked what had happened. Not only the mission had failed, but also two members of the team were missing, if not dead. Being that the last thing that they saw was you and Wanda standing on a rooftop that seconds later became ashes.

"Can someone explain me what the fuck just happened?" Tony finally broke the silence. But no one said anything, no one had a complete answer to explain the events that ended with the missing girls. "Rogers?"

"Um... After Sam gave us Rumblow's location Y/N went after him. And I order Wanda to follow her to the rooftop as backup. If it is anyone's fault is mine. It should have been me out there." Steve answered in a apologetic way.

"What was she doing there on the first place?" Tony asked again. But this time Steve didn't answer as he didn't know.

The room once again fell into silence. Tony was angry with the outcome of the mission.  As he should be, at the end it was his reputation on the line.

"Tony, Y/N is a really competent agent. I'm sure they are fine, all we can do is wait. Going back there is only going to make things worse." Natasha said trying to defend her friend. She was well aware of Y/N's reputation of being reckless regarding Hydra.

"12 hours. I'm giving them 12 hours and after that we are going after them." Tony said ending the conversation and leaving the room.

The truth was that Natasha wasn't fully sure if her friends were alive. She knew that both Wanda and Y/N we're powerful agents, but she also knew that Y/N had a tendency to act impulsively. So all she could do was hope that the girls were somewhere safe waiting to return home.

And they were. 4 hours had went by since the duo had settled into an abandoned house. Wanda was next to the fireplace, which Y/N turned on for her so she wouldn't be cold, and the girl would close her eyes resting next to the heat of the fire. Y/N, on the other hand, was sitting next to a window across the room. Wishing that if she stared long enough at the rain it would stop.

"You are going to catch a cold. You can sit with me if you want." Wanda suggested trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I'm good here." She replied quickly. However, she immediately felt guilty for her harsh behavior as Wanda was only trying to be nice."Um Venom... it doesn't like fire" Y/N continued.

While looking from across the room, Wanda couldn't stop thinking about Y/N. How she seemed so strong but yet so broken. She knew that Y/N wasn't a person that would open to others easily. Let alone talk to a stranger about herself. But she thought that it was worth the shot since none of them had nothing better to do.

"Can I ask you a question Y/N?" She continued.

"Sure. I won't guarantee you an answer tho." Y/N replied. She could have perfectly said no. But deep down she was curious as for what Wanda wanted to know.

"Why do you want to kill Rumblow so bad? What did he do to you?" Wanda asked the girl.

"He's a traitor." She replied slowly letting herself think about her feelings. "Um... I met him when I first got to SHIELD. I guess that over the years I started to trust him. Turns out he was lying the hole time."

"Is that why you find so difficult to trust people?" Wanda asked again.

"I trust people. Just not you guys."

"Right... Do you trust Nat?" The witch asked again making Y/N nervous.

"Ye-No... Just forget about it. I don't even know why I'm talking to you about it." The truth was that that Y/N didn't knew If she trusted the spy. Sure, they were friends, weren't they? But she couldn't let Wanda know that. She wasn't going to talk about feeling with a stranger.

Y/N started to grew impatient with Wanda's questions. So she did the thing that she did best. Pretend that nothing had happened. She stood up and stared to walk towards the injured girl. She placed her left hand on Wanda's lap, and with the other one she stared to unwrap the wound to check it.

"It hurts a little less, but I don't think I can walk." Wanda said as she saw Y/N eyes staring at the open leg. 

Wanda studied every interaction that the girl made. To her, Y/N was a face with a question mark on it, she couldn't quite understand her actions nor her decisions. Every time she looked at Y/N she was able to see the girl's internal fight. Between having to be strong, and being fragile, and to the girl's fortune her eyes didn't lied.

"You are staring. Stop it, It's creepy." Y/N told Wanda feeling her eyes placed on her as she looked at the wound.

"Can I see it?" She asked. However, all she got on return was a confused look on Y/N face. "Venom- Can I see Venom?"

Y/N locked her eyes on Wanda's. And for a few seconds that was all they did. Y/N wanted to know the girl's intention, she couldn't understand why the redhead would want to do such thing. While Wanda just sat there waiting for an answer.

However, all the answered that she got from Y/N was a sight. The girl moved a few steps away from Wanda and closed her eyes.

"If you hurt her I swear to god that I will kill you." She said before letting the creature out. Venom's head emerged from behind the girl's body leaving a thin thread of materia connecting the both of them.

Wanda stood there patiently waiting for the girl. She was a little bit scared and anxious, but mostly curious to meet the creature. Her eyes features every detail of Venom. Sure, she had met the alien before, but this time Wanda didn't see it as a threat.

"I'm Wanda Maximoff, nice to finally meet you." She said. Y/N's eyes traveled from Venom to Wanda. She found hard to believe that someone would see the alien inside of her as something worth meeting. But she couldn't denied that Wanda's small action made her feel as she wasn't the monster that she thought she was. Maybe she was worth caring. Maybe there was someone who was willing to love her despite having Venom. But her thoughts were cut off by the creature's voice.

"Wanda... We are Venom" It replied. Venom was curious. Why the woman in front of it wasn't terrified? Why wasn't she running already? So it moved with precaution around the girl.

"Hi Venom, May I touch you?" She asked again. This time Y/N was not entirely sure if it was a good idea. No one before had dare to talk to the creature let alone touch it.

"I don't know Wanda. I don't think that Venom would lik..." And her words were cut off again, by the events happening right in front of her. With one hand touching Venom, Wanda let a small grin came out of her.

Suddenly, the alien's and Wanda's interaction were interrupted by the sound of a car getting closer. Y/N quickly made her way to the closet window and, as she feared, they had been found by Hydra.

"We need to leave now." She whispered. Wanda immediately tried to get up, but due to her wounds, she tripped. "Yeah, it's clear that you can't walk"

"Just leave me here. I can protect myself. You leave" Wanda said.

"Do you really think that I'm going to leave you here?" She rhetorically asked de redhead. In a matter of seconds Y/N had carried Wanda outside of the abandoned house. And with her still in her arms, she begin to walk through the woods.

"Do you at least know were you going?" Wanda complained.

"No." Y/N harshly replied.

Both girls made their way to a small town. However, before entering the area, gently, Y/N placed Wanda next to a tree. She checked the girl's leg, and without saying anything she begin to walk towards the town.

"Where are you going?" Wanda asked. She knew that Y/N would not leave without her. However, she didn't want to be left alone.

"I'm going to get a car." She replied. Y/N could see Wanda's worrying in eyes. "I will come back. I promise."

And without further ado, she made her way to the nearest gas station. Right before setting foot inside the market, she gazed a small car parked right next to the building. Y/N walked to the nearest fridge and picked a bottle of water. She placed it on the counter, and waited for the man to tell her it's price.

"Would be 85 cents, anything else?" The man asked.

"Yeah, do you happen to know were the closest route to go to NY is?" She replied. She immediately realized that the employee was starring at her shirt covered in Wanda's blood. "Uhm... My wife and I, we were hiking and she tripped. I would love to take her to the hospital."

"Oh right... Uhm, take the rout that goes south. Please take the bottle, it's on me." He said. The truth was that Y/N had no money to pay the guy. So, with a small grin she left the place. Ones outside, she broke the car's window and ripped some wires to turn on the engine.

"Who's car is that?" Wanda asked as she saw Y/N pulling down next to her.

"Does it matter?" She said and carried Wanda to the car. "Here, I got you a bottle of water in case you were thirsty."

"Thanks." She replied with a smile.

Hours had passed since they had abandoned the town. Once Y/N pulled the car down next to the compound she made her way to Wanda's door, who was fast asleep. For a moment all that the girl did was look at the redhead sleep. The one thing that she feared was happening, and she couldn't stop it. She had begin to like Wanda's company.

Without waking her up she carried Wanda inside the compound. However, Tony's shouting did interrupted Wanda's sleeping "Where were you two? Do you have any idea how worried we were Y/N?

"No, and I don't care. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to take Wanda to the medby." She said and walked her way to the room, where she placed Wanda on a stretcher.

The rest of the team followed the pair in search for answers. Non of them knew why Wanda was injured. Or why Y/N had abandoned her position previously on the mission.

"Let me check on that" Bruce said as he walked next to Wanda.

"So you are not going to say anything?" Tony asked again stopping Y/N from leaving the room.

"What is left to say? The mission failed, and Wanda is alive." She said with a cocky grin.

"Why were you after Rumblow on the first place? That was not the mission." He asked again.

"No Stark, that was not you mission. It surely was mine." She said making Tony anger grew inside of him.

"You are going to get someone kill, or worse, yourself."

"Do you really think that I care If one of you die? Or If I die? I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this." And with her last statement Y/N left the room.

The rest of the team shared looks, Tony was angry, while Wanda was worried. Y/N last words were on loop on Wanda's head. Why didn't she care for her life? What was the thing she didn't ask for? Wanda was determined to find out why the agent was so cold and distant.

[grillpartshub-blog]

Members Mark Grill Replace with Stainless Steel Heat Shield (Set of 3) Fits Compatible Models: Members Mark B09SMG-3, B09SMG1-3F, BQ05046-6, BQ05046-6A, BQ06042-1, Academy Sports BQ05037-2, Sams BQ05046-6, BQ05046-6A, BQ06042-1, BQ06043-1 Gas Models. SHOP NOW!!

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

EPILOGUE: REQUIEM

Chapter 10 <MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: A trip to Brooklyn Botanical Gardens with Sam and Steve trigger a memory buried deep inside Bucky.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warning: HYDRA, living a secret life, Bucky Barnes (isn't he always a warning?) — If there is any more you find not listed here please be sure to let me know so I can add it.

Steve had suggested visiting the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and he had insisted that Bucky and Sam join him. Bucky had grumbled about it, and Sam had joked about being the third wheel on their "date," but they had both accompanied Steve, albeit reluctantly. Both Bucky and Sam understood that this was a chance for Steve to reconnect with his past, and sometimes he needed the support of his closest friends.

As the trio made their way through the lush greenery, the sights and scents of the early summer blooms captivated them. While Steve and Sam explored the gardens with a sense of curiosity and wonder, Bucky found himself drawn towards a particularly familiar fragrance that seemed to tug at the edges of his memory. Compelled by the alluring aroma, he followed his nose, weaving through the meticulously cultivated paths until he came upon a serene, shimmering koi pond. The water's surface was blanketed in a vibrant display of lily pads and blossoms, their petals unfurling in shades of pink, white, and yellow that almost seemed to glow under the warm summer sun. 

As Bucky approached the pond, the scent grew stronger, stirring a sense of nostalgia deep within him. Though the fog of his past still shrouded many of his memories, something about this scene felt hauntingly familiar, as if he had experienced it before, perhaps in a distant life, or a dream half-remembered. He paused at the water's edge, his brow furrowed in concentration as he searched his mind, desperate to uncover the elusive connection. The vibrant colors were almost overwhelming to his senses, but it was the sight of the lilies themselves that truly captivated him, their delicate forms swaying gently in the light breeze. In that moment, Bucky was transported, if only briefly, to a time and place he could not quite recall, a memory that lingered just out of reach.

Suddenly, just on the edge of his peripheral vision, a figure emerged from the shimmering heat haze, a fleeting apparition that seemed to materialize from thin air. His heart lurched in his chest as a wave of recognition washed over him. Could it be? Squinting against the glare of the relentless sun, he hastily removed his cap, shielding his eyes as he strained to get a better look. The figure was there one moment, then vanished the next, like a ghost from his past slipping back into the ether. 

He blinked rapidly, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him in the bright light. For a split second, he thought he glimpsed a familiar profile, a turn of the head, a telltale gait - it had to be her, the one who had haunted his dreams for all these years. But just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone, swallowed up by the shimmering haze, leaving him with a pounding heart and a head full of questions.

Who was that? Could it really have been her, after all this time? Or was it simply a cruel mirage, a figment of his imagination conjured by the relentless sun and his own yearning? He stood there, transfixed, searching the horizon for any sign of the mysterious figure, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions; disbelief, hope, fear. Whatever the truth, one thing was certain: the ghost of his past had returned, and he knew he would never be the same.

Bucky stood transfixed, his gaze fixed upon the calm, glassy surface of the pond before him. The gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pond provided a soothing, meditative rhythm that had lulled him into a contemplative trance. In this moment, the bustling world around him seemed to fade away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Just as Steve and Sam approached, calling out to him, Bucky was jolted from his reverie, the spell broken. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly tore his gaze away, knowing he must rejoin the present, even as a part of him wished to remain in this tranquil, introspective moment a while longer.

“There he is!” Sam nudged Steve before calling out. “Hey, Tin Man!”

Bucky scowled, the serenity of his thoughts broken by the sound of his voice.

“Everything alright, Buck?” Steve asked, noticing his friend’s sorrowful expression.

“Yeah. Thought I saw someone I knew.”

“You have friends outside of the two of us?” Sam asked incredulously, making Bucky roll his eyes and Steve crack a smile.

“Ready to go?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, stealing one last glance at the pond as the three men walked away.

*

The cold steel of the makeshift bed pressed against Bucky's cheek, the chill seeping into his bones and sending a shiver down his spine. Even in the hazy, disjointed realm of his dream, the sensation felt startlingly real - the hard, unyielding surface, the musty, stale air filling his nostrils. He could feel the weight of the chains binding his wrists, the metal links digging into his skin with an agonizing bite. This was no mere figment of his imagination, but a memory, a phantom echo of a past he could scarcely recall. 

"Kotyonok," he whispered, his voice rough and cracked from disuse, the single word a desperate plea into the void. The name felt like a ghostly whisper from a forgotten world, a fragment of a life he had once known. But the face, the identity that should have accompanied that endearment, remained frustratingly hazy, obscured by the mists of time and trauma. He strained to grasp at the elusive image, to bring it into focus, but it slipped through his fingers like wisps of smoke.

For just a moment, he saw you - a flash of silky hair, a mischievous glint in beautiful eyes, a smile that could light up even the darkest of rooms. But before he could fully comprehend the vision, you faded, disappearing back into the shadows and leaving him with a suffocating, aching emptiness. He tightened his fist, the phantom pain of the missing arm shooting through him in a blinding wave. "Kotyonok," he tried again, his voice a desperate, guttural plea. "Who are you?"

The world around him twisted and shifted, the clinical, sterile room morphing into the dimly lit confines of an apartment. A shared laugh, a melody he couldn't quite place, echoed from a time he could no longer recall. The scent of lilies filled the air, a fragrance that made his stomach clench with a yearning so profound it was almost physically painful. "Kotyonok," he choked out, reaching for you with his metal hand. But his fingers only grasped at empty air, the phantom of your presence fading back into the darkness.

Bucky awoke with a gasp, his metallic hand clenching into a tight fist as he was pulled back into the familiar confines of his room, the cold metal of his bed keeping him grounded. He was alone, but the name ‘Kotyonok’ echoed in his head, a haunting whisper that promised a past he could barely remember, and a future he could scarcely imagine. It was a ghost, a shadow of something lost, and it left him aching with a longing he couldn't begin to comprehend.

*

Bucky's mind was a whirlwind of fragmented memories and emotions, like shards of a shattered mirror reflecting glimpses of a life he could barely recognize as his own. The sound of Sam's voice jolted him back from the precipice of that dark, tumultuous inner landscape, where the ghosts of his past threatened to consume him.

“Bucky? Are you alright, man?” Sam's tone was laced with genuine concern, his brow furrowed as he studied his friend's distant, troubled expression.

Bucky let out a weary sigh, trying to push away the phantom feelings that still lingered, the echoes of a life he could scarcely recall. "Yeah, just a little tired," he mumbled, the words feeling hollow even as they left his lips.

Sam frowned, the lines on his face deepening as he recognized the familiar signs, the haunted look in Bucky's eyes, the subtle tension in his posture. He knew all too well about the nightmares that still plagued his friend, the horrific visions of his time as the Winter Soldier. But these were different, Sam could sense it. These were the ghosts of something else, a love perhaps, a connection that had been ripped away and now existed only in the hazy, fragmented remnants of Bucky's memory.

“I know you're getting better, Bucky,” Sam said, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder in a gesture of support and understanding. “But sometimes, the past doesn't just disappear. It lingers, like a shadow, always lurking just out of sight.”

Bucky nodded, the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach growing more pronounced. He needed to know, he needed to find out who you were, who you had been to him. It was a compulsion, a driving need to uncover the truth, to reclaim that which had been lost. And so he began his search, scouring old files, questioning anyone he could from his troubled past, chasing every phantom echo that whispered your name. The weight of this quest was a crushing burden, and there were times when Bucky felt on the verge of giving up, the futility of his efforts overwhelming. But still, he returned to the gardens, again and again, as if drawn there by an unseen force, a connection that he was desperate to rediscover and understand.

*

Bucky had returned to the botanical gardens, his steps quiet and his movements stealthy as he moved through the lush greenery, his eyes scanning the faces of every passerby with a razor-sharp focus. He was certain that if he saw you again, he would recognize you instantly, no matter how much time had passed or how much you might have changed. Settling onto his usual bench, he allowed his weary body to sink into the cool shade, his eyelids growing heavy as he drifted into a light doze.

But his dreams were anything but peaceful, they were a jumbled, vivid mess of his own haunting memories, the HYDRA valley where he had fallen from the train playing out in horrific detail. Yet, suddenly, the dreams shifted, and it was no longer him plummeting into the abyss, but you. Bucky jolted awake, a crushing realization weighing heavily on his chest. Had his desperate search been in vain all along? Was his mission to find you a fruitless endeavor, doomed to end in failure and heartbreak?

Shaken, he rose from the bench, his steps quickening as he strode out of the park, his focus distracted as he marched blindly, only to collide with someone much smaller than his imposing frame. Bucky's brow furrowed, his metal arm flexing reflexively as he steadied them, his mind still reeling from the intensity of his dreams and the uncertainty of his quest. 

In that electrifying moment, as your gaze locked with Bucky's, the world seemed to slow to a standstill. The familiar stranger before you was unmistakably the man you had once loved with every fiber of your being, the same piercing eyes, the same chiseled jawline, the same aura of strength and resilience that had always drawn you to him. Yet, the years of hardship and trauma etched into his features were a painful reminder of the ordeals you had both endured. The horrors you had faced together, the anguish and suffering you had shared, had threatened to tear you apart forever. But now, in this fleeting instance, all of that faded away, replaced by a surge of joy and disbelief that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Bucky?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

A flicker of recognition ignited within Bucky, his lips curling into a hesitant, almost disbelieving smile as he uttered “Kotyonok,” his voice barely above a whisper. “Is it really you?”

In that moment, the years of separation, the torment and uncertainty, vanished into a distant echo, leaving only the overwhelming realization that your unbreakable bond had survived the darkest of trials. The love he had felt for you all those years ago came rushing back, a tidal wave of emotion that threatened to consume you both. As his fingers brushed against yours, an electric current crackled between you, a tangible reminder of the love that had once been lost, but now seemed to have blossomed anew, like a delicate flower emerging from the ashes of despair.

Bucky's gaze was filled with a mixture of wonder and relief, mirroring the tumultuous emotions swirling within you. “I didn’t think you’d remember me,” you whispered, your voice choked with the weight of all that had transpired.

“I thought you were… gone,” he replied, the words laced with a profound sense of loss and disbelief.

“I… I thought you were too,” you said softly, your heart swelling with the realization that you had both defied the odds, that you had both somehow managed to cling to life in the face of unimaginable adversity. 

As Bucky reached up and laid his hand gingerly on your cheek, the tender gesture spoke volumes, a silent declaration of the love that had never truly faded, even in the darkest of times. A wave of emotion washed over him, a mix of relief and heartache. “I thought I had lost you forever,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. 

“I'm here now,” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently. “I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

He leaned down, his gaze intense, a mixture of longing and fear in his eyes. “I don't want to let you go again,” he said, his voice barely a whisper.

“I don't want to let you go either,” you whispered back, your heart echoing the sentiment.

You motioned at the bench and Bucky took your hand as you both sat down.

“How did you find me?” You asked. “I expected Karpov would have ordered your memory wiped.”

“He did,” Bucky sighed.

“Then how-” you started asking.

“I remember you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I remember everything. Being here, it triggered something, and I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you since then, Kotyonok.”

“Kotyonok,” you echoed softly, savoring the sound of his nickname for you, a reminder of a love that had defied the odds. “How did you know I would be here?”

“I didn't. My friend… Steve… he likes to come here. He asked us to come with him a few times, but last month, I… was drawn to this garden,” he said, his voice soft, almost shy. “The smell of the lilies, they reminded me of you.”

You grinned, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up your face. “They're my favorite.”

“You always smelled of them,” he murmured, a fond smile playing on his lips. You loved that he remembered that about you, the little things that made you, you.

“I've been watching you…  on the news,” you admitted, a faint blush rising on your cheeks. “I've seen all the good things you've done with Captain America and the other Avengers. You're a hero, Bucky.” You wanted him to know that you saw who he really was, not the person HYDRA had made him.

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. “I don't feel like a hero. I'm just... trying to make things right.”

“You are making things right,” you said, your voice full of conviction. “You're fighting for what's good, and that's all that matters.”

“Why… why didn't you come and find me?” he asked, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and apprehension.

You hesitated, a ghost of pain flitting across your features. “I was afraid… that you wouldn't remember who I was. And… I don’t know if HYDRA is still looking for me. It’s not like I was important in the grand scheme of things, but-”

“You are important,” he interrupted, his voice filled with conviction. He gently cupped your cheek, his touch sending a surge of warmth through you. He made you feel important, like you were the most important person in the world.

Bucky's gaze softened, and he reached out, his calloused fingers tracing the lines of your face. “How... how did you survive, Kotyonok?”

Your gaze drifted away, lost in the depths of your own memories. “Honestly, I don’t remember anything. I woke up in a farmhouse, this old couple… they took care of me. They were sweet, but I didn’t stay with them for long. Didn’t want HYDRA finding me with them, hurting them.” His hand on your shoulder gave you the strength to keep talking through the painful memories. “Moved around a lot after that, trying to stay under the radar. But I did it. I survived, and… so did you.”

His eyes held yours, searching for some understanding, some confirmation of the love that had survived the horrors they had endured. “I was so scared, Kotyonok. I thought I'd never see you again.”

“But you found me,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And I'm not going anywhere.”

As Bucky's cool, vibranium digits enveloped your hands, you couldn't help but revel in the sensation. The sleek, metallic limb glinted in the light, its surface smooth and unblemished. You gazed, awestruck, at the intricate engineering on display, the way the vibranium had been seamlessly integrated to create a prosthetic that was both functional and aesthetically captivating. Gone was the harsh, utilitarian titanium that had once clashed so jarringly with the Winter Soldier's dark, menacing attire. This new arm radiated an air of refined elegance and restrained power, its strength and capability hidden beneath a streamlined, sophisticated exterior.

As you traced the delicate golden veins that shimmered against the matte black base, you couldn't help but marvel at the sheer craftsmanship that had gone into its creation. Each groove, each contour, spoke to the meticulous attention to detail that had been poured into this prosthetic. It was a true work of art, blending cutting-edge technology with a sense of timeless beauty. You knew that beneath that exquisite exterior lay a strength and power that was truly awe-inspiring. This was no mere replacement limb, it was an extension of Bucky himself, a testament to his resilience and the remarkable feats he had accomplished.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with wonder. “It's incredible.” You took his metallic hand in yours, feeling its lightness and balance.

“How does it feel?” you inquired.

“So much better,” Bucky replied, his voice carrying a newfound confidence. “Lighter, more...natural.”

“I can tell,” you said, noting his improved posture. “You're standing taller.” A gentle smile spread across your face.

“You can't resist, can you?” Bucky said, a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Resist what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Taking care of me,” Bucky answered.

You couldn't help but laugh. “I can't help it. I love caring for you.” Your words were filled with an unwavering affection that warmed Bucky's heart.

“I don't want to let you go again,” Bucky said, his voice filled with both sorrow and a hint of determination.

“Neither do I,” you replied.

His face hovered impossibly close, mere inches from your own, as he sat beside you on the weathered park bench. The warmth of his breath caressed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, and you longed to close the remaining distance, to feel the familiar softness of his lips against yours once more. Yet, a nagging doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind, a persistent voice whispering that something was not quite right. Was this truly the man you had loved with such fervent devotion all those years ago, the soldier whose every touch had ignited a fire within you? Or had he changed, subtly but irrevocably, during the long years of separation, his eyes no longer holding the same unwavering adoration, his tender caresses replaced by a hesitance that belied a shift in his affections?

Despite his reassuring words, the ones that had once made your heart swell with joy, you found yourself unable to silence the unsettling questions that plagued you. What if the feelings that had once burned so brightly between you no longer mirrored the all-consuming devotion of the past? What if the man you saw before you, so tantalizingly close yet somehow distant, was no longer the same person you had given your heart to all those years ago? The uncertainty weighed heavily upon you, a thick fog obscuring the path forward, as you grappled with the fear that the man you loved may have been irretrievably lost to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still reading you as easily as he always had.

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your trembling hands. “It's just... you're here, and yet…”

“And yet it feels like I'm a stranger?” he finished, his voice tinged with sadness.

You nodded, unable to deny your feelings. “I've missed you so much, but I can't shake this feeling that something has changed.”

A deep sigh escaped Bucky’s lips as he reached out to cup your face. “I know what you mean. I've changed, Kotyonok.”

His words hung heavy in the air, like a weight upon your heart. “But you're still you,” you protested, desperate to cling to the man you had known. “Deep down, you're still the same person, aren’t you?”

The uncertainty lingered, a cloud obscuring the path ahead. But the flicker of longing in his eyes, the soft tremor in his voice, spoke of a man struggling to find his way back to the light. You knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just about the past, but about the future. About the chance to rewrite your story, to navigate the uncharted waters of your second chance.

“I don’t know.”

Your heart sank, but before you had the time to process your disappointment, he continued.

“But, if you’re willing to give me a chance, I would like to find out… with you.” He stared into your eyes, his gaze searching, questioning.

“You would?”

And then, a slow smile spread across his face, a glimmer of hope igniting in his eyes. He leaned closer, his voice a soft promise against your lips. “I would, Kotyonok. I want to fight for us. For you.”

In the depths of his eyes, you saw a glimmer of hope, a determination that had not been extinguished. Bucky was willing to fight, to embark on this journey with you, to rediscover the love that had once bound you together. It was a chance, a precious opportunity to rewrite your story, to forge a new path that would lead you both back to the light. And as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, hopeful kiss, you knew that you would be willing to take that chance, to walk this uncharted road by his side, no matter what obstacles lay ahead.

Chapter 10 <MASTERLIST

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Prologue)

—

Tw: Danny is having a Certified Bad Time™️, dissociation, vivisection mention, suicidal thoughts (kinda?), basically just heavy angst for now

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

Note: you don’t need to read this chapter to understand the rest of the story, it’s mostly just to explore Danny’s headspace when he first escapes the GiW

(Pt. 1)

(Subscription post/masterlist)

—

Danny rocked back and forth, trying to soothe himself as the truck he was in continued to speed along.

It had been an eternity since he was captured by the GiW. He didn’t know why they were moving him to a new base after all this time, but he knew it wasn’t a good thing.

Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel afraid.

He couldn’t feel much of anything these days. The GiW had a routine and they stuck to it religiously, and that routine had sucked every bit of Danny’s soul out of him.

Something churned in his chest regardless. Anticipation? Excitement, maybe?

Perhaps they were finally going to let Danny fade. Was that a bad thing? Danny couldn’t decide if it was or not.

He wasn’t scared of fading. It seemed inevitable, especially with how he was treated on the daily. He would stop hurting if he faded.

Still, he’d like to see Jazz and Tucker and Sam at least one more time before he does. That would be nice.

The truck continues forward, unmoved by Danny’s thoughts.

The sound is nice, Danny thinks.

The hum of the engine, the crackling of pebbles being crushed under the tires, the electrical buzz of the anti-ghost handcuffs and shield keeping him trapped.

The only sound Danny’s heard the last few years has been the clatter of metal tools, the crunching of bone, the sawing and thunking and squishing of surgery, the murmur of voices.

It’s nice to hear something new, Danny thinks.

Strange, but nice.

The truck stops again. Another red light, probably. Danny continues rocking back and forth, back and forth, like the ticking of a clock.

Seconds pass. Second after second after second.

Danny hears shouting now.

Gunshots crack outside, and Danny sees holes appear in the side of the truck.

That’s definitely new.

Chaos is erupting outside. There’s a lot of screaming, and frantic footsteps, and cars zooming away.

The driver door slams open and shut. The truck speeds off, tires screaming as the driver swerves erratically.

Danny is thrown back and forth in the back of the truck, bumping up against the many weapons and other miscellaneous inventions stored alongside him. Pain blooms in his head and chest, an agonizing heat lining his surgical wounds. Danny licks his lips underneath his muzzle. It would be nice if the driver was a bit better at their job, he thinks.

The truck continues careening wildly.

Danny counts the seconds.

Second after second after second.

After around two thousand, three hundred and seventy four seconds, the truck comes to a stop. Danny didn’t lose count this time. He’s proud of himself.

The driver door opens and closes yet again. There’s chatter outside, excitement clear in the voices that Danny hears. There’s lots of talk of “congratulations,” and “lucky that the Bat didn’t follow you here.”

Then, the back of the truck is opened. Danny hears noises of confusion and shock. He turns his head, looking to see what’s happened.

There’s several men at the door of the truck. They’re wearing black tuxedo suits—Sam was right, black really is such a pretty color—and they’re staring at him.

They begin talking among themselves. Something about them not knowing about a kid, and not knowing what to tell the boss. It’s confusing to him. It’s not what he usually hears spoken.

Then, one of them climbs up into the truck. He approaches Danny slowly, speaking in a calm voice. He’s asking Danny if he can stand, he realizes, asking him if he knows why he’s in the truck.

Danny just stares at the silver glint of the gun at the man’s side.

It’s a nice one, he thinks. Semi-automatic, with a few modifications to make the reloads smoother and the gunshots quieter. His fingers twitch. He’d like to poke at it a little, see if he could improve it any.

The man notices where he’s staring and curses. He takes the gun and lowers it to the floor. Danny just continues to stare.

Silver is an ugly color, he thinks. He much prefers black.

Silver is the color of stainless steel, the color of lab and surgical equipment.

He doesn’t like it much.

The man reaches out a hand and grabs Danny’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

After a moment, he sighs, and hoists Danny up, carrying him effortlessly. He hands him to one of the men outside of the truck, hopping down himself a moment later.

They’re warm, Danny realizes.

He curls further into the new man’s arms, closing his eyes. It’s nice, he thinks, being held like this. He hasn’t been held with such care in a long, long time.

The man sets him down on a crate.

After a moment Danny opens his eyes again, watching as the many black-suited people take things out of the truck. He counts the inventions in his head as they do so, beginning to rock again.

Then, a new man enters the room, and everyone freezes.

He’s congratulating them, asking them about their escape, and then he spots Danny.

Danny would very much like to be invisible right about now.

“Where did you get him?” He asks, tapping his umbrella against the floor.

“He was in the truck,” the man who carried him says, “we don’t know why.”

The stout man looks at him closely.

“How did you get into a government weapon shipment? Did someone put you in there?”

Danny nods his head. He tries to speak, but his voice cracks painfully underneath his muzzle.

“You- someone get that thing off his face,” he says. Several of the other men scurry off, probably looking for something that can break the muzzle, “can you speak?”

Danny shrugs. He tries to talk again, but it seems that his voice doesn’t want to cooperate with him. The only sound he can make is a painful, broken wheeze.

“Hey,” the man says, resting a hand on Danny’s shoulder, “if it hurts to talk, stop trying, alright? We’re gonna get that muzzle and those cuffs off, and then we’ll figure out why you were in there. You know how to write?”

Danny nods.

“Good,” the man responds.

“You two, get something to write with,” he barks to a few of the other suited men. They, too, run off.

A few people come up, carrying a bolt cutter and a few other tools with them. They make quick work of the muzzle and handcuffs, the restraints falling to the floor with a clattering sound.

Danny looks down at his hands. They’re shaking. Slowly, slowly, he brings them up to his face. Thin fingers brush up against cracked, dry lips. He’s fascinated by the sensation.

Someone brought him a mirror, he realizes.

That can’t be right, though. The person looking back at him…isn’t him. That isn’t Danny.

That face is not his face.

Their cheeks are far too thin and sunken, their eyes dull and haunting. They’re far too old as well, they look like a young adult.

Still, they move when he moves. They stare at him with a look of fascinated horror that’s far too familiar.

He brings his hand up to his head, and they follow his movements. He trails his fingers over the stitches in his head, and they do the same.

Danny tries to speak, but is cut off by a painful cough.

One of the men brings up a pencil and notepad. Slowly, shakily, Danny writes down a question.

“What year is it?”

The man who had spoken to him earlier quirked his eyebrow up. He answers, and Danny freezes in place.

“What’s wrong?”

Danny looks down at his hands again. He looks into the mirror. The stranger staring back looks horrified. They look sad. They look…like him.

Danny lets out a mournful keening sound. He curls up into himself, covering his face with his arms. Distantly, he’s aware of someone rubbing circles into his back. He cries harder, his entire body shaking.

Three years.

It’s been three years since he was captured, three years of being cut open and sewn back together. Three years of burns and cuts and chemical damage and electrical shocks.

Three years of torture.

Danny sobs, hands gripping the thin fabric of his medical gown like a lifeline. Three years.

Danny’s being lifted up again. He wraps his arms around the person holding him and wails into their shoulder. Everything is quiet.

“I’ll deal with the kid,” the man holding him says, “the rest of you, finish unpacking the truck and dump it somewhere that the Bat won’t connect to me.”

The man brings Danny through the building, still rubbing his back comfortingly. He’s humming some song that Danny doesn’t recognize, occasionally pausing to bark orders at people.

Danny’s beginning to calm down now. He’s still shaking, but his breathing is beginning to even out.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt alive enough to cry.

He feels exhausted.

Danny tries to hold onto consciousness for as long as possible, but he’s so tired, and so sad, and he’s being held, and he’s warm, and…

Danny’s eyes flutter shut.

—

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

1.3 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 3.1k

Previously On...: Bucky got his first glimpse of you.

A/N: Accidentally posted this to the wrong blog. Apologies!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You were having so much fun getting better acquainted with Nat and Wanda that you didn’t even notice when the pool game broke up and its players meandered over to join you. Nat made quick work of introducing you to everyone, and you were fortunate most of them were so famous, you already knew their names, otherwise you would have been lost in a whirlwind of new faces.

Everyone was exceedingly friendly as you went around shaking hands– Peter (that was the first name of the boy Nat had called ‘Parker’) was entirely too enthusiastic in his handshake, but it was endearing, all the same. Thor bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and you were almost positive you saw Wanda swoon by proxy out of the corner of your eye. Steve’s handshake was firm, but basic (‘boring,’ you couldn’t help but hear Wanda’s voice say in your head), and Sam was brazen and went in for a kiss on the cheek– not that you minded in the least. 

When it came time for you to be officially introduced to Bucky, you found yourself practically tingling with anticipation. God, he was even better looking up close.

“Major,” Nat said, giving you a sly smile, “this is Bucky. Bucky, this is my friend, Major.” He took your hand in his, enveloping it, and the heat radiating from where your skin touched sent an electric current down your spine. “Major.” You watched the way his full, pink lips formed around the syllables, as if he was tasting your name, rolling it around in his mouth, something to be savored. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

You offered him a shy, half-smile that you hoped looked flirty and not cringe-inducing. “It’s really nice to meet you, too, Bucky.”

You smiled stupidly at one another before you realized you’d been holding hands for just a little too long. Reluctantly, you let go before you looked too weird.

“I’m Lily,” the petite blond woman you’d noticed him with earlier said, stepping forward slightly so that Bucky had to take a stumbling step back from you to make room for her. 

“Watch it, Lil,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. “You almost bulldozed me over.”

The other woman flashed him a smile before turning back to you, her gaze now hardened. She took your hand and shook it firmly, almost aggressively.

“Major,” you said, matching her pressure with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Lily.” 

“Should we move this party to a booth?” Sam asked from where he stood a few feet away. “This table ain’t big enough for all of us.”

You had to agree– the high top you sat at with Nat and Wanda was not nearly large enough to accommodate your enlarged party. You all made your way to a back corner of the bar, where there was a large, circular booth available. 

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze,” Nat said, eyeing your group, “but I think we can manage it.” You all began awkwardly sliding in, and by some miracle (or Nat’s manipulation, you weren’t quite sure), you ended up pressed against Bucky on one side of you, and Sam on the other. 

“Hi,” Bucky said shyly to you once everyone had gotten themselves settled.

“Hi,” you replied, trying so very hard, and failing, not to blush as he looked down at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

“So, Major,” Sam said from where he sat on your right, “how did you come to be friends with our Natasha?” 

“Wow, wasting no time in interrogating the new girl, huh, Sam?” you asked him with a teasing grin. 

“Hey, it’s not often we get such pretty new company in our midst,” he said, giving you a playful nudge. “Barnes was our last newbie, and he’s ugly as fuck.” 

“Nat’s a customer of mine.” You ducked your head in the hope of hiding your blush at being called ‘pretty’ by an actual Avenger as Bucky shoved Sam over your head. “We’ve known each other… what? About half a year now, Nat?”

Natasha nodded. “Major owns her own business.”

“That’s really impressive,” said Bucky from your left. “It must be nice to be your own boss.” 

You nodded. “It is. It’s stressful, but it’s also really freeing, really rewarding.”

From Bucky’s other side, Lily snickered. “Please,” she said, drawing attention to her. “Half the time these “women small business owners” are just morons who got sucked into an MLM; a pyramid scheme. So, which one is it, Major.” You didn’t like the way she sneered your name, but you opted to ignore it. “Herbalife? Beachbody? Oh god, don’t tell me it’s Mary Kay?” she giggled.

“Uh, no,” you said, feeling defensive, though you weren’t quite sure why. “I own a place called The WarZone?”

“Hold up,” said Peter enthusiastically. “Isn’t that the rage room by Sunset Park?” You nodded, pleased to have someone recognize it. “That place is sick! You own it?!”

“Yeah,” you said, self consciously brushing back a piece of hair that had fallen into your face.

“Me and my friends go there sometimes on the weekends,” Peter chirped. “It’s awesome!” 

“You’ll have to let me know when you visit next,” you said. “I’ll make sure to sign you and your friends up for the VIP package, no charge.”

Peter’s face was elated. “Seriously? You’d hook me up like that? Wow, you’re amazing!”

“Absolutely,” you shrugged your shoulders. “A friend of Nat’s…”

“Sorry,” said Steve, cutting in before Peter could continue to gush his thanks, “for those of us who were born before the invention of the television, or on another planet,” he cast a friendly nod to Thor, “what’s a ‘rage room?’

“Only the single greatest invention the Japanese ever came up with,” Nat said, throwing a wink at you. “So, like, imagine you’re angry. Like, fucking pissed. And you need to get all that shit out of your system. You go to a rage room, and you pay them money, and they give you a hammer, or a baseball bat, or whatever you want, and you just go to town smashing the shit out of everything you can get your hands on! It’s so much fun!”

“And you do this often, Natasha?” Thor asked, bemused smile crossing his big face.

“At least once a week,” she said. At her friends’ curious expressions, she raised an eyebrow. “What? You think you lot are all peaches to live with? You’re lucky I go as often as I do, or you’d all probably either be dead or violently maimed.”

“That… actually sounds amazing,” Bucky said, turning to smile at you. “I’d love to check it out sometime.”

You fought to keep the pleased grin from growing too wide across your face, when Lily spoke up. “Ick, but Jamie,” she said, “then we’d have to go all the way to Queens.”

“She’s got a location in Midtown, too,” Nat offered. “That’s the one I go to.”

“I can definitely set you up with a VIP time slot, if you’d want” you said to Bucky. “Just let me know when you’d like to come check it out.”

“That sounds great.” Bucky awkwardly maneuvered himself so he could pull his phone out of his back pocket. “Put in your number, and I can call you when I know when I’m going to be free.”

Oh, smooth, you thought as you took his phone from him. Very smooth, indeed. You couldn’t help but notice his phone wallpaper after you’d entered your contact info– it was a picture of him and Lily, smiling together in front of a giant Christmas tree, his arm around her shoulder, and both of hers wrapped around his waist. If Nat and Wanda hadn’t assured you otherwise, you would have sworn they were a couple just from looking at it.

You handed Bucky back his phone. “Here you go,” you said. “Just call whenever you’d like to set up a time.”

“So, the entire thing is just people coming in and destroying stuff?” Lily asked, confused. “I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t see how something like that can be lucrative enough for you to make a career out of it.”

“We do alright for ourselves,” you said, not feeling comfortable with discussing how much money your business brought in. It wasn’t enough for you to be making the cover of Forbes or anything, but you were far above comfortable now.

“Alright?” Nat asked, laughing. “You’ve got five locations in the tri-state area and are looking into opening a sixth! With at least thirty-five employees under you! I call that a bit more than ‘doing alright!’” You shrugged your shoulders demurely, though secretly basking in your friend’s praise.

“I can’t see how that kind of place could even make a profit,” Lily scoffed, “Let alone afford to pay that many people an actual living wage.”

“Indeed says starting salary there’s $75,000 a year, plus benefits,” Peter said, looking up from his phone. “Is that true, Ms. Major?”

You chuckled at his polite addition of a title to your name. “That’s starting, yeah,” you told him, and by extension, Lily. “But it’s more based on education and experience, plus you get an automatic raise after a 90 day probation period.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Well, aren’t you just the savvy businesswoman?” he asked with a smile. “Too bad we didn’t have Tony come out with us tonight; you two could have a lot to talk about.”

Holy shit, Tony Stark, you thought. You hadn’t even considered that knowing Nat might put you on the path to meeting someone like him. It was too fanciful to even imagine.

“Well, I don’t see the appeal of it,” Lily interjected, seemingly determined to find some sort of fault with your business. “It just seems so wasteful to me. Not very environmentally friendly at all.”

“You know, that’s actually an interesting point,” you said, leaning around Bucky to look at her. “We have contracts with the boroughs and cities we operate in, taking things that would normally go into landfills, like old tvs, furniture, china and glassware, stuff like that, and have people smash them to smithereens. It ends up taking less space in the dump when our clients are done with it, and we painstakingly go through everything that’s left to make sure whatever can get recycled or reused, does.”

Lily pouted, obviously displeased with your answer. “It just seems so… violent.” She wracked her body in an overly dramatic shiver.

“I can see why it would appear that way,” you said casually, “if you’re not familiar with them. Though there are studies that suggest it’s a really healthy outlet for expressing anger and getting stress relief."

“I just don’t understand the appeal,” she said finally, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“That’s okay,” you said, nonchalantly shrugging a shoulder. “It’s not for everyone, and that’s fine.” You shifted your focus back to Bucky and gave him a wink. “It’s a hell of a lot of fun, though.”

Bucky smiled and bit his bottom lip. “Sounds like it,” he said, a flirtatious glint in his eye. “Seems like a guy could get quite the workout doing something like that.”

“Oh,” you pressed your thigh firmly against his under the table, “it’s definitely my second favorite way to work up a sweat.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. “That so?” he asked. “Well, then, I guess I have no choice but to see how hot and bothered it gets me.”

“I think you’ll be very satisfied with it, Sergeant,” you said, and both of you knew you were no longer talking about his visit to The WarZone. 

“Oh, I have no doubt it would be a mutually satisfying experience, doll,” he said. You bit your cheek to hide the smile that was threatening to escape your face. 

“Jamie–” Lily began, trying to get Bucky’s attention back on her, but before she could continue speaking, Wanda spoke over her: “So, Major, I didn’t think to ask before, is that a nickname or what?”

You turned to the redhead and nodded. “Yeah,” you told the group. “My real name’s (Y/N), but my employees started calling me ‘Major’ when we first opened and they thought I was being too much of a hard ass,” you said. “It’s just kind of stuck since.”

“Wow,” said Lily, disdainfully. “It’s actually kind of disgusting that you go around calling yourself that.” At all the questioning looks that came her way, she put her hands up defensively. “What? Stolen valor is a real thing, you know. And it’s vile. You’re sitting here with two World War II veterans; you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Lily,” Bucky began chastising, “it’s fine, seriously; Steve and I don’t mind, do we Steve?”

Steve shook his head. “Of course not. It’s just a nickname.”

“It’s actually not,” you spoke up. All eyes turned to you, now. “When I graduated high school, I couldn’t afford to go to college, so I enlisted. I spent eleven years in the army, did three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan during the war,” you said. It wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about, so you always spared the details. “‘Major’s’ not just a nickname; it was my rank at retirement.”

The table was silent for a beat as everyone took in your words.

Until Sam broke it with a raucous laugh. “Holy shit, Cap” he said, slapping his knee. “New Girl out-ranks you!”

The tension that had built around the table at Lily’s accusation of stolen valor broke as almost everyone laughed at Sam’s comment, making jokes about how you would be the only one who could give Captain America orders. Only Lily remained unsmiling, looking down petulantly into her glass. Conversation naturally broke into smaller groups, then, and you were glad to have all the focus off of you. 

“You know,” Bucky murmured, leaning down to talk directly into your ear, “you seem pretty amazing.” The way his lips brushed the shell of your ear sent a pleasing shiver down your spine. 

“I’m just a regular girl,” you responded, feeling incredibly shy all of a sudden. 

Bucky pulled back to take in your face. “Nah, I highly doubt that,” he said. “You strike me as something special.”

“You are quite the charmer, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, playfully pushing at his shoulder.

“It’s working, then?” he asked, smirking. “I’m charming you?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to mull over his words for a moment. “It’s still too early to tell,” you said eventually. “But I’ll let you know.”

Bucky’s grin was boyishly adorable, and you loved the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. You could stare into them forever, you found yourself thinking. Where had that come from? You’d only just met the man!

“Are you always such a flirt, Sergeant?” you asked, trying to keep yourself in check.

“Only when the girl’s exceptionally pretty, Major,” he winked. But then, a bit more seriously: “No– not always, not much at all, actually.”

“That’s a shame,” you told him. “You’re quite good at it. Seems like you’d be doing the ladies of the city a great disservice by not doing it more often.”

“Haven’t much felt the need to,” he said, and you had to hold in a gasp when you felt his hand land on your knee, his thumb tracing small circles into your covered skin. “Is this okay?” He whispered, looking up at you through his lashes. There was something inherently vulnerable in his gaze, as though he was fully expecting, yet terrified, for you to tell him no and to fuck off.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. There was something so sexy about the fact that he’d even asked, and you truly believed that, if you had told him no, it wasn’t okay, he would have immediately stopped and apologized. 

One by one, the members of your party left the booth and made their way to the bar’s small dance floor. Soon, it was just you and Bucky. And Lily, of course, but you were trying very hard to not notice her and the angry expression she wore. 

“You ever dance, Sergeant?” you asked, as you watched Wanda squeal with delight as Thor picked her up and spun her about.

“Oh, Jamie doesn’t dance,” Lily supplied for him, matter of factly. “He finds it ridiculous.”

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Ridiculous? Interesting.”

Bucky shot an annoyed look in Lily’s direction. “I never said it was ridiculous, doll,” he said to you. “Just… You know about me and Steve, right? How we’re…”

“Really old?” you offered with a teasing smile. “Positively geriatric?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “really old. We used to go to dance halls a lot when we were kids, back in the late ‘30s, early ‘40s. It was basically the thing to do. I danced all the time back then.”

You nodded, smiling at the image of a younger Bucky cutting across the floor, twirling a girl in his arms. 

“My point is,” he continued, “the music now? I don’t know how to dance to that.” He jerked his chin toward where Nat and Sam were dancing– or more accurately, grinding– against one another. “It’s practically like speaking a foreign language.”

You considered his words. “I have an idea,” you said, sliding around to the edge of the booth and standing up. Bucky followed you with his eyes, expression curious, as you made your way over to the bar’s digital jukebox. Swiping your debit card, you quickly selected the song you wanted to play–  something contemporary, but that still had a bass line, a vibe, that Bucky could relate to.

Once your selection was confirmed, you made your way back to the booth. You held out your hand to Bucky. “May I have this dance, Sergeant?” you asked.

Lily rolled her eyes. “What part of him not liking to dance don’t you understand?”

“Relax, Lil,” Bucky said, putting down the glass of bourbon he’d been nursing before sliding out of the booth to take your hand. “What kind of soldier would I be if I ignored a request from a superior officer?”

He beamed at you as you led him over to the dance floor, occasionally looking back at him bashfully. 

“Holy shit, New Girl got Tin Man on the floor,” Sam called from where he was dancing with Nat. “Never thought I’d live to see the day!” 

Bucky scowled at his friend before you turned to face him. He took both your hands in his and pulled you closer to him. “I really hope I don’t embarrass myself in front of you, doll,” he said with a smile.

“Just dance the way you like,” you said, enjoying the sensation of holding both his hands in yours, though you barely noticed the left one was gloved, “and I doubt that would even be possible. I’ll just follow your lead.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[xcaptain-winterx]

Requests are open you say? How about Steve Rogers having a huge crush on the new recruit (reader) and being very awkward in trying to pursue her

Be a man

Steve Rogers x reader

summary: above

warnings: fluff, awkwardness, shy Steve, cum

a/n: English is not my first language, meaning you will probably find a lot of misspelling etc.

Part 2

Main Masterlist Steve Rogers Masterlist

Steven Grant Rogers also known as the hero Captain America. Fought against Hydra and their leader Red Skull, his brainwashed best friend, Ultron, his own team and even Thanos. You would think that Americas golden boy is unstoppable, that nothing can stop him.

You’re wrong.

See, Steve has years of experience in fighting due to the fact that he’s over a hundred years old and fought in World War Two. The only thing he doesn’t know about, or to be more specific, doesn’t have any experience with, is the opposite sex. Steve has never been on a date or had a real first kiss. Ok, yeah, he kissed Peggy and Natasha once, but that meant nothing. God, he’s still a virgin.

To sum it up, Steve is an awkward bean around women. He doesn’t always show it obviously, but ask him something not work related with a flirty smile, and he starts to sweats like a polar bear in the desert.

Steve always thought that he was going to be able to talk to ‘the girl’ once he saw her, that he will have no problem to communicate with her.

He thought wrong.

Steve is in the training room, punching the punching bag until it falls off again. He was supposed to be training with Sam, but he hasn’t shown up. So far, Sam always showed up or at least texted him if something came in between and he couldn’t make it. Steve stops hitting the punching bag and goes over to the bench where his phone is laying. He picks it up and swipes it open, seeing that he didn’t receive any text message from Sam.

It’s not normal for Sam to be late, so Steve decides that he’s going to look for Sam. He puts his phone in his pocket and walks out of the gym, in the direction of the living area.

As he walks down the hallway Bucky crosses his path, “Hey pal, have you seen Sam”, Steve asks.

“No, but I can imagine he’s talking to the new recruits, telling them something about teamwork makes the dream work, or some other shit”, Bucky says, mimicking Sam’s voice.

Steve’s brows furrow; what new recruits? Steve heard nothing about new recruits. “I don’t know anything about new recruits?”

“Transferred from a SHIELD base in Germany, I think. Sam will probably force us to introduce us to them”, Bucky says. Steve knows that it’s hard for Bucky to talk or communicate with new and many people at once, but he knows that he’s trying his best. Since he began going to therapy, his old self made more and more of an appearance, and Bucky feels a lot better in general even though it’s hard sometimes. He’s proud of Bucky. He’s trying his best.

“Better we do it now than later. Come on, Buck”, Steve says, patting his shoulder, and pulling him with him.

Bucky lets out a chuckle, “Ok”.

Both super soldiers walk towards the meeting rooms, thinking they might be there when Bucky suddenly stops walking. Steve looks at Bucky, silently questioning why he stopped. Bucky reads Steve’s facial expression before pointing towards the end of the hallway, “found him”.

Steve follows Buckys finger and sees Sam. Sam is not alone, he’s with a woman. A beautiful woman. A goddess.

Bucky sees Steve’s face heating up. “You good, pal?” he asks with a teasing voice. Steve doesn’t answer him, to lost in the woman’s beauty next to Sam. Bucky snaps his fingers in front of Steve’s face, trying to get him back to reality, but it doesn’t work.

Lost in thoughts, or to be more specific the woman, Steve doesn’t see how Sam noticed them too, and is calling them over.

“Steve!”

Steve comes back to reality when Sam calls him for the third time. Bucky laughs at Steve’s confused puppy stare, looking like he just woke up from a coma without any knowledge of what happened before. It gets worse as they see how Sam and the woman are now walking towards them. Bucky feels Steve panicking next to him. “Hey Steve, calm down, ok?” Bucky whispers to him.

“Mhm”, Steve answers, not being able to form any words. Sam and the Woman getting closer and closer to them.

“Remember, we just introduce ourselves” Bucky tries to calm him down, his own anxiety leaving and instead focusing on helping his friend, “You can do this. Just remember to think and talk at the same time, and don’t just stare at her”. If his friend wasn’t looking like a dead fish Bucky would’ve really enjoyed this moment. Him helping his friend talk to a woman like he did back in the 40s, but nothing about Steve’s current problem is funny. Well, maybe the fact that he for real looks like a dead fish.

“Ok” Steve says.

“Ok”

“Ok”

“You can do this, Steve”

“Ok”

And the woman gets closer and closer.

Steve begins to murmur what he wants to say, making Bucky look nervously at him.

The woman and Sam are now almost completely by them as Steve suddenly says, “I need to finish the mission report”, before sprinting the other direction.

“Hey, why did Steve-“ Sam can’t finish because Bucky is already sprinting after Steve, leaving him and the woman utterly confused. “BUCKY!”

Sam puts his hands on his hips, “normally they are not like this, ok? They probably just remembered to take their anti-aging cream”. He turns to you, “Super soldiers, you know”.

You smile as Sam claps your shoulders and says, “how about I show you the training room?”. You nod, letting him lead you to the training room.

Meanwhile, Steve is sprinting towards his room, looking like a gazelle who’s running away from a predator. Steve thought he could talk to her, but no.

Once he reaches his room, he locks the door, and then just stands there, staring at the locked door; what just happened? He begins to hyperventilate like how his pre serum self did when he had an asthma attack. The room feels like it’s shrinking. Steve feels small and scared. Just the sight of the woman made him with a snap of a finger feel like his weak 40s self before the serum. Back when no one liked him.

While Steve is having a panic attack, Bucky is running towards Steve’s room. Bucky started running after him some seconds after he sprinted away, and normally Bucky would’ve caught up to him, but Steve’s panic and the super soldier serum made it a bit difficult. Luckily, Bucky knows Steve like no one else and knows that he’s hiding in his room.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, knocking on the door. “You good, pal? Can I come in?”. He waits, but no answer comes, so he tries opening the door but it’s locked.

Bucky sighs, “Steve, let me in”.

On the other side, Steve is debating if he should let his best friend in. His debating goes too long for Bucky though because the next thing Steve hears is Bucky saying ‘Friday unlock the door’, and the door opens.

Bucky walks in, seeing a teared eyed Steve who’s breathing fast and heavy. Bucky strikes over to him and pulls him slowly down to the floor, sitting face to face with each other. He takes his hand and puts it on his heart, “Steve, hey. Focus on me. Focus on my heartbeat. You feel mine?” Bucky says, putting his other hand on Steve’s heart, feeling how his heart is still beating fast. “Steve, focus on my heartbeat”.

Steve looks at his friend and tries to focus on his heart. He closes his eyes, only trying to listen to Bucky’s heartbeat. “Yeah, I feel it”.

Bucky gives him a smile, “ok, good”.

They sit in silent for a few minutes, Steve’s heart beating now slower and his breaths coming out normally.

Bucky waits until Steve’s heartbeat is fully back to normal before asking “better?”.

Steve nods, “I didn’t think we would have had to use that method on me”, he says chuckling.

This calming method showed Bucky’s therapist, Steve. She told him that it would help Bucky calm down when he’s having a panic attack, and it did in fact help. The night after she explained it to him, Bucky woke up from a nightmare and started to panic. Steve’s room is right next to him, so he heard his friend’s panic. He tried the method that night and it worked perfectly. It took some while until Bucky calmed down, but it was way faster than without the method, and Bucky was able to fall asleep again after.

To other people, this method may look a bit weird, but it calms his best friend down, so who cares? It’s also no surprise that Steve is the only one allowed to do this method. Sam once tried it and Bucky punched him in his face when he put his hand on his chest. Sam left the room angrily and annoyed with a broken bloody nose. Bucky punched him with his metal arm. He thought Sam was in danger that second and in a state of danger he uses his metal arm. Bucky apologized to Sam though, and he truly felt bad and sorry. Sam instantly forgave him though, he knows it wasn’t his intention.

At least not in that situation.

Bucky even ‘baked’ Sam some brownies. Well, more like bought some Brownies and said he baked them. Sam knew he didn’t, but said nothing and just enjoyed eating some good, tasteless brownies with a smile on his face.

“Well, we didn’t think you would ever run away from a girl”.

Steve sighs, “Yeah. Back then, they would run away from me. Now it’s me running away”

“Why did you?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t know. I got scared I guess?”.

When Steve looks at Bucky again, he comes to face with a blank stare. It kinda reminds him of Bucky’s winter soldier stare. If they weren’t having an emotional and serious conversation, Steve would’ve been actually concerned that something happened that made Bucky go into Winter Soldier mindset.

Bucky scares Steve when he suddenly jumps up, “You know what” he pulls Steve up, almost making him fall over “You will have that girl”.

“Huh?” he asks, confused.

“Or just someone”.

He doesn’t like the thought of Bucky helping him. Bucky was a true player back then, a gentleman, but a player.

“I help you talk to women. I can do that. I did that a hundred years ago” he stops when he realizes “fucking hell, that’s a long time ago”.

Steve scowls, “Language, Buck”.

“Sorry”.

“I get that you’re trying to help me, and I appreciate that” Steve takes a deep breath before continuing, “but I can’t”

“Why?” Bucky asks crossing his arms, standing like an angry parent.

“I just can’t, ok? Also, colleges are not allowed to be in a romantic relationship”.

“Then look for someone else. There’s this woman named Leah. She works at my favorite sushi place and I heard-“

“I don’t want someone else!”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, a teasing grin on his face. “Ohhhh, so you want her. Ok, Steven. I see you”. He winks at Steve as he groans.

“I didn’t say that. I just-ugh, I like her, but-there’s not gonna be anything between us” he tries to give his best friend a reassuring smile, but knowingly fails. “You can ask Leah out”, Steve tries changing the topic.

“No, she’s not my type”.

Bucky knows that Steve won’t stop having a crush on the new recruit. It took Steve a hundred years to get over Peggy. He was still in love with her even after being unfrozen. Now imagine he’s thinking about the new recruit until he dies. Bucky doesn’t want that. God, he was honestly happy when Peggy passed. That woman was like a snake slithering her way into his friends heart only to poison it. He didn’t like her from the second she interrupted Steve and his conversation. Dumb Bitch.

He wants his friend to be happy. He wants to be an uncle. He hopes Steve will get himself together and talk to her.

“Ok. Whatever you say”, Bucky says, patting him on his shoulder. They continue talking, but this time about what movie they are going to watch for their ‘we need to learn about cinematic history’ movie night. While talking, Bucky’s mind continues to wander back to their original conversation, and about the fact that Steve doesn’t want some dating teaching from him. In all honesty, he’s slightly hurt by that.

He could still help him somehow, though.

It’s been a week now since he saw the new recruit and he’s been trying to avoid any situation that could lead to him seeing her. Steve knows it sounds silly, but he’s scared of her. Scared of seeing her. Scared of her seeing him. He hasn’t been training for a week. Steve knows the chances are high that she will be there. The only sort of trying he did this week was going for a run. Alone.

Sam noticed a change in Steve. Everybody did. Steve was never a huge extrovert and now he’s such an introvert. He doesn’t even eat with them anymore because she could be there, or just walk past them eating.

Today he needs to be brave, though. Bucky asked him to train together because he’s the only good match for him. Bucky told him that winning against Sam slowly starts to get boring, and that Steve needs to train again. Cardio is good, but Steve needs to do more.

After trying to convince Bucky that they can also train outside or anywhere else than the training room, he knew from Bucky’s reaction that it’s not gonna happen. So now he’s on his way to meet Bucky in the training room.

To say Steve is nervous is an understatement, he’s almost shitting his pants.

Bucky assured him they would have the room for themselves and Steve just hopes that that’s true.

Steve walks into the gym and surprisingly sees no one. No Bucky. Steve was already late because he was nervous, so it confuses him why Bucky isn’t here. He looks at the clock on the wall and sees that he’s sixteen minutes late, meaning Bucky is to late too.

“Maybe he’s still asleep”, Steve tells himself. Technically, he would be happy that Bucky is able to sleep, but it’s the first time since a week that he’s training and last time, Sam already didn’t come.

He is just about to go to Bucky’s room when he hears a soft voice.

“Well, it’s only seven in the morning”.

Steve turns around and freezes.

It’s the woman

Oh, no no no no no

“Every normal person would be asleep at this time”.

Steve is unable to speak, he’s just staring at her. Not even blinking, just staring.

She looks at him with a smile, waiting for an answer, or just something.

When Steve realizes that she’s waiting for an answer, he clears his throat. “Yeah, uhm-I uh, I mean he likes to sleep-uh- he can’t sleep that much and-uhm yeah. He normally only uhm-sleeps with me- Wait not like that-uh I mean, he just likes to sleep with me-no. He uhm, he sleeps better with-me-uhm because I’m a good sleep partner- no, I just-uhm. IM NOT GAY”.

Steve looks at her with wide eyes. He knows he just made a fool of himself, so he tries to save himself.

Tries.

“There’s obviously nothing wrong with liking-uhm men, but I’m not like that. Yeah, uhm I hate men- wait not hate men, I like them, but platonic like ha ha. I like woman. But I’m not a relationship-I uhm”, he doesn’t want to look like he is desperate for a relationship. She could think that he’s trying to ‘hit on her’. He believes that what it’s called, but you can never trust Tony. “I’m not into relationship- uhm, the romantic, uh, kind-just the other kind”

Now she looks at him with wide eyes. The only other non-relationship kind she can think of is the sexual one. She can’t believe that Captain Rogers, the golden boy, is such a man. The worst part is that Steve doesn’t understand what he just said and instead looks at her with a nervous smile. Poor boy thought it sounded more like normal relationship, platonic kind. It didn’t, though.

“You do you, I guess” she says, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. She didn’t think her first time meeting Captain America would be like this.

Steve sees that she’s not comfortable or at least confused by what he’s saying. Maybe she doesn’t like his answer.

So he continues to try to fix this conversation.

“I uhm I would like a relationship-with someone-uh I want to-“ he can’t say dancing, that sounds boring. He needs to come up with something that everyone does these days. Something that she would probably like “do Netflix and chill”.

Steve needs to get better at telling when he can trust Tony and when not.

“Oh, uhm” she doesn’t know what to say “that’s nice I guess”.

Right now, Steve would rather fight against HYDRA than talk to her. He can feel how he’s sweating. And if that already isn’t bad enough, he starts to really look at her. Oh boy.

She’s wearing tight black leggings with a matching black sport bra. She must’ve been already training for a while because he sees some drops of sweat on her chest area, running to her cleavage. Steve is directly looking at her cleavage, not taking his eyes off it.

He doesn’t notice that he’s looking at it, well, that he’s so obviously looking at it.

She puts her left hand on her right shoulder, acting like she’s massaging it, and not like she’s trying to cover her chest.

Steve’s eyes move to hers, and it only takes three seconds until realization hits him.

“Shit!” he screams, making her jump “oh, I’m sorry I didn’t want to scare you-I uhm, and I didn’t want to stare at your you know-chest. Not because they are not pretty, they are-NO Uhmmm, they uh. It’s just”.

Steve stops talking when the door opens and Bucky walks in with a smile on his face “Language, Steve. Good morning you two”. At least someone is having one.

“Morning”, she says, smiling at his best friend before walking away to lift some weight. Deep down they are both happy that Bucky saved them from the awkward situation, though, Steve is also sad because he wanted to talk to her, to have a chance, but he failed.

Bucky smiles after her, then turns to Steve. “Hey Steve, how are you?”

“You knew, didn’t you” Steve almost spats, his voice echoing throughout the training room. He turns around and sees how she is looking at them.

He quickly turns back around, facing Bucky, who just gives him an innocent smile. “What do you mean Steve?”. Bucky knows that Steve can’t say anything about that, due to the fact that she can hear everything they are saying.

Steve glares at him, grinding his teeth. “That you would be late”, he lies.

“Yeah”.

Steve wants to scream, but he can’t “why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his veins showing.

“I texted you, Punk”, Bucky says as he walks over to get a punching bag.

Steve frowns; Bucky didn’t text him. He pulls out his phone.

Love❤️‍🔥- I’ll be a bit late

Send one minute ago

Steve cringes as he sees the name Tony and Sam saved Bucky on his phone. He would rather want Punk with that heart. Platonic style. He doesn’t know how to change it, though.

“Didn’t you see my message?” Bucky gives him a fake questioning expression. A teasing one.

“I must have missed it”, Steve says in a monotone voice “I mean it says you send it a minute ago. Bucky”.

“Oh, you know. The signal is quite bad here”

Steve closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, Bucky. You would’ve thought that Tony would’ve already handled it”.

Bucky snickers “Yeah”.

“Yeah”.

Bucky walks with the bag over his shoulder towards a hook to hang the bag on. He turns to look at Steve, a grin on his face when his eyes move to look behind Steve.

“Hey, how about you help her, Steve~”, Bucky says loudly.

Steve follows his eyes and sees how the recruit is struggling with moving some weights out of her way, so she can put the bench there to do some bench presses.

She looks at them and gives them a shy smile. “That would be kinda nice”.

Steve looks back at Bucky, panic in his eyes. Bucky gives him a big smile that says ‘yes’.

It’s time, it’s time to shine, Steve. He can do that, he can easily lift that.

‘Ok, Steve. Pull your ass cheeks together and help her’ he thinks to himself as he walks towards her. He stops in front of her, getting lost in her eyes for a second. This time he snaps back quickly though and moves the weights away.

“Thank you, Captain Rogers”, she says, his back still towards her.

“Mhm” he can’t bring out a single word. Instead of turning back to her, he sorts the weights, so she doesn’t see him blushing. “You-You’re welcome”.

He hears her getting on the bench and takes that as his cue to leave.

“Hey, Steve!”

Please, don’t Bucky.

“You should help her. Stay behind her to make sure that her arms don’t give in”

Steve doesn’t turn around this time. He can hear how she doesn’t lift any weight, meaning she is looking at them.

“Yeah, I uhm would, but- mission reports. I need to finish the mission report”, Steve lies “important stuff you know. Not like helping her isn’t important, but yeah. Avenger stuff is important….”.

It’s that second that Bucky realizes that Steve is the worst person in admitting his crush he ever met. The best friend he is, he needs to help him. “Oh, I already did them for you”.

Great, now Steve’s lie is a lie. Thank you, Bucky.

“No, I don’t think you did”, he tries to save himself “They were on my desk this morning, unfinished”

Good job, Steve.

“I did them this morning. We were on the same mission, Steve. Only one of us needs to do them” Bucky says, punching the bag “I send you a message”.

“No, you didn’t-“ he looks at his phone to see a message from Bucky.

Love❤️‍🔥-already did the mission report.

Send a minute ago.

Bucky knows Steve like the back of his hand. He knew what excuses he would use to try to flee the scene. A laugh almost leaves his mouth as he sees the face Steve is making. God, he missed teasing him.

“I thought you were asleep”.

“No, I wanted to finish it. You’ve been quite stressed the past week, and I wanted to lift some weight of your shoulders”.

“Thanks, James”.

The tension between them is noticeable. So noticeable that the recruit is more uncomfortable than when she was alone with Steve.

She gets their attention when she walks past them to grab her water bottle. “Have fun training”

“You already leaving?” Steve asks disappointed, sad that she’s leaving.

“Yeah, I’ve already been training before you both came. Also, I need to find Sam. He promised to show me the rest of the compound. I only saw half of the facility so far and don’t want to get lost at some point”, she says. So far she didn’t get lost because the most important areas were already introduced to her, but it’s better to know the whole compound. “Bye” she waves them before opening the door and walking through it.

No one says anything until the door closes. Bucky is the first to break the silence, “wow”.

“I know you did that on purpose!”

“I was trying to make you talk to her” he grabs his shoulder “I just want to help you. She’s a beautiful woman-“

“Hey!”

“See” Bucky says, “you’re jealous when I just say that she’s pretty. You have a crush on that girl, Steve”.

Steve sighs in defeat. “Ok, maybe”.

“I KNEW IT” Bucky screams, jumping like a little kid on Christmas morning “FUCK YES, STEVE”

“Language”

He stops jumping and looks at him. “You will get that girl. I promise” Bucky looks like he’s about to cry “oh my god, you’re all grown up”.

Steve lets out a slight laugh. It’s almost ridiculous how happy Bucky is that there’s a girl that he kinda likes. It reminds him of how they talked about their futures when they were little. They talked about carriers and family, and how they will be called uncle Steve and uncle Bucky by their best friends kids.

“Are you crying?” he asks, seeing Bucky wipe his eye.

“Pfff, no”.

Oh, he’s definitely crying.

“Calm down, Bucky. Just because I like her doesn’t mean that she likes me”.

“Yeah, because you’re just an Avenger, the symbol of America, a super soldier, owner of America’s ass-“

“Ok, I get it”. Steve isn’t dumb, he knows that people know him, that he’s quite famous; god he sounds like Tony. All this doesn’t make him the most liked person in the world, though, and not everyone fall for him. Not just because he has blond hair and some women like dark hair, or he is to old schooled and doesn’t know every new show on Netflix, or women are not into him because they hate male genitals and prefer women’s….parts. The shield only shows what he shows the world and not the people he cares about. He doesn’t show his emotional side with all his flaws.

“You like her, right” Bucky asks, knowing the answer.

“Yes, of course, but-“

“Then you will go to her and tell her that”. Bucky claps his hands. “You will tell her how much you like her. You will take her dancing and to the movies. Understand?”

“Yes, Sargent” Steve smiles.

“I know she’s the one. You will propose to her at sunset and give me some nephews and nieces”. Steve laughs at Bucky’s hyper fixation about his crush. Both of them are acting like two teenage girls.

“A uncle to Steve Jr’s and….uhm…what’s her name again”

“……”

“………..”

“……………”

“………you don’t know her name?”

“no, not really”. Well, that’s awkward.

“Oh my god, Steve”, Bucky is regretting his decision to help his friend “how about we start with you introducing yourself?”

“Bucky, please don’t do anything stupid”, Steve pleads. He doesn’t want Bucky to give him to much pressure. The thought of Bucky trapping them in a closet scares him, or him basically throwing him against her.

Bucky just looks at him confused. “You will do something stupid. I’m here to prevent that from happening”.

“Promise?”

“Promise” Bucky says showing Steve his hands “I swear on Sam’s life”.

Steve smile slowly falls and Bucky corrects himself “ok, I swear on uhm, your life”.

“I guess that’s ok”

Since then Bucky’s been on the mission ‘get a sister-in-law’, with no luck though. He thought being a wingman would be easier, but it’s not. Definitely not. Or he has just a bad person that he needs to help.

So far Steve had like four times eye contact, spoke two sentences in two conversations. The one sentence only being two words.

The best try so far was when Steve was in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, when she came and asked him if he could move a bit so she can get to the fridge, and Steve said ‘yes’. He said something, made eye contact, didn’t walk away and didn’t stutter. He didn’t even sweat! Steve did this on his own without him and for that he needs an applause.

And the worst try was when he was ‘forced’ to train with her.

“You can do this Steve”, Bucky whispers to Steve before giving him a pat on the shoulder and pushing him towards the mat.

Steve still hasn’t introduced himself yet, so Bucky thought it would be a good opportunity to see the skills of the new recruits and to train with them. Surprisingly, Steve is now sparring against his crush, the woman they still don’t know the name of.

Steve walks on the mat, giving a quick look over his shoulder to see Bucky giving him a thumbs up.

He takes a deep breath before saying, “Ok, come at me”.

To say he’s impressed is an understatement. He’s fascinated by her skills, by the way she moves with such grace. Instead of directly coming at him and trying to punch him, she moves around him. She does that the whole time, dodging every single move of him while he tries to land a hit on her, well, more like pinch her. He wouldn’t hurt her. Ever.

At some point Steve finally manages to get a hold of her, but she is quicker and kicks his one leg away and then uses his arms to lift her up and wrap her legs around his neck, bringing him down. Steve is now on the mat with her legs around his neck, her directly hovering over his face. Steve doesn’t know why, but he’s not complaining about this position.

He gets himself back together and uses his legs to his lower back of the mat and makes a roll, so now she’s on the mat, with him in between her legs.

Steve can be lucky that most of the recruits are already doing their own thing because this is not a professional normal work position. Sam, who just walked in, stopped next to Bucky when he sees the scene. He looks at Bucky and sees how he’s directly looking at where Steve’s face is.

“Stop doing your creepy eye thing”, Sam tells him, but Bucky simply ignores him. Sam is about to say something when he hears a loud slam, and sees her on top of Steve, straddling his hips “oh”.

This scene doesn’t last long though because Steve flips them around, now straddling her hips and pinning her arms above her head. She tries to move around under him, successfully. Her back towards and is about to use her knees to make him fall off. Steve thinks quicker though and flips them again. Her back against his chest and his back against the floor. He wraps his legs around each of her legs, making her unable to move them, while he wraps his arms around her neck, taking her in a headlock. She tries to wiggle away, but can’t.

She taps his arm, signaling him that he won. Steve lets her go, softly lifting her arm to help her up, and then getting up after her.

“Everything ok?” he asks, wanting to make sure that he didn’t hurt her in some kind. That would definitely make admitting his feelings harder.

“Yes”, she smiles at him, panting slightly, “thank you, Captain Rogers, for training with me”. The smile she gives him is a true, generous smile. Steve doesn’t see how Sam and Bucky are exchanging scared looks.

“Y-You don’t need to tank me”, Steve says. Now it’s the time to introduce himself; he can do it. He takes a deep breath before continuing. “And you can call me S-“

He gets pulled away by Bucky, forcefully getting pushed against his chest. Steve looks Bucky confused into his eyes as Bucky pulls him with him behind the corner, out of sight of her, with Sam walking next to them. All the way to behind the corner Bucky keeps Steve against him, while Sam blogs other from seeing Steve’s side.

“What are you doing? I was just about to introduce myself”

Sam looks at him with wide eyes. “Yeah, something else was also about to introduce himself” and points to Steve’s crotch.

Steve looks down and sees what Sam is talking about.

For the first time, the golden boy is having a boner. A huge one. The serum really did make everything bigger.

“Oh, no no no no” Steve goes.

“Hey, it’s ok” Bucky tries calming him down “it’s uhm normal”

“Yeah, you know how many boners I had in my life”, Sam continues.

“See, even Sam thinks so. Did you ever notice how often I had when we were out with some girls, or just when I was thinking about one”, Bucky continues, Sam nodding his head the whole time. Both giving Steve a smirk. “You have them everywhere. In the shower, during work, in bed, I even had them when we had a sleepover”.

“Oh my god” Steve hates talking about that. He doesn’t know what’s worst, talking about women things or about men and their boners. “I had it in front of her, in front of everyone” he cries out.

Sam pats his shoulder. “No one saw it”

“You did!”.

“Because we watched both of you”, Sam assures him. “The others did their own thing, and she looked in your eyes, man. Not what’s below Captain America’s waist”

“Maybe she felt it though”, Bucky says.

“Bucky!”

“Your not helping, man”, Sam shrugs and looks down “ok, maybe she did because you know, it’s not small”

“See, Wilson! You agree”

Steve had never been this embarrassed in his entire life. He covers his erection with his hands, but it only makes it more obvious. He’s trying to cover his boner while his two best friends are talking about his penis size and how often they get a boner. He wants to dig himself a grave.

“Guys!” Steve whisper screams, getting their attention back. “I need to get rid of it”.

“Of your giant boner?”

“Yeas, Sam. What else is there to get rid of?” Steve says. Bucky slaps Sam on the back of his head, with no context at all. “What was that for, Bucky?”

He shrugs “I know you would like to do that, but are too nice to actually do it”. Steve just wanted to have a nice day where he maybe finally managed to speak to the woman of his dreams, but no, everything had to go like shit. “What do I do?”.

Sam and Bucky look at each other before letting out an obvious loud breath of air. They turn to Steve. “Well, you could try to calm down” Sam says, and Bucky continues “or you could, you know, help yourself out”.

“No!” Steve doesn’t even want to imagine helping himself out. The simple thought disgusts him and he feels an incredible feeling of shame.

Steve shakes his head at them. “Tell me something, that helps uhm, the problem”.

“Remember when your mom caught us looking through her drawers and spanked you”.

“….”

“….”

“….”

“Are you getting harder?” Sam asks, looking at his now slightly bigger boner.

“N-no” Steve pushes with all might on his boner to get it down “s-say something else”. He begs his friends for help.

Bucky looks hopeless “I don’t know what to say to get her off of your mind”. Steve wants to say something when Sam holds up his hands.

“Hold up, her off of your mind” he says looking at Steve, “so it wasn’t just because you got a bit close to her”. The smirk on his face is huge, a teasing one.

Steve groans out of frustration and pain.

“You know, I could see you together”, Sam goes, giving him a thump up.

“I know, but he’s too afraid to ask her. He couldn’t even introduce himself”.

“You didn’t introduce yourself to y/n?”

Steve looks at him and repeats her name softly. Y/n. Your name sound like an angel, a page out of the Bible that you worship and say as a pray. He would do that. Say your name like it’s a holy prayer. He wants to say your name again again and again. Whispering your name in your ear as you slowly share a kiss.

“Shit” Bucky says. He thought that Steve’s boner couldn’t get any bigger, but he was wrong. So wrong. It’s now almost twice as big as before. “Sam, why did you say that?!”

“I didn’t know this was going to happen! I just said her name. I didn’t think he would get hard because of a name”.

“Well, he did!”

They hear people coming into the training room. A lot by the sound of their talking. At least fifteen entered the room. Now you add them three, plus y/n and plus the seven recruits that were already in here. That makes twenty-six people. Two, Sam and Bucky, already saw Steve’s boner.

“Guys!” Steve screams “what do I do?!”, hiding more in the corner.

“Obviously getting her out of your head doesn’t work”.

“How about you stay in front of me while I walk out”.

Both shake their head “they would see you though and stare at you. Also, there are too many. You wouldn’t make it out unnoticed”.

“What if I wait until they leave”.

“Steve, they will eventually walk to this corner when they get more weights, and then see you”

Steve looks hopeless. “Bring me some pants that- I don’t know, doesn’t show my you know”.

“Steve…nothing can hide that boner”, Sam says “there is only one option”.

“What?”

“you could…help yourself out, Steve”

“No”

“Steve, please”

“No”

“Pal, listen-“

“No, Bucky. I can’t do that. I can’t just touch my…member…and..bring myself pleasure”, Steve hates talking about it. “How am I even suppose to do it?!”

“You take your dick in your hand and hold it tight, then you start to move your hand up and down. Personally, I would advise you to do it fast but-“

“I meant where!” he covers his ears trying to forget what Bucky just said. Though he learned something new. “I can’t just do it here, it would..spill”

Sam looks around until he sees something that could help “take this to collect your sperms”. He shows Steve an empty probably by someone forgotten water bottle.

“But-“ Steve knows that this is the only way and that he should accept it, but he doesn’t want to “fine”.

“I wait around the corner so no one walks over here, while Bucky makes sure you don’t get a heart attack” Sam says, winking before walking around the corner. Bucky gives Steve a slight smile before turning around. He doesn’t need to see his best friend Masturbate.

Surprisingly, Steve isn’t that loud. Sam only heard him once or twice a bit louder. One time he was screaming Bucky’s name because he turned around for a second.

Sam walks over to them when Bucky gives him a thump up. Steve is sitting on the floor, panting heavenly. Next to him, a completely full to the top water bottle. Or more like cum bottle.

“Congratulations on your first orgasm, Steve”

They are on their way out now, happy that Steve doesn’t have a big gun in his pants anymore.

“Hey, Sam”

Fuck

“Hey, Y/n” Sam smiles, while Steve panics. He’s drenched in sweat and is holding a bottle of his own cum.

You smile at Bucky and Steve too. You look at Steve and see how he looks like he’s in pain and completely drenched. “Are you ok, Captain Rogers?”.

Bucky and Sam quickly cover him up. “Oh yeah, he’s fine, he just-“

“Is hungry!”

“Uhm yeah and you know how you can get sick when you didn’t eat”

“Yeah ya get really sick”

You stare at them for a second, trying to process what they said. “Oh, maybe you should drink your shake then, Captain Rogers”, and point to his ‘shake’, and give him a smile.

“I-“

Bucky stops Steve. “Yeah no, he will just get something from the kitchen, you know?”.

“Bucky’s right, uhm I don’t think that would be such a smart idea to drink the shake. Hah ha” Steve says awkwardly.

Your smile falls. “Oh, yeah sure. I just thought that would help. We don’t want you passing out”.

Was his answer mean, is what Steve thinks. He doesn’t want you to think he just didn’t drink the ‘shake’ because you said that. Steves heart pains as he sees your reaction; you looked so sad. It obviously isn’t that big of a deal. Surely you forget about it later, but what if you don’t? You don’t forget that he didn’t want to drink the ‘shake’. What if you think you’re dumb for asking that? He thinks for a second, a long second, a second that will change everything.

“You’re right”, and opens the cap.