#Heat Shield for Sams

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[cloudystevie]

take my heart and start a fire

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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!

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“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,"

[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.

[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

[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.🥰 

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Part 9

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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

[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.

[nightxcreature]

Saucy Seduction

                Summary: Sam, Dean, and Reader head into a diner for a late-night snack, the waitresses there have never seen anyone so attractive.

                Word Count: 1177

                Warnings: Sexual Innuendos (because it’s me and I’m a little perv and I will not apologize)

                A/N: This one was inspired by the cheeseburger I ate this afternoon and then just went from there. Here’s a fun little fluffy piece for you. Enjoy!

                Snow flows in behind us as Sam, Dean, and I rush into the roadside diner, heat blasting the numbness from my cold fingers as soon as we step inside. I slide opposite Sam in a booth toward the back, snagging a menu from behind the napkin container while Dean checks out the juke box. A pretty waitress wanders over with silverware and a notepad to grab our drink orders, she smiles shyly at Sam, her brown hair helping to shield the blush staining her cheeks when he returns the smile.

                “Hi. My names Rachel, what’ll it be tonight?” She asks quietly, grabbing the pen from the apron around her waist.

                “Uh, I’ll just do a water and my brother….” AC/DC’s ‘Shoot to Thrill’ blasts through the juke box speakers cutting Sam off, breaking the silence in the room and causing Rachel to visibly jump.

                Dean slides into the seat next to me, placing an arm behind me and shooting the poor waitress a smile, “Sorry, Sweetheart. I’ll do a water, too, and the biggest burger you’ve got.”

                Her cheeks burn even redder as she writes down his order, “And anything for you?”

                “Just a water and a piece of double chocolate cake, if you’ve got any left.” I answer, sending a sympathetic smile her way and shaking my head as she heads toward the kitchen, “That Winchester Charm is coming in hot tonight, you two. Maybe reign it in a bit?”

                “All I did was smile at her.” They both exclaim, staring at me dumbfounded.

                “That’s all you have to do.” I retort, rolling my eyes and smiling again as a new waitress returns with our drinks.

                “Hi, my name’s Melanie.” She says with a charming smile, placing our waters down on the table. Her gaze drinks in the men before her, slowly trailing across the table from one brother to the other. She stops on Dean, a sweet smile on her face, “Our biggest burger is the Sweet Home Avocado burger, is that okay?”

                Dean scrunches up his nose, reaching a hand across the table to grab the menu next to me, “Avocado on a burger? That’s un-American. What else have ya got?”

                “I told Rachel she should’ve asked, but some people are just so uncomfortable getting to know someone new.” Rolling her eyes she leans closer, her chest almost touching his shoulder as she points to the menu, “Our best-selling burger is the Cheddar-Cheddar Bliss, but my favorite is the Saucy Seduction.”  She bites her lip and glances up at him from under her lashes. Dean’s face immediately turns a soft pink, and he slides a little further into the booth.

                He cuts his panicked eyes in my direction while Sam tries to hide his laugh as a cough, a slow smile crosses my face and I shrug, “You do like to be seduced.”        

Sam chokes on his water and the waitress glances confused between Dean and I before taking out her notepad, “So the Saucy Seduction then?”

“Uh, yeah. That’ll be fine.” He replies awkwardly, “Thanks.”

She jots down his order before placing a hand on his arm, “I’ll have that out to you in just a minute.”

She turns away, a slight swing in her hips as she struts toward the kitchen. Sam and I burst out in laughter at Dean’s red face. He scoots closer to me, pulling me into him with the arm behind me, “Does the arm around the girlfriend not mean anything anymore?”

“Did it ever mean anything to you before?”  I quirk a brow at his sheepish expression, “That’s what I thought.”

Loud laughter comes from behind the kitchen door causing us all to look up in the direction Melanie had swayed. Sam turns back to face us, placing a finger over his lips and smirking, “They’re talking about us.”

                I grin at Dean and we both lean across the table, his arm moving around my torso to pull me within earshot to the door and the frenzied girls behind it.

“I’m telling you those are the hottest guys I have ever seen, there’s no way that isn’t their sister.” One voice starts, causing my brows to rise and Dean to tense up, his hand rubbing soft circles on my hip, “I’m serious! She’s gotta be their sister.”

                Laughter erupts from behind the door again, and a new voice speaks up, “She’s too hot to be their sister. That many hot people cannot come from one family.”

                Dean visibly relaxes and sends me a little smirk, “You could be my stepsister…”

                I nudge his ribs and grin, “Want me to get stuck in the dryer, too?”

                His grin widens, but before he can respond Sam interjects, “Don’t answer that.”

                We quiet down again as another voice pipes in, “She could be their stepsister.”

I can’t help the loud laugh that leaves me, Sam and Dean following suit, causing the voices to stop immediately and the kitchen door to swing open. The original two waitresses pop out with a third one close behind, each sporting a crimson tint to their cheeks and carrying a tray with a single plate sitting in the middle. Another snort leaves me, and I have to stare out the window to keep calm as Dean squeezes my thigh in a silent command to keep quiet.

                “Here’s your food!” Melanie says sweetly, a nervous smile plastered on her face as she sets down the burger in front of Dean, “It may seem like overkill for all of us to be out here, but it’s a, uh, new policy.” She stutters out.

                I nod, trying to keep my features cool and failing miserably. Another laugh escapes me, and I quickly take my cake from the new waitress as Sam sends a chagrined expression to the three girls. The newest one looks like a deer caught in headlights as she stares at the three of us, her pink cheeks turning redder by the minute, “You’re, uh, you’re welcome.” She manages to get out before rushing after the other girls who are already giggling in the kitchen.

                Sam and I burst into another fit of laughter and I slide a spoon across the table to him before turning to face Dean who had already begun digging into the sandwich, sauce dripping down his hands, “I take it you’re feeling seduced?” I ask with a grin.

                Sam chuckles quietly until Dean sends a mischievous smirk my way, “I don’t know, do you know anyone who could dry some clothes for me?”

                “Oh, gross.” Sam groans, causing me to go into another fit of laughter, “You two disgust me.”  

______________________________________________________________

Tags: @lmhf1 @whimsyfinny @enigmalynne @envysarchive @k-slla

[grillpartshub-blog]

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[notroosterbradshaw]

Stay the Night

here’s some old-school Bucky in Wakanda smut. I didn’t think I’d publish Bucky stuff here, yet here we are. Hope you enjoy x 

18+, smut, fluff. It's just you and Bucky in Wakanda while the team is away. He tends to his flock, you wish he tended to you.

“Today is the literal meaning of ‘hotter than Hades’,” you announced as you collapsed less than gracefully on a broken tree log as Bucky Barnes shot you a look over his shoulder, sweat protruding from every pore in his tanned, muscular form, a tendril of long, dark hair falling into his glassy blue eyes from the loose ponytail behind his head.

Jesus, a man should never look that damn good, you thought, fanning yourself with your shirt, the material sticking to your drenched skin. Thank god the heat hid your blush.

“Bored?” he asked, scooping up a hay bail and loosening it for the goats he tended to munch on.

“Radio silence,” you replied. “I kind of feel like I’m in the way of the locals when I can’t contact the team. I haven’t heard from Nat, Sam or Steve in a few days. I am pretty useless at times like this.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, pointing at the water bottle you had parked beside you. “You brought water. I assume that’s why you’re out here in the midday sun,” he teased as you tossed it to him and he caught it easily with his right hand, twisting the cap off and guzzling the cool refreshment.

Every movement was pure sex, you sighed quietly as his throat bobbed, water falling from the creases of his lips and down his chin. Life seemed much fairer before Bucky Barnes.

“Thanks, Buck,” you rolled your eyes as he finished the bottle easily, crushing it in his palm and laughing at you, walking back to hand it to you.

“No, no,” he nudged your boot with his. “Thank you,” he went back to stacking and distributing hay as you said a quiet goodbye and told him you’d see him later.

You hated when the team was away.

While you’d made some friends in Wakanda, you were still finding your way and mostly felt in the way of working alongside the Wakandan defence and communications teams. They used a lot more sophisticated tech than Stark had ever provided you and you’d never admit it out loud, the tech was somewhat confusing at times, thanks to its gross advancement over what you were used to.

You’d always be thankful for T’Challa and his family for taking you into the palace grounds, a necessity, T’Challa explained. It was beyond amazing and his lovely mother, Ramonda, fussed over you to ensure you were comfortable at all times. It was nice to feel so welcome, but so lonely without your family.

Steve, Nat and Sam had left days ago. Wanda and Vis were off the radar (lie, you knew they were having some kind of rendezvous in Europe and had no intentions of interrupting whatever was or had developed between them).

That left Bucky.

After he’d been woken from cryo, Shuri had run every test known to man on him to assist in the removal of the trigger words, he’d gratefully taken up residence away from the hustle and bustle of the wondrous city and hauled his ass out to the farmlands, simply requesting the peace, privacy and quiet. For the first time in over 100 years, he was able to be his own man without fear of retribution. Sure, the dark memories flickered occasionally, but the words would never hurt him again.

He enjoyed the serenity in the sounds of nature, with the exception of an iPod that Sam had gifted to get him up to speed on more modern music than the 1940’s bops Bucky was more accustomed to –

You sighed, hearing the knock at the door, interrupting the reverie of mindless TV. It was late, too late for guests. After dinner, you’d showered and retired to your PJ’s – your threadbare, well-worn Yankees shirt (your first souvenir of New York City when SHIELD moved you there years earlier regardless of your disinterest in baseball) and loose PJ pants. “Coming,” you replied, pushing yourself up to open the door, surprised to see Bucky on the other side - cleaned up, void of sweat and dust in lazy sweat pants and a white t-shirt. A casual Bucky Barnes. This new development was not helping your crush. Not in the slightest. “Hey. You lost?” you teased lightly.

He showed you a bottle of Glenfidditch and you chuckled a little, moving from the way to let him in. Closing the door behind him, you leaned back against it, a little confused about his visit as Bucky simply didn’t visit anyone aside from Steve or Shuri. You only visited Bucky occasionally to make sure he wasn’t segregating himself, but he did usually prefer his own company when Steve wasn’t around.

“Got ice?” he asked, going to the kitchenette for a couple of tumblers.

“I don’t actually – if I’m going to drink aged whiskey, I’ll be doing it properly.”

“Ooh,” Bucky cooed, a small grin growing on his lips. “A woman after my own heart.”

“Blame Steve – a few years back when we all moved to the Tower… fuck, just after Ultron maybe? Steve brought out a bottle of this stuff and I’ve been a convert ever since. He said you guys would destroy bottles together.”

“Well, he did. I would drink responsibly though I didn’t know at the time I could put them back as well as Steve could with the serum running through my veins,” he said, bringing the glasses to the coffee table, cracking the top and pouring you each a glass. “Are you gonna join me or hang out by the door?”

“Sorry,” your face flushed as you skittered over and sat at the other end of the couch. He handed you a glass and gave you gentle ‘cheers’ before you sat in silence for a while, enjoying the smooth amber liquid. “…Bucky, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you here?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “I dunno – you seemed a bit forlorn today. Thought I’d try and be a friend,” he shrugged. “You’ve been pretty accommodating to me since we got here. I guess I could repay the favour even if you’re only checking in on me for Steve. And you’ve got air conditioning,” he tossed in the joke to try and lighten the mood.

“Steve didn’t ask me to keep tabs on you,” you admitted.

“Oh,” Bucky said, sipping his whiskey and easing back on the couch. “Do you like it out here?”

You chewed your lip, dropping your eyes to the glass. “I mean, it’s a hellova lot better than being shipped out to The Raft,” you admitted as he stifled a chuckle.

“True.”

“If I’m going to be on the run for associating with the team, it might as well be in one of the most securest places on the planet.”

“You chose well,” Bucky agreed.

“Would have been stupid for me not to take it. I owe T’Challa, and Steve, a lot.”

“They’re good men.”

“Absolutely.”

Silence overtook the room again though there was no discomfort with it.

“Thanks for havin’ a drink with me,” Bucky said as he polished off his glass. “It’s getting late,” he got to his feet.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “Okay.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he said with a gentle shrug, collecting his tumbler.

“You’re not imposing. It’s nice to have the company, to be honest,” you confessed.

“'Nother glass then?”

“Definitely,” you said, hoping not to appear too eager. Bucky gave a small nod and poured again.

“I know I’m not much of a talker,” he told you as you sat and cradled your glass close to your chest.

“I just enjoy the company regardless of noise levels,” you shrugged. “It’s different when the team is here, but when they aren’t…”

“When they aren’t?” he pressed.

“I have too much time with my thoughts.”

He raised a glass. “I hear that.”

Your glass joined his. “Why are you in the farmlands then and not in the palace?”

He nodded slowly as you hoped you hadn’t overstepped the mark. Blame the first glass of booze – less than tipsy you would never ask such a question. “Just tryin’ to earn my keep – least I can do since T’Challa is harbouring an international war criminal, assassin, murderer – ”

You gave a gentle laugh. “He’s not harbouring you.”

“Protecting me then,” Bucky corrected himself.

“Maybe protecting you,” you admitted, agreeing.

You both continued a polite conversation, mostly about Steve and the team before you both started dozing at your respective ends of the couch. “I should really head out now,” Bucky said.

“Stay, it’s a million degrees out there.”

He gave you an incredulous look that told you he knew what you were saying, but staying was still a terrible idea. Suddenly overwhelmed, you realised it completely sounded like a blatant invite for sex. It wasn’t, you thought. Was it?

Trying telling your libido that.

“If you stay on your side of the bed, Bucky, and I stay on mine, we won’t have any issues,” you try to regain your composure.

“Are you completely sure?” he looked about as convinced as you thought you were.

“My God, it’s sleep,” you told him. “I would never deny you, of all people, Bucky, sleep.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”

“It’s far too hot to stay out there overnight. Enjoy a night’s sleep in the air con,” you joked. “If you enjoy sleeping in comfy climates, hey, you might even move in here.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Here?”

You blinked a few times, not catching his tease. “Yeah, like here, the palace.”

He laughed. “Okay.”

“Oh, you thought in here. With me,” you barked a laugh, getting off the couch and heading for the bed, Bucky following a safe distance away. You stifled your discomfort with snark, “Oh, darling,” you leaned forward to cup Bucky’s stubbly chin. “Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

“Oh darlin’, don’t fall for me so quickly. It’ll only end in heartbreak,” he mocked in return. You laughed incredulously, thinking to yourself, ‘too fuckin’ late, buddy’ and moving to your side of the King bed and pulling the pillows towards yourself.

“If you’re truly concerned, here. Build a pillow wall with me. Put that hay bailin’ practice to good use.”

He sighed with a gentle smile, he was thoroughly enjoying this cheeky banter you’d suddenly worked into your conversation and helped you build the Great Wall of pillows.

“Perfect,” you said, fixing the last pillow in place.

“That is an impressive pillow wall,” Bucky concluded, stifling a laugh. “Failsafe.”

“Make yourself comfy,” you told him, laying back as he pulled off his soft cotton t-shirt and folded it, placing it neatly on the bedside table next to him, a habit he’d picked up in military training in the 40s and never really lost it, no matter what control he was under, you imagined.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he told you. “It is a lot nicer inside than out.”

“Told you,” you replied with a chuckle, raising a fist to him over the wall.

“What is that?” he chucked.

“My knuckles? You’ve never knocked ‘knuckles’ with someone? A fist bump?”

He laughed louder. “No, I’ve never fist-bumped.”

“Then hit my knuckles with yours,” you instructed as Bucky did as he was told.  Still confused for a second, his hand met yours gently before opening and clutching your wrist in his warm, rough-skinned hand and bringing your open hand to his lips. The rules of the pillow wall were suddenly crumbling before you. Destroyed so easily.

“You need to behave,” you told him, suddenly very nervous.

“I’m finding it so hard. We’re here and I know it’s not just me that is feeling this, sugar,” he continued kissing to your wrist and moving towards your inner elbow as he got to his knees. Your body betrayed you as goose pimples shot up and down your spine and you found yourself sitting up opposite him. “All I wanna do is compromise this pillow wall.”

You could cut the tension in the cool room with a knife as your eyes burned into his. Chewing his lip, he made no secret of his intentions as he licked his mouth and walloped the pillow wall away.

Suddenly there was no divide and you were looking at each like they were your last meals. “Can I kiss you?” he asked shyly.

“If you don’t, I’m going to kiss you,” you retorted as he skimmed across the sheets to you and pulled your body flush to his. He sunk his fingers into your hair and pulled your face to his, leaving a small kiss on your waiting lips.

“Is that okay?” he asked, almost afraid.

“More,” you demanded as a reply. There was nothing forgiving about it – you were suddenly craving him – his mouth, his touch, his body, his scent and he was surrounding you in a way no other person had before.

He moved back a little. “One minute – I gotta explain…” he breathed gently. “This is kind of my first time being intimate in a long time. I know this,” he looked at his left shoulder, ashamed. “I know it’s not sexy. And if you don’t want to be with me because of it - ”

You grasped his face in your hands, forcing his eyes to meet yours and kissed him lightly. “Believe me when I say I do not care, Bucky. I know you do but I need you to know, this changes nothing for me.”

“I’ve imagined this so many times with you, pleasing you and now we’re here, I just…” his soft Brooklyn accent rumbled. “I just imagined it as me. The old me.”

Your head spun – he felt the same way? Jesus Christ, assassin school taught him surely how to fool you into believing he barely knew you existed.

“Well, I only know this, Bucky – I’m pretty crazy about you.”

His eyes flickered. Maybe it was emotion, you weren’t sure.

“You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.”

This time, he blushed.

“So maybe, you should just lay back,” you said, helping guide him to do so, his head settling amongst the remains of the disastrous pillow wall and you kissed him, he moaned just loud enough to hear. “And we have a good time, okay?”

He nodded, nervously. “Okay.”

“Now, relax,” you said, unsure where your confidence was coming from but you knew he needed you to lead him and you were going to treat him right. He deserved this – you, and all of you. All for him.

You ungracefully tossed the sheets from the bed, they’d just be getting in the way and crawled towards Bucky’s feet, grabbing the loose elasticised ankles and pulling at them, the sweats he wore drawn from his slender hips, descending his powerful thighs and calves before you disregarded them all together, leaving him solely in boxer briefs. Calvin Klein, how so very rude.

And dear, if your mouth didn’t water at the surprise he poorly hid in them.

Kissing his ankle and working your lips up the inside of his legs, tickling behind his knee, he shuddered. He shuddered hard. “Fuck,” he muttered. You smiled against his skin, lips moving again, your hands massaging his powerful thighs. Stopping at his waist, you crept onto his lap and pulled away your shirt. Bucky sighed, his hand reaching out to touch you. You leaned closer to him as his arm skirted around you, pulling your body flush to his to kiss you, your tongue tracing his full lips as he enthusiastically opened his mouth for your tongues to meet. His hand scalded your skin as he groped at you lightly, cascaded your side and tangled into your hair, deepening the kiss as his hips started to move beneath your body, his cock needing the friction.

You paused and raised a finger to him. He raised a confused eyebrow as you scampered off him to lose your sweats, no panties underneath. You didn’t let him get a good, long look at you before you moved to rid him of his boxers, hard cock free and you gave him a few encouraging pumps, his eyes rolling back. “Sweet Jesus,” he begged for mercy. “Please.”

“Please?” you raised a teasing eyebrow and sat on your knees between his muscular thighs. He was asking you to go down on him. You’d never felt so willing before to please a man as you were for to do for Bucky.

“Please,” he tried again as you could see this man didn’t need to be teased, he just needed to be wanted. Adored. Loved.

“Okay. Okay, now you sit back, Barnes. And you let me take care of the rest.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he tucked his arm behind his head, licking his lips as you took him in your palms before an encouraging kiss to the head and taking him into your mouth. “Dear God,” he managed to say through groans. His hand found your hair again, pushing your hair from your face to see what he thought was the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen work over his body. “Baby, that is so good. So hot,” he encouraged, clutching roughly but not enough to hurt, just enough to spur you on. You continued your ministrations for a few minutes more before he guided you away from him, gasping. “Baby, stop. I’ll come.”

You blinked at him. “That’s okay,” you promised. “I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

He grinned at you. “I’m sure you can. But I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he admitted shyly.

“Oh,” you gave a gentle nod. “I thought I was doing something wrong.”

He shook his head, alarmed. “God, no. You were a little too good at what you were doing,” he reassured you. “Get up here,” he pulled you to his face to meet him for a lingering kiss. “You could kill a man with that mouth.”

“I doubt that,” you got suddenly shy, burying your blushing face in his neck as he guided your face back to his.

“Don’t get bashful now, sweetheart,” he gazed at you like you were about the best damn thing he’d ever seen. You didn’t know how or why, but the look turned you on more than any act prior to right then. You just wanted to make him happy, release him, and feel him come apart under your hands. “I have an admission to make, and fuck, I hope this doesn’t come across as shitty…” he said quietly.

“What’s that?” you asked, suddenly feeling very exposed regardless of you lack of clothing.

“Uhh… I don’t know, logistically, how I make this work without you on toppa me, baby. I’m sorry, I don’t want to crush you if something goes wrong,” he looked as though he wanted the bed to eat him whole.

And why, you don’t know. But his admission gave you the confidence you didn’t expect. “Is this you suggesting I ride you?” you gave a small giggle as he chewed his lip.

“Lil’ bit, yeah. I know that sounds so goddamn selfish – ”

“Giving me the power over you makes you selfish?”

“Well, it takes away a fair amount of effort,” he reasoned. “And you know, I wanna show you what I can do…” his voice trailed off, timidly.

And suddenly you understood. This wasn’t just about a missing limb – this was the pain and terror from all those years ago. The raw, never-ending trauma of Bucky’s initial testing, falling from the train in the Alps. Losing his arm seemed so minute in all of it. Years of physical and mental abuse, and psychological torment at the hands of HYDRA, of the Soviets, whoever was the highest bidder for The Winter Soldier.

This was touch, connection, feeling wanted and adored – oh, how needed to Bucky understand how much you wanted to be the person to help him.

You tutted him and inhaled, gently cupping his cheek, choosing compassion. “Relax, handsome, lay back and enjoy,” you instructed as he nodded slightly and wrapped his scorching hand around your ribs. It was such a simple act, but it turned you on so much. It felt possessive, wanted. “I want to make you feel so fucking good – will you let me?”

You don’t know why you asked, but you knew you needed to hear him tell you he wanted this too. “Yes,” he nodded shyly. “Hell yes.”

“Okay,” you leaned down to kiss him, reached between your bodies and in your warm hands, adjusted your body on his. Viewing Bucky as he felt you sheath your body around his was as good as it could ever get – his plumb lips drawn into his gleaming white teeth, his bright blue eyes hidden behind his long lashes. Giving him some time to adjust, just like you were to his size encouraged you as he lightly raised his hips in hopes for you to move. “You good?” you asked again.

“Better than, amazing,” he told you, gripping your hip and your body slowly started to move above him. “Jesus Christ,” he uttered, raising his eyes to look at you.

Taking his hand and linking your fingers as you relaxed and stopped trying to ensure his good time (it appeared ensured) and sinking into feeling so good yourself, you moved your hips more, craving Bucky deeper, hoping to find that elusive little spot to make you explode.

“Touch yourself?” he pleaded quietly. “Please, sugar?”

Appeasing him happily, he watched your free hand creep down your body and open yourself up to where your bodies met, your fingers putting on a show as you toyed with yourself just for his dark, lust-filled eyes. Your body tightened under the pressure and Bucky’s pleasured grunts and curses was certainly on the rise. His hand relinquished yours as he clutched onto your ass, forcing you rougher into him, his tempo speeding up and urging you to do the same from the friction his body caused yours.

“God, you feel so good. So wet, so warm,” he muttered, his breathing deepening as his hips haphazardly fired into you. “Are you close?” he asked desperately. You were, you so fucking were, you realised, his simple question bringing you even closer. You nodded as you pressed harder against your clit, desperate for your own release and of course, his.

He needs this, you reminded yourself. You needed this. “Fuck, yes,” you replied as he used his abs to sit up, suddenly so much deeper into you as you looked at each other face to face, chest to chest and Bucky kissed you. He kissed you with those beautiful lips and a tongue that knew exactly how you wanted to be kissed as he moaned into your mouth. He wrapped his arm around your waist and took a nipple into your mouth as you started to come – that was the move, the special way to push you over the edge. Realising this, Bucky grinned and looked at you, using those pearly whites to chew lightly and you were coming. Coming so hard that you felt like you might have seen stars as he let out a litany of curses and came hard too.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Bucky breathed, chest heaving as he rolled onto his back, taking your body down with him, keeping you wrapped in his embrace and softening inside you. Bucky Barnes liked to cuddle, you realised.

“Holy shit,” you managed to say as you tried to settle your breathing. “That was fantastic.”

“Really?” he asked bashfully. He looked you in the eye and begged you weren’t lying to him. You nodded and tenderly kissed him. “Good,” he gave a small, shy smile and suddenly appeared so boyish. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have the thank me,” you told him. “Trust me, I’m just glad you stayed.”

“Fuck, me too,” he laughed. “Me too.”

Hearing your phone beep, you shot up through the heaviness across your chest and halted you. Bucky’s body subdued you – the body heat he exhumed was hot and stifling. He groaned, pulling you back down to him.

“They’ll call back,” he muttered. “Sleep.”

“It’s the team,” you whispered back. He breathed heavily, reaching out for the phone for you reluctantly and putting it in your hands. Relief washed through you. The team, including Wanda and Vis, were returning to Wakanda imminently. “Did you sleep okay?”

Yawning, Bucky slightly freed you from his grasp. “You weren’t wrong about sleeping comfortably – I mean, I don’t deserve to, but it was the most relaxing sleep I’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Bucky. Truly.”

He soothingly kissed your naked shoulder. “Thank you for last night.”

“I just hope you enjoyed yourself.”

“So much,” he breathed against your skin, rolling you to your back and lightly pining your body under his. You loved the feel of his weight on your body. You would come to crave it. Addicted and all in less than 12 hours. You’d fallen so hard, so fast. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you couldn’t lie. Bucky’s body was made for a multitude of sins and loving on a woman? The top. He kissed each eyelid that fluttered closed under his touch, the tip of your nose, his mouth travelling through your throat to your décolletage. “Behave…” you teased, your fingers lacing into his long, dark, loose waves.

He laughed into your skin. “Okay,” he nudged your knees apart, his hips meeting yours. He felt as if he was flying – he’d never imagined the confidence he felt, that you’d given to him. Or how you could have destroyed it by rejecting him. The power you had over him was stifling. That was a hellova lot scarier than what was to eventually come.

“What did I say?”

“You told me to behave.”

“And what did you do?”

“The exact opposite,” he admitted. “I just can’t seem to keep my mitts offa you. You’ve opened the floodgates, sugar. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again.”

Your phone beeping incessantly now, you found yourself in a world where only you and Bucky ceased to exist. The rest of the world could wait another hour.

[delicatebarness]

i cant read your mind | chapter four

Summary: The journey to Madripoor.

Warnings: MCU Spoilers. Captain America: The Winter Soldier. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spoilers throughout. Zemo.

Word Count: 1148

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A/N: If I didn't split this episode up then this chapter would have been too long for my brain to be okay with. The next one is gonna be looooong.

Tags: @blackhawkfanatic | @cjand10 | @wintrsoldrluvr | @missvelvetsstuff | @buckys-metal-arm | @matchat3a | @shadowzena43 | @torntaltos |

Strolling down the prison corridors, the sterile white tiles and harsh fluorescent light amplified a feeling of isolation, as well as a headache. “I’m gonna go alone,” Bucky admitted, addressing both you and Sam. Just as Sam questioned his decision, you objected with a firm “No,” as your mind went back to the last time Bucky was alone with Zemo.

“You’re an Avenger. You know how he feels about that.” Bucky continued, answering Sam's question as he shot you a warning glance that silently said, “Don’t push it,”. You didn’t say anything else while he gave Sam more reasons for him to go alone, you let out a sigh as you watched him leave. 

Anxiety began to rise throughout your body as you stood waiting, Sam sensed your apprehension about the return of The Winter Soldier. “He’ll be alright,” he said as he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder in reassurance. 

Your hand instinctively reached up to rub your neck as you responded, “I’ll believe it when he comes back and doesn’t attempt to kill me,” your memories flooded with your first encounter with Bucky. “Again.” 

That day on the bridge changed you. Never before had you been on a mission that came so close to disaster. His right hand effortlessly closed around your neck, you tried to fight back with punches, and kicks and even tried reaching for your gun. He maintained a distance that prevented you from gaining any ground. 

Just in the last second, the shield slammed into his back, which forced him to release his grip, sending you tumbling to the ground. 

~

Your eyes sparked with relief at Bucky’s return, and his expression mirrored yours. You suppressed the urge to rush forward and embrace Bucky, absent from The Winter Soldier. As he walked over to you, he instructed you and Sam to follow him. 

Guided by Bucky, you ventured into the dimly lit garage, relying on flashlights and Bucky’s hand to navigate. You reached for it the second you stepped into the darkness and stuck close to him as he and Sam debated the merits and risks of freeing Zemo. The tension in the air kept you silent until Bucky located the light switch. With a sigh of relief, you exhaled deeply. As you relaxed into the newfound brightness, you slipped your hand out of Bucky’s. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Bucky retorted to Sam. Recognizing his tone of voice, betraying his statement, you knew he had indeed done something. Concern gripped you as you wondered what it could be. Your attention was focused on him as he outlined a plan to free Zemo.

Startled by the door slamming shut, you instinctively moved toward the source. To your surprise, it was Zemo. He strolled into the garage as if it was his own. Maybe it was? “What the fuck, Bucky?!” you exclaimed, joining Sam in a heated exchange with Bucky about this turn of events. As Zemo attempted to interject, all three of you shut him down with a simultaneous “No!”. 

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you both backed him. You both broke the law, and you stuck your necks out for me.” Bucky shifted his gaze between you and Sam, the weight of the past heavy in your eyes, tears threatening to spill. “I’m asking you to do it again.” he pleaded, his gaze softened as he looked down at you, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You nodded, affirming your loyalty to Bucky as Sam commanded rules to Zemo before agreeing. 

~

Sitting on a private jet beside Bucky and across from Zemo felt surreal. Their casual conversation with Sam about Marvin Gaye seemed out of place, prompting you to feign sleep, keeping your eyes closed for most of the journey. Your attention snapped back to them when they mentioned Madripoor, the destination you headed to. Intrigue sparked within you as Zemo started the topic of disguises. They have secretly been one of your favorite aspects of being an agent since the beginning. 

“Don’t touch her,” Bucky’s voice growled a warning, causing you to snap out of your feigned sleep. You opened your eyes just in time to see Zemo reaching towards your shoulder. Grateful for Bucky’s protective instinct, you glanced around feeling disoriented. Bucky was almost on his feet, presumably to stop Zemo physically. 

“Apologies,” Zemo directed to Bucky, who seemed to calm down after Zemo retreated. Zemo then brought his attention back to you. “I have picked out a dress for you to wear, Agent, to blend in,” he gestured toward the door of the jet’s toilet.

~

Unzipping the dress bag, you were surprised by the beautiful red material and its intricate details. Who would have thought Zeemo had such good taste? Without any hesitation, you shed your casual yet tactical wear and slid into the dress. You admired how it hugged your body perfectly. Rushing to see the final look, you adorned yourself with the accessories he had chosen as well. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, you revealed your new identity to your team, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo. Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, Sam whistled appreciatively, and Zemo offered a polite nod of approval.

“Not a chance,” Bucky’s voice cut through the moment, his gaze bore into you as you walked out wearing the red dress, its neckline plunging and the hem barely covering anything below your waist, your back exposed. 

Confusion flickered across your face as you turned to him, he was looking you up and down with only his eyes still seated. “Excuse me?”

His jaw tensed as he continued to assess your appearance, “You’re not wearing that,” he stated firmly.

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, “And, since when did you get an opinion?” you shot back, defiance in your voice as you met his gaze. 

The tension on the jet thickened as Bucky maintained his stance. Sam sensed the conflict brewing, he decided to step in and attempt to diffuse the situation. 

“Okay, let’s just take a minute,” He interjected, his voice was calm yet authoritative. “We’ve got more important things to worry about-”

“I’m serious,” Bucky interrupted, insisting you wouldn’t be wearing the dress. “You’ll draw too much attention.”

“This dress will not compromise the mission,” you began, your voice steady. “I’ve been in the ‘arm candy’ role for Steve enough to know what I’m doing.” you noticed the shift in his demeanor as his body tensed at the thought of you and Steve being perceived as intimate.

Sam nodded in agreement with you, “She’s got a point, Bucky,” Sam interjected, affirming your statement. He had witnessed this act on a few occasions now to know you’re right. Bucky hesitated, torn between his protective and possessive instincts over you or respecting the supposed end of your so-called relationship. After a moment of silence, a begrudging “Fine.” cut through the tension.

---

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[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

[jasmines-library]

Wendigo

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WHUMPTOBER DAY TWELVE : Prompt: Starvation/underground caverns

MASTERLIST WHUMPTOBER 2024

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The leaves crunched softly beneath your feet as you trudged through the woods, trailing behind Sam and Dean who, with their longer legs, were a few paces ahead of you. The sun was beginning to set which gave the fallen leaves this golden hue. But it also made a feeling of uncertainty settle into the pit of your stomach. Nights were unpredictable. Every hunter knew that. The darkness brought a new sense of uncertainty and unpredictability that made you anxious. You picked up the pace a little, trying to keep up with your brothers. 

The three of you were currently tracking a Wendigo. Or what you thought was a wendigo. You weren’t really sure until you saw the distinctive claw marks snaking up the side of the trees in the forest. Knowing what you were hunting made your job significantly easier; you knew now that you were looking for somewhere underground. Somewhere where a wendigo would take its prey. The problem now was actually finding it. The area you were searching wasn’t exactly small. 

You were about an hour into the search when you heard the snap of a twig nearby. You froze, your body instantly perking up as your head whipped around, trying to find the sound. Sam and Dean carried on, clearly oblivious to the noise you had heard. You were about to open your mouth to tell them to stop, but suddenly a large hand gripped your ankle and your face met the floor. You didn’t even have time to scream before everything went black. 

~

When you awoke you were suspended. Swinging in the air by your wrists. And that was about all that you could make out. Wherever you were was dark; you were clearly underground and you could only figure that out from the sliver of light that trickled from a crack in the roof above which illuminated the rock in front of you. You struggled, trying to free yourself from the rope around your skin but your effort was in vain. You must have been hanging for some time because your arms were in a lot of pain. But besides the strain on your shoulders you were physically unharmed. Unharmed. But not for long. The putrid scent of blood was in the air. The wendigo had not long fed, it seemed. Which meant it would only be a matter of days before the creature next fed. You would just have to pray that your brothers would find you before then. 

~

Three days. 

It had been three days since you last saw your brothers, judging by the amount of times that the crack in the ceiling has gone dark before reappearing. three days and you don’t think you have ever been hungrier in your entire life. Your shoulders were in agony by now, but that was completely undermined by the stabbing pains in your stomach. It had been far too long since you had last eaten and it was beginning to take its toll on your body. Not only were you in pain, but you were also extremely sluggish and weak. You barely had the strength to keep your head up for longer than a few seconds and you were beginning to forget things. Slowly, you were losing hope. And you could imagine that your brothers were ripping their hair out over this. 

But not for much longer, it seemed. You heard the commotion before you saw them. You felt the hot, burning heat of the flames as they torched the wendigo. And then you felt a hand on your face, lifting up your chin to look at them. It was Dean’s face that swam before you. Dean’s face that was twisted into a frown at how gaunt and skinny you looked, even in the short amount of time that you had been without food. And then his arms were around you, supporting you as your wrists were lowered from the ceiling. He cradled you in his arms as he carried you. You were sure he was talking to you too, but you couldn’t make out any words. And then there was light. Bright and blinding as the sun assaulted your eyes. You squeezed them shut and you felt a gentle hand brush against your forehead to shield your eyes. And then you passed out again.

~

When you woke again both of your brothers were by your side. 

“Oh thank god you’re awake.” Dean fussed the minute he saw your eyes open. 

Your stomach growled and you let out a small noise of discomfort. 

“Easy,” Sam said, helping you sit up. “You must be starving, sweetheart.” 

Dean moved to grab you a protein bar. “Here. Start small and we’ll get you something bigger to eat soon. We don’t want to overwhelm your system.”

You peeled the bar, taking a bite and it was the most heavenly thing you could have asked for. “Thank you….”

Dean smiled sadly. “It’s alright kiddo. We’re just sorry we didn’t get to you sooner.”

“Very sorry. But its okay…..we’re gonna look after you and make sure you’re right as rain.”

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<- DAY ELEVEN DAY THIRTEEN->

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