#also @ sam can you ever think of a time when trying to be in control did not improve things? hmm.

[quietwingsinthesky]

also when it comes to millie and sam what u simply must understand is that sam is pro-millie having a choice in things, sam is happy to be on millie’s side and listen to her contributions and pull her into the conversation. because he does really, truly believe that millie should get a choice in whatever they’re doing, or whatever she’s doing.

just. you know. up to the point where she’s doing something Bad/Wrong/Dangerous. and then he needs to find a way to Save Her From Hurting Herself. millie gets to choose what happens right until sam stops seeing her and starts seeing himself, and then she’s not allowed to make mistakes. like he did. for her own good.

[demonic0angel]

Can you do a quick little story about Wonder Woman losing her mind when Danny casuallys pulls out Pandoras' Box to grab his lunch then rattle off some ghost gossip, how Clockwork might be Chronos and his mentor, or he is being trained by Pandora?

Wonder Woman stared at Phantom as he pulled out a lunch box. Except, said lunchbox was not made of plastic. Instead, it was made with clay and had skulls and decorations all over it. There were sharp spikes and a snake on one side, and it was colored green and purple.

Phantom nonchalantly opened it and pulled out a sandwich, a bag of chips, a small thermos for soup, and a container for salad. There were also gummy bears that he tossed to Flash, who beamed.

Wonder Woman continued staring. Superman was the one asked, “Oh! Phantom, is that your lunch?”

Phantom nodded with a grin. “Yeah! I heard the meeting might’ve been extra long today, so I decided to bring a lunch, just in case.”

Superman nodded. “Good idea! There’s also food in the fridge that Batman stocks up for us. What are you having today?”

“A sandwich, a salad, and some tomato soup. My sister made it! Though you didn’t hear it from me, but I heard that she’s been beefing with the Lunch Lady Ghost.”

Superman, ever the journalist, said, “Ohh?”

“Yeah, apparently, big sis has been trying to convince her to change the royal menu so it would be more modern but she’s been adamant about the menu being traditional. Even though it serves the worst dishes ever, like ‘meat from a son’ or whatever that means. Thankfully, Sam stepped in to help her, but the fight got so bad that Clockwork had to help too.”

“Meat from a son….” Wonder Woman mumbled, continuing to stare at him in horror.

Everyone but Phantom eyed her. Superman blinked and asked, “Who’s Clockwork?”

Phantom messily chewed on his sandwich. It was almost cute how he looked like a chipmunk. “He’s like… my grandfather, mentor, and employee. It’s complicated. He controls time and apparently, he was once a Titan? He was sad when talking about it though.”

“Titan….”

Everyone looked at her again before looking away.

“He’s your grandfather? That sounds nice,” Superman said.

“He is! He and Pandora have been helping me a lot lately, so I want to get gifts for them too. What do you think I should get?”

That was when Wonder Woman had enough and then officially tapped out, fainting. There were cries of panic as everyone rushed to help her. Phantom stared at her, wanting to help but she was already surrounded.

“Damn. Was it something I said?”

[themilfsland]

Can we switch?

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff X female!reader

Summary: when you find out your bottom (or maybe not anymore) emo girlfriend was holding back her desires because she was afraid of her powers but you encourage her to let it all go.

Words count: ~ 3.7

tags | content: soft but smutty , bottom!Wanda (until it changes), top!reader (or maybe not this time), fingering, strap-on, magic cock, cum inside, possessiveness.

A/n: I've been thinking a lot about Emo Wanda unraveling her top side.

Time flies, as the elders say. It feels like just yesterday that Wanda joined the Avengers. She took the title of the youngest on the team, which meant you were no longer the spoiled one or the center of attention. In a way, that was a relief — Steve and Tony weren’t breathing down your neck anymore — but it probably also meant the last slice of cake wouldn’t be saved for you anymore. It's a shame, really, since you’d gotten used to the little treats Clint gave you after missions.

You remember the wary look in her eyes during that first week. She was like one of those black cats at midnight, always slipping away, avoiding interactions, and when she was forced to join group activities, she would linger in the corner of the room. "She’s still getting used to things," Steve would say. Besides, it would be hypocritical of you to criticize her behaviour — during your first month with the team, you were just about the most antisocial person possible.

Things were perfectly normal for you until Sam had the brilliant idea of suggesting you help Wanda with her training and power control. Great. Now the newbie who doesn’t even say "good morning" to you was going to be your responsibility. Of course, you tried to argue your way out of it in every possible way — how could the second-youngest — you — member of the group have enough experience to teach someone else? Unfortunately, nothing worked. The team agreed, and not even Natasha had your back this time. The reasoning was simple: you have the ability to control the elements of nature, so you were apparently the best choice to help Wanda learn to manage her powers.

And it was from that tutoring mission that you and Wanda really got to know each other, getting even closer and today marks one year since you made your relationship official. Clint bet it would take you a month to admit you were in love; Nat, knowing you better, gave it a few more months — you were way too stubborn to confess your feelings that easily. And the truth? You were already in love with her by the second week of training. Some people like to ask, "Who felt it first and who felt it deeper?" In this case, you were the first to realize your feelings for Wanda, but she was the one who ended up feeling them more intensely.

Although everyone still teases you about how rocky the beginning was — they used to say you were like a cat and a dog in a fight — now you’re more like two lovebirds. Honestly, you blamed her at first — she never listened to you, said your advice wasn’t helpful, and claimed you were being mean with your words. But over time, you started to realize how fragile Wanda really was — not in terms of strength, but when it came to her emotions and self-esteem. She was scared of herself; her own powers terrified her.

You were certain about her insecurity over her self-control during one of your training sessions. You had asked her to attack you — she hesitated and sent a weak pulse of her red energy. It had been days of you pushing her to really strike, but all you ever got was that same soft red wave. That’s when you decided to provoke her — bad idea. Your not-so-friendly words earned you a flash of her red eyes, and the next thing you knew, her magic had thrown you hard against the training room wall. You were on the floor, hand on your head, trying to process what had just happened when Wanda was suddenly above you, frantically checking for injuries and apologizing over and over. You could hear the panic in her voice.

After that day, you began to see her differently — with an understanding that no one else seemed to have. And Wanda knew it too — that you were the only one who could truly see her without needing to read her mind. It wasn’t something you had to work for; it was effortless — like the gentle pull of ocean waves, a quiet feeling between you both that grew stronger with each passing day.

Wanda didn’t change with everyone else — but she changed with you. The first time she let you take care of her bandage, the first time she asked for your help to practice a specific move, the first time she released her magic to strike without being afraid of hurting you — and the first time she let you kiss her.

You were the one feeling insecure that day. You’d always been confident, sure of your actions — but kissing Wanda? Your whole body was trembling beneath the surface. You were certain about your feelings — you loved her and wanted to be more than just teammates. But when it came to her feelings? That’s where the doubts crept in. Sometimes it felt like she was on the same page, but other times it seemed like she only saw you as a battle partner.

In the end, it was Nat who got tired of watching the two of you dance around each other with no progress. She gave you a push — with a hint of a threat — and gave you the courage to make the first move. Credit where it’s due — she was right. Despite the nerves, it all worked out in the end. Better than just good — way better.

---

"Are you two really going to eat all that?" - Nat asked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Mmm, probably not, BUT that doesn’t mean you can have a piece," you said, spreading frosting on the last cupcake you’d baked. - "Maybe tomorrow, if there’s any left — and only because I’m a nice person."

"Hm, okay. Soooo..." - she ran her finger through the bowl of leftover chocolate frosting and licked it before continuing - "Do you think this is going to make it up to Wanda?"

"What do you mean by that?" - You knew exactly what she was referring to, but you decided to play dumb.

"Ah, Y/n. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Everyone saw how Wanda was after that party on Saturday, at Stark's" she said, swiping a bit more frosting. "Oh, and all week long after that. So…? Are you two good?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know about Saturday and yes, everything’s fine," you replied in a cold tone.

"Y/n," —-she stepped closer, taking the spoon and cupcake from your hand. - "I know you. Just spit it out already. Better to say it here than let it blow up later with Wanda and make things even worse," she said, eyebrow raised.

You let out a deep sigh before finally starting to vent.

"Okay, so… I didn’t do anything wrong, did I? I mean, if anything happened that night, it was Carol’s fault, she’s the one who started talking to me and sticking close to me the whole time. Why can’t Wanda see that? She’s the one who started avoiding me and..."

Natasha put a hand over your mouth, cutting you off.

"Hey, slow down. Breathe. Let's see..." - Nat said calmly. - "I don’t think you did anything wrong, but maybe you could have handled it better. Carol was hanging pretty close to you, and maybe Wanda saw more than just that. You know your girl — she’s jealous. Very jealous."

You rolled your eyes, and Nat shot you a disapproving look.

"What? Are you gonna disagree with me?" - she smirked. -"You might have taught her how to control her powers better, but her jealousy? Nope. You can feel how crazy she gets inside when she sees you with someone else. Anyway, that wildcat is yours."

She placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. - "I know you two will work it out and honestly, this is probably the perfect chance. Oh, and happy one year of having to witness you two being disgustingly in love. Also, pleaseee… try to keep quiet tonight. There are nights I can hear her saying your name — and not in a very cool way…"

"Natasha!! Shut up!" - you pushed her hand off your shoulder and gave her a shove. -"Go bother someone else. I need to finish all this before she gets back."

"Ohh yess, I almost forgot about her very important commitment today with my little sestra. They’re probably out shopping for some new toys for you two to play with tonight," - she teased, winking as she walked out of the kitchen, laughing while you cursed at her.

---

Everything was set. Pillows and a blanket neatly arranged on the bed, a side table stocked with snacks and drinks, the TV playing her favourite sitcom, and the wrapped necklace you had bought for her sitting nearby. With the busy mission schedule this week, you knew you wouldn’t be able to plan anything big — but that didn’t mean you were going to let the day go unnoticed. Even if it was a simple night, it was your night to celebrate.

"Hey, baby, I’m back," - Wanda announced as she opened the bedroom door. - "Oh, what do we have here? What’s all this about?" she said, stepping closer and you noticed she was hiding something behind her back.

"Mmm, I don’t know… what could all this possibly mean???" - you teased, playing along with her. - "You first — what are you hiding back there?" - you asked, pulling her by the waist until your bodies were nearly touching.

"Hey, that’s not fair! I asked first," - she said, trying to give you a menacing look — but you knew she always melted when it came to you.

"Uh-huh, let’s see what we’ve got here..." - in a quick move, you snatched the package from her hand. - "Hmm, it says: ‘For my love.’ Well, I guess that’s for me then." -You winked and started opening the package.

It was a photo album — filled with polaroids you had taken together throughout the year, memories that made your heart overflow with happiness.

"I love it. It’s so beautiful and special. You’re special! Thank you, baby!" — you didn’t give her a chance to respond, stealing a kiss from her lips.

"Okay, enough. Now, where’s my present?" - she broke the kiss, raising an eyebrow as she stared at you.

"I see… my girl is so demanding. Happy one year, my darling." - you held out your hand, offering her a small box and an envelope.

She asked for your help to put the necklace on while she read the note inside. It was a surprise trip after the mission season — you figured it’d be a good idea to take a few days off, away from the team. And of course, she loved the surprise.

Gifts exchanged, you both settled into bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms as always, sharing another moment of quality time together.

---

Wanda was restless. Not even half an hour had passed since you started watching the sitcom, and she couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes. You had already ruled out the idea that she was just trying to get comfortable — there was definitely something bothering her.

"Wands, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied curtly.

It was obvious something was wrong. You adjusted your position on the bed and sat up.

"Come on, baby, tell me. What’s going on? I know you're overthinking about something." - you reached for her hand, lacing your fingers together and guiding her gaze to meet yours.

"I don’t know, it’s just that… I… you… you’re mine, right?" — there was uncertainty in her voice.

"What? Of course I’m yours — I’m all yours." - you let out a relieved sigh and a soft laugh, but you noticed that Wanda was still a bit tense.- "Hey, my love," - you gently cupped her chin, guiding her gaze back to you. - "There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m all yours — only yours."

Wanda didn’t say anything, her expression unreadable — until she leaned into you, closing the space between your faces, her lips brushing softly against yours.

The kiss intensified, laced with both urgency and desperation which only meant one thing: she was needy. But it wasn’t just that. Beneath the craving to have you close, there was something else — possessiveness.

Before you realized it, she was straddling your lap — one hand slipping beneath your shirt, nails lightly raking down your back, while the other tangled in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. Her lips stayed locked with yours, not even breaking for air.

You knew Wanda's needs all too well. Ever since you both started exploring your sex life together, you began to notice the little details — not just the things she likes and doesn’t like, but also the different kinds of intimacy you two share. It usually starts soft — gentle touches and tender caresses — and eventually, by the end, it might get a little rough, but not that much. Sometimes, after a stressful mission, Wanda likes to use sex as a form of relief — and honestly, you’re not complaining. It’s rougher, faster, and deeper — a pretty damn good way to unwind. And then there’s that kind — when she’s overwhelmed with possessiveness, usually driven by jealousy. Oh, that’s the wildest one. She’s hungry, relentless, and won’t stop until she’s fully satisfied. Either way, whatever type it is, she’s almost always the bottom one — just a detail, since it’s never been a problem for either of you.

Then it clicked — you finally understood why she was acting with such intensity. It was about that party. About Carol. She was still thinking about it. Your thoughts snapped back to the present when you heard a muffled moan from Wanda. That’s when you noticed that she was rubbing against your thigh. You could help her out already, but you’ve always liked watching her need grow. So instead of letting your hand wander down, you slid it under her shirt, dragging your nails across her stomach until you reached her boobs, squeezing it over the bra.

She let out a louder moan at the feel of your hand on her skin, breaking away from the kiss to rest her face against your shoulder. A breathless "please" escaped her lips near your ear — her hips moving faster, desperately seeking more contact. It was hard to deny her when she begged like that — so your hand slipped lower, sliding inside her shorts.

When your fingers touched her wet folds she couldn't hold a pity whimper out loud. She kept her pace, rubbing herself against your fingers that were touching her clit — and you let her have a little fun, keeping your fingers still.

It took less than five minutes for her to start begging again — she needed more, she needed you. So you did what she wanted, you pushed your finger inside her cunt, she was so wet it slipped in at once.

And there she was your neddy girlfriend — right on your lap, desperate as her hips moved, seeking the most contact possible, moaning in your ear.

You thrusted your finger faster and deep but it wasn't enough. Then she placed her hand on your neck, and you felt her nails digging into your skin. She looked into your eyes, and you met that gaze — the red eyes — you knew exactly what it meant, she was reaching her climax. - "I need one more finger, pleasee. Don't stop. One more." - She begged between moans.

You acted right away, thrusting another finger, rougher — trying to sync your movements with her hips. She was close, you could feel and see. Her red eyes glowing, she always keeps those when she's desperate in need, when she's about to lose control — she just needs to release.

"hmm tasty as always" - you said, licking your fingers that were sticky with her cum.

She gave a shy smile, still catching her breath. You brushed a strand of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

"Sooo, are we going to talk about this...?"

She stared at you, her expression hard to read, leaving you unsure of what was on her mind. Then, to your surprise, she grabbed the hem of your t-shirt and began to lift it in a gesture to take it off.

"I'm not done, I still need you" - she said while you let her finish taking off your t-shirt.

She gave you a look, and you nodded — you knew she would only talk normally once she was satisfied. She started taking off her clothes, and you stood up to finish taking off yours.

In a second, you were both naked. You reached the nightstand drawer to grab the strap-on and in a hurry, you started wearing, but before you could finish adjusting it, Wanda took your hand, making you look at her in confusion.

"I was thinking...maybe we could switch?"

You were surprised by what she asked, despite hearing the hesitation in her voice when she suggested it.

"Of course we can switch, baby!" - you took off the strap-on and reached out your hand to give it to her. -"Do you wanna help to adjust it?"

She took it from your hand but placed the object on the bed. - “I was thinking about try something different…” - You nodded as a sign that it was okay and she continued - "Soo... I learned how to get an enchanted strap-on but I'll be attached to my body so in theory I could feel everthing..." - she stopped and waited for your comment, you could feel she was a little anxious about it.

"That sounds awesome! What are you waiting for? Let's try it!" - your voice was full of excitement. Wanda returned a smile and cast her spell, and before you realized it, she literally got a magic cock.

"Oh my god, that's so hot." - You couldn’t hold yourself back. And neither could Wanda. She grabbed your arm, guiding you back onto the bed, and with one swift movement, you were beneath her.

She kissed you again, deep and intense, and you felt her desire stirring once more. Her hips started moving, pressing against your body and you could feel her hardness. You were so wet, ready to be filled up by her and her teasing was making you impatient.

"Wands please, I need to feel you inside."

She smiled with her lips still touching yours, getting a better position between your legs, and then you felt her cock pressing your entrance, slipping in slowly. You left a muffled moan.

"You are so wet already, baby" - she pushed all in and you felt your walls being stretched out. - "and you are so tight, you feel so nice."

You love Wanda in every way, but having her like this on top of you?, teasing you like that? It was definitely like paradise. Besides the new magic experience driving your mind crazy. It was so real and good.

She thrusted into you only a few more times at a slow pace but it wasn't enough. She gripped your waist and started pounding her cock faster. You were no longer able to control your moans - you needed her.

You felt her nails in your skin, her thrusts deeply touching your sensitive spot and you could tell she was feeling everything too. She got a rough pace and her eyes started getting red — the red eyes back. But suddenly, she slowed her movements, almost stopping, her hands now lighter on your hips and her thrusts steadier.

Something was wrong. You looked into her eyes — that now were back to normal, and placed your hand over hers resting on your waist. - "Wands? Are you okay? Something is not right I can feel it."

"Nothing is wrong." - She tried to ignore you, but you gave her a disapproving look. - "It's just... I don't want to hurt you." - her voice was low and you couldn't believe what she was saying.

"What? You will never hurt me. I want it all and..."

Wanda didn't let you finish. - "No, you can't be sure about that. You know how I get when my powers get stronger and it takes control of myself. I can't hurt you."

Now it was you who was ignoring Wanda’s words. In one swift movement, you wrapped your legs around her body, pulling her closer.

"I know you won't hurt me. It's okay to be insecure, but I'm with you" - Your hands squeezed hers and you continued - "Honestly baby, right now I need you. I need you to fuck me."

She locked eyes with you for a few seconds — it felt like you could hear every thought racing through her mind. But then her eyes started glowing red again. Oh, she was back — and so were her desires.

You felt her hand burning against your skin. Her movements getting faster, every thrust deep inside your cunt. You heard her moans mixed with your own.

Your walls tightened and she must felt that against her cock because she thrusted rougher — you knew the only thing on her mind this time was to fuck you recklessly. Your moans were desperate getting close to the edge, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

"You are mine, all and only mine" - she kept saying those possessives words, by every in and out moviment.

You got the orgasm together, your pussy tighter against her cock and you felt her cum spitting inside. You wouldn’t be lying if you said you felt all of her magic coursing through your veins. You felt full of her.

She rested her body on top of yours, your faces inches apart, and you could feel Wanda’s breath, still uneven. - "You were amazing, my love." - You said stroking her back and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. -"and so so hot."

"Maybe we should do this more often." - she smiled at you and stole a soft lips kiss.

"We definitely should. And without holding your magic back" - You cupped Wanda’s neck, pulling her face closer, and gave her a long, deep kiss.

[notafunkiller]

she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

*

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

*

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you���re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

*

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Backseat Driver pt. 2

Summary: Bucky Barnes is reluctantly running for Congress with the financial and political backing of Pepper Potts. Everything is under control until she assigns him a driver. A very chatty, overly enthusiastic, playlist-addicted driver who seems determined to worm her way past his hundred-yard emotional perimeter. He hates the arrangement. Until he really doesn’t.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Part 1 here

Word Count: Here's the remaining 11k I wasn't allowed to put into yesterday's post 🤭 I thought I'd split it pretty equally... turns out I did not. I was very stressed.

Warnings/Tags/Info: No use of y/n, l/n, reader is described as female. I have literally no idea whatsoever the process involved in running for Congress or being a Congressperson. Expect grumpy!Bucky, sunshine!Reader, fluff, Sam being the most glorious human ever, Pepper Potts continuing to be a badass.... And in this chapter, you can also expect smut, car sex, unprotected p-in-v, oral (f receiving), some angsty emotions, Enjoy! 🩷

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

She drove more slowly than usual. 

The rain had set in, drumming lightly on the windshield. The music was low, something softer than usual. The display tells him it's Taylor Swift. She was, as usual, singing along, but this time the melancholy, low tones suited her far better.

He’d surprised her when he slid in beside her in the front. 

“Change of scenery?” she teased, trying to keep it light.

He glanced over at her. She seemed more relaxed than she had a few hours previously. 

“It’s quieter up here.”

She knew that wasn’t true. 

“Where'd you go? Home?” He asked. 

“Gym, swim, sauna, food.”

“Sounds good.”

“It was.”

They sat quietly for a while. He broke the silence first.

“Do you ever get tired of being so loud?”

She laughed, caught off guard. “Wow. Rude.”

“Just a question.”

“Maybe I like being loud. Maybe it stops people from looking too closely.”

That surprised him. His eyes cut to hers, studying her face in the dim glow of the dash lights.

“And do you ever get tired of being so... guarded?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away. 

“...All the time.”

“You’re not what I expected.”

“Neither are you.”

They stopped at a red light, the Range Rover humming softly beneath them. She looked over, sensing him watching her. He turned to look at the road ahead. 

A thoughtful silence stretched again as they drove. “Can I ask you something?”

He didn’t look at her, but she felt his attention tuning to her completely.

“Sure.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

She glanced over. “The Congress thing. Doesn’t exactly scream Bucky Barnes.”

He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “You think I’m not cut out for politics?”

She arched a brow. “I think you look like you’d rather punch a senator than have lunch with one.”

He rolled his jaw, eyes drifting out the window. 

He could still see Pepper’s face that day, unreadable. Her voice was calm and persuasive.  

“You want to fix things? Use the system. Rewrite the rules. Make it harder for people like you to be made in the first place.”

He hadn’t wanted to. But Pepper had always had a way of making refusal sound like cowardice.

He remembered folding his arms and saying, I’m not a politician.

And she’d smiled. Exactly. That’s why you’ll win.

I don't think Tony would like this. He'd tried to tell her. 

Bullshit. She told him. 

Sam had laughed. And then very quickly taken Pepper’s side. 

Now here he was, sitting in a $250,000 SUV with a girl who sang off-key and drove like she was dodging sniper fire… and for some reason, he wasn’t running.

“I'm trying to fix things,” he told her simply. 

She pulled up to his house and he reached for the door handle but didn’t open it right away. She was still watching the road ahead, one hand on the wheel, fingers drumming lightly.

“Hey,” he said.

She turned her head toward him, brows raised.

“Thanks,” he added. “For… tonight. The ride. The tie. Everything.”

She smiled softly. “Anytime.”

He stepped out into the teeming rain, well aware of the effect it would be having on the designer suit. 

“Hey, Bucky?”

“Yeah?” He ducked his head to look through the open door. 

Her voice dropped just a bit. “You should know… when you’re all dressed up like that?”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“You’re impossible not to look at.”

He froze, the rain dripping into his collar and down his neck.

She didn’t wait for a response. Just shifted the car into gear and gave him a quick, shy smile.

“Sleep well, Congressman.”

And then she was gone, he just about had time to shut the door. Her tail lights glowed red as she disappeared down the street. He stood on the sidewalk for a full minute before he even remembered to breathe.

And when he finally made it inside, jacket flung over the back of a chair to dry out, tie still crooked, he didn’t move for a while.

Just sat there.

Thinking about her hands on his collar. Her voice in his ear. And the way her eyes had lingered just a second too long.

Damn Pepper Potts-Stark.

The apartment was too quiet. He’d showered and tried to unwind, but nothing worked. The water hadn't helped. The scotch hadn’t helped. He was still wired.

Her voice played on a loop in his head.

You’re impossible not to look at.

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way she said them. Like she hadn’t meant to, like it slipped out before she could catch it. Like it surprised her too.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. This was bad. This was really fucking bad. Because it wasn’t just tonight. It hadn’t been just one moment, or one look. It had been building. Quietly, steadily sneaking up on him. 

Every damn morning she greeted him with a too-bright smile. Every time she reached over to adjust the stereo. Every time her laugh echoed through the car and set something deep inside him shaking.

And tonight, when her hands had touched his throat, he hadn’t flinched. He’d wanted it.

Worse than that, he still wanted it. Wanted her.

Her mouth. Her fingers. Her laugh. 

The crease between her brows when she was annoyed at him. The way she twisted her rings when she was nervous.

His head tipped back against the cushions. Eyes closed. His hand drifted lower before he even made the decision. There was no decision, really, just a need he couldn’t ignore. A tension in his bones that had nowhere else to go. His mind spun with images he’d barely let himself imagine before now. 

Her, pressed close, straddling him - in the car of all places. Lips parted, breath catching, sighing his name as he filled her up. 

And here, in his home, crossing the room with a smile and asking need a hand, Congressman? 

Wrapping her pretty mouth around his pulsing cock. 

His hips jerked up to meet his hand with no finesse or control. Pure desperation. He let himself fall apart quietly. Thoughtlessly. As if he could exorcise her from his system.

He couldn’t.

When it was over, he sat in the dark, his chest still rising and falling too fast. Shame prickled hot under his skin, rising behind his ears like a flush he couldn’t cool. What the hell was he doing?

She was young. Vibrant. Light-years out of his reach.

And he was… this. A broken man playing politics, jerking off to the thought of the only person who treated him like he wasn’t one.

The guilt came fast. He didn’t deserve her kindness. Didn’t deserve the way she smiled at him. Didn’t deserve a damn thing about her.

~~~~

The next morning, he was a different person.

The second he saw her standing by the car, his shame from the previous night came flooding back. She was sipping from a takeaway cup, squinting up at the sky. 

Wind tugged at the hem of her coat, hair pulled back loosely, a few strands caught in her lip balm. Just looking at her made something clench in his chest. She smiled when she saw him. Not overly warm. Just normal. Like nothing had changed.

He hated it.

“Morning,” she said, holding the door open for him.

He muttered something back, he wasn’t even sure what exactly. He didn’t meet her eye. Just slid into the back seat like usual.

She glanced at him in the rearview mirror once as she pulled into traffic, then again when he didn’t offer anything else. Her fingers drummed lightly on the steering wheel. She didn’t press, but he could feel how aware she was of whatever this was. 

He’d built the wall the second he woke up. Because last night had been a mistake. 

All of it. The closeness, the look in her eyes. 

The fact that he’d gone inside and couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d thought about it too long. Let it spiral. And now he was punishing himself for it the only way he knew how.

Silence. Coldness. Distance.

She didn’t deserve it. But he didn’t trust himself to speak.

“What’s on today?” she asked eventually, voice light, breezy.

He shrugged. “Nothing interesting.”

He was meeting Sam. 

“Oh. Ok.” She tapped along to the beat of the music. “Want coffee?”

“Already had one.” Lie. He hadn’t.

Another pause. He could feel the tension stretching, tightening, her posture shifting subtly in her seat.

“I, uh… saw the pictures from last night,” she offered, trying again. “Suit looked good. Great bow tie”

He didn’t answer. Just stared out the window.

“Ok. Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. You know that scowl is deeply presidential,” she sniggered. 

Nothing. 

The silence returned, he could feel the disappointment rolling off her. That little fold between her brows had crept in. He could see her trying to work out if she’d done something wrong, and he couldn’t seem to tell her she hadn’t.

She pursed her lips and sighed. Then she reached for the volume dial and built her own wall. 

She was listening to his playlist. She skipped through a few of his chosen tracks and settled on one of her own favourites. 

“When I hold you baby,” she sang loudly, fiercely. 

“Feel your heartbeat close to me

Wanna stay in your arms forever

Only love can set you free…”

She had to be joking. He wanted to say something. That it wasn’t her. That it was him, drowning in everything he didn’t know how to feel. But the words locked up in his throat.

“When we touch each other

In a state of ecstasy

Want this night to last forever

Only love can set you free

Set you free

Set you free”

She sang without inhibition - poorly - but he could see the tension leaving her shoulders the more the tempo increased.

He sat silent and miserable, watching the city blur past the glass, wishing he didn’t want her, and hating himself for not being able to stop.

She turned the volume down, marginally, as they pulled up, the engine softening into idle. She didn’t speak right away, and he didn’t offer anything either.

“Alright,” she said finally, still slightly breathless. “I think this is you.”

He nodded once, already reaching for the handle.

“This one due to go on all day? Finish at six?”

“Yeah,” he said shortly.

“Right.” She didn’t say anything else. No teasing, no warmth. Just quiet acceptance.

He hated it.

He stepped out, not looking back, and nearly walked straight into Sam.

“Oh hey, man!” Sam grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “You look like shit. Everything ok?” He trailed off, glancing over Bucky’s shoulder to the driver’s seat. “Is that her?”

“Didn't think you'd be here yet,” he grimaced. He didn't acknowledge Sam's questions. 

Sam stepped around Bucky entirely and leaned toward the window, tapping it once with a smile.

She rolled it down.

“Hi,” Sam said, extending a hand. “Sam Wilson. Good to meet you at last. I've heard a lot about you.”

Her brow lifted, but she smiled as she shook his hand. “That surprises me. I think he likes to forget I exist unless he's forced into this car. I've heard a lot about you, too.”

“All lies,” Sam said. “Well. Most of them.”

She laughed softly, and Bucky hated how much lighter her voice sounded with him.

“I should get going,” she said, pulling her hand back. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“You too. Thanks for keeping him in one piece.”

She gave Bucky a quick disappointed glance and rolled the window back up. The Rover pulled away a second later, merging into traffic with practiced ease.

Sam waited until she was gone. Then turned back, arms crossed.

“You’re an asshole,” he said cheerfully.

“Don’t.”

“You didn’t even introduce her?”

Bucky started walking. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“Too late. We’re already doing it. That girl looked like she’d just been drop-kicked in the ribs. What'd you do to her?”

Bucky didn’t answer.

Sam followed close behind, not relenting. “You like her.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Liar.”

Bucky stopped just short of the lobby doors, jaw tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do, actually. You forget, we're friends now. You like her, you want her, and now you’re being cold because you think pushing her away will fix it.”

He didn’t respond.

“This is exactly why you need to accept that I'm here for you,” Sam leaned in again, voice lower. “Don’t wait until it’s too late to walk it back, man.”

Then he stepped inside, leaving Bucky standing there.

He didn’t follow right away. Because maybe Sam was right. And that scared the hell out of him.

~~~~

She was quiet for the first few blocks, eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel.

Bucky stared out the window, jaw tight. He hadn’t said a word since he slid into the backseat. Again. Walls back up.

“You’ve been weird all week,” she said finally, voice flat.

He didn’t respond.

“Seriously, what’s your deal? One minute you’re making playlists, the next you’re acting like I don’t exist.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. “Drop it.”

“No.”

That surprised him. He leaned forward slightly. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t get to go all silent treatment for a whole week just because you’re in a mood,” she snapped, not looking at him. “If you’re mad at me, fine, say it. But don’t make me guess.”

He shifted, annoyed now. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated too long.

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered.

“You ever think maybe it’s not about you?” He said, his voice sharper than he meant. “Maybe I’ve got other things going on.”

She scoffed, glancing at him in the rearview. 

“Fine,” she said, turning onto the final street. “You want space? You got it.”

Neither of them spoke again before they arrived.

~~~~

The low murmur of conversation was starting to fray his nerves. Too many smiles. Too much wine. Too much her.

It wasn’t a formal event, just a small thing mainly made up of staffers, friends, campaign types, but still, everyone was dressed to impress. And she was there as a guest as well as his driver. Part of the dream team about to secure his victory. 

She looked good. Too good. 

It was the first time he'd seen her in a dress and it caught the light and her curves in a way that made his hands curl into fists in his pockets. 

She wasn’t avoiding him exactly, but she wasn’t looking at him either. And it made him feel like shit.

He didn’t say goodbye to anyone. Just slipped out the side exit with a muttered excuse to the nearest staffer, and made his way to the car. 

The streetlights buzzed gently overhead, casting a dull glow across the SUV. He slid into the backseat, resting his elbows on his knees, and stared straight ahead.

Five minutes passed.

Ten.

Then the driver’s door opened, and he didn’t have to look up to know it was her.

“Hey,” she said softly, as the door shut behind her. “You just... left.”

“I’m here,” he muttered. 

“I noticed.”

Then she sighed. “This is stupid.”

She twisted in her seat and kicked off her heels, dropping them onto the passenger seat next to her bag with a quiet thud. 

Her next move was clumsy as she clambered between the seats into the back. The hem of her dress caught briefly, and as she bent forward, he caught the slope of her breasts, the curve of soft skin as it was claimed by the neckline of her dress. No bra.

He looked away fast.

She huffed as she landed beside him, tugging her dress down and brushing her hair from her face. “Can I sit?”

“You’re already here.”

She sighed again, a little annoyed. “Don’t be an asshole.”

That finally pulled his eyes to hers.

She was close.

Close enough that he could smell her perfume, something different for the evening than she usually wore, but still familiar. 

Close enough to see the faint smudge of eyeliner under her lashes. She didn’t look like his driver right now. She didn’t look like anything safe.

He swallowed hard. “You look -”

“What happened?” she interrupted, her voice more vulnerable than he expected. “We were... ok. I thought. You were tolerating me.”

He shook his head slowly, jaw working. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He said, finally. 

“Then why are you being like this?”

Because I can't stop thinking about kissing you. Because I touched myself thinking about you and woke up wanting to do it again. And have wanted it ever since. Because you’re too close and I’m fucking terrified.

He didn’t say any of that. “I don’t know.”

She looked at him for a long time. “That’s not good enough.”

“I know.”

Another silence. Then she reached for the door.

But before she could open it, he caught her wrist gently. Not hard. Just enough to make her pause.

“Don’t go,” he said, his voice low.

Her hand stilled on the door handle, but she didn't look back. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t either,” he admitted. “I’m sorry. For the last few days. For pulling away. For making you feel like you were… like you’re not important.”

She turned warily.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” he said. “I panicked. I’m not sure I'll ever be used to people giving a shit about me. Or finding people I actually give a shit about. ”

Her breath caught, just barely but he noticed. Of course he did.

“I keep thinking about you. About the way you look at me like I'm allowed to be myself.” He hesitated. “And when I’m not with you, I miss you. And when I am, I can’t think straight.”

She blinked, and he could see the pulse in her throat jump.

“I'm not exactly sure what I’m trying to say, I’m -” 

But she was already moving.

She surged forward, caught his face in her hands, and kissed him. No hesitation, no warning, just fire and hunger and weeks of unspoken longing poured into one desperate kiss.

He groaned against her mouth, hands gripping her waist. She climbed into his lap without thinking, knees bracketing his thighs, and threaded her fingers through his hair. 

He pulled her in tighter, his vibranium arm wrapping firmly around her waist, the other sliding up her bare thigh, pushing the fabric out of the way, needing to feel her skin under his palm.

“Tell me to stop,” he said roughly, mouth brushing the corner of hers. “If you don’t want this -”

“I do,” she whispered. “I really do.”

That was all he needed. His mouth was on her throat, kissing a trail down to her collarbone while she rolled her hips down to meet his. 

“God,” he breathed. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Not tonight,” she whispered, kissing the corner of his jaw, his neck, the scar that peeked from under his shirt.

He dragged her deeper into his lap, his hands moving to open the deep V neckline wider, stretching it down her arms and exposing more of her soft skin to him. 

She arched her back, offering herself up to him and he took it. Cupping the swell of her breast in one hand, his thumb brushed over the tight peak until she shivered against him.

His mouth followed, dragging slow, open kisses down the column of her throat until she rocked against him. 

He could feel the heat of her core, could feel himself hard against her. She shifted against him in search of friction and he hissed through his teeth.

He sank his teeth into the underside of her breast, making her whine and press her knees deeper into the seat behind him. 

“God, Bucky,” she shuddered. 

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, rough and reverent. His hands slid down to her hips, guiding her over the hard length of him again, slow and deliberate.

“You feel that?” he rasped, his voice low against her skin. “That’s what you do to me.”

He didn't wait for a response, she gasped when his tongue circled her pebbled nipple.

“Please, please -” she murmured.

He slid his hand between them to push the thin lace of her underwear aside. She moaned as his fingers found her, already soaked, already ready.

“You were gonna walk away,” he said, low and rough, mouth brushing her ear. “You were gonna leave me in this car thinking about this all night.”

She tugged his hair and moved back just slightly. 

“C'mon, you had no idea I've been this wet for you every day since we met,” she teased. 

His eyes darkened at her words, jaw tightening as he dragged two fingers slowly through her slick heat. “Jesus,” he breathed.

She grinned smugly until he slid a finger inside, slow but deliberate, making her stutter on a breath and grip his shoulder tighter.

“Not so chatty now, huh?” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, then lower.

He added another finger, curling just right, and her head dropped to his shoulder with a strangled whimper. The sound went straight through him.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he said, voice thick, “every night. Every time you smiled at me. Every time you drove away.”

She reached between them, unfastening his belt with deft fingers. The sound of the buckle, the zip, he thought he might lose his mind before she even touched him. She grazed her thumb over the tip of him, his fingers inside her stuttering momentarily. 

“What if someone comes past?” He breathed against her collarbone. 

“Oh, now you're scared of that?” She laughed quietly, her hand encircling him and pumping slowly. 

“Yeah, well,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as her hand worked him, deliberately slowly. “Feels different now that your hand’s on me.”

She bit her lip, breath catching as his fingers resumed their rhythm. Her hips moved with him, chasing every stroke. 

“You started this,” she whispered, her voice thick as he hit just the right spot. “The other week with that stupid bow tie. Making me a fucking playlist.”

His laugh was broken, shaky. 

“You climbed in my lap, sweetheart.”

“You let me.”

His mouth found hers again, messy and desperate. When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I need to be inside you.”

She nodded and in the dim light, he could see a flash of nerves in her eye. She exhaled shakily as he withdrew his hand and moved it to her hip. 

Without taking her hand from him, she rose up onto her knees and guided him into place. 

She sank onto him slowly.

“Fuck,” he sighed. “You feel incredible.”

He watched her hold her breath as she sank down, her body stretching to accommodate him. 

She bit her lip, trying to keep herself steady as he filled her. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she moved, inch by inch, until she was fully seated on him.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice rough as he tried to hold back, every instinct screaming for movement. 

Her head tipped back slightly, the pleasure clear on her face, and the sight of it nearly drove him insane. She moved, slowly at first, the friction sending a shiver through both of them.

“Bucky,” she moaned. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he rasped. His hand slid up her back, fingers digging into her skin as her pace increased, rising and falling on him over and over. 

He met her thrusts, pushing up to meet her, every drag of her body against his, every breath, every whisper of his name made him feel like he was losing control.

His hands slid to her ass, pulling her down harder against him, meeting her every movement with his own.

The heat between them was unbearable, Bucky could feel it building, the pressure in his chest, his pulse racing as she clenched around him, and he knew she was close. Her name fell from his lips in a broken breath, again and again, like a prayer. 

She kissed his throat, his mouth, his cheekbone. He could feel her shaking around him, her breath stuttering.

“Look at me,” he said. “C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna see you come for me,” he demanded, his voice hoarse, barely controlled as he watched her struggle to hold on.

She cried out, her body tightening as she finally unraveled around him, her movements jerky and frantic as she came, her head falling against his shoulder. 

Bucky’s grip tightened on her, pulling her flush against him as he followed, every muscle in his body tightening as he reached his own release.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathless, lost in the aftermath of what had just happened. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, still reeling from how quickly their situation had escalated. 

“Shit,” he heard her whisper. She pulled away from him, her eyes wide and panicked. 

“What’s wrong?” The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His voice was rough, unsure. She wouldn’t even look at him, and it was killing him.

“I -” She cut herself off, her voice small. “I can’t do this.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already shaking her head, moving further away from him, almost like she was trying to distance herself from everything that had just happened between them.

She slipped off his lap, trying to straighten the skirt of her dress and pull the neckline back into place. 

“I didn’t think it’d go this far,” she muttered, her voice cracking slightly. 

He could barely hear her over the rush of blood in his ears. He wanted to reach out, to pull her back into his arms, but he stayed frozen in place. 

“We -” She swallowed, her breath shaking. “We can’t. Not like this. You’re... you're running for office, Bucky. This is... this is a mess.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His pulse raced, but now it wasn’t from the rush of adrenaline and desire. Now, it was the cold, tight knot of panic curling in his stomach. He zipped his pants and tried to regain his dignity. 

“I … I’ve just ruined it,” she went on, voice barely above a whisper. “We could’ve been caught, and I… God, this could be... this could ruin your career.”

She turned away from him, reaching between the seats to retrieve her shoes and her bag. 

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was still trying to process her words when she looked at him, eyes wide and glassy, as if she might cry any second. She looked so vulnerable, so out of control, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that.

He reached for her, his hand extending instinctively, but she slid along the seat, closer to the door, her breath trembling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words so quiet, so filled with regret that they felt like a physical blow. “I didn’t think. I just… I couldn’t... I couldn’t stop. I’ve ruined everything for you. I should have just... stayed away.”

The guilt in her voice made something inside him tighten painfully. 

“Don’t,” he managed to say at last, his throat dry. But she was already moving away from him, already pulling herself together. 

She opened the door, and just before she stepped out of the car, she glanced back at him, but it wasn’t the look he expected. There was no longing, no regret, just... distance.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. And then, before he could even process it, she was gone. 

She walked away from him, her heels clicking against the pavement as he sat there, frozen, alone in the dim light of the car. His hand hung in the air where she had been moments ago. He sat in the car, staring at the empty space between them. His chest felt hollow. 

She hadn’t just left, she had run from him. 

~~~~

He'd driven himself home, his own playlist still plugged into the dash. Everything in the driver’s seat reminded him of her. Her lip balm in the centre console, a hair claw clip attached to one of the air vents but clinging on for dear life. 

The scent of sex and her perfume filled the car.

At home, he stood in the middle of his kitchen, the silence of the place suffocating him. His hands were still shaking, he hadn’t noticed, but now they hung uselessly by his sides, feeling heavy, like they didn’t belong to him anymore. He couldn’t stop replaying it in his head. 

He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to block out the thoughts of her, but it was impossible.

The way her body had reacted to him, the warmth of her skin, the softness of her breath against his ear. 

The way her head had tipped back, the pleasure that had crossed her face as she tightened around his cock. The sweet, desperate sounds she made as he fucked her.

It all consumed him. 

And then, just as quickly as it had all begun, she was pulling away from him, pushing him away, leaving him in that car like he was nothing more than a mistake she wanted to forget. He paced through the kitchen, his thoughts spiraling out of control. 

Why did he always do this? Why did he always fuck things up? 

The guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. He could still feel the heat of her body against his, the way she had looked at him before she walked away. She'd blamed herself, but he should have stopped it. But he hadn’t. He’d let it happen. He should have never let it get this far.

And now, all he could think about was how he’d ruined everything. Again. He hated himself for it. Hated himself for putting her in a position where she felt like she had to leave.

He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as he stood there, unable to move, unable to do anything except drown in his own regret. He hadn’t been that close to a woman in… Christ… Since before Hydra. Since the war. Since before everything about him had been rewritten.

Even now, all these years later, with Shuri’s tech in his veins and Wakandan peace etched into his bones, there was a part of him that whispered:

What if it’s not gone?

What if it’s just sleeping?

He hadn’t trusted himself. Not with something fragile. His career was a minefield, and she hadn’t signed up for this mess. She was supposed to be a colleague. She deserved better than someone who could fuck it all up without even thinking. But the longer he stood there, the more he realised something else. Despite his guilt, he could only think of one thing. 

She should be there.

All he wanted right now was for her to be in his bed. 

He wanted more than some quick and dirty fumble on the backseat of the car. He wanted to hold her, to feel her skin against his. He wanted to taste her, he wanted to see every tremble and shiver. 

He wanted to take her apart again and again.

But the second that want rose up in him, his own mind turned on him. 

You don’t get this.

You don’t get to have this.

Ever the self-saboteur.

He knew he should probably call Sam. Sam would listen. Probably say something reasonable and kind but also just harsh enough to snap him out of being his own worst enemy. He ran a hand through his hair and stared at his reflection in the window. The city lights outlined his silhouette. 

Familiar. Dangerous.

No wonder she bailed. He couldn’t blame her.

~~~~

He hadn’t slept. Not really.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. He could still feel her pressed against him, warm and trembling, still smell her perfume clinging to his skin. Under the water in the shower, he'd found faint traces of her lipstick on his neck. She’d walked away with his cum on her thighs, and all he could think about was how much more of her he wanted.

He hadn’t even finished his coffee when there was a knock at the front door. He opened it to find a guy standing on the steps, holding a clipboard.

“Mr. Barnes? I’ve been reassigned to your transportation detail. Do you happen to have the keys to the Range Rover?”

Bucky blinked at him. The words barely registered. She’d bailed. He nodded stiffly and turned back into the house to grab the keys, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

The drive was far quieter than he’d become used to. There was no music, no humming, no early-morning opinions about pastry options or off-key singing to Chappell Roan. Just the hum of the engine and the occasional comment from the new guy.

Bucky didn’t bother speaking to him. The guy didn’t take the hint. 

“I’ve read your schedule for the day. We’ve got a tight window before the community board meeting -”

“I know what’s on my calendar,” Bucky snapped.

Silence followed. Blessed, suffocating silence.

He stared out the window, jaw clenched, fingers twitching against his thigh. Coward, he thought. She’d just… bailed. After everything that had happened, she couldn’t even face him the next morning. 

And maybe, yeah, maybe he deserved that.

But she could’ve at least had the guts to say it to his face. He pulled a file from his bag and opened it, finding a post-it stuck to the inner cover.

I can’t say this to your face… please don’t wear that ugly green tie ever again.

He huffed a short laugh and peeled the note off the page, holding it delicately between his vibranium fingers. Then he pushed it deep into his pocket. By the time they hit the fifth red light in a row, he was ready to throw the new driver out of the car and take the wheel himself.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, it buzzed again. He sighed and yanked it out.

Sam.

“This better be good,” he muttered into the handset.

“Nice to hear your sunny voice first thing,” Sam said dryly. “So. You fired her or she quit?”

Bucky’s grip tightened on the phone. “Don’t start.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam relented. “You gonna tell me or do I have to guess?”

“I didn’t fire her,” Bucky said. “She left.”

Sam paused. “Shit. You okay?”

Bucky didn’t answer. Just stared out at the grey city morning, the scent of her still lingering in the Rover’s air vents and in the leather seats.

“Did you… do something?”

“I let something happen,” he swallowed. 

“Well. That’s progress. You used to let nothing happen.” Sam sighed. 

Bucky stayed quiet, jaw clenched as the car rolled to a stop again. The new driver muttered something about roadworks up ahead. Bucky barely heard him.

“You still there?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky muttered.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Sure about that?” 

“She left, man. I don’t know what else you want me to say.”

“I want you to admit to yourself that you like her.”

“I -” Bucky cut himself off. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Oh, well, shit. If you weren’t supposed to, then by all means, ignore your feelings, bottle that shit right up and carry on like you always have….”

“You’re an asshole, Wilson.”

“Maybe she’s scared.”

“Of me?”

“No. Of wanting something she thinks she can’t have. Y’know, I think this is progress,” Sam said simply.

“Progress?”

“You used to shut down over less. This is you feeling something. Big difference.”

“Doesn’t mean I know what the hell to do with it.”

“Maybe figure that out before you waste it.”

“I’ve got a meeting.”

“Well,” Sam sighed, “try not to kill anyone, yeah?”

Bucky hung up and let the phone drop to the seat next to him.

Meeting rolled into meeting rolled into glad-handing and drinks rolled into more meetings. He didn't dare ask the new guy whether he was a permanent fixture, but after a week he didn’t need to. Bucky could still hear the echo of her laugh from a week ago. He gritted his teeth.

She’d run.

He knew fear when he saw it. Hell, he’d lived inside it long enough to recognise the shape of it behind someone’s eyes. But it still burned that she hadn’t even tried to talk to him. She just slipped away. Left him sitting in that car, half-wrecked, still tasting her on his lips.

Now he was stuck with a driver who just followed the GPS like a good little drone. No chaos. No conversation. No challenge. He almost missed the way she argued with him over the best shortcut to… anywhere. Almost.

He shifted in his seat, jaw tight. He was beginning to think Sam was right. He was a mess. But he couldn’t tell if he was more furious with her… or with himself.

He reached into the centre console for her lip balm, intending to hang onto it should she return, but it was gone. 

“There was some stuff in here?” He asked the driver.

“Yeah, I had a clear out. Car was full of crap.”

He managed to stamp down the urge to tell the driver that he was full of crap.

The press pool was already waiting by the steps of the courthouse. Cameras, microphones, all of it too close, too loud, too much.

Bucky adjusted his suit jacket, the collar suddenly stiff around his neck. He caught sight of himself in a car window as he passed. He looked tired and drawn.

Pepper was beside him, heels clicking confidently on the pavement, tablet in hand. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you ready?”

He nodded. 

“Yeah? It’s getting a little close for you to change your mind on me?”

The crowd surged as they stepped up to the podium. Questions flying. Cameras flashing. Someone shouted a question he only half heard.

He opened his mouth, but the words caught. His tongue felt thick. Pepper stepped in smoothly, answering for him. “The candidate is eager for the campaigning to be over and is ready to commit to bringing change to this office.”

He blinked, forcing himself to nod in agreement. The crowd moved on, more noise, more questions, but he wasn’t really hearing any of it.

They slipped into the back hallway once the press had been corralled and the cameras stopped flashing. Pepper held the door for him, always two steps ahead. Always in control.

“You’re off,” she said plainly, not bothering to dress it up.

“Didn’t sleep.” Bucky ran a hand over his jaw. 

She tilted her head, unconvinced.

“You’ve got a good thing going,” she added after a beat, voice softening. “Don’t let your pride make you ruin it.”

“You talking about my campaign or something else?” He frowned. “Why aren’t you doing this, Pepper? You’re brilliant, you don’t need me.”

Pepper just gave him one of her knowing looks. The kind that said she could run this country in her sleep.

“He forgave you, you know. He may not have had a chance to say it with… everything that happened. But he did. And I know Tony would want it to be you.” She covered his hand with her own, the paths of gold in his arm illuminated by the sun streaming through the high windows and catching on the wedding ring she still wore. “Let yourself have this, James. For once.” She squeezed lightly and left him in the hallway.

He stood for a moment, a memory hit him without warning. Just the two of them stuck in traffic on the expressway, his jacket abandoned in the back seat, the sun baking the interior of the car.

He remembered the music first, loud, unapologetic. Beyoncé into Aretha into Gaga. She’d called it her ‘power woman playlist’ and refused to turn it down.

“You’re playing Run the World while we’re sandwiched between a garbage truck and a school bus,” he’d muttered, shooting her a look.

“And?” She’d been reclined slightly, foot on the dash like she owned the vehicle, sunglasses perched on her nose as she scrolled through her phone. “This tailback goes on for miles. We’re fucked.”

“Call Pepper and let her know?”

“You call Pepper! I’m not your secretary,” she’d muttered.

“She’ll kill me.” He whined.

“Great, then maybe I’ll finally be free of being stuck in traffic with you.”

He pulled a face, she stuck her tongue out. Neither of them prepared to incur the wrath of Pepper Potts. 

And now, here he was.

Back in motion. Moving forward. Making headlines.

And all he wanted was to be stuck in traffic with her again.

He just about fell into the car by the end of the day, he almost didn’t see it.

The sun caught the glint of it just right as he ducked into the Rover after another long day of pretending to be fine. Pepper had left him with a look that said You’re doing the work but you’re not here.

And now, in the dim light of the car’s interior, there it was. A slim chain, half-coiled and glittering under the drivers seat. Not flashy. Just a delicate gold bracelet with a tiny star charm, bent slightly out of shape. His breath caught in his throat.

He reached for it slowly, as though it might vanish. The clasp was broken, he remembered it now, so clearly, the way he’d gripped her wrist as her hand fisted in his shirt. How he’d heard something hit the floor and neither of them had cared.

It was such a small thing. Stupid, really. But as he turned it over in his fingers, the pressure that had been simmering under his skin since she walked away finally cracked.

He’d been punishing himself for the wrong thing. He wasn’t guilty for what they’d done, not really. He was guilty for what he hadn’t done. For letting her walk away thinking she was a mistake. He’d let her go, like he always did. 

He let people walk away from him because he thought that’s what they were supposed to do.

He looked down at the bracelet again, turned it over in his palm, then he closed his fingers around it.

Enough wallowing.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to her, not yet. But he’d find the words. He’d find her. Because whatever this was, mess or miracle, it wasn’t finished.

~~~~

Pepper was already in the car when he slipped into the backseat the following morning, still rolling the bracelet between his fingers in his pocket like it might start whispering directions.

She didn’t look at him right away, just scrolled something on her tablet, then spoke in that too-calm tone that meant she knew exactly what he was about to ask.

“I heard you tore apart your office looking for a driver’s file.” She sighed and finally looked up. “Bucky, I know you think this thing with her is some kind of disaster, but I’ve seen you during actual disasters. This isn’t one.”

“What if she doesn’t want me to find her?”

Pepper gave him the look, the one that could cow Tony on his worst days. “You would’ve done the same thing five years ago. Hell, two, even.”

“I don’t even know where she is.” He looked down at the bracelet in his palm. 

Pepper paused. Then, with a subtle movement, she slid a folded piece of paper from her planner and placed it on the seat between them. “She started working at a community kitchen on the east side. Wednesdays and Fridays.”

He stared at the paper.

“She didn’t give a forwarding address,” Pepper said lightly, “but I figured you’d get there eventually. You usually do.”

He picked up the paper without looking at her. Tucked the bracelet into his pocket.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Don’t thank me,” she said, going back to her tablet. “Just try not to screw it up twice.”

He didn’t intend to. He pulled up across the street from the community kitchen and just... sat there. Elbows on the wheel. Staring.

His phone buzzed in the cupholder and then half a second later came through the car speakers.

“You there yet?” Sam asked eagerly.

“I’m outside.”

“Then get out of the damn car.”

“I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“It’s not a hostage negotiation, man. It’s a community kitchen. You’re not even armed.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Alright, ok, fine. You want a play-by-play? Here it is. You go in. You apologise like a grown-ass adult. You tell her she means something to you. Boom. Done.”

Bucky put the car into gear and pulled away from the sidewalk.

“Jesus, are you circling the block again?”

“I’m scouting,” Bucky muttered.

“You’re stalling,” Sam snapped. “She’s not a bomb, Buck.”

“She could be,” Bucky grumbled. “Emotionally.”

There was a pause. Then Sam’s voice got soft, not mocking anymore. “You care about her. That’s scary. I get it. But you’ve already done the hard part. You let someone in. Now you just have to show up.”

Bucky pulled into a space a few meters further down the road. He exhaled slowly. His hand hovered over the door handle.

“…Go,” Sam said. “Go now.”

“I am,” Bucky said.

“You’re talking, not walking.”

“I am walking, shut up.”

“C’mon old man. Get your head in the game.”

Bucky laughed in spite of himself, then hung up. And finally, finally, he got out of the car.

The place smelled like spices and steam and something sweet baking. It was busy, loud with clattering trays and chatter, and she was behind the counter in a borrowed apron, laughing at something one of the other volunteers said. She froze. Just for a second. Then came around the counter, wiping her hands on a towel.

“If you’re here to yell -”  

“I’m not.”  

That gave her pause. “I thought you’d be furious.”  

“I was,” he admitted. “At myself.”  

She blinked. That clearly wasn’t the answer she expected.  

“So what are you doing here?” she asked, cautiously.

“I came to talk,” he says simply.

“You could’ve texted.”

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

She looked away, a flash of guilt in her eye.

“I didn’t come here to fight. I just… I needed to see you. I needed to tell you I’m sorry I let you walk away thinking you’d done something wrong.” He said quietly.

“Bucky…” she said softly. He drew in a shaking breath. “This isn’t the place.”

“I know. But I didn’t know if I’d get another chance.” 

Someone called her name. She glanced back toward the counter, then looked at him again.

“I have to finish my shift.”

“I’ll wait.”

“You don’t have to -”

“Yeah,” he tells her, “I do. I want to.”

She hesitated and then begrudgingly nodded. Then she turned back to the kitchen and got back to work. He watched her at first, laughing with her colleagues while she cooked. They had a rhythm, a cadence. She automatically, without fuss, stepped next to an older lady and lifted a large pan from the stovetop. She took the physical work away from the elderly volunteers in such a way that they didn’t notice.

While he waited, a delivery van pulled up and began unloading crates of soda, leaving them stacked just inside the door. He picked up the first couple of crates and one of the other volunteers beamed at him.

“Young man, that is so kind of you. Out the back please, there’s a shelf in the pantry.”

The driver arched an eyebrow as he brushed past her to the pantry. Then he made a second trip, and a third. Then he took over peeling potatoes from a man who needed to collect his kids from school.

At some point, someone took pity on his suit and threw an old apron over his head. By late afternoon, someone had posted a picture on Twitter and he could feel his phone blowing up in his pocket.

And when her shift ended, they walked out together.

“Can I walk with you?” He asked.

“You’re gonna leave the car there? Might not be there when you get back,” she sniggered.

“It’ll be fine.”

“There’s been pictures of you all over Twitter this afternoon.”

“I might have missed a few calls about that.”

“Can’t do your reputation any harm,” she shrugged.

“How’ve you been?” He asked.

“I’m… fine.”

“You ran -”

“Hardly, not in those heels.”

He didn’t laugh.

“I risked us getting caught. Your career would have been over. How’s the new guy?”

“Got the personality of a traffic cone.”

“Ouch, that’s cold,” she smiled faintly. “This is me.”

She nodded at the brown bricked building, clearly expecting him to say goodbye.

“Can I… Can I come up?” He asked.

She hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Just to talk,” he assured her.

She turned and pushed the door open. She didn’t explicitly invite him in, but she left the door open behind her. He followed. Her apartment was small, lived-in, and warm. He’d barely stepped inside before she moved past him, tossing her keys into a bowl on the side and kicking off her shoes like she needed the extra second to collect herself.

“You want coffee or something?” she asked, already halfway to the kitchen.

“No,” he said softly. “I just wanted to talk some more.”

“Look, you’re the golden boy right now, Bucky. And I’m... I don’t want to be the girl who tripped you up.”  

“You’re not.” He crossed the space between them slowly, deliberately. “You didn’t ruin anything. You made me feel like… like I could actually make it through this.”

Their eyes locked, the silence thick enough to touch.

“I shouldn’t let you come up,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said.

Her fingers unclenched first, then her arms loosened. And still, neither of them moved.

Bucky stood there, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, yet still far enough that she had the space she needed. He watched her for a moment, searching her eyes like he was trying to figure out if this was the moment he’d fuck everything up again.

“You really think you ruined it?” His voice was quieter now, softer, like he wasn’t just asking, but letting her know how much he wanted her to say no.

She swallowed, lips pressing tight together, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I… I thought I had to leave before you saw it was all just... a mess. Before you realised you’d made the biggest mistake of your life”

“Have you not read my Wikipedia page?” He deadpanned. “No,” he continued, low and deliberate. “You weren’t the mess.”

She didn’t answer at first, her gaze flicking to his lips, then back up to his eyes. And then, as if the decision to cross that line was finally made for both of them, he reached for her.

The first touch was tentative, the barest brush of his fingers along her cheek, as if he was testing the waters. But when she didn’t pull away, he slid his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in slowly, giving her the choice to stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t. Instead, she met him halfway, pressing her lips to his, soft at first, but it didn’t stay soft for long. Her hands found his chest and twisted into his shirt, and he groaned, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until they both forgot where they were, what they were supposed to be doing, what they were supposed to be avoiding.

It was messy. It was desperate. But it was everything. 

He broke the kiss first, forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath. His fingers shook as he touched her face, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip as though he was trying to memorise the feel of her, as though she might vanish the second he let go. She met his gaze, breath shallow.

“You’re sure?” He murmured.

Her hands slid under his shirt, warm against his skin. He wanted to say something, to tell her how much he’d wanted this, how much he needed her, but he couldn’t find the words. 

She was already pulling him toward the bedroom, her lips trailing fire down his neck as her hands worked at his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders.

He followed her lead, his lips finding hers again, more urgently now, more desperate. He lifted her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him down the hallway. 

He pushed her back onto the bed and for a moment, everything was still. He hovered over her, he wanted to take his time, wanted to touch and taste every inch of her. 

She sat up, reaching for him and kissed him again, harder, deeper, and that was all he needed.

He tugged the hem of her t-shirt, lifting it over her head and throwing it somewhere into the corner.

She gasped when he kissed down her neck, his hands trailing along her body, memorising every inch of her skin. He needed to be gentle and savor this moment with her, but everything inside him screamed for more. 

And when she pulled him down, urging him closer, he couldn’t deny it anymore. She reached for the button on her own jeans, but he batted her hand away.

“Nope, stay still,” he urged, dragging them down her hips. Everything he hadn’t seen in the darkness of the cramped backseat of the Rover was unravelling before him. The curve of her hips, the birthmark on her thigh. Everything about her was intoxicating. He reached behind to unhook her bra, pulling the straps down her arms.

“Bucky, please,” she sighed. He shook his head.

“Didn’t get to see you last time, sweetheart.”

He kissed a hot path down her body, and hooked his index fingers in the waistband of her underwear, waiting for her to lift up so he could pull them down.

“Keep your hands to yourself, doll." He smirked as she leaned back on her elbows, propped up so she could see him. 

He placed her legs over his shoulders and littered kisses from her knees up her thighs, settling at her center. 

With a final glance up at her, he traced his tongue through her folds before teasing her clit. A flurry of expletives and moans tumbled from her, she lay back again, unable to support herself on shaking arms. Instinctively, she reached down to run her hands through his hair again, he grabbed her hips and pulled her firmly against his mouth. 

"God, Bucky!" Her breath caught in a gasp. He kissed and licked random paths across her sensitive core before slipping two fingers inside her. 

He moaned, pressing his lips against her clit, her hips arched up towards him, a desperate attempt to find more contact. He caught the movement, his hands tightening around her hips as he held her steady.

"Patience, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice low and filled with need. "I want to take my time.”

"Please, Buck -" she whispered hoarsely, her voice desperate and pleading. 

He moved his hands to spread her thighs further open, his touch both gentle and firm. His lips brushed against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, leaving a trail of hot kisses as he moved closer again to her core. 

"Yessss," she sighed, her voice a desperate plea. "Please, there… please," she begged, her body arching towards his mouth.

He laughed softly at her lack of composure, enjoying the way she came undone under his touch. "That's what I like to hear," he growled, his breath hot against your skin. "Want you to beg for me.”

Her voice cracked on crying out his name once again and  he gave in. Buried his mouth between her thighs, slow at first, just enough pressure to make her hips lift again, greedy for more.  

And God, the sounds she made… they rewired something in him. His hands gripped her hips like he was anchoring himself.  

“Jesus,” he muttered against her skin, “you’re gonna ruin me.” But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. And when her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just so, he moaned against her, like it was his name on her lips that made the world spin.

Her thighs trembled around his head, the taste of her flooded his tongue. He didn’t rush, he didn’t let her slip away from the edge. He held her there, one arm wrapped under her hip, the other hand spread low over her stomach, holding her still while he worked her apart.

The first time, she came fast, too fast, hips bucking, breath catching, his name barely audible through the groan she bit down.

He didn’t stop.

“Bucky -” she gasped, fingers clenching in his hair.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, voice low and wrecked. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He slid two fingers into her, curling just right, his mouth still soft and relentless. When she came again, it was with a choked cry, one hand fisting the sheets, the other clinging to his metal wrist.

And still, he didn’t let go.

When he finally rose over her, his mouth slick, his eyes darker than she’d ever seen, she reached up and traced where flesh met metal at his shoulder. He stilled under her touch. Watched her.

“You always this gentle with weapons?” he asked, trying for cocky, but it came out too soft.

She smiled, thumb brushing along the seam. “Only the dangerous ones.”

She was still breathing hard when he kissed her again, slow and deep, like he wanted to memorise her from the inside out. Her thighs were slick against his hips now.

“Bucky, please,” she whispered, and he felt it everywhere.

He lined himself up with a hand around himself, the other gripping her thigh. He paused, just long enough to look at her.

He pushed into her slowly, all the air leaving his lungs in one ragged breath. She was warm and tight around him, her body drawing him in inch by inch until he bottomed out with a low groan. Her nails dug into his back, her head thrown back against the pillow, pure heat and trust beneath him.

“Jesus,” he breathed, forehead dropping to hers. “You feel like…”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled her hips, grinding against him, and all he could do was move with her, slow, deep, unhurried. He wasn’t trying to chase the end. It was everything he thought he couldn’t have, he wanted to savour every second. Every time she moaned his name, he felt something inside him unravel, and when her hand slid down to the metal of his arm, gripping tight, he nearly came from that alone.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered against her skin, lips brushing her cheek, her jaw, her mouth again. “I’m not gonna last.”

He drove into her again, this time harder, the rhythm losing its softness but not the meaning. She clenched around him, a sharp gasp escaping her as her climax surged through her again, this time with him inside her, gripping him, holding him there.

“Fuck -” he choked, the feeling of her coming undone around him undoing everything in him.

His control snapped.

One, two more thrusts and he was gone, spilling into her with a groan. He pressed his forehead to hers, trembling. 

They stayed like that, bodies tangled and damp, hearts hammering in sync, her fingers still gently threading into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

Still in her.

He didn’t pull away. Her legs were still wrapped tight around his waist, heels hooked just above the curve of his ass. 

She shifted slightly beneath him, and it made them both gasp, too much and not enough, all at once.

“Jesus,” he whispered, voice wrecked, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You feel… fuck, you feel like everything.”

One of her hands slid up his spine, nails grazing lightly, gently. The other curled at the back of his neck, holding him there like she didn’t want to let go. 

She was still breathing hard when he tucked her into his side, arm curled around her waist, nose pressed to her temple like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Just the soft sound of their breath, the slow return to normal. Then she shifted, just enough to hook her leg over his hip. His hand moved instinctively to her thigh, thumb brushing the crease where her leg met her hip. 

“You’re not done, are you?” she murmured, teasing, her voice rough and warm.

He huffed a laugh, low in his chest. “Not even close.”

She turned her head to look at him, eyes soft and a little smug. “Super soldier stamina?”

He met her gaze, that crooked smile playing at his lips again. “One of the perks,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Her fingers traced lazy circles over the metal plates of his arm where it rested on her belly, curious and gentle. “Do you… feel it? When I touch this?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quiet now. “Not like flesh. But I feel you.”

Her touch slowed, thoughtful. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered following the paths of Wakandan gold with her fingertips. The plates and panels seemed to shiver under her touch. He traced the same pattern on her thigh. 

“I don’t know where this is going,” she said softly, “but… I want to find out.”

His hand curled around to grip her ass and pulled her closer. “We will… but first…” 

~~~~

Bucky was up before her. Still in bed, propped on one elbow as he watched her with a lazy, satisfied look that made her bury her face in the pillow to hide her smile.

“You’re staring,” she mumbled.

“You talk in your sleep,” he replied, completely deadpan.

She reached back to swat at him, but he caught her wrist easily, grinning as he kissed the inside of it. “Don’t worry. Still cute.”

She rolled over and narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re cocky in the mornings.”

“Mm,” he hummed, nuzzling her neck, “wonder why.”

She shivered and pushed at his shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”

“Probably,” he said, clearly unbothered. “Want coffee or something else first?”

“First time in my life I'm not gonna say coffee,” she smiled.

“I wouldn't worry about that, I thought up a house rule while you were sleeping.”

“It's my house?”

“You'll like it,” he told her as she rolled them both over to straddle his hips. “It's simple. Every time we enter a new room, I get to fuck you in it.”

She threw her head back with a laugh, “Yes, I am definitely into that rule.”

He sat up without warning, making her squeak in surprise, and stood with her in his arms. 

“So, coffee?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing. “I don't have many rooms.”

He grinned against her shoulder. “There's my place too, and we’ve only tried the backseat of the car... Better pace yourself.”

Later they curled up on her couch, mugs of coffee in hand, the remains of a shared croissant on the table between them. Her legs were tucked under his, and he hadn’t stopped touching her. A thumb brushing her ankle, his knuckles grazing her knee.

“So,” she said, watching him over the rim of her mug, “what happens now?”

Bucky glanced at her, “well… I’ve got an event tonight, five more campaign stops next week, a town hall on Thursday, and a guy who can’t drive, doesn’t bring snacks and listens to talk radio.”

She snorted. “Tragic.”

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah, it's not great… I want you back,” he said. “Not just in the driver’s seat. I mean, unless you want to. You were pretty great at it. But I want… this. You.”

She bit her bottom lip, hiding the smile he already saw anyway. “Even if I challenge you on literally everything?”

“Especially that.” He reached for her hand. 

“Alright then. But driver's radio privileges are back in force.” She warned lightly. 

He groaned. “Even the boy bands playlist?”

“Of course the boy bands playlist! And you’re telling Pepper.”

He leaned over to kiss her, and this time it was slow and certain. No more running, no more second-guessing. Just him and her and a quiet beginning to something that felt a lot like normality. 

FIN

[jemgirl86]

Hey, why are so many of you pretending that you don’t know that there are two related, yet different, problems happening at once:

Yes, we understand that the new avengers aren’t particularly accepted by the public within universe, it was obvious, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s actually absurd that this team even exists within the marvel cinematic universe lol. Also, it’s extra nonsensical that Bucky would even agree to be on this team. It makes him look like a bad friend, and a person with questionable character. Bucky chose to work with Walker, who tried to kill his best friend, Sam, and is still running around in a way that undermines and tarnishes Sam’s legacy, and he’s working with him on a team funded by (and likely controlled by, despite whatever nonsense Yelena says or thinks) the lady who is actively trying to hurt Wakanda, the same lady he was supposed to help Congressman Gary bring to justice.

Bucky is betraying everyone who has ever helped him by willingly being on this team. And, yes, he is doing it willingly. He could shut this shit down at any moment, he just doesn’t want to, and that makes him a crappy friend. Even if it turns out later that he has a “good” or “legitimate” reason for working with Walker and Val and other people who openly disrespect his friends, if he’s not telling those friends the reasons, it still makes him a crappy friend 🤷🏾‍♀️ And, again, he’s also a person of questionable character because why would he agree to work with any team, not just controlled by the government, but by the head of the CIA at that??!!

The other thing is actually more important and upsetting, but can be explained far more succinctly: TPTB at Disney/Marvel are feeding into, and even encouraging, their racist fans by sidelining Sam Wilson and other Black characters and characters of color, even if they’re doing it for “the plot.” These execs are not stupid, they know how their fandom is, and they know how they’ll react to things like the Tbolts PCS and ad campaign. They’re egging on the Not My Cap crowd with the writing and current direction of the MCU, and I don’t believe they don’t know it.

Listen, let me give you an example: Every time John’s time as Captain America was referenced, every time someone mocked him for it or whatever, even though they were making fun of him, nobody ever mentioned Sam. During all, or even one of those instances, somebody could’ve said: “well, Sam Wilson is Captain America, not you,” or something like that, but they didn’t. In fact, as a viewer it felt like they were going out of their way to not say who Captain America is, to not say Sam’s name. It was weird and jarring. Then, when they finally did mention his name, it was to basically make him the butt of the joke, and they did it in a way that they had to have known would cause the MCU fandom, especially Bucky stans, to attack Sam.

Look, none of this is unintentional, and y’all have to start acknowledging it. It’s silly to pretend you don’t know what people are complaining about.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Extraterrestrial Reader Headcanon

How would they react to unnatural skin tones/ powers

Tony is intrigued to say the least. The man watches you closely the first couple of times you interact. The first time you power up his suit with just a flick of your wrist, he's impressed. When he realizes all of your skin is that aqua teal color? He's giving you that look that's not quite sexual but isn't fully not sexual either. He's trying to figure out if you'd have use for an iron suit or what weapons you'd need because lets be real that's how he shows affection. So what if your weapons are a mixture of your pretty teal color and his iron man colors?

Steve still has that heart of an artist underneath all that muscle. He spends a little too much time trying to match a color to your skin. You find sketches in the corner of notebooks and papers where he's sketched you with notes like mauve? indigo? when you ask him he admits he's trying to figure out what shade of purple your skin is. Once you helped him, its a tyrian purple. As for your powers? The first time you were able to help in a battle and willing to because you could form a shield to protect your shield and keep it solid while you fought. It was impressive.

Clint likes the fact that you somehow have the power to make his arrows find their way back to him. His quiver always refills mid battle. When he asked, you shrugged "Just helping" Nat confirmed her guns always reloaded as well. As for the fact that your skin was a beautiful iridescent color? He always found himself looking for you, whether in the middle of a fight or just around the tower.

Sam likes the fact that he's not the only flyer on the team any more. Of course yours in a natural talent and his is wings but whatever. He loves the shade of raspberry your skin is, even if Sarah may have laughed the first time he told her it was now his favorite color.

Joaquin thinks you're the best thing he has ever laid eyes on. The deep emerald of your skin is quite literally the prettiest thing he's ever seen. Add in that you have control of the elements? Yeah, he's smitten.

Bucky isn't surprised by a lot anymore. He shouldn't be surprised that your cornflower blue skin is so damn alluring. He shouldn't be surprised that you can heal people with a touch. He shouldn't be surprised that he finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with you.

John is a little dumbfounded the first time he meets you. Not because of anything other than damn, he never knew that skin the color of sea green could be that damn pretty. Then seeing your powers stretch, the way you could give everyone around you a boost to their energy, stamina and in doing such it fed your own. You could also control fire in a way like he'd never dreamt of seeing.

[chiisana-sukima]

nine people i want to get to know better

Thank you for the tag, @slutsons-blog! Starting a new post because I'm autistic and therefore mostly only care about the "Current Obsession" question, and want to ramble excessively as usual in that one.

Last song: Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Red Rescue Team: Pokemon Square because I'm currently playing Pokemon Mystery Dungeon with my daughter. Otherwise I honestly couldn't tell you. Whatever was on in my car.

Fave color: Purple

Currently watching: Star Trek Discovery

Last movie: Knives Out

Sweet/spicy/savory: Sweet, tart, salty

Relationship: married x 27 years

Last thing I googled: the word "dependent", for spelling assistance. which is a good thing because I spelled it "dependant".

Current Obsession: it's been spn since 2016. Truly we are the Hotel California of media franchises. I did recently play Disco Elysium twice in a row in quick succession, and I follow the DE tag. I can't recommend the game highly enough.... but I can feel my Special Interest-level obsession with it fading already. Spn has never faded even a tiny bit and I wonder if it ever will.

@slutsons-blog I feel after reading that you're watching spn for the first time, that I did you a bit of a disservice with my Sam takes to you before in that I mostly talked about Sam's evolution as a character as the show goes on and very little about him from the first five seasons.

Gotta be honest and tell you that although I liked both brothers all along, I was a Dean girl until the end of s6/beginning of s7, when the balance of who gets whumped the most started shifting and my subconscious suddenly decided to switch allegiances. It's not that I liked Dean any less; my id just loves a sopping wet pathetic kitten of a man who has been sexually abused, and Sam got suddenly way more kitteny and pathetic after the Cage. So I don't actually have a ton of takes on "what to love about Sam in the early seasons". I do love early seasons Sam too--she is my beautiful baby princess--but my early seasons takes are a lot more inchoate.

I count myself lucky about my id's sudden defection though, because I think we have limited control of who our blorbos are, and having Dean as a blorbo is a tough row to hoe as the later seasons go along. You know how you noticed that in s6, Dean suddenly gets a lot more assholey without apparent reason? Unfortunately he never gets better again, and in fact keeps getting worse and worse as the years go by, until by the last seasons he is openly far more abusive to their joint child(-in-an-adult body) than John was to him and Sam. It's a realistic picture of what can happen when trauma keeps piling up on people, but it's also honestly pretty distressing, especially if he's your blorbo.

If one is in it for the ship, there's some good destiel content in the later seasons, but if you're in it for Dean, you're left either 1) dealing with the fact he's got extremely significant interpersonal problems that he never gets much of anywhere on solving and that negatively impact his chosen family in profound ways, or 2) pretending he's the same character he was in s1 and Sam is the same Sam from s1, only more boring, and Dean is just trying to put up with him because he was brainwashed by John (or ig 3- something in the middle between those two. But that seldom seems to happen in practice for whatever reason). These two versions of the show are poorly compatible, and that's how the Sam girls and the Dean girls end up in isolated silos. A few people manage to live in both, but not many.

Anyway, I feel like without the context of how Sam and Dean change in the mid to late seasons, the two fics I recc'd as Sam character studies are going to seem insanely Dean-critical, so if you haven't read them yet, you might want to wait until s10. In the meantime, the general recs are fun reads and hopefully do a good job of showcasing both characters earlier on.

Tagging (but I would be a huge hypocrite if I didn't specify there's no pressure to respond, since I almost always fail at responding to tag games myself): @adihildilid @aliusfrater @quietwingsinthesky @sammygender @ardentpoop

@peanutbutterandbananasandwichs @schizosamwincester @normalbrothershow @jellybracelet.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Guilt by Association

Guilt by Association - moral guilt or unfitness presumed to exist on the basis of one's known associations

Guilt by Association Fallacy

Occurs when someone connects an opponent to a demonized group of people or to a bad person in order to discredit his or her argument.

The idea is that the person is “guilty” by simply being similar to or associated with this “bad” group and, therefore, their arguments should be disregarded.

Example:  We cannot have the educational reform that my opponent calls for because Dr. Corrupt has also mentioned this kind of educational reform.

This is the fallacy of trying to refute or condemn someone's standpoint, arguments or actions by evoking the negative ethos of those with whom the speaker is identified or of a group, party, religion or race to which he or she belongs or was once associated with.

It is a form of Ad Hominem Argument, e.g., "Don't listen to her. She's a Republican so you can't trust anything she says," or "Are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?" 

An extreme instance of this is the Machiavellian "For my enemies, nothing" Fallacy, where real or perceived "enemies" are by definition always wrong and must be conceded nothing, not even the time of day, e.g., "He's a Republican, so even if he said the sky is blue, I wouldn't believe him."

Guilt by association fallacies can often work in concert with hasty generalization or ad hominem fallacies, especially when they’re used to attack a specific group of people.

While guilt by association fallacies often include unfair stereotypes, this is not always the case.

Guilt by association can even be factually accurate.

For example, imagine two politicians both support a bill for free school lunches. However, one of these politicians has a known history of corruption. Despite being based on fact, it would still be illogical to use the corrupt politician as a means to discredit the second politician and their ideas.

"Guilt by Association Gag" Trope

In a comedy, when a bunch of characters are subject to some kind of punishment or awful revenge, there will often be exactly one character who doesn't deserve it.

No matter how much this character voices his objection, he will never be recognized as an exception.

He must suffer with everyone else.

Examples

In one episode of Courage the Cowardly Dog, Eustace swindled Shirley the Medium out of a necklace for Muriel by giving her an oil bill he claimed was a deed to an oil well. In response, Shirley put a swindling curse on both him and Muriel, even though Muriel was completely innocent of the scam.

Near the beginning of Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a man is loaded onto a cart full of dead plague victims. When he insists he's "not quite dead yet" and attempts to leave, the cart-pusher refuses to take him at first, but the man who brought him slips the cart-pusher some money. A hefty whack from his cudgel and the man wasn't complaining anymore.

Schools often employ this tactic to keep students under control in chaotic classrooms, much to the chagrin of well-behaved students. It's become something of a Discredited Trope, as teachers have gradually come to realize that the badly-behaved students often enjoy getting their more well-behaved peers punished for no reason, and can actually cause the ones who normally behave to start being disruptive themselves once they realize they're going to be punished either way.

In the Spongebob Squarepants episode "Big Sister Sam", Squidward insults Patrick's elder sister, which causes her to cry. In response, Patrick shames both Squidward and SpongeBob, even though SpongeBob has just been standing there watching the whole thing.

The Simpsons: "Simpsons Bible Stories" ends with the Rapture. The Simpsons are to be sent to Hell… except Lisa, who is pulled heavenward in a beam of glorious light. Disturbingly, Homer is able to reach up and pull her down to hell with them, saying "Where do you think you're going, Missy?"

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[curly-fry-3]

Can you do Sam Winchester and his niece? Like maybe Dean has the Mark of Cain so he’s angry all the time, and he yells at his daughter and makes her cry, so Sam takes care of her?

𖦹Uncle Sammy's Sleepovers™𖦹

summary𖦹 Sam is there for you when your dad makes you cry

pairing𖦹 Sam Winchester x Niece!Reader

word count𖦹 1,007

notes𖦹 bro I'm low key so busy with school and everything right now so i'm procrastinating by making this also next week is my spring break so ill either be super active or not post at all lol

This isn't really your dad. You had to keep telling yourself that. Ever since he had gotten the mark of Cain, your dad had been angrier than usual and he had started taking some of that anger out on you. You knew you couldn't blame him but that didn't make it hurt any less. You felt like your presence just pissed him off. Like he has so much to do already and he has to take care of you. You had tried to just avoid him until uncle sammy could figure out how to get rid of the mark. You didn't want to feel like a burden, and you didnt want your dad to yell at you again.

You were used to him yelling, but never at you. Dean had made that promise to you when you were little. You had accidentally walked in when he was in a big fight with Sam, you got so scared and they had to stop everything to calm you down. That night your dad promised you that you won't see that side of him–that the only time he would get angry like that is when he needed to protect you. Now he kept breaking that promise, and you just wanted your dad back.

It had only been a couple months since he got the mark but you still haven't adjusted. Majority of the time, you were able to handle his snide remarks and backhanded comments but it had been building up, and it all came to a head one night.

Dean was in the library, researching about the mark, when you walked in. He was already frustrated about his reading leading nowhere and when you showed up, trying to talk about your day like normal, he snapped. He started yelling about how annoying you are, you just won't leave him alone, and how you're too old to be relying so much on him–it was exhausting. 

The second he started his rant, your smile dropped and when he finished you quickly exited the room, weakly looking down at your toes trying not to upset him anymore. You heard him sigh in relief when you were no longer in his line of sight and that's what really broke you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you ran to your room, too distracted by your emotions to notice that you slammed the door. You hear Dean yell out at the loud bang you caused and you sink into your bedsheets, sobbing into your pillows.

When Sam heard the commotion he came out from his room and followed the noise to your room. He lightly knocked and slowly opened your door to find you face down, crying on your bed. “Oh, Sweet girl, what happened”

You turn on your bed to lay in the fetal position and sniffle while trying to whip the snot off your face. After taking a second to regain control over your breathing you shakely respond “Dad yelled and I can't take it anymore”

He quickly but carefully walks closer to you and sits down on the bed next to you, putting your head in his lap. “I'm so sorry, you know he doesn't mean it”

You lean into his touch, “doesn’t make it better”

He starts running his fingers through your hair to soothe you, “I know, you don't deserve it. Im sorry he yells at you, you didn't do anything wrong”

“It's not just the yelling. He just acts so exasperated, like I'm the biggest burden. I'm just really starting to feel it” You correct.

“You're not a burden, you know that right. Your dad loves you so much–we both do. Never think, even for a second, that you're a burden or that you're weighing us down. We could never be without you. I don't even wanna think about the possibility of a world that you're not in. I know your dad would feel the same.” Sam reassures. 

You sniffle, calming down from your crying “I know you say that–deep down I know it's true–but it's still hard.” 

His shoulders slump slightly “you wont believe me tonight so how bout we take your mind off of Dean for a bit. We can have one of Uncle sammy’s amazing sleepovers”

You finally look up at him and lightly nod “I love your sleepovers”

He slightly smiles in relief “uh, that's cause they're the best. Are you thinking movie or tv show–your choice”

You think for a second before responding, “tv show. I just started this one and I think you'll like it. It's a bit gory and intense but its not like super scary”

“I’ll like whatever you pick. And if I don't like it, I'll watch it anyway, for you.” he responds

You shift slightly and hug his middle, burying your face into his stomach “you're the best sammy”

He strokes your back in consolation and lets you embrace him for as long as you need. When you pull away and sit up, he leans down to leave a kiss on your forehead, and stands up from your bed. “Lets go to my room, ok. Do you want me to stay with you or is it ok if I go make some snacks?”

You look up at him before answering “can you stay with me, I don't really wanna eat anyway”

He nods “of course, tonight is all about you”

You both make your way to Sam's room and settle into his bed before turning on your show. He stayed up as late as you wanted, with you cuddled up on his side. Eventually you both fell asleep after about a season of your current hyperfixation and he could tell you were barely even thinking about your dad’s harsh words. He had no idea how hard Dean’s shift was for you, but now he’ll always be checking on you–none of this burden bullshit–And his brother needs to be kept in line too. But, tonight was about making sure you were ok, he can handle Dean’s attitude later. 

hope you like it

sorry for any typos

also this is the "dont cry" from my WIP folder thing lol that name sucked (I also just feel like I suck at picking titles)

@areswasneverhere

[elizabethsblogg]

~Dean Winchester headcanons-

✨Dean Winchester x Reader✨

••••••••~••••••••~••••••••~••••••••~••••••••

How you met:

-You lived next door to one another. And just as Mary was a hunter by her family heritage, so were you and your family. Once John started training the boys to be hunters you eventually started tagging along and traveling with them. Because of your family situation it wasn’t safe for you to be at home so when you turned 18 and Dean offered for you to come with him from town to town you went in a heartbeat. Now years later it’s you, him and Sammy in the Impala fighting the otherworldly creatures.

How you started dating:

-Sam definitely gets the credit for getting the two of you to admit your feelings for one another. Although Dean won’t admit that his brother was the reason why the two of you are together.

-You both had harbored feelings for one another for years. But of course you guys were equally stubborn, and scared to ruin the relationship you both and built over the years. So you didn’t actually officially start dating until after Dean reunited with Sam (season 1); because Sam played the part of the wingman and pushed you both in the direction of admitting your feelings to one another.

What kind of boyfriend he’d be:

-Definitely very protective. In the series he’s obviously very protective of Sam so it would make sense that he’d be even more protective of the love of his life.

-But with that said he’d also be the type of boyfriend to say “You wear whatever dress you want sweetheart, I can fight.” So he’s protective but not controlling.

-Oh yeah, his pet name for you is sweetheart. I think this, because Lawrence Kansas is in the Midwest and Midwesterners definitely view sweetheart as a term of endearment. Other pet names would be, doll, sweet girl, pretty girl, my woman; things like that.

-Unfortunately being the son of John Winchester, Dean grew up with little to no affection. Which left him not really knowing how to show affection. When you first started dating Dean didn’t really say I love you, and was kind of awkward with physical touch. Things like hugging and holding, sweet nothings, thigh grabbing, anything along those lines. Eventually you talked to Dean about it and he opened up to you and told you how he felt. It came down to the fact that he just didn’t know how to do those things the right way. It’s not that he didn’t want to show you affection he just didn’t know how. After that conversation you pretty much showed Dean that it wasn’t awkward to do those things and you pretty much taught him how to show physical affection. You also showed him that it was okay for people to love him. It took him a really long time to believe that he was worth you taking care of him.

-Dean definitely has rejection sensitivity, and very co-dependent with your guys’ relationship. He’d always making sure that the two of you are on good terms and that he hasn’t done anything wrong (again with the way John raised him, he was never able to do anything right in his dads eyes. And he had to earn his father’s love so he thinks he has to earn yours.)

-Once he got comfortable with physical touch, he did it all the time, whether it was holding your hand, waist, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, or when at a table he’d grab your thigh, especially when driving the impala he’d have his hand on your thigh, occasionally going a bit higher. He always had to be touching you.

-I feel like if you were dating Dean you make mixtapes of his and yours favorite songs

-He would definitely let you drive the impala, at first he’d be terrified of you scratching Baby but he’d eventually get comfortable with it.

-We all know how much Dean loves pie. Every town you visited you’d try the local diners pie. So much so you started a little Polaroid book filled with Polaroid pictures of every pie you both tried and rated them in the book, so if you were ever passing by that town again you’d know where and which pie to get.

-One of the gifts he’s gotten you was a pocket knife engraved with his and yours initials and the date of your first technical ‘date’

-When Cas pulled him back from hell it was difficult. Very difficult. Most nights he either couldn’t sleep or if he did eventually fall asleep he’d have night terrors. Once he freaked out and thought you were Alistair and pinned you against the wall, once he came to and woke up he was terrified; of himself. He couldn’t believe he’d hurt you like that. After you convinced him you weren’t mad he broke down crying, he’d been gone for 40 years from his perspective, he’d missed you desperately. Every night he held you tightly and just tried not to loose it at the thought of ever being away from you for that long again.

(If you have any other ideas that you want me to add, my messages are open ! Also this is literally like the first thing I’ve ever written besides some fanfics on wattpad a few years ago so please be kind🤞🏼)

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 8

Masterpost - Ao3

“Oh, hey!” Superboy says, hours later when the last of the pizza is long-since finished, and their excited chatter has settled into a slow roll of conversation. “Now that you have a whole civilian identity and everything, I figured I should introduce myself!” Danny blinks as his friend grins over at him. It’s not hard to realize what Superboy’s implying, but...

“You don’t have to do that,” Danny says, shaking his head. “I’m not- you shouldn’t compromise yourself like that.”

“I mean sure,” Superboy says, looking confused. “But what good is a secret identity if you don’t get to use it to hang out with your friends? It’d be a compromise to your identity if we’re showing up here all the time in costume.”

“Yeah but we can still hang out elsewhere, right?” Danny points out, voice cracking on the echoes of dread. Identities -names- are important; and it’s not like Danny has really told them anything about himself. “Like you can just text me and I can meet you wherever in my own costume!”

“So what,” Superboy says, voice rising in volume, as he begins floating just above the couch. “We both know your entire identity, and you don’t know either of ours? That hardly seems fair! Besides, you’re like half the reason I even got a civilian identity!”

“You don’t-” Danny cuts himself off abruptly. He can’t explain himself. Not without risking everything, and Danny’s not ready. He can’t go back to being on the run yet. His brain cycles on what they’ve said, desperate for a solution, but then he really processes Superboy’s last sentence, and he freezes. “Wait, what the fuck do you mean I’m the reason you have a civilian identity?” Danny can’t quite keep the sheer horror of that revelation out of his voice, and Superboy flinches, eyes going slightly wild as he stares at Danny.

“Shit, no,” Superboy pleads. “It’s not like that!”

“Not like what?” Danny says slowly.

“It’s not- I wasn’t trying to be weird or like, controlling or anything! It’s...” Superboy sighs. “So when I brought the whole identity thing up to Robin, at first he thought I was talking about making one for me? And then later I started thinking about it more, and I thought you would maybe like to have a friend who you could hang out with outside of costume, and then I realized that maybe it would actually be kind of nice to go places without getting recognized and it’s not- you don’t have to. I can keep it to myself if you want.”

Danny stares as Superboy stammers to a stop, the constant movement of his shoulders betraying his fast, sharp breaths. A glance to the side shows that Robin is watching them both that same intense, emotionless gaze. He stares for a moment, before leaning forward to place a hand on Superboy’s shoulder, and Danny can actually see the instantaneous effect as Superboy’s shoulders freeze and his panicked eyes snap shut.

“Deep breaths,” Robin murmurs, waiting silently as Superboy fights to get his breathing under control. “Danny, perhaps you could explain what upset you just now?” Danny blinks, staring at the two, throat coated with an icy barrier of misery and loneliness. Whatever is happening right now is something he doesn’t understand, and it’s been so long. His friends, Sam and Tucker - he doesn’t think he’d ever realized quite how lucky he was to have friends so old that he just understood them. 

“I wasn’t,” Danny begins, words slipping out around the ice and ending up far too small, too silent. He swallows, tries again, but his voice remains choked and quiet, so he takes a deep breath and forces himself to continue anyways. “I just. You’ve been a hero for ages according to the internet, so I kind of feel like you not having an identity is fucking concerning, you know?”

Superboy stares at him as he speaks, and no understanding materializes on his face. Danny doesn’t think he’s wrong. This world has so many heroes. Surely they would be more aware of the necessity for anonymity than Danny himself is. But he also isn’t from here. Danny glances over to Robin, but his expression is still unreadable.

“He’s not wrong,” Robin says, quiet but firm, eyes fixed on Superboy. “It was understandable that they didn’t want to just drop you into the normal world at first, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t have a legal identity by now.”

“So that’s not the norm, then?” Danny presses, as calmly as he can. Maybe it would be better to keep his mouth shut, let the two friends have the moment, but he needs to know. “Like you and the other heroes have normal identities?”

“For the most part,” Robin answers steadily. “However, most people are generally civilians first and only become heroes later, so it is typically not in the Justice League’s hands to provide such documentation. Still, they have provided such assistance before, on occasion.”

“So why didn’t-”

“Superboy joined the Justice League organization in unique circumstances that are his to disclose,” Robin cuts him off. “While I would defend the existence of the Justice League to my last breath, they are as fallible as any other group, and have certainly been responsible for their fair share of mistakes. In Superboy’s case, I am of the opinion that they have dropped the ball on his behalf quite significantly.”

“Yeah, I guess it would be unfair to expect them to be perfect...” Danny murmurs.

“I didn’t ask, though,” Superboy says, drawing their attention back towards him. “That’s hardly their fault.”

“You shouldn’t have had to ask.” Robin responds immediately. “You are, functionally still a minor. The second they accepted responsibility for you that should mean ensuring that your human rights are respected. Realistically after pulling you from the lab, they should have immediately instigated paperwork to ensure you legally exist.”

“But I don’t need to legally exist? Like the Justice League takes care of everything for me so it’s fine.”

“But if it wasn’t fine,” Danny says, desperately. “If the Justice League isn’t good, or if it got corrupted or, like, taken over by a force that hated you? If the people who control your legal existence decide they want you dead, you’re kind of fucked.”

“It’s about control,” Robin adds. “If you don’t exist outside the Justice League, then you don’t have resources to enable you to leave, were you to decide that you didn’t want to be a hero. As long as you don’t have a legal identity, you remain reliant upon the Justice League alone.”

“And that’s... bad.” Superboy says quietly, frowning.

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Superboy says, still looking confused.

“Um,” Danny says, instead of pushing the topic any harder. “If you still want to share your identity with me, you can. I just, like, didn’t want you to feel like you had to.”

“Yeah?” Superboy asks, then at Danny’s nod he pulls his posture back into his usual facsimile of cool confidence.

“It’s nice to meet you Danny,” Superboy says, offering his hand. “I’m Conner Lee.” Danny reaches out to meet Conner’s hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Conner.”

The next morning, Danny finds himself waking slowly, awash in the warm comfort of a real bed. It feels almost absurd how pleasant the experience seems now, compared to how normal it used to be. Still, the calm silence of his apartment makes for a stark difference to the way things were back home. There’s no distant shouting from his parents, and certainly none of the constant shift of machinery, or the sudden and unexpected arrival of a ghostly threat pulling him out of sleep.

Instead, Danny blinks heavily eyelids and presses himself even further into the cocoon of blankets wrapped around him. Warm and sleepy, he marvels at the notion that he could just spend the entire day in bed if he wanted to. It’s a thought that’s almost intoxicating. Sure he’s got to eventually start on his schoolwork and get a job, but right now, in this moment, he has no absolutely no responsibilities.

It doesn’t take long for Danny to find his thoughts drifting back towards last night. The day had been, resoundingly, a lot. The sudden acquisition of a real home is obvious and feels absolutely incredible, but really Danny can’t stop thinking about the revelations regarding his friend. Knowing Conner’s name is sort of terrifying, and Danny knows he won’t feel truly comfortable with it anytime soon, but it clearly meant a lot to Conner, and fuck if he’s not willing to suffer discomfort for the sake of a friend.

Besides, he can’t deny that it feels a lot more natural to think of him as Conner than Superboy. Based on everything else that was said yesterday, he has to imagine that Superboy wasn’t a name Conner had chosen for himself. It’s not really a name that can comfortably follow him into adulthood, after all, and really, he’s already old enough that it would probably grate against most people. Danny can’t imagine many teenagers he’s met appreciating a name with ‘boy’ in it. Of course, the connotation of the term could always be different here, and it is probably the closest analog to Superman that they could get. But then, Robin isn’t called Batboy. Though that may just be that the particular combination sounds awful in and of itself.

Really, it reminds him of Dani, and the way she’d strained against her position in his life. He’d cared for the girl very much ー had felt horrible about how she’d been created and used by Vlad, just to fuck with him, and he’d understood when she’d been desperate to get out of Amity. He’d missed her, of course, but not for one second would he have begrudged her that freedom. Jazz had pointed out, pretty early on, how it was probably better for her to be off somewhere she could be something other than somebody’s clone. And sure, Conner’s situation is obviously going to be different than the particular brand of fuckery Danny has going on, but he wonders if the other boy has ever started to chafe against the clear comparisons people seem to be making between him and Superman. After all, from everything Danny’s read, it’s a hell of a legacy to live up to. But then again, if he’d felt so comfortable as Superboy that he’d never bothered to push for his own name, maybe he doesn’t feel that way at all.

Maybe one day they’ll be close enough for Danny to ask. After the stress of last night, it probably shouldn’t be anytime soon, though. For now Danny basks, in the slowly strengthening light of early morning. Outside, birds call out to each other ー birds that have served as Danny’s alarm clock for weeks. He listens to their conversations, pulling the comforter tighter around him, but as he does so, a sensation of wrongness washes over him. The comforter, heavy and solid, begins to slip through his fingers, and at his shoulders the tension in the fabric starts to lessen.

“What?” Danny mutters, frowning in confusion. The sensation in his hands feels like his intangibility, but he knows he didn’t instigate it himself. Danny frowns, trying to remember the last time he’d lost control of his powers. There had, of course, been some aftereffects the last time he’d gotten captured. The GIW had picked up Vlad’s habit of shocking him and ran hard with it, to the point that Danny hadn’t felt normal again for more than a week after his friends had gotten him out. But that had been a unique circumstance, and Danny’s pretty damn certain he hasn’t been shocked any time recently. Having his powers act up on their own is something Danny hasn’t struggled with since those early months after the portal incident.

“No.” Danny chokes out, as he feels the intangibility spreading up his arms to his shoulders. He’s free. He’s safe. This can’t be happening now. He’s been so fucking careful, he can’t lose his chance at being normal to a stupid fucking rogue power. But Danny can feel the intangibility sinking into his back, slipping Danny into that space where he can’t quite touch anything. The once-cozy folds of the comforter slowly fall through him, as Danny loses the last remnant of his tangibility.

Frantically, Danny launches himself up from the bed. He has to get out of here. Has to find somewhere to hide, can’t risk his brand new normal life because of this bullshit. But instead of slipping through to the sky above, Danny feels the crack of his skull against the solid mass of the ceiling, and he crashes back down to the bed below.

“Fuck, ow, ow, ow.” Danny mutters, curling in on himself to cradle his throbbing head. Pain lances up and down in steady pulses, erasing any other sensations from his awareness as he whines. He counts the prime numbers carefully in his head, as the best distraction he can manage from the pulsing pain, until it begins to dull. His newly acquired headache will undoubtedly be with him all day, but at least he shouldn’t need a doctor. Accelerated healing is occasionally useful.

By the time Danny feels steady enough to get up, the sunlight filtering into his room is full-strength and the clock on his nightstand informs him that it’s nearly seven thirty. Panic sets in very briefly as the blinking red numbers trigger a long-ingrained fear of being late, and Danny’s halfway through his scramble to get dressed before he remembers he has nowhere to be. Robin had said he could start his coursework whenever he was ready ー apparently all his assignments were due at the end of the semester and in the meantime he could just progress as he liked. It sounded like an extremely impractical setup to Danny; he can just imagine how many of his classmates would have taken the opportunity to slack off and ended up never turning anything in, but then, he supposes the consequences of that would have rung true when they failed the class. It’s a trade-off, he supposes. Exceptional freedom, in exchange for a hell of a lot of personal responsibility. Kind of fitting, considering his now-emancipated status.

So, Danny has all the time in the world. But if he intends to hold to his determination to do well, he probably should at least look at the workload today, and start making up a schedule for getting it all done. Still, he’s not in a rush. He has time for breakfast, at the very least.

Danny plods to the kitchen, doing his best to think around the ache in his head. Robin had definitely mentioned stocking the kitchen with essentials, though Danny has no clue what the other boy would have considered essentials. Robin seems like a frighteningly competent kind of person, so who’s to say whether he prepared for Danny’s absolutely tragic levels of incompetence in the kitchen. He’s actually a little bit excited at the prospect of being able to actually learn to cook, but at the moment he thinks he’d prefer literally anything pre-made.

Still, it’s probably good to know what his options are so he heads over to explore his refrigerator. The shelves are neatly organized (hardly surprising) but Danny realizes as he observes the contents, that he really has no clue what normal people should have in their fridge. Milk, Danny’s used to, since you need it for cereal, and it’s not dead enough to be likely to come back to life, but his family’s ever-present fare of hotdogs are notably missing from the lineup. Instead he finds a carton of eggs, and a couple jars of jam, which both seem logical enough, but Danny has no clue what Robin’s expectations are of the handful of myriad fruits and vegetables he sees. There’s two apples and three lemons on the top shelf, and Danny’s pretty sure he sees some potatoes in one of the drawers. A closer glance reveals that he’s not only got potatoes, but also a handful of carrots, two onions, and a couple of yellow and green cucumbers.

Danny considers them with acute bemusement. He can imagine Jazz praising Robin’s choices, though Danny has absolutely no clue what to do with yellow cucumbers, since he didn’t even know they existed. After a moment's consideration, Danny decides to check the freezer too, and is surprised to find a box of frozen waffles, some sausage patties, and a couple bags of frozen fruit chunks.

The cupboards are a bit slower to go through, but he quickly decides the review was well worth it when he discovers a cabinet that contains some simple first aid equipment. He may burn through painkillers faster than he used to, but with any luck by the time they wear off, Danny’s headache will be down to easily ignorable margins.

“Robin is my favorite superhero,” Danny mutters, swallowing the pills, and considering his options. There’d been a large assortment of canned goods, which Danny hadn’t bothered to really look through yet, as well as peanut butter, syrup, and some other unopened sauces in the cupboards. Danny had also managed to identify where most of his dishes were, and a surprising number of cooking utensils. The pans had come with a little note warning him to not use metal on their nonstick surfaces ‘lest you invoke the wrath of my grandfather.’ The warning was ominous but also kind of adorable. Robin had shown no inclination to reveal his own identity to Danny, but he had no doubts that this mention of his family was an intentional move on his part. Danny can certainly understand the other boy wanting to protect his family from hero stuff, though Danny hopes for Robin’s sake, they at least know about his work.

He carefully transfers the sticky note to the fridge, but decides not to brave the stove just yet. As nice an addition as eggs would be, for today Danny will happily settle with waffles and sausage. He gets the waffles started in the toaster, and follows the simple instruction on the sausage bag, to reheat them in the microwave, but as the waffles toast, Danny glances back over at the freezer. He’s never tried making a smoothie before, but how hard could it be? He’d found a little personal-sized blender in one of the cupboards - the kind that’s specifically designed for smoothies, and between the fruit and the milk, he can probably make something tolerable.

By the time Danny is satisfied with his smoothie, the waffles are ready too, and Danny carefully adds them to the plate with the sausage, and then gleefully smothers the lot in syrup and digs in. Eventually, he’s consumed the last of his sausage, and Danny carries the plate to the sink, and drops it in. He should probably put it in the dishwasher now, but the folder Robin had left him has been staring him down the entire time he was eating, and Danny’s desperate to examine the contents, so instead just walks away, grabbing the folder and opening it, sitting himself at the stool he wasn’t just eating at.

Just as Robin had told him, the left side of the folder contains a number of important documents, from a birth certificate, to an emancipation order, and tucked in the front is his very own US Passport. Danny stares at it for a long moment, his own face gazing back at him from the photo Robin had taken a couple weeks ago. He picks it up and cradles it in his hands, before setting it carefully to the side. 

On the right side of the folder, Danny pulls out a thick document that must be his lease. Paper-clipped to the front of it is a separate page that seems to be explaining the terms and conditions in much simpler terms, probably courtesy of Robin, again. He certainly appreciates the simple run-down of what he is and isn’t allowed to do, because Danny hadn’t even thought about that aspect of renting. He reads through it, then takes it over to the fridge to attach it with one of the magnets.

Beneath the lease, Danny finds more paperwork with an attached sticky note. This is the necessary paperwork to set up a bank account for yourself. Just sign and initial in the highlighted locations, mail it to the listed address, and you should get confirmation in a few days.

The next paper, Danny quickly discovers, is a compiled list of possible workplaces in Concord, with notes about how well they treat their employees. That will definitely be useful soon enough. The idea of an actual job is a little scary, but Danny’s determined to earn his own money, and he certainly doesn’t know the first thing about how to recognize a good workplace.

The rest of the papers are similar notes of useful locations in the city, as well as some possible resources for anything he needs help with, including the names and contact info for a couple organizations that defend meta rights. Danny will probably have to look them up later, but for now, he reorganizes the paperwork all back into the folder, and takes it to his office. He doesn’t want to leave all this important stuff out on the counter, but he’s definitely got work to do.

He takes the time to sign the bank paperwork first, and once he’s got it in the pre-addressed envelope Robin had left him, he takes it off to find the mailbox. Luckily for Danny, it’s very visible from the front entrance to his building, but once he’s slipped the envelope through the slot, Danny takes a deep breath. It’s a nice day outside, and it feels a little weird to have spent so long inside today, so instead of heading back in Danny, decides to wander over to the park. His head is still throbbing enough that he probably shouldn’t do any running, but walking is still kind of nice, and the crisp fall air feels good. 

Once he’s back home, Danny opens his laptop carefully, the planner Robin had gifted him carefully nestled in his lap. Danny’s school login is carefully noted on the front page, and soon Danny is clicking around the website familiarizing himself with the layout. It seems pretty straightforward and intuitive, which is a huge relief. He finds the syllabus page, and quickly copies out the important details into the notes section of his planner. The contact info for his teacher is useful and kind of surprising, though Danny supposes it makes a lot more sense in an online learning environment. After all, there’s always the chance of the website crashing.

He’s pleasantly surprised to discover his teachers do include a suggested timeline for his work. He’d been assuming he’d have to work up a schedule for getting it done reasonably, but instead, he flips to the calendar section and notes down the various dates his teachers have listed. He’ll still have to fudge it to account for the month and a half they already are into the semester, but the suggested dates offer Danny a starting point that accounts for how long his teachers expect different assignments to take him.

A couple hours later, Danny finally finishes filling out the last week of the semester. He’s got two final projects so-to-speak and three tests, though Danny is still reeling at the discovery that all his tests are intended to be open book. He supposes that’s easier than trying to monitor online students for cheating, but the idea is still bemusing to him.

With a deep breath, Danny flips back to the current week, and reviews his list of work to get done. Deciding to start himself off easy, he picks one of the science assignments, and locates the corresponding document on the website. There is, after all, no time like the present. So Danny settles in to read the instructions, ready to prove that he really can succeed at school, when he doesn’t have to worry about ghost attacks.

[keen-eye]

Do you have any Wincest headcanons?

would you call these headcanons? idk, but the only wincest that i'm interested in and believe would fit into canon would be this (long post):

it wouldn't be a normal relationship like they're just regular boyfriends. they are brothers first and foremost with a toxic, power imbalanced relationship and have spent their entire lives in each other's pockets

it would be one-sided with dean being as obsessive and possessive over sam as he is in the show (expanded on below). ultimately dean’s main desire has always been to own sam, mind, body, and soul, so to me it works whether he’s physically attracted to sam or not

they wouldn't have sex often and it wouldn't be just for the sake of it (unless dean really needed it). it would be about control and during times of intense drama. and also sam’s libido went way down as the seasons went on. on that, i can't imagine dean ever being okay with being a sub or a bottom with sam. how they are with women would have no bearing on how they'd be with each other. dean is the poster boy of toxic masculinity, he would consider bottoming with a man, especially sam, to be the most emasculating thing ever. and i don't think sam would ask him to

a concept i find interesting is heaven’s manipulation of their lives and sam & dean being soulmates. i would attribute some of it to them crossing that line but i don’t want to discredit sam & dean just Being Like That and how john raised them

i don't think they'd have any physical relationship before s3 (which i'll expand on), not as kids, not as teens. but i do think dean would have always had strong, passionate, and volatile emotions about anything sam related. i like the headcanon that dean knew mary was pregnant before she did and that he was obsessed with sam from then on. i think it would be plausible for dean not to realize that he wanted sam in that way until after sam left for stanford. then that adds another layer onto dean stalking sam at stanford and him waiting nervously outside sam's dorm in the pilot after they hadn't talked for two years. i do think dean is a creep (pos) and felt entitled to sam for most of their lives but i don't think he'd try to coerce/force sam into anything (at least not until after s3)

a point in the show that i think a physical relationship could begin would be in s3 right before dean is about to go to hell for possibly eternity and sam finds out somehow that dean has felt that way about him for a long time. maybe a situation similar to when veritas the goddess of truth forced dean to admit that he thought about killing soulless sam in his sleep. or maybe dean admits to sam or sam picked up on it and has known for a while. even though sam does not reciprocate those types of feelings or attraction he still loves dean and wants to give dean this one thing that he wants before he dies to repay him for sacrificing his life for sam

it would lead well into s4, the turning point in their relationship where they've come out on the other side of it as different people and tension is very high between them. and it would add another layer to it especially with dean's mistrust and jealousy of ruby. i don't think they'd have sex at all during that season, and if they did it'd be only once and dubcon, not gentle like in s3. and then starting in s5 when sam feels extremely guilty and is desperate for redemption/forgiveness and approval from dean more than ever i can imagine sam attempting to use sex to reconnect with him again just to be denied because dean is still mad at him. but dean would eventually give in because he never stopped craving control over sam and so he uses it as a way to assert dominance like in s4, just with non-sexual tactics in the show. and then so on

as for another season where it could begin, maybe season 11 or really anytime after that (unfortunately that means demon dean is never involved but if it did happen in s10 then he would just straight up tell sam). they either slowly or all at once put the pieces together about exactly how weird they've always been about each other, about all of their jealousy of each other's friends/partners, how other people have described their relationship to them. this doesn't mean it has to be sexual, as it isn't in the show (well, depending on how you choose to look at it). but if it is, it's still mostly one-sided in the sense that dean has always seen sam as an extension of himself and sam no longer fights as hard against it because it's been beaten out of him by the later seasons by things external to and within his and dean's relationship (sam absolutely has stockholm syndrome). but i don't think sam would ever stop flipping back and forth between acceptance of their unique situation and guilt/disgust. i don't think dean would care (at least within the relationship). this is also when they're deeply entrenched in domesticity and already basically acting as a husband and wife. then adding jack into the mix makes that even more overt

chuck would have known, obviously. i can see him acting understanding when he was just chuck and then taunting them with it when he was an antagonist. lucifer would have known if it happened before the cage and maybe if they started in s11, great torture material. gadreel wouldn't care. but castiel would have known for a while and he likely wouldn’t be fazed

lastly, hot take, i can't imagine them calling each other "baby" or any other pet name. "sammy" fills that role already, and i don't like "de". also the impala is already "baby" (unless you want to get into sampala...)

sorry if you wanted cute headcanons or like actual scenarios lol. i'm probably not the right person to ask about fluff or anything more specific than this, i'm more interested in their existing dynamic that blurs that boundary

[valandrawrites]

2024 Recommended Fics - Incomplete List

Here's my start at an end of year round up. If you're looking for a specific kind of fic or trope, let me know, and I'll try to find something for you! I have many, many more I could add, and what I've included is in no particular order.

I didn't list the rating or warnings with this because it just got too long, and honestly, I'm lazy. Read at your own risk.

A. fragilis by eachainn @eachainn

This is quite simply the best fic I've ever read. Do not continue until you read this one!

150 million years ago, an Allosaurus finds a stranger had wandered into his territory and he wants the intruder out.

1878, the middle of what will become known as the Bone Wars between O.C. Marsh and Edward Drinker Cope. Castiel Novak is transporting fossils from the latest dig in South Dakota back to Yale. He has to be careful, because there are people who work for Professor Cope who would gladly take the fossils off of his hands.

Those Who Get in the Way of Peace by ladyofthelake17 @ladyofthe-lake

“Don’t make me an optimist. You will ruin my life.”

Dean Winchester finally has his shit together: business is booming at his auto repair shop, he's eating healthy (okay, he's eating salad with bacon bits), he's exercising (in a cemetery). He's single, but he's claiming it as a good thing. And so what if Sam's not talking to him? So what if his dad is marrying an insane artist? And so what if the priest marrying them is hot as hell with a name that sounds like a sin just to say it — Castiel?

AKA: another Fleabag fic, but maybe it'll have a happy ending. Maybe.

Illicit Ink by allmystars @allmystars-i

Dean Winchester has a secret. He does this thing maybe two or three times a week, and he loves it, don’t get him wrong, but… He’s a camboy, and that’s not exactly something he wants shared around the breakfast table. When Dean decides he needs a change, it’s nothing too drastic, just a tattoo. But the hot-as-sin tattoo artist he gets to do the job might just change everything.

Ground Control to Major Tom by MrsShinigamiDaiko @mrs-shinigami-daiko

Dean Winchester dreamed of being a mechanic all his life, but he never thought he would end up working as a mechanic for NASA and going into space. He is thrust into his first ever space mission after a strange lunar body, dubbed Luna-b I, mysteriously appears in Earth’s sky. Teams of astronauts scramble up to the permanent lunar base and begin analysis to determine if the blue orb is any threat to mankind. Most of the first team is sent home after a few months, nearly all of them having fallen ill with devastating cases of space sickness. As time goes on, it becomes clear that something altogether unnatural is going on here. Dean feels like he’s losing his mind as he and his crewmates also begin to succumb to sickness. He races to figure out what could possibly be the root cause. Is Luna-b I really just some weird, deep space rock that got caught in the Moon’s orbit by chance? Or is it something much more sinister, watching and waiting for the opportune moment?

Pinfall by crowleyo @crowleyo

Cas runs the family diner with his adopted son, Jack. His old high school flame rolls into town and he thinks he can just step back into Castiel's life. Well... He's kind of right.

This Impossible Happiness by FriendofCarlotta @friendofcarlotta

In one universe, Dean Winchester is pushing thirty. He’s just danced at his little brother’s wedding, he likes his job at the garage, and he goes on the occasional hunt with friends and family. He’s also desperately lonely for someone to share his life with. One day, he finds a mysterious package outside his door. It contains a news clipping about an urban legend that just might be real, and a book by Professor Castiel Novak, who happens to specialize in that same urban legend.

In another universe, Castiel Novak’s roadside motel is slowly dying, its business hollowed out by the interstate system. Dean Winchester, the man who asked him to run away together years ago, is only a painful regret these days. Until the day a mysterious letter Castiel doesn’t remember writing brings Dean back to his doorstep.

Out there in the multiverse, a man and an angel look for each other in all the wrong places. In the meantime, they might as well help a few other versions of themselves figure things out.

Then Comes the Rain by someonetoanyone @someonetoanyone-blog - a three part series

“I’m not looking forward to it,” Rowena tells him, as though that will absolve her of anything, “he may have a better solution for this, but the spell requires a smidge of spilled Grace. He’ll need to be hurt for this to work, and — Dean, all joking aside, you may be the only person fit to do this.”

“Oh, this’ll be great — go ahead, tell me why I’m the only one that can get butt-fucked to save the world.”

Mind Your Own Business by BunnyHunter

While the ability to overhear the secret thoughts of the people around him was distracting at best and anxiety-inducing at worst, Castiel had found ways to cope that included a pair of noise-canceling headphones and burying himself in his PhD research. After hearing inner thoughts for his entire life, there were very few things he overheard that surprised him anymore. So imagine his shock when his roommate Sam's brother, Dean, came to stay with them. While Dean may have been able to keep a straight face on the outside, his inner thoughts told a much different story.

Survivalism by bleuzombie @bleuzombie

Genetic engineers Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are on the verge of a breakthrough in cancer treatment and possibly even a cure, using genetic manipulation and incredibly, shark DNA.

Following a devastating diagnosis of brain cancer, and amid growing pressure from his boss, Dick Roman, for results, Castiel is pushed to an act of desperation. He tests the cure on himself with disastrous and violent results.

He has never been so hungry.

Dean Winchester’s half-way house for orphaned half-monsters (and humans) by foolondahill17 @foolondahill17

What if Dean just kept every kid he’s ever interacted with?

A re-write of season 6 onwards in which Dean slowly collects every conceivable stray that crosses his path.

The eyes of a lamb by naughtystiel @naughtystiel for Shedar

The year is '98 and Spring is approaching fast. For most, the season is a symbol of new beginnings with Mother Nature’s chaste kiss that breathes life into everything once more. It's inspiring, peaceful and beautiful. So, the fact that this is exactly when a certain serial killer loves to strike makes Detective Winchester's blood boil. Two years in a row now, the guy has slipped through his fingers, not leaving a single trace behind. No clues, no leads, just murdered women in the most picturesque places imaginable. And the worst thing of all? Sometimes Dean catches himself admiring the killer's work.

where there is darkness by quiettewandering @quiettewandering @wanderingcas 

When Castiel Milton takes a job to be the new assistant keeper at Whaleback Lighthouse in Kittery, Maine, he expects to live out his new life in quiet isolation. What he gets instead is Dean Winchester: bitter, brash, and, like Castiel, harboring a dark secret. As the spark of attraction between them grows into a flame, the lighthouse walls start closing in—as do the ghosts of Dean and Castiel's checkered pasts.

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Am i allowed to request a drabble about reader and both sam and dean, and like just make it sooo smutty (daddy kink, spankings, etc)

You are absolutely allowed and thank you! 🤗 I've never written daddy kink before, but I'll try anything once! 😄

Btw I've sort of stopped explicitly asking for requests, not because I don't absolutely love them (some of my favorite fics I've written came from requests/suggestions), but because it takes me so damn long to get to them (and sometimes people have moved on from reading my stuff by the time I've finished something, and then it's kinda awkward 😅). I'm a total mood writer and when my hyperfocus moves on to something else, I can't control it (and I don't wanna force it, cause that's no fun for me and the end result also probably won't be that great).

HOWEVER, I've loved probably every single request I've ever gotten. So while I wouldn't generally say I'm open for requests, I'm also not gonna be mad if one or two find their way to me. 😄 (Is that contradictory? Yes. But I can't help that.)

Anyhoo, I think a drabble is traditionally 100 words, but I definitely can't stick to that (even this reply is over 100 words, so, y'know). Let's see what my brain can come up with that is the smuttiest smut to ever smut. ❤️

[bigbrownboots]

after the newest video, i’ve seen some people jump to saying that Porter shouldn’t be the only one to apologise, and that he and Treasure were both in the wrong in their… argument.

of course this is absolutely correct and that should not be disputed, Porter and Treasure both said things that hurt the other.

however, i’ve seen some folks saying Treasure was as equally wrong as Porter in this fight, and i have to disagree. big ramble ahead.

fellas, is it a crime to want to get to know the person who you want to be in a relationship with?

before I say anything else, yes, Treasure should absolutely apologise for pushing Porter’s boundaries in their last meeting - BUT! before that argument, they’ve only ever asked him questions about how he’s feeling, probably because he’s constantly moody and mysterious! which is, i admit, very sexyandcool of him. sure. but it’s also Not Great when you’re trying to open up to this new person and they outright refuse to tell you anything further than a quick “i’m fine, Treasure, now lets move on to our regularly scheduled blood-drinking-face-slapping-sexy-time” whenever you try to get to know him - ya know, even after he’s gone and said that that’s something he also wants to do.

i won’t lie here. i’m willing to admit that i’m on Treasure’s side moreso than i am Porter’s, because there’s only so much “we can have this conversation later, darling” that i would be able to handle before i too would tell him that he’s running from his issues faster than a rollercoaster of its rails.

yes, Treasure pushed his boundaries. But if they hadn’t, realistically speaking, when would he have ever opened up? with anyone?? He would certainly NEVER turn to Vincent for advice for anything (which i remind myself excitedly that this argument is what now begins the slow forming of the bond of sibling-esque understanding and heartfelt meaning!!! aaaa!!) and frankly, i don’t think Porter would get to a place of understanding like this on his own.

Porter is the type of person to force himself into believing he is content with a situation, because he believes he has to be - that that is the only decision he will get to make in the matter, and so he makes it to reinforce his sense of agency, aka: ‘i am okay with this situation because i choose to be, thus it cannot hurt me in a way that matters, and so i am in control’ - until something snaps him out of it and makes him see reality.

It happened first with Sam, Vincent and Lovely leaving the Solaire House, forcing him to confront the fact that everything is not ‘fine’.

And now it’s happening with Treasure, too.

Porter’s world is shattering around him, and he cannot continue to lie to himself and sweep the broken shards under the rug. Because with enough pieces, and enough time, those shards cut through eventually - and soon there will be blood.