#and most of the ones sam and jaws pick turn out to be good anyways | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

veltana · 2 months ago

Text

Breaking point

✦ Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~2,5k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Dub-con (proceed with caution if this might trigger you), pwp, smut and a bit of fluff at the end, possessive/protective!bucky, degredation (slut, fuck doll, cum-bucket), grinding, choking, spitting, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, pet name (sweetheart).

✦ Summary: Bucky is done with you going out with losers.

✦ Note: This used to be called I will kill them if they touch you but I never liked that title so I renamed it! Also, you guys didn't know what you were voting for, but it was the banner for this story! Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome 💚

Masterlist | AO3

"Please don't scare this one away as you did last time," you beg and look at Bucky's reflection in the bathroom mirror. He makes a face where he's leaning against the door frame behind you and then sighs when you give him a look. "He wasn't worth shit if he didn't wanna fight for you," he points out.

Now it's your turn to sigh and you cross your arms, glaring at him. "He isn't supposed to fight for me on a first date. We're supposed to have a good time and hopefully fuck." Bucky's mouth hardens, and he looks away. He doesn’t like that, at all.

Ever since you became roommates he's been very protective of you, helping you with the smallest things, driving you everywhere you need to go, even if you can drive yourself. Sometimes it's overbearing but most of the time it's nice to have someone care for you like that.

Unfortunately, recently he's picked up a habit of intimidating the people you go on dates with. He stands behind you when they come to pick you up, and his large frame and cold stare make many of them cower. A few have turned around right away, others have asked if that's your boyfriend or something, thinking it was some type of open relationship/cuckold situation.

"Don't say shit like that," Bucky says through gritted teeth. "I don't wanna think about you fucking other people." You can't help the teasing smile that cracks your face. "Makes you jealous?" With a huff, Bucky pushes off and leaves you to continue.

Two hours later your makeup is done and your hair fixed to perfection. You sit on the couch in shorts and a t-shirt, with a glass of wine, waiting until the last minute to put on the skin-tight dress. While scrolling on your phone, Bucky sits beside you with a beer. "So where's the loser taking you?" "Don't care,” you shrug. “Honestly, my priority tonight is to get laid. The previous ones were a little too… bland. But he seems promising." "What do you mean, bland?"

Putting your phone down you look at him, "You don't wanna hear this anyway, you'll just get mad," you point out. "I don't get mad," he defends. "Pfff, you're such a liar, I can see it in your eyes whenever I mention another guy." "Because you deserve the best and all I've seen is trash."

Irritated, you put your glass down too. "Why don't you pick for me then? Who would James Bucky Barnes deem worthy of fucking me?"

The grip on his beer is so hard his knuckles whiten and his lips are a thin line. When he doesn't answer you lean back and start to count people off.

"Well, Steve seems a bit too sweet for my taste but I mean I would not mind trying a slice of that all-American beefcake," you muse. "Sam is so charming and funny! That quick tongue would probably work wonders, if you know what I mean," you wink and watch as Bucky's eye twitch, his jaw clenched hard.

"Tony," you continue. "Well, he seems a little self-absorbed but maybe he's a really selfless lover. Won't hurt to check!" "Loki is so handsome," you bite your lip. "I would surrender my body to him in a heartbeat! But I've heard that he leaves people high and dry and that would be awful."

Tilting your head, you say, "Do you think Thor and Jane would be up for a threesome? I can just imagine eating her out while he fucks me from behind and then we could-"

With a slam he puts the bottle on the table and grabs your face with his hand forcefully, silencing your tirade of words and squeezing your cheeks so that your lips pucker.

The grip is close to bruising and it's an instant pull in your lower stomach. His eyes are black with anger, something you've never seen directed at you before. "No one," he hisses. "Not one of them is fucking you, I will kill them if they touch you."

His hand releases you and grabs your neck instead. You're shocked, and instantly so horny it hurts. Opening your mouth to speak he squeezes harder, making a wheezing sound come out.

"I'll give you a chance to stop this. Tell me right now you don't want this and we'll act as if nothing happened. Otherwise, I'm fucking you into this couch until you can't remember your goddamn name." When he finishes his grip lightens. The rush of blood makes you euphoric and boneless. You want to give yourself to him, let him do whatever he wants. "Fuck me," you whisper.

The kiss is more teeth than lips and the hold around your throat hardens again. You try to keep up with him but it's impossible as he pushes his tongue into your mouth, claiming every inch, making you lightheaded with the lack of oxygen. You gasp for air as he pulls away, releasing you. His gaze is brimming with lust and want now, all signs of anger gone. Then he pushes you down onto the couch.

"You're a kinky little slut, aren't you sweetheart?" he mocks and leans in over you, spreading your legs with his. All you can do is nod and try to wiggle close so you can press your center against his clothed cock. It's clearly outlined in his sweatpants and you hope it's as big as it seems. "If I put my hand down your pants, are you gonna be wet for me?" "Yes Bucky," you whine.

The throbbing is almost unbearable and his smirk is downright sinful. "Come on, rub yourself on me, show me how much you want it." With another whine, you brace yourself against the couch and lift your hips. He doesn't move a muscle to help as you struggle to find the right position.

"That's disappointing," Bucky smacks his lips and frowns. "Thought you wanted this." "I do Bucky, I do, please I'm trying," you tell him desperately. With effort, you get into a good enough position to grind your cunt on his cock through the layers of clothing. It's not nearly enough to curb the ache.

"Useless," Bucky sighs and grabs your legs. "Do I have to do everything?" He pushes your knees up towards your chest, folding you in half and pushing his cock right into your core.

"Sorry," you moan. His mean words have only made you needier and you move yourself against him with abandon. Bucky is motionless above you, not making a sound or saying a word, just staring at you chasing your high. Your movements turn unsteady when you start to come close.

If you were of sound mind you would notice the glint in his eyes but instead, you’re barreling towards your climax. Until he suddenly moves away.

Gawking you stare at him and he just smiles wickedly in return. "Take off your clothes, spread your legs" he instructs and you quickly pull your pants off and discard your t-shirt and underwear, spreading your legs as best you can on the couch. Bucky takes in your bare body, moving his hands slowly down your thighs until his palms frame your pussy.

"Fucking shaved for him too,” he notes with a snarl. You're not sure why that upset him. "Sorry!" you say, just to be safe.

"I don't need your hair curled, your make-up done or your whole body shaved. I will fuck you anyway, sweetheart, no matter what you look like because you belong to me," he growls before he spits on your cunt, sending a rush through you, making you moan and spread your legs even more.

For the first time, he touches you properly, letting his fingers spread the spit all over your pussy before shoving two of them into your soaked core. He pistons them in and out, putting his thumb against your clit and making colors burst before you.

"You want to come on my fingers, you fucking slut?" When you nod frantically he instructs, "Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." A second after you do spit lands on your tongue and droplets on your face. It nearly tips you over.

"Swallow it," he orders and watches you as you do, some form of approval shining in his eyes for the first time. "Who do you belong to?"

The question is too complicated to understand, you can't focus on what he wants. "I don't…" is all that comes out.

"Wrong answer," he says and removes his fingers, making you shout in disappointment. Sharp slaps land on your wet cunt and you instinctively try to move away from it, but he grabs your legs, pulling you back. "Don't you fucking run from me."

"I'm sorry," you cry, looking pleadingly at him. "I'm- I'm yours James, yours to do what you want with. Please, please, please let me come!"

With a huff he pushes his fingers back in, pressing the tips into your g-spot and getting his thumb back on your clit. His unbothered state makes you feel so small and insignificant, heightening the pleasure coursing through you.

As it climbs, your body shakes, your legs trembling from being held open. "I'm- I'm- don't stop!" you beg. Closing your eyes you focus on the feeling of him, his other hand still gripping your thigh hard. You hope it bruises.

"I can feel you, slut!" Bucky's voice is the cherry on top of everything. "Come on my fingers, do it, come for me!" he commands and of course, you do as he wants. With a scream you convulse, almost pushing him out with the sensation flooding you. Bucky is talking above you but you're not sure what he's saying because all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears.

A hard tap against your cheek makes you open your eyes. "Don't pass out on me, I'm not done with you yet." "Wouldn't dream of it," you smile dumbly, and it earns you a smile in return. But it quickly passes as he pulls off his tank top and pushes down his pants. The cock is just as big as you hoped.

He rubs the head against your soaked center, sending overwhelming sparks through you, making you twitch. When he notches the head of his dick at your opening your blood freezes. "C-condom?" you stutter.

Cocking his head he asks. "Do you really want that? Doesn't a slut like you want to be filled up with cum?" "Y-yes, but, Bucky…" you gnaw your lip.

"I want to fuck my little cum-bucket raw, make sure you feel me running out of you for days," he gives a light thrust, almost pushing inside, giving you a taste of heaven. For a second you look at each other and Bucky presses in just a little bit more. It decides it for you. "Please fill me with your cum Bucky, I need it so bad!" you whine and he chuckles before shoving his fat cock into you without mercy.

Quickly you wrap your legs around his hips, meeting his hard thrusts that are sending your body into overdrive. "Feel so fucking good sweetheart, your cunt was made for me, wasn't it?" he groans. "Yes it was," you answer breathlessly.

He grabs your face. "Those other losers are never going to satisfy you." "No, Bucky, only you!" "That's right, you're my fuckdoll now, sweetheart," he says before he leans down to kiss you. It's much sweeter this time and you grab his head, carding your fingers through his hair, feeling your chest fill with another type of warmth.

When he pulls back he says, "Beg me not to come in you." Your cunt clenches and your second orgasm is suddenly a lot closer. "Bucky, please don't… I can't get pregnant," you make your voice small and frail.

In response his laugh is cruel. "Yes you will, your purpose in life is to be bred. I'm going to cum in you every day til it sticks and then everyone will know who you belong to." "Please, pull out," you beg and reach down to rub your clit, feeling the climax shimmering underneath your skin.

"Such a bad liar, sweetheart," he chuckles. "Are you going to come on my cock? Are you gonna claim me just as I claim you?" "Yes! I just need- harder!" you pant. "Fucking hell," Bucky grunts and does as you demand.

The climax rips through you with little regard for your sanity. The sound leaving your throat makes it raw and a second later Bucky moans your name loud enough for the neighbors to hear. It's almost good enough to feel him finish inside you that you come again, but you’re too spent to do more than shudder.

Then he kisses you again, sweetly, caringly, and pushes his arms in under your body to hug you close to him. "So perfect," he whispers against your mouth. The cums start to trickle out onto the couch but neither of you care, too caught up in each other's lips.

"How are you doing sweetheart?" he asks when he comes up for a breath. "I feel a little high," you confess. "Haven't been fucked that good in a long time."

There is something in his gaze that shifts and he leans his forehead against yours. "I'm sorry. I just… I couldn't take it anymore… I like you so much." "Lucky for you I get off on that stuff," you smile. "And if I had said stop I trust you would have."

He hugs you so hard you can hardly breathe. "Of course, I fucking would." "You can make it up to me by going tender the next time," you smile. "Next time?" "As many times as you’ll have me." He laughs into your skin. "I don't think you're ready for that!"

Suddenly the sound of the doorbell jerks the two of you apart. You stare at Bucky with wide eyes. "My date," you whisper, horrified.

With a smirk, he raises himself on his arms. "I should make you go on that date with my cum running out of you, maybe even let him get as far as spreading your legs just to see that you’re already claimed."

With a groan, you cover your face with your hands. "Don't tempt me," you tell him before wiggling out from under him, finding your clothes, and hastily pulling them on.

Opening the door just a crack, you understand you look a mess by the way your date eyes you. "Sorry," your voice is small. "I wasn't feeling great and then I fell asleep on the couch." "Yeah, you look terrible," the guy notes before handing you one of the ugliest bouquets you've ever seen. Quickly stepping away he says, "I'll call you." but you know he won't. "Great, I'll see you around," you respond before closing the door.

Bucky takes the flowers from you and shoves them in the trash before grabbing you around the waist and kissing you again. "Didn't you say he was promising?" "I have no clue what you're talking about," you answer with a completely straight face but then start to giggle as he swoops you up and carries you to his bedroom.

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

1K notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 1 year ago

Text

Trick or Treat

Words: 4,489

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: TFW x Trans!FTM!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, Fluff, Castiel is super cute in this but he's not as involved as Sam and Dean, Dean acting like a kid in a candy store, I think that's it?

Summary: Halloween always held a special place in the reader's heart. It was one of his favorite holidays. However, as he got older and started to discover more about himself, he never got to dress up as the characters he wanted when he was younger. When Sam, Dean, and the reader stumble upon an annual Halloween Festival in a small town after a hunt, the reader is reminded of all the things he could have been. When the truth comes to light, Sam and Dean make a plan to give the reader a night he will never forget.

Request:

This might be really specific but I have an idea if you feel like writing it. Something about reader ending up talking about how he used to hate halloween as kid because he never got to dress up the way he wanted, it always had to be something like a princess, a witch, "girl costumes" and then maybe he never dressed up when he got a little older as hunting started happening and there was never a party or something like that and since Sam and Dean know pretty well what a shit childhood feels like, team free will ends up preparing a halloween night with candy and horror movies and most important of all, costumes. So it's the first time he gets to dress up as whatever he wants just for fun.

Anonymous

A/N: I got this out just in the nick of time! I really hope you guys enjoy this story because I had a lot of fun writing it and imagining the boys in the costumes I picked out for them! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy Halloween!

Much Love!~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

The diner was bustling, the small space filled with a mix of old and young people. Waitresses were running from one place to another in a frenzy, passing people their drinks and food and anything else they had asked for. (Y/N), Sam, and Dean were lucky to find a table when they did, and they were extremely thankful for it. The hunt had been a tough one - a group of vampires whose lust for blood had been higher than they had ever seen - and what they truly desired was a hot meal in their stomachs and a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, it seemed that their hot meal would take a little longer than they would've liked.

For a Tuesday evening, the place was uncharacteristically packed. It wasn’t just the diner filled to the brim with customers, however. The entire downtown strip was swamped, each restaurant having a long line of people waiting outside for a table. People were dressed in semi-casual clothing, jackets, and sweaters worn around their torsos to combat the chill Autumn air. Orange, white, and black lights were strung along streetlights, illuminating the roads and sidewalks.

Dean’s leg bounced up and down, fingers laced together on the table, and jaw clenched. Sam was leaning back in the booth beside his brother, hands resting lazily on the tabletop. (Y/N)’s elbow was placed on the table as well, cheek in the palm of his hand. It was evident that all of them were exhausted, and it was even more obvious that Dean was getting impatient.

“Come on, where the hell is the waitress?” Dean huffed.

“It’s packed, Dean,” Sam mumbled. “Give her a break.”

“Packed or not, I’m starving. I need a burger.”

A party of five wandered into the diner. Someone at the counter turned towards the door once the bell rang and called out to them. Dean growled and placed his head into his hands. The group gathered right beside their booth and began to chat loudly. Dean’s eye visibly twitched as he reached inside his jacket, only to be stopped by Sam with a firm hand on his wrist.

“Dean,” Sam said in a warning tone.

Dean mumbled something under his breath and withdrew his hand. “Why the hell is it so busy, anyway?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” (Y/N) said. “It’s not Halloween yet, is it?”

“Halloween’s not for another week.”

“Then what the Hell is going on?”

A waitress shimmied between the boisterous party and their table, a serving tray filled with drinks in one hand. She glanced down at them and gave a small, apologetic smile.

“I am so sorry, you guys. I’ll be with you as soon as I put these drinks down.” She spoke sweetly.

“Take your time,” Sam gave her a wave and a smile.

The waitress let out a huff before she squeezed the rest of the way through and deeper into the building. Dean shook his head and placed his forehead into his hands. (Y/N) rolled his eyes.

“Calm down, Dean, before you have a heart attack.” He chuckled.

Dean lifted his head and glared at him. “I just want my burger.” He replied between clenched teeth.

It wasn’t long before the waitress came back over, stopping in front of their table. The serving tray was tucked underneath her arm and a notepad was in her hand.

“Alright,” she began. “I’m so very sorry for the wait.”

“Don’t worry about it,” (Y/N) waved her off. “We see how busy you are. We get it.”

“Thank you so much,” she let out a breath of relief. “Now, what can I get you guys to eat and drink?”

The three of them ordered their food and beverages and the waitress was quick to depart again. She soon appeared with the drinks and made a promise that the meal would be out as quickly as it could. They weren’t holding their breath on that promise, though. As they waited, there was minimal conversation between them. Conversations that had once surrounded them had begun to settle as some people began to disperse and head down the street in small groups. The diner had transformed into a quiet, peaceful environment once again. By the time their food arrived, there were only a handful of people left.

They dug into their food quicker than they ever had before, the wait taking a toll on their stomachs and, for the first couple of minutes, they didn’t talk. They just ate. The occasional satisfying hum escaped from their mouths but, other than that, nothing was said between them. The irritation that had been so evident on Dean’s face merely minutes prior had seemed to disappear and was replaced by a relaxed, yet tired, expression.

“How is everything over here?” The waitress returned, head tilted to the side. She didn’t seem as distressed as she had been when the building was full.

(Y/N) looked up from his food and swallowed the mouthful he had. He nodded. “Very good, ma’am,” he said.

“That’s great to hear. Do you guys need anything else? Some refills on drinks?”

Dean held up a finger as he finished chewing. “I’ll have some more,” he gestured to his glass. “But I gotta ask. Why in the Hell was it so busy earlier?”

The waitress gave an uneasy smile and let out a shaky breath. “Not from around here, I see. Today’s the first night of our annual Halloween festival. A lot of people like to go out to eat before they head downtown for the events.”

“Isn’t Halloween next week?” Sam asked.

“Yes, it is. They like to host the events a week early so they don’t take away from the trick-or-treating that the kids do that night.”

“What kind of events do you even have at a Halloween festival?”

“Well, there’s lots. They have bobbing for apples, pie eating contests, pie baking contests, hay rides, a petting zoo, crafts for the kids, cider tasting for adults, and loads of entertainment that they hire. It changes every year. Tonight, however, is our-”

“Trick or Treat!” Two in-sync, high-pitched voices accompanied the bell from the entrance.

All heads turned towards the door. A mother with two children walked inside. The waitress gestured towards the family.

“Business Trick or Treat event.” She finished. “I’ll be back in one second,” she held up a finger before she walked towards the front door.

Dean furrowed his brows. “‘Business Trick or Treat’? What’s that?”

(Y/N) turned to look at Dean for a moment before his eyes returned to the family that had entered. The mother was dressed in casual clothing compared to her two children. One child, seemingly the youngest, had a bright pink ballgown on that stopped just before it reached her ankles. A plastic, sparkling wand was in her hand and a tiara rested atop her blonde hair. The other child stood tall in his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle outfit. They both held multi-colored plastic pumpkin buckets with candy already peaking out of the top.

For a moment, (Y/N) found that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the boy. The smile on his face was almost infectious. Memories of his own Halloweens were brought back to him instantly. All the times he went out with his parents, wandering from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood, in search of the best candy there was. All the times that he dressed up as a princess, fairy, witch, or even an angel ironically enough. All the times he wished he could have dressed up as Batman, a cowboy, Indiana Jones, or a pirate. Yet every time he asked his parents if he was able to dress as such, the idea was turned down, and he was directed towards the more ‘appropriate’ costumes for a ‘precious little girl’ like he was.

He could remember seeing the other boys at school getting to dress up as who they wanted to be for Halloween while he was stuck in the clothes his parents wanted him to wear. Even as he grew up and ultimately became too old to go Trick or Treating, the want to dress up as some of his favorite characters was strong within him. He got into cosplay when he was an older teenager, but he only felt confident in his work in his early twenties. By then, his hunting career had taken off, and the time for Halloween parties and Comic Cons were off the table, so he never got the opportunity to dress as he wanted. He still cosplayed now and then in the privacy of his room, of course, but there was still that desire to show off his skills, to express himself differently than he already did. He knew it was wishful thinking. Halloween was a laughable holiday in the eyes of hunters, after all.

“(Y/N)!” Dean said.

(Y/N) quickly turned his head and looked at Dean. “What?”

“Dude, you zoned out there for a minute. You okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I was just, um,” (Y/N) turned back to look at the door, only to see that the mother and her children had disappeared, making him wonder just how long he had been out of it. “Just thinking,” he turned back to Sam and Dean.

“About what?” Sam asked as he took a bite of his food.

(Y/N) pursed his lips and looked down. He began to fiddle with his fingers. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Just thinking about when I was a kid and I used to do Halloween. It’s stupid, I know, but I remember having so much fun,” a smirk played in the corner of his lips. “Thought about how, one year, I wanted to dress up as a pirate with a peg leg, eyepatch, the works. Then another year I wanted to be Batman. Then the next year it was Spiderman. My mom would always tell me ‘That’s not the kind of outfit girls wear’ and then make me wear some stupid dress.”

Sam and Dean gazed at him, a look of sympathy on their face. (Y/N) finally looked up and glanced between the brothers. He inhaled sharply and placed his hands flat on the table.

“Anyway,” he stood up from the booth. “I’m done with my food if the waitress comes by to take them. I’m going to go to the bathroom before we head back to the motel.” With a tight smile, he turned and walked away from the table.

The brothers watched as he vanished into the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, they looked at one another, sharing a knowing gaze.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dean asked.

Sam let out a sigh. He was, indeed, thinking exactly what his brother was thinking. “You know how I feel about Halloween.”

“Come on,” Dean shook his head. “You saw how (Y/N) was. Seems like something he missed out on. Let’s do it for him.”

“You’re right…” Sam paused. “Alright, let’s do it.”

*~*

“Alright, we have ground beef, hamburger buns, frozen pizzas, a bunch of veggies, cereal, milk, eggs, butter, and…” (Y/N) narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the paper. “Canned chickpeas?” He furrowed his brows before he looked over at Sam.

Dean deadpanned and looked at his brother. Sam glanced between the two of them, shrugging his shoulders.

“What?” He asked. “Chickpeas are good!”

(Y/N) pressed his lips together and gave a small, curt nod. He patted Sam on the shoulder. “Whatever you say, Sammy,” he smiled before he turned, reached down, and zipped up his jacket. “And you guys are sure you don’t wanna go? You never miss out on a supply run. I always seem to get things wrong.”

“Yeah,” Dean answered quickly. “We’re sure.”

“We’re still pretty tired from the last hunt,” Sam added.

“Yeah, took a lot out of us,”

“A lot.”

(Y/N) stared at them, a look of suspicion on his face as he studied them momentarily. Sam and Dean had always made a point to go on supply runs when they needed food. They were rather picky about some of the ingredients that they bought, mainly the snacks that they would always put on the list. They never stayed home because a hunt ‘took a lot out of them’. Even hunts that had taken them weeks to complete and copious amounts of back-breaking work never seemed to tire them out enough to constitute them staying home. Something was up, but (Y/N) didn’t know what it could have been.

“Right…” (Y/N) drew out. “Well, I’m gonna need the keys.” He held out a hand to Dean.

Dean slowly raised his brows, glanced down at (Y/N)’s open palm, and then looked back up at him. “Keys?” He asked in a small voice.

“Yeah, keys. To Baby.”

“Well, uh…can’t you…can’t you take another car? I mean, you’ve never driven Baby before and I wouldn’t want your first time-”

“There’s more trunk space in the Impala than any other car we have here. There are three fully grown adults I need to shop for. I need the space. Keys.”

“Right, right,” Dean slowly reached into his pocket and hesitantly took out the keys to the Impala. He held them out to (Y/N). He paused before quickly dropping them in his hand.

(Y/N) smiled. “Thanks,” he pocketed the keys. “And, don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

With that, (Y/N) placed his hands into his pockets and walked out of the room. Dean watched him leave, a weary look on his face. He opened his mouth repeatedly as he tried to get words out, but they seemed to be caught in his throat. Before he could say anything, the heavy sound of the bunker door echoed throughout the halls. Dean pressed his lips together tightly and ran his fingers stressfully through his hair. Sam couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on his face.

“You know, this was your idea, right?” He quirked.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled and placed his hands on his hips. “I just gotta think of something else. Do we have everything?”

“Uh, yeah. Decorations, candy, movies, costumes,” Sam grimaced at the last word he spoke.

“Okay, alright,” Dean clapped his hands together. “I’ll give Cas a call then we can get to work.”

“I’ll grab the stuff,” Sam sauntered out of the library.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialed Castiel’s number, and placed the phone against his ear. It didn’t take long before he heard Castiel’s voice on the other end.

“Hey, Cas, (Y/N) just left. We’re ready to get set up. How soon can you be here?”

*~*

“Stupid people don’t know how to fucking drive. Stupid cops for not knowing how to block off a goddamn road.” (Y/N) grumbled as he walked into the bunker, slamming the front door shut. As he descended the steps leading to the War Room, he cupped a hand on the side of his mouth. “Dean! Sam! The supply run was a bust! They have half the route to Salina blocked off because of a high-speed chase or some shit, and I’m not about to spend another hour in the car to get to Grand Island. I’d rather wait until you guys are feeling-”

(Y/N) turned the corner into the library and stopped. His eyes widened as he looked around. Strung along the pillars were purple and orange lights shaped like Jack-O-Lanterns. Orange and black balloons tied to weighted bags were strewn about the place with small bats scattered around each balloon. A banner hung across the room, connected to the center pillars, that read HAPPY HALLOWEEN. The wooden tables were covered with cheap tablecloths, alternating between orange, purple, and black. On the first table was a large, clear, plastic bowl filled with liquid, several smaller bowls with various snacks and candies inside, a plate of those cheap Pillsbury Halloween-themed cookies, a plate of caramel apples, plastic cups, and paper plates. A projector was set up on the next table, facing away from (Y/N). One thing he immediately noticed was that the tables had been pushed together, giving more space along the far wall for a hanging projector screen as well as four beanbag chairs that rested side by side on the floor.

The decorations weren’t the only thing that (Y/N) noticed, however. Standing in the middle of the library were Sam, Dean, and Castiel. Only, they weren’t in their normal outfits. Sam stood tall - taller than he normally did - in black platform shoes, a brown button-up shirt with shoulder pads placed underneath, and tattered jeans. His face, neck, and arms were painted comically green, and plastic screws were placed on his temples, giving him the classic Frankenstein look. Dean, on the other hand, wore a vintage-looking Ghostbusters uniform with Venkman written on the nametag. A bulky black backpack was placed on his shoulders as a makeshift proton pack, and he paired it with his black combat boots. Castiel had the best outfit of them all. He wore a solid black skin-tight outfit that covered his skin from the base of his neck downward, a black hat with long antennae sticking up, clear rounded wings that stuck out beside him, and a black and yellow striped body suit that was slightly too big for his frame.

(Y/N) stood there, taking in all the detail around him, mouth ajar. Sam, Dean, and Castiel looked at one another. Sam and Dean gave slightly awkward smiles. Dean shrugged his shoulders and gestured around him.

“Surprise!” He said.

The exclamation shook (Y/N) out of the trance he had been in. He let out a breathy laugh. “What’s all this?”

“Well, back at the diner, you said that you had always wanted to dress up for Halloween as what you wanted, but never got the chance to,” Sam began.

“So, Sam and I had the idea that, since you didn’t get to dress up as you wanted to when you were little, we might as well give you a chance to do it now.” Dean finished.

“But…you guys hate Halloween.” (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face, his heart swelling up with warmth and appreciation.

“I don’t hate Halloween. Ebenezer Scrooge over here does,” Dean gestured towards his brother.

“Ebenezer Scrooge hates Christmas, Dean,” Sam deadpanned.

“Eh, toe-may-toe, toe-mah-toe.” Dean shrugged. “And since we didn’t want you to dress up by yourself for this, we got costumes of our own. I’m Peter Venkman, the best Ghostbuster, Gigantor is Frankenstein, and then Cas is-”

“I’m a Honey Bee,” Castiel said with a bright, proud smile.

(Y/N) chuckled. “I can see that,” he said and walked closer to them. “Guys, you didn’t have to do this for me.”

“We didn’t have to, but we wanted to,” Sam said. “We saw how much it meant to you and figured that we could forget about hunting for one night if that meant you would have a great time. Oh!” Sam turned and walked over to the table with the projector on it. He pulled out one of the chairs and grabbed a plastic Walmart sack. He held it out to (Y/N). “We got you a couple of costumes as well. We didn’t know what you would have wanted, so we got a variety.”

(Y/N) graciously accepted the bag and brought it close to him. “Thank you, but, I actually had a costume that I’ve been saving for a rainy day. It’ll take me about thirty minutes to get everything ready, but I promise I’ll be quick!”

With a pep in his step, (Y/N) hurried out of the library before any of them could say a word. He jogged down the endless hallways until he got to his room. When he walked inside, he tossed the bag onto the bed and rushed to the other side of his bed. He got down on his knees, reached underneath the frame, and pulled out a storage trunk. He unclipped the locks and revealed the contents, the smile never leaving his face.

As he got ready, he could feel the excitement flooding his body. The idea that he would finally be able to show off the skills that he had gathered from years of practice made him happier than he had been in a while. He was still in a state of shock. He couldn’t believe the extent the boys had gone to to make him happy. To live out a childhood memory that he held so near and dear to his heart. To give him the proper memories that he wished he could have had when he was little. He had to stop now and then to compose himself as he thought about it, but they weren’t sad, regretful tears like he would have normally shed. They were happy tears. Joyous tears. Tears that he didn’t mind shedding, but not while he was getting ready. He would shed them later. Everything had to be perfect.

Forty-five minutes later, (Y/N) was ready. He had given himself a pep-talk, double-checked his references from his past attempts at the makeup style he had chosen, and checked to make sure his outfit was on correctly in the full mirror that was placed in the corner of his room. When everything had been looked over and he felt satisfied with the result, he walked out of his bedroom and headed back towards the library. The sound of his boots echoed throughout the hallway.

“Sorry it took so long,” he said as he rounded the corner. “I just had to get everything right.”

He stopped a little ways away from the group, who sat at one of the tables. Their eyes shifted to him as soon as he walked in. Each of them scanned him up and down, studying his outfit.

(Y/N) wore a short blonde wig that was slicked back neatly so that no strand was out of place, black sunglasses, an earpiece over his left ear with a microphone that stopped at the corner of his lips, a blue button-up with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms and the S.T.A.R.S logo on his left sleeve, a combat vest equipped with a radio that the earpiece connected to, black pants with a holster strapped to his right thigh, black fingerless gloves, and black boots with laces tied neatly at the top. He had added some definition to his face with the help of makeup, sharpening the edges of his jaw and cheekbones.

Sam raised his brows. “Woah,” he said.

“That’s awesome!” Dean smiled. “Are you that one guy from that videogame you showed me? What was it? Silent Hill or something?”

“Close. Resident Evil. I’m Albert Wesker,” (Y/N) held out his arms.

“How did you get your face to look like that?” Dean narrowed his eyes as he stood to get a better look.

“Makeup.”

“Makeup can change the appearance of your face like that?” Castiel asked with his head slightly tilted to the side, the antennae on top of his head shifting with his movements.

“Yeah! It’s all about placement and what products you use.”

“Where did you learn to do that?” Dean asked.

“I’ve been practicing for years.”

“So, wait,” Sam stood. “You’ve cosplayed before?”

“Well, not out in public I haven’t, but I’ve been working on my cosplays for a couple of years, trying out different styles and techniques. It was the closest thing that I ever came to dressing up for Halloween.”

“Why didn’t you tell us? You’re really good at it!”

“You think so?”

“Yeah! You’re like a whole new person.”

(Y/N) beamed. “Thanks.” He then glanced towards the table and noticed Sam’s laptop had been brought in and hooked up to the projector. He tilted his head. “What’s this?”

Sam looked down at his computer. “Well, what’s a Halloween celebration without horror movies?”

“Yeah! And Cas hasn’t seen Ghostbusters before!” Dean exclaimed, seeming genuinely offended by his own statement. “Ghostbusters! He’s never seen it! Can you believe it?”

“I’ve never understood why people would want to watch a movie based around the idea of being scared.” Castiel shook his head.

“Because, to normal people, it’s make-believe Cas.” (Y/N) answered. “They don’t consider the possibility that there are actual monsters out there killing people. They like to believe that it’s all fictitious plots created by Hollywood. Ghostbusters, though, is more comedy than horror. I think you’ll love it.”

“So are we watching it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, let’s watch it!”

“Awesome! I’m getting myself some snacks and then we can sit in the beanbag chairs and watch it. My idea, by the way.”

“Oh, it was your idea, really?” (Y/N) asked sarcastically.

“Hey! I wanted us to be comfortable while we watch all these movies!” Dean defended. “Plus, they’re plush! It’s like I’m sitting on a cloud! Sit in one!”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh at Dean’s evident enthusiasm. It seemed like he was just as excited about the Halloween party as (Y/N) had been. “Let me get snacks first and then we can get settled.”

“I’ll get the movie up,” Sam said as he sat down at his computer.

Once the movie was connected, the three of them got their snacks while Castiel went to take a seat in one of the beanbag chairs. They were, soon, all nestled in their own chair, watching various Halloween films on the projector screen. Dean was right, it did feel like he was sitting on a cloud. They talked, laughed, made fun of the cheesy jumpscares, criticized some of the terrible lore, and explained different plot points to Castiel whenever he had a question.

In the end, (Y/N) had the most fun that he had in a long time. It had been years since he was able to feel that way about Halloween, and it brought back some good childhood memories, and the moments that they shared seemingly rewrote the bad ones, replacing them with a core memory he would never forget. He was thankful for Sam, Dean, and Castiel. He was lucky to have them in his life. He was thankful that they took the time to plan their little ‘Halloween Party’. Even though it wasn’t as extravagant as some of the parties (Y/N) had been to when he was younger, nor the ones he had seen on movies and television, he wouldn’t have it any other way. He was able to spend some quality time with the boys, show off his cosplaying skills, and watch those horror movies he had grown to know and love.

That Halloween was the best one he ever had;

And he couldn’t wait to convince the boys to do it again next year.

50 notes · View notes

lexcellence · 1 year ago

Note

BANSHEE???? THE COP?????

look, i went from the available choices, and my vote went to Beto anyway

Let's break these choices down, yeah?

Cyclops - tl;dr There are specific periods of time where Scott is "hot," and the vast majority of the time he isn't! Is he my blorbo? Yes. Do I run a sideblog where the header is his Foxy Grandpa Ass jutting out? Of course. Can I vote him in good conscience? I don't think so.

Colossus - the man spent how much time trying to fuck a fourteen year old? He heard Mutants were moving to a sex cult island and was baffled because his dead pal Jeff was a human. Pass.

Gambit - not even with Rogue's dick.

Wolverine - I only barely believe he can find the clit, and have ZERO confidence he could locate my prostate, and I'm unsure enough about his grooming habits that I wouldn't willingly put any part of myself in any part of him. Pass.

Iceman - Closeted Iceman? Maybe. But out Iceman is an overcompensating baby gay written almost exclusively by straight dudes, and I have a strict policy of never touching white gays who have "BBC" in their search history.

Warren Kenneth Worthington the Third - do you know what happens to Angel's love interests? I'd rather not be hatecrimed by Cameron Hodge for a few sweaty minutes of underwhelming halfhearted bottoming from a princess who provides the own stuffing for his pillows. Keep flying, birdboy.

Nightcrawler - I know, I know, the man is a sex icon, but I'm not getting involved in any of that family drama. If it's not his evil lesbian moms trying to kill me, it'd be his step-sisters trying to get back in his spandex. Not worth it, especially after all that shit in Way of X.

Havok - Matt Fraction's Clint Barton: The Mutant Flavor???? Listen, I adore a broken man who knows his place as much as the next nigga, don't get me wrong, but if I'm not picking Scott, I'm definitely not picking his Luigi.

I do appreciate his commitment to the bit, though.

Banshee - let's jump back to Cyclops for a minute. Without getting into shipping war bullshit, most of the times he's been "hot" are when he's playing off of Emma Frost, right? Emma's tertiary mutation is the ability to make everyone else more interesting just by association, because she's fucking great. I mean I just read an Iron Man book for her, for fuck's sake. Back in the 90's, when she was newly not-evil, she and Banshee were essentially the co-leads of Generation X, a book that, when it wasn't being the New New New Mutants, about two unreasonably sexy people who couldn't stand each other being unreasonably sexy at each other. Even putting that aside (and if you read a few issues, you'll get it), the man's spent decades dedicated to flying around with his tits out due to mysterious clothing damage, amd I appreciate that.

Sunspot - look, I fixated on him when I was nine, as the only character I could find who was like me at all, and that was ignoring all the gay subtext with his best friend even before it turned into outright queerbaiting. I grew up with him, and he's only gotten better since then. He's the only dude in my top 5 muties. He's flawless (give or take bad taste in men and a propensity for being whitewashed), he's perfect, he's hilarious, he's my vote AND yours, he's Sunspot.

Cannonball - in my seminal 2020 fic, "How Many Times Would You Say You've Been In Love," I summed Beto's Best Boy up thusly:

Sam laughed, a quiet, gentle, chuckle that crinkled the corners of his eyes, not that Roberto could bring himself to look at them. Instead his own eyes travelled everywhere else, from Sam's mess of a mop, to his strong jaw, to the gap in his front teeth, his okay-for-a-white-boy lips, the freckles that covered his nose, and ending up…

Do I love Sam as a character? Absolutely, he's one of the best. But he's not hot, he's a lapse in taste. Love conquers all, they say. 😔

Bishop - as one of exactly two Black men the poll listed, I want to give Bishop his flowers, but I have never read a good Bishop story where he wasn't awful. No baby gays, but no self-hating Black genocidaires, either.

#x men

8 notes · View notes

ejunkiet · 2 years ago

Text

if you give a wolf a wonton

finally finished the third part of nightcall, the sam/darlin fic that bridges the gap between darlin’s fight with the vamps and david calling sam.

expect: lingering glances, late night calls, sam giving darlin' his extra crab wontons, fluff and delicious tension. >:3 thanks again to Tay for the chapter title!

redacted asmr: sam/darling, rated teen, 2.3k wordcount.

READ ON AO3

A series of conversations between a vampire and a lone wolf.

"Just checking in, Darlin'. From the sound of your snark, you're feeling better."

if you give a wolf a wonton

It has been almost a month since they last heard from him.

It's for the best. At least, that's what they tell themselves. The lack of interruptions has given them room to focus and strategise, the space they need to plan out the next stages of their hunt, narrowing down their suspect list.

Nearly all of Quinn’s crew - that they knew of, at least - had skipped town as soon as DUMP had gotten involved, but they'd heard a rumour last night that a few had come back, thinking the heat had cooled off. Good. They'd live to regret that decision, soon enough.

But for all their drive, all their good intentions, they still find themselves - distracted.

Distracted by thoughts of him.

Sam. Just Sam, no need for a last name to act as a reminder. It's not as if they know any other Sams anyway. None like him, at least. None that they cared to know, anyway.

Or cared at all about, really.

…Shit.

The way they’d left it - hadn’t been fair. To him. They have their own issues, sure, but he hadn’t tried to do anything other than help. He was an - ally. Or the closest thing they’d had to one in this God forsaken town.

And that had meant something. Still meant something.

Another long night passes before they finally give in to the guilt that has been building behind their teeth. Picking his name out of their contact list, they press it before they can second guess the decision, raising the phone to their ear and listening to the dial tone. Their jaw is clenched tight with a tension that they can’t quite seem to release.

He picks up after one ring. “Hello?”

He sounds surprised, but not as if the call is unwelcome. Good. They’re still not a hundred percent sold on the idea of calling him in the first place. They still barely know each other.

But he’s seen them at their most fucked up, their most vulnerable, and he hadn’t turned them away. They owe them this, at least.

He’s still speaking, his voice low, consonants softened by his accent. “...everything okay?”

“Just checking in,” they say, and they wish they were having this conversation in person, so they could see his expression when he releases a soft huff of surprise. There’s only so much you can read over a line like this. It’s not enough. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” His voice is soft, just the same as they remember it, accent curling on his consonants. “Anytime.”

The pause that follows should be awkward, except it’s so damn comfortable. Things were getting too comfortable with him, but still, they couldn’t seem to keep away.

They take a breath, steeling themselves. “I’m sorry about how we left it.”

“Darlin’…” He catches himself. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me to call you that.”

The fact he gives a shit about that shouldn’t come as a surprise. “No. No, it’s - it’s okay.”

“Okay.” He pauses to gather his thoughts. “Look. We’re - good. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

They take a breath and hold it for a long moment, letting that sit. If he can move past this, then they can too. “Alright.”

“Alright,” he echoes, and they can hear the faint hints of a smile in his voice. He’s so damn easy going. So damn forgiving. They don’t know how to deal with that. Clearing their throat, they change the subject.

“So. How are the newborns?”

He laughs again, a soft, low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver through them. Before they can ask him what, exactly, is so funny about that question, he speaks again.

“They’re driving me up the goddamn wall.”

They’re on the phone with him for a little over an hour.

It’s been a while since they’ve had a conversation like this, without any ulterior motive or goal. Just - talking for the sake of talking. It’s strange, but it’s good. Reminds them of what being human feels like, the connections they used to have, back before just about everything in their life went to shit.

“I think I’ve kept you just ‘bout long enough.” His voice is warm down the line, whiskey honey. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do for you?”

“You’ve done enough,” is all they say, and mean it. He has done more than enough - he’s seen them at their worst, and he forgave them. He huffs softly into the phone, and they can picture the wry curve of his smile.

“I don’t know about that. But… I’d like to call on you, soon. If that’s okay.”

He says it carefully, his voice neutral, without any expectation one way or the other.

Their answer surprises them as much as him. “I’d like that.”

“Good. That’s… I’m glad.” There’s that warmth again, soft heat, reminding them of the late summer sun. “Then I’ll see you soon. Take care of yourself, darlin.”

Darlin’. For some reason, they don’t mind it when he says it. “You too, cowboy.”

They end the call before he can respond, their heart beating a rapid pace inside their chest.

The late night calls start again, as if they'd never stopped. ‘Just checking in’ turns into casual conversations, late night rendezvous around the city and in their apartment.

It’s the closest thing to ‘hanging out’ they’ve had in years.

Making sure you’re keeping out of trouble, is what he says when he turns up on their doorstep, a bag of takeaway secured under his arm, and since he doesn’t need to eat - well, not like this, anyway - he always insists on sharing the food with them.

He likes pad thai and spicy Cantonese noodles, and he gives them the extra crab wontons he says they’re always sticking in the bag, although he refuses to show them the receipt.

They talk, and as they talk, they learn a little more about him and his relationship with the Solaires. How he’s close with the King’s heir, Vincent, and the pieces fall into place: the vampire he’d mentioned before who owes him a few favours, after his help with his partner.

It'd been a close call, he’d explained, in reference to the incident with a rogue vampire - a different one, although the trend itself is telling. The bastard had nearly drained them dry.

They’ve never been one to buy into stereotypes, and they don’t now. The anger and frustration steadily building within them is directed solely at the Department and their inaction. Just how they could let so many rogues slip beneath their radar…

They’re doing their best with what they have, darlin’. It isn’t much, considering.

They’re not willing to start a debate with him on this.

Still. They’ve been spending more time together, lately.

And Darlin finds themself thinking of him, when he’s not around. That’s not unexpected, per say; not with the amount of time spent in each other’s company – and they’d be lying if they said they hadn’t noticed just how much closer they’ve grown. They don’t mind it.

But they’ve started thinking about more than just his company. Thinking about how soft his lips look. The way the longer strands of his hair curl around his face in the humidity of the city. How the moonlight catches on the lines of his features, the strong cut of his jaw.

He occupies a lot of their thoughts, when they’re not thinking about their plans to continue their hunt, or the fact that David, of all people, has started texting them again.

Still, nothing happens, and they don’t expect it to. They’re friends, as odd as it is to admit it, let alone say aloud that first time. It’d been an offhand comment after another late night ‘hang’, and he’d picked up on immediately, as of course he would.

Friends. I like that, darlin’. Thank you.

They’re friends, and so they ignore the thoughts of him as anything other than that, burying their growing feelings - shit, they really are turning into a lovestruck teen - as deep as they can, in the recesses of their mind.

And it works, for the most part. Until the end of July.

They want to blame it on the midsummer heat. It’s about as hot as it gets in Dahlia, the days long, so they haven’t been seeing as much of him lately. But tonight, when they found themselves in an empowered bar close to the D.A.M.N campus, it was late enough that he joined them for a drink.

The company is good, soothing the sting of another failed lead. He drinks Tennessee whiskey while they stick to bottled beer, the honey liquid reflecting in the silver of his eyes.

I like the taste, the way it lingers on the back of the tongue.

He makes a good case for it, and when they finish their first beer, they order one for themselves, nursing it between their hands.

It’s been a while since they’ve had whiskey like this. It’s a familiar burn, trailing down their throat, settling in their stomach in a rolling heat, like the aftermath of a sunburn, the coals of a bonfire.

It’s when they glance back up to meet his gaze that they find his eyes already on them, a soft smile playing on his lips. It warms them, almost as much as the whiskey in their drink.

He’s - good. Better than most. He cares, when he shouldn’t, and they find themselves caring too. And so when the night gets a little messy - and when doesn’t it, when they’re involved? - and a simple conversation turns into a bar fight, they’re not surprised when he has their back.

And he’s good at that, too.

They can’t help the way their eyes are caught on his movements, the fluid strength of him, even as he moves at a speed that’s too fast for most humans - empowered and unempowered alike - to catch.

Not too fast for them, though.

He’s at their side, having blocked a blow coming at them from behind, the warm heat of him against their back as his eyes scan over them, checking them for injuries - but they’re practised at this, and they can hold their own better than most.

Still, he moves fast, that fluid grace that comes with his immortality, his silver eyes. It sets their heart racing, the adrenaline pounding through their system, but it’s not fear flooding their veins - it’s interest.

He notices, as of course he does, a flicker of concern crossing his features before he breathes in deep, nostrils flaring just slightly as his head turns, catching their gaze.

His eyes are darker than they’ve seen on him before, but it’s not the black that comes before a feeding. His pupils are dilated as he releases a shivery breath, and they realise that he knows, and he feels it too.

Fuck, he’s still so close.

His eyes flicker down to their mouth, just for a moment, and their breath hitches.

A garbled yell breaks the quiet that’s fallen between them, some drunken idiot with a pocket knife and a death wish, and the moment is gone.

But they’re still thinking about it later when he makes the long walk back with them to their apartment, waiting on their stoop as they pull out their keys. He’s always doing things like that, all polite southern hospitality, a wry grin curling his lips when they call him out on it.

Allow me my manners, darlin’.

They hesitate on the front step of their apartment building, the door unlocked, taking a moment to look at him under the subtle glow of the moonlight. He’s watching them in return, a warm light in his silver eyes as they flicker between theirs, an understanding there.

He’s thinking about that moment from earlier, too.

But then he takes a step back from the stoop, his hands slipping into the deep pockets of his leather jacket, aged chestnut leather comfortably worn in and scuffed at the elbows.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you then, darlin’.”

He smiles, soft and with just a hint of teeth, and he’s handsome in this light, with his bright eyes and striking features. And maybe it’s the alcohol still buzzing in their system, but they wish they had the confidence to invite him up, to ask if he’d spend the night, instead of just watching him go.

“Take care of yourself, cowboy.”

His laugh is rounded and warm, whiskey smooth. “I’ll see what I can do.”

–

That night, they don’t sleep easy, and when they do, their dreams are filled with him. Bright eyes and soft touches, the subtle heat of his body at their side, at their back, on top of them-

They wake in sweat-soaked sheets, their heart pounding inside their chest for a very different reason than their usual nightmares, and fuck.

Fuck.

–

The next day, when their phone rings, they don’t answer immediately. They don’t need to check the screen to know who it is; there’s only one person with this number who’d call at this hour. Sam.

The weight of their dreams and that missed moment last night sits heavily at the forefront of their mind, and shit. They don’t know how to speak to him. They don’t think they can without saying something stupid. Like inviting him over again.

So instead, they sit and wait, watching the phone. Their heart is pounding inside their chest, all nerves and trepidation and other shit they’d thought they’d left behind them in childhood.

After a few more moments, the ringing stops, the caller forwarded to voicemail. They wait to see if he leaves a message. He doesn’t.

Instead, the phone screen lights up again, and the nerves in their stomach turn to ice. If he’s pushing to talk to them in person like this, then it must be something important.

Muttering a short curse, they grab the phone and answer the call. “Sam-?”

“David called,” is what he says instead of his usual greeting, or any number of things they expected to come out of his mouth, and fuck. "He's heading over to yours."

A firm knock sounds at the door. Shit.

#redacted asmr #redacted sam #redacted darlin #sam/darlin #ej writes redacted #writing #there is gonna be a bonus chapter #as a gift to andy #set just before HBS #but this is done for now! FINALLY #look giving someone the wontons is a declaration of love okay

128 notes · View notes

shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?”

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

1K notes · View notes

spencersawkward · 4 years ago

Note

omg I’m so excited you’re on here and taking requests!! do you think you could do something like baby Spence losing his virginity to a close friend & it’s like adorable, goofy, fluffy smut bc he cannot get over the fact that he’s actually having sex with someone

I’VE BEEN WAITIN FOR THIS ONE-- TURN IT UP!!!

on a serious note, i'm so glad you asked for this one bc i really wanna add a scene like this in the fic i'm working on rn. i'm v excited.

summary: when the secret of Spencer's virginity gets accidentally spilled in front of the whole team, reader goes to check on him.

word count: 5.6k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Spencer Reid

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fluff.

masterlist

hanging out with the team is easily the best part of the week. after spending days in Arizona with our focus entirely on the most recent case, my mind is practically ready to snap. I feel like I've been running on fumes, and when Penelope suggested we take the evening to hit our favorite bar, I was practically already out the door.

so now I'm sandwiched between JJ and Emily as we throw back our first shots of the night. my skin is already flushed with the elation of laughter, the pleasant thrum of conversation that surrounds us.

"that's bitter." JJ makes a face when she slams the empty glass on the table. I screw up my nose.

"why did we pick vodka?" I hate vodka.

"it gets the job done." Emily laughs. I shudder at the aftertaste that sits on my tongue.

Morgan wanders over, Pen on his arm while she totes a brightly colored pink alcohol. they're flirting as usual, but she pauses in her witticisms to grab my arm.

"we're playing truth or shot in that booth over there." she says to me, then gets the attention of the other two women. I let out a disbelieving laugh.

"truth or shot? like truth or dare but without the dare?"

"Reid, is that you?" Morgan says sarcastically. I slug him in the arm with a pout.

"be nice." but I'm giggling. he loops his arm through mine and we head back to the table, Penelope already starting a new conversation with JJ and Prentiss as they follow. Spencer is sitting in the booth with an Arnold Palmer, sipping from the straw like it's his job. I slide into the spot next to him.

"hi, you." I smile. "I haven't seen you at all tonight."

he holds up his glass. "I don't really drink."

"that's fine," I wave it off. "I just meant I wanted to hang out with you."

"oh." he smiles a little. "sorry."

"no big deal. you're here now." I shrug and turn to Pen as she calls my name.

"I'm gonna order a bottle. that okay?" she points to the bar with a mischievous smile. glancing once at Spencer and his slightly awkward position between Morgan and me, I make a snap decision.

"you know what? I think I'll just have a lemonade."

"you sure? Jayge said you spent the whole plane ride back talking about getting wasted--" Penelope's words cause a blush to spread over my face. I cut her off.

"I'm sure. thanks, Penny."

she nods. "of course, sweet cheeks."

I focus back on Reid, who is looking at me gratefully. he would never say it out loud, but I know he feels a little out-of-place sometimes. it's hard enough for him to come out with us to bars; the least I can do is be a sober friend. I open my mouth to start a conversation about an article I read the other day when Prentiss speaks.

"okay, so... who's ready?" her voice, always so certain, carries over the table. all of us make enthusiastic noises of assent, and she grins as Penelope returns with an armful of glasses. Derek gets up to grab the actual alcohol, and then when we're all settled in, the game begins.

"the rules are simple: you tell the truth, or you drink!" the tech analyst explains. the stakes for Spencer and me are lower, but that doesn't really matter. I'm excited to hear the team divulge their secrets.

"I'll start." Prentiss doesn't even hesitate before she looks at Morgan. "Derek, are you still sleeping with that one woman from sex crimes?"

Morgan raises his eyebrows at the question, irises flitting between Emily and the rim of his drink. there's a slight smirk on his face; he knows what a player he is and he's okay with flaunting it.

"Ally? no." he sighs. "things didn't end well between us."

"what? why?" I ask, eyes widening before I look around at everyone. "who is this woman?"

"cool your jets, sparky." Morgan teases me. "only one question per round."

"I'll tell you later." Prentiss raises her drink in my direction and winks.

"uh, no no." Morgan attempts to stop her, but JJ interrupts him.

"speaking of things not ending well," she says loudly. "Pen, why did you and Sam break up?"

"well," Penelope sticks her tongue between her teeth as she thinks it over with a devilish smile. her lips are a ruby red tonight, bright against her pale skin and big eyes. "to be completely honest, he just wasn't... doin' it for me. you know?"

"like--?" Emily glances down at her lap. Pen nods quickly and I snicker. JJ looks awestruck.

"I thought it was going so well."

"it was, but..." Penelope seems to genuinely think this over before she speaks. "if it's right, it just clicks. and it never clicked with Sam."

"profound." I compliment, high-fiving the high-energy blonde. we giggle before she turns to me with a glint in her eye.

"oh, do I have a plan for you," she smirks. "tell me, Y/N: if you had to sleep with one person on our team, who would it be?"

"women included?" I clarify, my cheeks suddenly on fire. how come everyone got easy questions except for me? I'm really just biding time.

"of course." she nudges my shoulder. I mull this over for a minute. I could say the truth, but I don't think that would be the right thing to do. however ironic that is. given the situation, I do something which I have never been good at and which I don't enjoy doing: I lie.

"although all of you are catches," I preface. "I think I would probably pick Emily."

Prentiss almost chokes on her own spit as her head snaps to see my face.

"me?" she asks.

"low-pressure fun." I shrug, the stress of the moment rolling off my shoulders with the ensuing laughter of my team members. Spencer takes a sip of his drink and peeks at me from his spot before I focus my attention to JJ.

we go on like this for a while, our original plan of "truth or drink" really just turning into a game of "truth and drink." as our laughter gets progressively louder, our questions and answers get progressively more provocative. we get into risky territory towards the fourth round, and I can practically feel Spencer's discomfort radiating off of him. thank god everyone has been taking it easier on him with their questions.

that is, until Morgan hits about five shots and decides to throw him to the wolves.

"so, Reid," he asks. there's no malice in his tone and I'm sure he's not meaning to embarrass the boy genius, but the question makes me wince anyways. "have we made any progress on the virginity front?"

it's like a fucking pall over the table. Reid goes rigid in his spot, and JJ's protective eyes dart between him and Morgan. Penelope's jaw drops.

"wait, Reid, you're a--?" her voice is tender, not judgmental, but Spencer's cheeks turn pink and he looks at Derek with a hurt expression.

"not cool." he says, body shifting in my direction. his eyes communicate everything; without a word, I know what he wants. I scoot out of the booth, letting him slip by me to walk outside.

truly, I'm speechless. we all stare at his lanky frame push through the door, but nobody talks until at least fifteen seconds pass.

"what the hell was that, Morgan?" JJ asks.

"I thought everyone knew--" he throws his hands up. "I swear I wouldn't have said anything if--"

"why would everyone know that?" I feel myself get angry for Spencer's sake. "that's an incredibly personal thing, especially to him."

"that wasn't you, my love." Penelope's voice is soft, sobered by the incident that just occurred. the playful air at the table is officially ruined, and we keep glancing at the doorway like Reid will come back in and everything will be fine. he doesn't.

"I'm gonna go apologize." Morgan starts to get up, seemingly beginning to realize the weight of his words. it's one thing to ask about Reid's sex life in general; it's another to point out specifically the entire absence of it. Spencer doesn't seem to be bothered by most things, but this is different. my heart hurts.

we watch Morgan go, the women all looking at each other with worried expressions.

"I feel bad." Penelope says.

"y'know, Spence never told me that." JJ observes.

"he really trusts Morgan." Prentiss says what we're all thinking. Morgan has always been like a big brother to him, and being embarrassed in front of your co-workers like that can't be a pleasant feeling.

we sit in a relative silence for about five minutes until Morgan walks back into the bar. he pulls out his wallet and pays for the drinks, then walks over to us.

"I'm gonna go for a walk. do you need me to call you all cabs?" he asks. those dramatic brows are drawn low over his face, emphasizing his regret. I look between my friends and clear my throat.

"it's okay. I only had one shot about an hour and a half ago. I can drive everyone home."

"okay," Morgan sighs, his head turning briefly to the door before focusing back on us. "drive safe, ladies."

and then he's gone.

"you guys ready?" I start to shrug my jacket on. they all nod and we get ready to go.

...

sitting in my apartment later that night, my head is swimming. even though it's none of my business what happens in Spencer's sex life, I wish I could tell him that it's okay. nobody cares at all if he's a virgin or not. but I know it's still embarrassing.

I hate that I lied earlier tonight, too. I wanted to say Spencer's name when they asked who I wanted, because I meant it. we're close, and I will always love him as a friend. but I've also always wanted more.

nobody, not even any of the other BAU women, know about my crush. I didn't want it to get in the way, or for it to come out and ruin my friendship with Reid. he doesn't like me like that, and that's fine, but what's not fine is not having him as my friend.

he was the first person I really connected with when I came here, and I feel a little protective over him, too.

once the clock hits eleven, I consider calling. he’s definitely not asleep yet. Spencer is a night owl. normally at this time he'd be curled up with a huge book, reading impossibly fast.

when he picks up on the third ring, the air leaves my lungs.

"Y/N?" he asks, more surprised than anything else.

"hey, Spence--" I hesitate, suddenly not sure what to say. sorry Morgan told everyone you're a fucking virgin? “do you wanna come over?"

maybe if I see him face-to-face, I'll be able to collect my thoughts better. the words hang in the air, festering over the line until I'm just about to take them back, before he replies.

"y-yeah. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

my hands are shaking at my side when I open the door for the tall genius. he's still wearing his outfit from earlier, hair slicked back like normal. I've settled for my usual sweatpants and t-shirt winning combo. it's not like he cares.

"hey." I smile, trying to read his micro expressions. there are two possible outcomes here, knowing him: either he's going to be totally, completely over it, or he'll be able to write a War-and-Peace-length book on why he's upset.

"hi." he gives a wan smile and I let him into my apartment, closing the door behind him and gesturing to the couch.

"I missed this place." he says absently, looking around at the mess of decor and case files. I snort as I recall the last time he was here. he wanted to borrow a book that I had, and we ended up watching an entire docu-series about homing pigeons. it was surprisingly interesting; mostly because his commentary is both informative and funny.

"it missed you." I anthropomorphize my living space, but the phrase hangs heavy. I'm worried about him. I'm always worried about Spencer. he turns to look at me, opening his mouth to say something. I brush past him and walk into the kitchen. "coffee?"

"sure." he follows me like a lost puppy, leaning against the counter while I pull out two mugs and get to work.

"hey," I pause for a moment to look him in the eyes. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry-- about what happened... tonight."

"oh, that?" he scoffs, waves it off unconvincingly. "it's fine."

I raise my brows the slightest bit, never breaking eye contact. he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to talk about it. he cracks easily.

"it's just embarrassing, you know?" he says, staring out my kitchen window to alleviate his own nerves. I gesture for him to follow me back into the living room and I sit down criss-cross applesauce on the couch. he mirrors me, kicking off those cute black Converse.

"I don't think the fact itself is embarrassing, but I totally get why it feels that way. he shouldn't have said anything." I nod.

"like, that's personal. a-and--" he hesitates a moment, gesticulating wildly now. "and it's not like he's got any right! at least I don't go around with so many girls that I forget their names."

the thought of Reid sleeping with that many women is a little bit funny, but it also makes my stomach twist with jealousy.

"did he apologize?"

"yeah, he did. and he was drunk, I know." he rolls his eyes. "I'm overreacting."

"no, really, you're not." without thinking, I scoot closer to him and place my hand over his, which is sitting on his knee. I remember that Spencer is usually pretty averse to touch, but when I move it back to my lap, he seems a little disappointed. I wonder if he gets lonely.

"is it weird?" the question sounds raw, like he's mustering a lot to hear my response. I shake my head immediately.

"well, for one, Spence, I would never judge anyone based on their sex life, period." I chuckle. "and two, no way! if you aren't into having sex at this point in your life-- or ever-- that's totally your choice and you're entitled to it."

his eyes meet mine, pools of honeyed hazel that swim with a slightly amber shade. his face is so pretty, it's sometimes unbelievable to me that he doesn't get more action. bone structure that would make a sculpture envious.

"that's the thing," he licks his lips nervously before averting his gaze again. "I am interested-- I just don't-- well, I don't--"

"don't have someone to do it with?" I suggest with a slight smile. he nods, then clarifies.

"girls don't really seem to be interested in me."

I let out a laugh, unable to contain myself. his head jerks up to frown in confusion. I’m quick to amend myself.

"Spence, that's not true at all. you're such a catch! you're sweet and funny and way smarter than anyone I know. not to mention that you're adorable." I compliment, letting some of the thoughts I've been keeping to myself bubble to the surface. "any girl would be beyond lucky to be with you, sexually or not." Spencer blushes at my words, but the squirming in his spot tells me that it makes him feel warm inside. he smiles a little.

"you think?" it's genuine. he appreciates being praised, and it makes my heart flutter when he gives me that expression like I've made his night.

"I know." more of what I want to say rolls around my mind, unsure of whether or not I should admit it. but I think that right now, it'll only serve to make him feel better. "actually, I should tell you something."

"what?" he's curious now.

"when we were at the bar and Penelope asked who I'd be with... on the team... I lied."

"okay." he nods, somehow not connecting the dots. I guess it doesn't matter if they've got enormous IQs; boys are still clueless.

"I was gonna say you." the truth presses from the inside out, lifting a weight off my chest now that it's out there. even if he doesn't return that feeling, I'm suddenly glad that I told him.

"me?" he gestures to his narrow chest. I nod.

"yeah. I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable or embarrass you in front of our friends." I explain. he breaks into a grin.

"thanks." like I've given him something. I feel myself smiling as well, and then we're just looking at each other. tension that neither of us is willing to break. as much as I'd like to take him right here right now, he hasn't said anything about actually having sex or even about being attracted to me. for all I know, he could be completely indifferent.

"listen, Spence--"

"would you be willing to--" we speak at the same time, both of us stopping and laughing awkwardly.

"sorry, you go first." I offer, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

"would you want to... um..." he scratches the back of his neck before his eyes meet mine. "try it?"

"sex?" I raise my eyebrows. he nods. I try to find the right response. that’s more assertive than I expected. my pulse is fast, daring me to tell the truth. "I mean-- yes, I would love to-- but are you sure you want it to be with me, Spence? what about a girl that you like?"

"you are a girl that I like." he says this like it's matter-of-fact, like it's obvious. my heart stops in my chest before it starts to hammer.

"really?" a smile makes its way onto my face.

"I thought you knew."

"no." I laugh. my chest is full of sunlight.

"well, you are."

there's a brief silence where I try to get myself back on track. he likes me, too.

"are you sure you want to do this?" I glance at the space between our bodies, which has grown steadily smaller over the course of our conversation. Spencer is watching my every move with an intensity that tells me he's nervous.

"yes." he's unwavering.

"okay, well, you've kissed girls, right?" I inch closer. he nods.

"one."

"oh, Spencer," I sigh contentedly. "I have so much to teach you."

right after I say this, Spencer shifts uncomfortably in his seat. it's only then that I notice his hand covering his lap, the erection that's forming beneath his pants. my eyes flick up to his hungrily.

"sorry." he apologizes.

"don't be." our faces are inches apart and he's practically holding his breath. "I'm gonna kiss you. is that okay?"

"yes." he replies immediately. I place my hands gently on the side of his face, admiring the softness and sharpness of his jaw when I pull him to me, kissing him with a suppressed desire. his mouth is soft against mine, a little anxious to move. after a moment, he starts to relax.

his lips part and I deepen our contact, tilting my head and keeping it mostly mild at first. I don't want to shove my tongue down his throat. our knees are touching and his hand hesitantly finds my waist, the other going to run through my hair. I sigh into him, his fingertips a new sensation that I adore.

Spencer begins to give in a bit more to himself, asserting himself in the kiss and slipping his tongue over my bottom lip. I almost laugh at how quickly he gets the hang of it. he reads my body language effortlessly, not even skipping a beat when I climb into his lap and lace my arms around his neck.

"is this okay?" I pull away momentarily. he nods.

"you're so pretty." an unrelated response, but appreciated nonetheless. I laugh and peck his nose.

"thanks." and then we're back to making out, his hands resting on the small of my back. it's nice. I could stay like this forever, just pressed against Spencer while my fingers thread through his soft hair. he's cautious with me, and it's innocent.

I can feel his boner, can feel from the eagerness of his kisses that he's trying not to bring up the fact that he's literally just throbbing in his pants right now. in order to give him a little of what he wants, I start to rock my hips against his.

Spencer whimpers into my mouth. I stop and look down at him.

"do you want me to stop?"

"no, god, no— never stop." he's mindless in his reply, already grabbing my hips greedily and trying to regain that friction. I shake my head with a chuckle, then resume my actions. he starts to rut up against me, groaning into our embrace while his hands get more adventurous.

I withdraw, breaking the kiss to straighten up. he doesn't stop the microscopic pushes of his hips. I bite back a smile, enjoying the friction, too.

"do you wanna take my clothes off, Spence?" I ask softly.

"y-yes." he replies, gingerly taking the hem of my top and beginning to lift it over my head. when he places it on the couch beside me, his eyes immediately fall to my bra. slender fingers run up my bare waist, his watch glinting in the candlelight. when he doesn't immediately reach to unclasp my bra, I grab his wrist and guide it to the clasps myself. he moves with a surprising ease, unsnapping the thing and grazing over my skin as he slides the straps down my shoulders. I can tell that he’s shaking a tad, but it doesn’t hinder him.

the second that he's discarded the lingerie, he looks up at me with moony eyes.

"can I... kiss you?" he looks at my bare chest. "here?"

"of course, Spence." I nod. he presses his lips to the space between my ribs, drags them up to the valley between my breasts. lingers, then attaches himself to one of my nipples. I sigh, throwing my head back at the way he moves intuitively, sucking and running his tongue over the peak. he squeezes the other breast, plays with the nipple and starts to acquaint himself with the curves of my body.

the whole time, he's straining against my core, rutting helplessly in pleasure. it feels heavenly, with that sweet face of his so devoted to making me feel good, that I nearly stray from the purpose of the experience.

"Spencer..." I breathe. he moans at the sound of his name, then looks up at me from his place sucking on my tits. his teeth graze of my skin and I buck into his lap, causing him to groan appreciatively. my fingers tangle in his soft hair.

"Y/N," he pulls away from my chest, his lips making a soft popping sound. I gaze down at him, a bit lost in the fantasies running through my head. he's a natural. "can we, um-- like, expedite this process a little?"

"expedite the process?” I repeat back to him, giggling at his formality.

"what?" his voice goes up an octave, but he's smiling. "you know what I mean."

"I really do." I lean down, pressing my thumb into his jaw and angling his face up to mine to kiss. while his hands curiously move over my body, I start to push down the waistband of my sweatpants. I break contact just for a moment to peel them off, and he releases a quiet whine. it's cute.

"come back." he says softly, watching as I slide the bottoms down my legs, leaving me in my panties.

"I'm back." I peck his cheek, climb into his lap again. "can we take off your clothes, too?"

"mhmm." he nods. his lips part when my fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with a torturous slowness. I can feel his eyes on my face the whole time.

"what?" I chuckle, peeking up at him for a moment before I pull his shirt open and run my palms up his chest, over his shoulders. he nearly shudders at the sheer touch.

"I just can't believe this is actually happening." he smiles in that way of his, like he's suppressing the depth of his emotions, with his brows slightly raised. I take the opportunity to enjoy the sight of him before me, his rapidly rising and falling chest, the smoothness of his skin.

"honestly?" I start to unbutton his pants, and he jerks up into my hand, blushing once he realizes the earnestness of his actions. I smirk encouragingly. "me, neither."

before I pull down his boxers, my eyes flick to his. "is this still okay?"

"Y/N," he groans. "if you don't do something, I'm gonna cum too early." he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment when my hand moves over his clothed erection, like he's holding on. "please."

"sorry." I release him from the confines. it hits his stomach and he waits for my reaction, as if he's afraid that I'll change my mind right now. but I'm definitely not going to. "holy fuck, Spencer."

"what?" he panics slightly, sitting up more. "is it not enough?"

"not enou--" I stutter, almost laugh. "no, it's plenty. I had no idea..."

"oh." he hides the pleased smile on his face, blush spreading over his pretty throat. in the interest of "expediting the process," I wrap my hand around the base of his cock and gently pump him.

Spencer's stomach tenses and he grabs onto the cushion of the couch with a tight fist, sighing.

"mmm..." he doesn't try to word his emotions, but I know. and I like that I'm making him feel this way, sharing this experience. Spencer and I are such close friends, I never thought we'd actually have sex. my assumption was that I'd watch him grow into himself, find a nice girl and treat her like a queen.

but here I am, spitting into my hand before jerking him off to prepare for what’s next. he’s throbbing, sounds coming from his throat.

"I'm gonna sit on it, okay?" I lean down to whisper in his ear. he touches my waist, my neck, kisses a random spot on my chest in the waves of pleasure that I'm giving him.

"o-okay." he mumbles, waiting for me to actually do it. and there's a moment of tense anticipation between both of us, when I sit up and pull my panties to the side. Spencer watches like I'm the only thing in the world, saving the memory of my body on top of his for later.

I run the head of his cock along my entrance, soaking him in the wetness between my thighs. I didn't realize how turned on I'd already gotten, and he lets out a quiet whine when he feels the evidence of how much I want him.

our eyes lock when I sink down. it's a new feeling for him, and the shape of his member as it stretches my walls causes me to bite my lip to withhold moaning too loudly. he whimpers, neck tensing and fingertips digging into my hips.

"o-oh." he sucks in a breath as I reach the halfway point. he's so big, I have to go slow in order not to overwhelm myself. but it feels good, too. like... unbelievably good. I grip onto his shoulders and my head falls forward into his shoulder.

"Spencer, holy shit." I moan.

"does it feel nice?" he asks, concerned for my own pleasure. I feel my chest flutter at the thoughtfulness of the boy wonder even when he's in the midst of losing his virginity, and I lower myself onto the rest of him.

"mhmm," I rest for a moment. "how do you feel?"

"like--" his breath hitches when I begin to rock back and forth on him. "like I've been missing out."

I can't help the giggle that slips past my lips, but then it quickly turns into a longing moan when he starts to thrust up into me like a helpless thing. Spencer is brilliant, but his brain cells go out the window when he throws his head back and begs me to move more.

I nod, raising and lowering myself until we reach a special pace. it's not fast or slow, just the two of us trying to stay in the moment while we hold on tightly to each other. I can feel the cool metal of his watch when he splays his hand out over my spine, the warmth of his breath while he pants against my shoulder.

he hits my g-spot over and over. my moans are torn from my throat by the burning of my lungs. it's like I can't breathe because I'm so focused on chasing the orgasm building in my stomach. and Spencer... I can tell he's almost finished.

the erratic nature of his jerking body tells me.

"I'm gonna cum..." he moans into my neck. "do- do you want me to pull out?"

"no." I arch my back and throw myself into the friction of our bodies. he stares up at me while I ride him, the merciless grinding of my hips because I just can't help myself. "oh my god, Spencer."

he notices how close I am and, in a surprisingly deft move, slides two fingers over my pussy to find my clit. the ensuing noise from me tells him that he's found it, and he begins to rub in quick circles. it's rough and hard, but that's exactly what I need right now.

"cum for me, Spence." I breathe. his free hand grips onto my thigh and pulls me over him, his own words unintelligible within the sounds of absolute pleasure.

"please." he begs for something I don't know, spills his seed inside of my pussy and holds onto me like I'm an anchor to this world while he peers into the next. the feeling of him spreading through my stomach, along with the reckless movements of his limbs and the way he looks at me while he rides out his orgasm, sends me over the edge.

"oh my fuck!" I collapse, grabbing his shoulders tightly and rolling myself down while he removes his fingers from my body. it's jarring, the intensity, like my normal functions can't respond correctly. all I can process is the tightening of my stomach, the pleasure between my legs, vision going slightly fuzzy at the edges. he moans when my cunt flutters around him, the muscles trying desperately to hold him here with me forever. I take deep breaths and slow down, my forehead dropping again while I start to remember my own name.

neither of us speaks. I think I'm still too in shock about what just happened, but in the best way. he keeps running his hands over my skin, then wraps his arms around my torso so that I'm pulled against his chest. I smile, kissing his ear before I finally break the silence.

"hi."

"hi." he's got a satisfied tone.

"do you need anything? water?" I ask, exhausted but realizing that this is still new for Spencer and it's my job to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. he nuzzles his nose into my clavicle and squeezes me tighter.

"stay here with me." there's a slight edge to his words. he's afraid of me leaving. I snuggle down, perfectly happy to remain. heat radiates from his skin, and I like the way it feels.

"of course."

we linger in each other’s arms, both of us coming back into the real world and holding on in an attempt to soften the blow. I just had sex with Spencer.

"thank you." he whispers into my hair.

"for what?" the smile on my face is lazy.

"for doing this."

"well, I really wanted to." I laugh. "so, I guess, thank you, too."

"you're quite welcome." his response is cheerful and then we're both laughing, the sound rumbling from his chest. "can we do it again at some point?"

"I would be happy to." I beam. the contented sigh that leaves his lips, followed by a slight sinking of our bodies down the couch in collective exhaustion, fills me with a joy that's quiet but obvious.

“I’ll last longer next time, I promise.” he says. I can practically hear the blush in his cheeks.

“you did amazing, Spence. don’t worry about it.” I press a few stray kisses to him.

I'll need to go clean up, soon, but it can wait a few more minutes. this is my favorite place on earth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #virgin spencer #reader x spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #baby spencer reid

2K notes · View notes

pippytmi · 3 years ago

Note

16 + 4 + 2 (werewolf supercorp?)

It is not uncommon for Kara to wake up in a puddle of blood.

At this point she is immune to the shock that comes with it, really. She has adapted; knows all the best tricks to get stains out of her clothes, knows all the best laundromats that don’t ask any questions. Heck, she even has Alex’s ex-girlfriend on speed dial, just in case there is a freak chance the blood Kara wakes up in might be human (it has not happened yet, knock on wood).

But there are other parts that still take some getting used to. Like, for example, the loss of memory that comes with every night of the full moon. Because yeah, she understands why she wakes up in a pool of blood. What she doesn’t understand is why this time around she wakes up in a pool of her own blood, and in so much pain that it hurts to open her eyes.

“Ow,” Kara whispers to herself, twisting onto her side with a groan. Her clothes are gone—no surprise—but even as she is laying down on the cold, rocky forest floor, the only thing she can focus on is how much her head hurts. She’s dealt with branch scratches, sore legs and arms, the occasional plethora of bug bites, but never a headache. Her one comfort is that at least she has made it into the backyard of Sam’s cabin. It takes a considerable amount of strength to push herself up off the ground; walking is going to be much harder than anticipated.

If Alex saw her now, she'd—well first she would hit Kara over the head and yell at her about being dumb, but afterwards she would snicker. And probably hit her over the head again for good measure.

“Oh my God—!”

Okay, it’s official. Kara is now dead. Even if the stranger gawking at her is not the one who kills her, Alex definitely will.

And it’s that thought that makes Kara drop right back down on the floor, knocking the wind right out of her lungs, and she groans into the dirt pitifully.

“Oh, fuck,” the stranger whispers, almost as if to herself, scrambling to come to Kara’s side. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck this shit. Fuck!” Said stranger belatedly claps a hand over her mouth, green eyes widening in horror. “Holy shit, are you alive?”

Kara pitifully rests her cheek against the ground and tries not to look too offended. “Uh, kind of,” she replies. (So this must not be Sam’s cabin, then.) “Sorry. Am I in your yard? It is a very nice yard. Five stars.”

“No, it’s not my—I’m house-sitting,” the woman explains, though she is giving Kara a look that says really? That’s what you want to focus on right now?

“Well, it’s still a nice place,” Kara says, because she is polite and small talk is always a good thing to fall back on when you’re naked on a pile of dead leaves. “Wait, I don’t suppose you’re house-sitting for Sam, are you? Sam Arias, super tall, has a daughter who is freakishly good at checkers?”

Stranger-who-swears-like-a-sailor frowns. “How do you know Sam?” she asks suspiciously.

“She dated my sister. It was a whole—it’s a thing,” Kara says. “You know?”

“Wait. Are you Kara? Are you Alex’s sister?”

“Yes! So you do know!” Kara would grin if her face were capable of any emotion besides mind-shattering pain. “Then you must be Sam’s friend…uh, bear with me…Lena? Or Jess?”

“Lena,” says the woman, still notably wary, so Kara makes the decision to wiggle until she can prop herself up her elbows and look less, well, like a corpse.

“Hey, got it in one!” Kara says as cheerfully as she can muster. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. And can I just—uh, say—that you don’t have to worry. I won’t die here or anything. I know you would obviously be the number one suspect for murder and it wouldn’t be nice of me to put you through that.”

“…right. Never mind that you would be dead, or anything.” Lena begins to shakily unbutton her coat like a woman possessed, as if her doubt has morphed entirely into concern now that she has confirmation the freak naked in Sam’s backyard is not an entire stranger. “Here, this is long enough to cover you. Do you—do you need help getting up?”

“No, no, I’ve got it, thank you,” Kara insists, and gradually, she manages; she shifts sideways and then tentatively onto her butt, and accepts the coat when it’s all but thrown at her face. There is blood mixed in with the leaves and general guck beneath her, and she winces at the sight. “I’ll come back and clean this later,” she’s quick to add, and Lena frowns in response.

“Are you serious? Forget cleaning, you need—stitches, at the very least. I can take you to the hospital if—”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that!” Kara blurts out, and with the adrenaline from that burst of energy she’s able to scramble to her feet. She is shaky, unsteady, but she manages to stay upright at least and she’ll count that as a win. “Shoot. I’m sorry for yelling. I just—no hospitals. I can’t do hospitals.” She has never had to form an excuse for this, and her mouth can’t quite wrap around the right words.

But Lena—green eyes wide and unsure, skin pale in the early morning light—nods, like she understands. “Okay,” she says. “No hospitals.”

“Thanks,” Kara mumbles, wrapping the coat tightly around herself. There are startling black spots in her vision and her head still feels like it was used as a piñata; she wonders what the heck her next move should be now. If Sam needs someone to house-sit, she must be out of the city. And if Sam is out of the city, Kara can’t exactly waltz into Sam’s house to wash all the blood off her body (and then call up Alex from the couch while stealing whatever ice cream Ruby picked). Sam lets her do that, sure, but that’s Sam. It would be pretty rude to do that when Lena is right here.

“Do you…” And Lena pauses, nose scrunching up as if something has just occurred to her. “I can give you a ride somewhere else, if you’d like. Back to your house?”

“No, that’s okay,” Kara hurries to decline, because how can she really explain that she lives in an apartment, and that if little old Mrs. Jensen saw her coming up covered in blood she’d finally succumb to her third heart attack? “Can I just use Sam’s phone to call my sister? Then I’ll come right back out here, I promise.”

“Why would you come back out here again?” Underneath her coat, Lena is wearing plaid pajama pants that are rolled at the ankle (Sam’s, most likely), and a tank top that is extremely fitted. Very, very well fitted. Like, you-can-tell-it’s-frigidly-cold-outside-kind-of-fitted.

Kara coughs and tries not to let on how her train of thought has twisted. “Because…I’m a stranger?” she tries. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Remember, if you die I’m going to be the first one they question,” Lena says, tilting her head expectantly in the direction of Sam’s cabin. “Come inside, warm up. Call your sister.” All things considered, she is far more concerned than Kara expected her to be—as if, somehow, ridding herself of the weirdo walking around bloody and probably concussed isn’t the very first thing on Lena’s mind.

So Kara doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth; she accepts the offer. It’s a small comfort that if she really does get murdered by a total stranger, it won’t be while cold and naked.

Lena goes right into Sam’s room the instant they go inside, already gathering a million outfits for Kara to pick through. “The shower is fickle, but it does have hot water,” she says, adding a towel to the pile in Kara’s arms when she re-emerges. “You just have to—”

“Hit the wall twice, and give it a few seconds,” Kara finishes. “Yeah, Sam reminds me every time.”

“So you…visit Sam often, do you?”

“Uh.” And suddenly, despite the long, cold night she’s had, the air indoors feels a bit warmer than is comfortable. “Only sometimes.” Once a month, Kara thinks, and Lena crosses her arms and just stares.

Really stares, dragging those sharp green eyes up and down Kara’s whole body. Squints at the scratches on her face, scrunches her nose at the way Kara awkwardly shifts from side to side. Finally Lena speaks, and it’s only to say, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“...come again?”

“It’s you. Sam told me she’s been helping out a friend with a—furry predicament—”

If it were possible to choke on air, Kara would be dead right now. “Did she really call it furry? But she’s also—!” She has to pause, now, because she feels an urge to clarify, “Wait. Are we talking about the same thing right now?”

Lena narrows her eyes slightly. “You mean talking about how you’re a werewolf?”

“Oh!” Head lighter, Kara sucks in a laugh that makes her ribs feel like they are splintering open. “Then yes. That’s good, I didn’t want you to think I was a—anyway. I didn’t think Sam told anyone.”

“Sam and I have been friends for a long time,” Lena says slowly. A beat. “She actually ate my hamster once.”

Kara winces. “Recently?”

“No! Back in the fifth grade,” Lena frowns, like she might’ve added dumbass at the end of the sentence. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t own hamsters.”

“What? Come on, having pets isn’t just a kid thing,” Kara says. “I used to have a cat, but he…”

“Oh my God, you ate him?”

Kara’s jaw drops. “What—no! He turned out to already have an owner, so she took him back. He just liked to wander into my apartment.” She hugs the clothing pile tighter to her chest, and tries her hardest to scowl. “I’m responsible, okay? Most of the time. I’m not dangerous.”

“Except to deer, or rabbits, or whatever else you killed last night?” Lena quirks an eyebrow, but surprisingly not in a manner that’s judge-y. Just…curious.

“Right,” Kara says defeatedly, and her head throbs enough that her grip on Sam’s clothes begins to falter. “Sorry. I wasn't trying to be defensive or anything.”

“That's alright.” And stranger still, Lena reaches out to gently touch the side of Kara’s head. “So does the same thing happen to you?”

“Huh?” The proximity has scrambled Kara’s brain momentarily, and she finds herself unthinkingly holding her breath.

“Do you also black out,” Lena clarifies. “Like Sam does, every time she shifts.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s—a universal wolf thing,” Kara says.

Lena hums, and her hand retracts. “And are you a serial killer in wolf form?”

“Uh, I hope not? I’m pretty sure all this is…” Kara gestures over her body with one hand, still hugging the pile of clothes with the other. “Not human.”

“Okay.” Lena casually walks away, but pauses to throw over her shoulder, “I’ll help you clean up your head once you’re out of the shower. I’ve helped Sam a hundred times.”

“Are you—do you have some kind of healing magic, or—”

“Close. I’m an ER nurse,” Lena says amusedly, and when she smiles a dimple emerges on one cheek. “All the witches I know have fled the city, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

“You joke, but Alex dated this witch once, and she hexed my sister to spill her first sip of coffee every time she went to take a drink for three weeks straight after they broke up,” Kara says, and Lena again scrunches her nose in that quizzical way.

“Seriously? Witches are real too?”

“Duh,” Kara says lightly. “What, you thought it stopped at werewolves? Please. I’m pretty sure the neighbor two doors down is a gorgon.”

“Well, it would explain her fondness of statues,” Lena says, strangely nonplussed. “I’ve never asked, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. How do you take your coffee?” As she asks, Lena deposits a few fingers of whiskey into a mug, and at Kara’s questioning look says, “Sorry, we’re all out of painkillers. This is as good as you’re going to get.”

“Maybe I’ll do better if it’s straight,” Kara says, unable to hide her grimace, while Lena shrugs a shoulder as if to say it’s your funeral.

So after Kara showers, she sits on the couch and sips gross whiskey out of a chipped mug that reads World’s Best Mom in bright pink letters. Lena has turned on the TV to the local news station—clearly she has stayed with Sam before—and a man on screen is recounting a tale of how he hit a giant wolf strolling too close to his farm with a baseball bat.

“If I had my shotgun I would’ve killed the fucker,” he swears, red in the face, and above her Lena gives a little scoff.

“What a dick,” Lena says, her hand steadily stitching up the wound on Kara’s scalp, and her voice has a hint of an accent; it’s really cute, actually, and Kara doesn’t even mind that the next poke of the needle is sharper than the others.

It is the strangest morning Kara has ever had. Drinking whiskey before eight in the morning, with a kind stranger who she’s barely met but is suturing her skin together, who smells faintly of lavender soap and strong black coffee.

“—National City is not safe when wolves are wandering close to homes—”

The scent of rich hot chocolate bubbling on the stove is beginning to fill the room, the ancient pipes are rumbling throughout the walls, and Lena’s fingers are soft against her head. Kara closes her eyes and decides that she will wait a little longer before she calls Alex to pick her up.

#i tried my best but tbh i dont know much of werewolf lore ? so i tried to go w/these two being soft #& autumn vibes of course #supercorp #supergirl #i need a fic tag #writing a meet messy is HARD idk how to make them cute !!

487 notes · View notes

dominimoonbeam · 2 years ago

Text

Muscle Memory for the Soul

Did @colloquialcolival get Vincent/Sam lodged in my fanbrain? Yes, yes he did.

Will there be more? Probably. I love this pair. I can’t believe I never thought of it.

Muscle Memory for the Soul.

Sam goes to a blood club with Vincent and does not like what he finds.

tags: vampire trauma, discussion of eating disorder, super emotional, sketchy club, Vincent not treating himself well and letting others mistreat him, bad habits, bad self worth.

Sam had never been to one of Dahlia’s blood clubs before. He’d asked Vincent about it, not really interested in the club, but because he knew Vincent went to them. He had known Vincent since his own turning, but until recently they hadn’t even talked about vampire clubs or feeding in any way. Sam used to think that was because of his own trauma and struggle to adapt to being a vampire. And while he knew that was part of it, that Vincent had been careful not to make him uncomfortable, he was also beginning to realize that he wasn’t the only one that had struggled to come to terms with their new life.

Vincent had definitely been surprised when Sam asked about the clubs and even more so when he asked if he could go with him. He wasn’t even sure himself why he’d done it. He got most of his blood from bags and a couple empowered friends that were into biting.

The idea of Vincent, the funny, nerdy mess of a man he’d known the last thirteen years hanging out in clubs and feeding off strangers was almost impossible to imagine. He’d asked other members in the clan about it before, and they’d just shrugged like it wasn’t odd at all. One had mentioned that a lot had changed in the years before Sam came to the family. Things had been different. There had been less blood bags and they’d had to go out and fend for themselves.

Sam wasn’t sure what that meant exactly.

Not until they got to the club and Vincent promised to be a good wingman.

Sam had never seen Vincent like that. He’s obviously putting on a persona, cold and charming, giving the people at the blood club exactly what they came looking for. They’re in a booth with two people and Sam knows Vincent picked them with him in mind, because the one he’s talking to—the one leaning almost right into Sam’s face and desperately watching his mouth for even a glimpse of his teeth—is so nice. They’re sweet, gentle, and almost embarrassed about how much they want contact with him.

But their partner, the one Vincent is entertaining in this strange deal, is almost the complete opposite. They’ve had hands on Vincent since they all sat down in that plush alcove. Vincent didn’t seem to notice or mind, but Sam had to try not to look, try not to frown at how that stranger squeezed his thigh.

The human next to Sam, pressed into his side, seeking his attention. They were talking but he missed it because the other stranger grabbed Vincent and pulled him into their lap. They grabbed at Vincent’s jaw, angling his mouth toward theirs.

And then Sam saw it, the tiniest twitch on Vincent’s cheek. Not quite a grimace, not quite a snarl, not quite anything. Matching that emptiness in his eyes, like he was only half there anyway.

Sam was out of the booth faster than the human next to him could let out a little excited squeal. He pulled Vincent out of that stranger’s lap before they could kiss him and kept moving, becoming a blur of color to everyone not undead in the club. When he let go, they were on the sidewalk.

“What’s wrong?” Vincent asked. His gaze flicked over Sam with worry, like he might have been hurt.

“You weren’t into that,” Sam accused. He didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh. It just burst out of him, offended and pissed. He didn’t even know why he was so angry, but he was. His teeth were long, and it had nothing to do with feeding and everything to do with fighting.

Vincent blinked, honestly confused and that just made it so much worse. Like this was normal? Like this was okay? How long had it been like this? “I… Sam, if you didn’t like them, we can—”

Sam shook his head. Vincent wasn’t hearing him. “You didn’t like them.”

He stared. “What? I was fine.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Sam, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here. I should have known you wouldn’t like it.” His arms stretched between them in a fragile, pleading gesture for peace.

Sam tried not to growl, there was something painfully vulnerable in his friend. “You don’t like it, Vincent.” Why was he pretending he did? Why did he come to these places? “Is it always like that?”

“Like what?” Vincent finally got some bite in his voice. “I don’t know why you—”

“You did not want that person handling you like that,” he said every fucking word clear and loud, watching Vincent’s eyes grow as he did. “You looked…” he stopped, trialing off. Jesus, he had looked tranced. He wasn’t, Sam was sure of it, but that look on his face—blank and uncaring as he just gave himself over to what was happening.

Vincent took a step back, fighting tears and looking away, back toward the club. “I’m sorry,” he said again, quiet now. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

Sam shook his head. Vincent didn’t understand. He wasn’t hearing him. The quiet stretched between them, the sound of the club a pulse through bricks and concrete. “Do you always do it like that? Do you always punish yourself when you eat?” he asked quietly, barely a whisper but he knew Vincent heard him by the way his breath caught and then slid out like he’d been cut.

The answer was a yes, Sam realized. But he suspected Vincent hadn’t really seen it before, maybe he still didn’t because he shook his head once and took a step back. “Sam… That’s just how it is. I don’t understand why you’re making a big deal out of it.”

Sam stared at him. He wouldn’t meet his gaze anymore. “Bullshit. You know why.”

Vincent shook his head again, but it was almost stubborn now, gaze fixed hard on the ground.

Sam dragged a breath and clawed a hand through his hair. He couldn’t fix this in a moment, but he couldn’t let this conversation end like this either. “Okay,” he said, taking another breath to calm down. “Okay. We’ll go back in.”

Vincent’s gaze snapped up, surprise and horror in his eyes for that split second before he could hide it.

“But this time we’ll switch partners. You get the docile sweetheart and I’ll let the bossy one paw me—”

“Stop it,” Vincent snapped, teeth out.

Sam sighed, nodding. It was somewhat of a relief, even if it only verified what he was saying. “You know why I’m pissed. You know why this is wrong. Are you going to tell me why you’re doing it?”

Vincent’s mouth snapped shut, jaw ticking once when he looked away almost stubbornly. He took another step back. He was going to run.

“Vincent wait…”

“I should go—”

“I ain’t mad at you.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Sam moved fast. Vincent could definitely out move him if he wanted to, but he didn’t move an inch tonight. Sam stood right in front of him, eating up all the space those backward steps had made. “Look at me,” he said, voice low and pleading. He couldn’t let this end like this. Vincent would pretend it had never happened or, worse, he’d internalize and think Sam didn’t like him—and nothing could be farther from the truth. “Look at me,” he whispered, patient.

Vincent swallowed hard and tipped his chin up, staring back at him, trying to look angry.

“I ain’t mad at you,” Sam repeated. “I’m worried.”

Vincent stared at him, the surprise washing over his face was heartbreaking. “You don’t need to worry… It’s… It’s not always like that. I just…It’s just easier to play the role, you know? Whatever the role is.”

Sam managed not to wince or swear. Vincent was telling him, at least. It wasn’t his fault if Sam didn’t like the answer.

Vincent broke eye contact first, sighing uncomfortably but not stepping back. “I wasn’t good at this in the beginning… I… William had to step in.” He tried to push the words out like they didn’t matter, just a fact, but Sam could see the shame and unease.

“Step in?”

“We didn’t have as much blood on tap back then… We had to go out and get it for ourselves but I wouldn’t. And then I just wouldn’t eat at all… So, William had to invoke me.” The words got quieter, faster, shaking out of him.

“Oh.” He couldn’t help wincing at the word, at the idea of being invoked for anything. And then the reality of it set in—the idea of being invoked to feed. And that look on Vincent’s face in the club suddenly makes too much sense. It’s a throwback. Like muscle memory for the soul. Go someplace inside and wait it out. “Oh,” he said again, swallowing hard.

“I know it’s not a good topic for you,” Vincent rushed to add. “I’m sorry. I mean, I would have died if he hadn’t and it’s not like it’s a problem now.”

Sam hadn’t thought his heart could hurt anymore than it already did, until Vincent worried about the subject of invoking being too much for him. Even now, in this state, he was still worried about other people. “Can I touch you?”

Vincent blinked. “What? I mean, yeah, always, but why—”

Sam lifted his hands slowly and cupped the other man’s face.

Vincent visibly relaxed, staring back at him, one hand curling around Sam’s wrist but not pulling him away, just hanging on.

Sam could hear and feel the other man’s heart beat faster. He hoped that meant he finally had his full attention. “There are other ways now. You know that. You don’t need to do this if you don’t want to. You don’t ever need to pay for blood with your happiness or safety.” He felt the tendons in Vincent’s neck jump and watched the tears gather, lips twitching to fight a cringe. But he didn’t look away, didn’t pull away, he stared right back at Sam like he was trying to hear him—really hear him. And Sam was so proud of that. “There is nothing wrong with needing blood to survive. There is nothing wrong with you. So, please, don’t go back in there. Come home with me instead.”

“Sam…” Vincent’s breath caught, eyes widening a fraction. Tears rolled over the lashes of one and Sam brushed it away with his thumb.

“If you go back in there, I will follow you… I will always follow you. But I swear, I’ll bleed someone on the floor before I let you look like that again.”

Vincent stared at him like it might be a joke before realizing it absolutely wasn’t. Sam was far from a violent person. It wasn’t in his nature. But he had known if he didn’t get them out of there before, he was going to throw that human across the club.

Sam let go of Vincent’s face and took a half-step back, holding on to his hand. “Where are we going?” he asked quietly. He had known that he loved Vincent for a long while, first as a friend and later as more. He’d thought it was maybe a crush before tonight, before he realized he would follow him to hell if that’s what it took to stay close to him.

Vincent looked beyond surprised, his hand flexing in Sam’s. And then he took a deep breath and let it out, seeming to shrug off some great and terrible weight. “Take me home?”

Sam nodded, lifting his hand to brush his lips to his knuckles in wordless gratitude before leading him back to where they’d parked. They’d taken one of Vincent’s fancy cars tonight and he was only a little surprised when he pushed the keys into Sam’s hand after unlocking it. It was hard to let him go, even to get into the car, but he managed to do it because of the promise that they were going together.

When they were driving Vincent sighed and Sam almost laughed because it was the sigh of hunger he’d only ever heard other vampires make. “I’ve got you,” Sam promised. He had blood bags at home and he was going to start introducing Vincent more to the empowered world, particularly the ones that were more than happy to make friends with and be bitten by vampires with no expectations or strings attached.

Vincent turned his head to watch Sam instead of the road. “I know,” he whispered, like he’d just realized it even though it had always been true.

#sam/vincent #super emotional #blood club #vampire eating disorder #bad habits #confrontation #this is my life now #redactedasmr #redactedverse #dominimoonbeam #fanfic #redacted sam #redacted vincent #<3

48 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 3 years ago

Text

A Day Well-Spent

Pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Genre: It's like... fluff to the extreme

Warnings: mention of guns

Requested: nope

Summary: Y/N has just moved to Brooklyn and doesn't know how things are there. Bucky Barnes runs things around Brooklyn but what happens when they meet? Will she run away or will she still shoot her shot?

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Okay, first of all, THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH. also i think im obsessed with mob fics????? chile anyways so... enjoy!

---

"Ready to go, sweetie?"

"You know it, babe," Y/N grinned at her friend, Clarice. The two, on their way to work, had stopped by a coffee shop for their daily dose of caffeine. As they walked out of the café, Clarice turned to Y/N. "Finish your story! What did Brad say to you after that?!" Clarice reminded her and Y/N giggled.

"Oh, he was just too sweet! But not my type, ya know what I mean? I didn't know how to turn him down," she sighed. "Poor guy. If he had approached me…" Y/N lightly shoved her friend. "I have his number, should I pass it on?" Clarice turned to Y/N, wide eyed. "Darling, you're too good to me," she spoke with a strong Brooklyn accent.

Y/N burst out laughing. She had moved from another part of the country to Brooklyn for education; along with attending college, she was also working as a waitress at a nice little restaurant. That was how she met Clarice, her being another waitress at said restaurant. The two became fast friends.

Clarice was a few years older than Y/N, a single mother with a 4 year old son. Her son was extremely cute. As Y/N continued laughing, she didn't notice how her friend stopped in her tracks. Clarice was busy staring at the huge hunk of a man a few feet ahead of Y/N, standing in the middle of the pavement with his phone held to his ear, his back to them.

Bucky Barnes.

That man was James Buchanan Barnes, the King of Brooklyn. He ran the whole damn city along with his mob; very important and influential. On top of that? He was hot-headed, easily got angry and people knew what happened when he got angry. Except Y/N. Y/N didn't even know who he was.

As Y/N neared Bucky, still laughing for some reason, Clarice thought of calling out to her. And alert him of their presence? No way! "Clarice, you know I love it when you do your acc—" All of a sudden, Y/N collided into a soft wall, spilling her coffee all over it. Opening her eyes, she found out that it was no wall; instead, she had collided straight into a person.

And drenched his back with coffee.

He was wearing what looked like a very expensive suit and Y/N immediately felt guilty. "Oh my goodness, I'm so fucking sorry!" she blurted out as Bucky pulled the phone away from his ear, turning to look at her. His men, who were loitering around, had her surrounded as they pointed their guns at her. But she didn't notice.

She was busy staring at Bucky, her jaw slightly dropped. Hot damn, he is good looking, she thought to herself. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she snapped out of a daydream. He had a stern expression on his face and she realized she messed up. He's someone important. Then she started apologizing profusely.

Bucky simply stared at her, taking in her features as he gave her a once-over. She's new, he realized, not from Brooklyn. "Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he chuckled and she immediately shut up, offering him a timid smile. "I really am sorry, I feel like a total ass. That suit looks expensive, sir, is there any way I can help? Maybe pay for dry cleaning?"

"Do you know who I am?" he instead asked and her brows furrowed. "Oh Lord, am I supposed to know?! One mess up after another…" she grumbled and Bucky couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry. My name is Bucky Barnes, you may call me Bucky." At this point, even his men were surprised, lowering their guns.

Clarice was still standing there and one of the men caught her eye. He nodded his head towards Y/N and Clarice gave him an unsure smile. He sauntered over to her. "She's with you?" he asked and Clarice groaned, dropping her head. "She's new to Brooklyn, and has no idea who he is. I'm so sorry for the inconvenience."

The man smiled at her. "No worries, looks like the boss isn't gonna hurt her. I'm Sam, by the way." Clarice gave him a shy smile. Sam was also very good-looking. "I'm Clarice, nice to meet you." Better to remain on the good side of the mob. Back to Y/N and Bucky… "Bucky, that's a good name. Short for anything?"

He ran a hand through his hair, grinning. It had been years, years since someone outside of the mob had spoken to him so freely and without fear. It felt nice and refreshing, even more so because Y/N was super gorgeous. "James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "Named after a president, huh?"

"You making fun of my name now, doll?" he smirked slyly. "Oh no no, I wouldn't dare," she flirted easily, "My name is Y/N. I still feel bad about ruining your suit, you won't even take the money…" Bucky waved her off. "First, Y/N is a wonderful name. Second, you don't need to worry your pretty head over me, this suit can easily be replaced."

"Then how about this? A coffee. My treat. It'll make me feel better," she insisted. Bucky raised a quick brow, thinking that he would be the one to ask her out but oh well, this works too. "Let's call it a date, shall we?" he purred, taking a step closer to her. She didn't back off. "If you'd like," she grinned up at him.

He couldn't help but grin back. "Excellent. Then how about you put your number in my phone and I pick you up next Sunday at 7 pm?" He thrust his phone into her hand and Y/N swore she heard someone gasping in the background. Bucky Barnes was a very private person but here he was now; handing his phone to a stranger.

She quickly put her number in his phone and handed it back, smiling. "I'll await your call." He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to go now, so I'll see you later. Say hello to your friend from my side. Sam! Stop flirting, man, we gotta go!" Y/N looked over her shoulder to see his friend flirting with Clarice.

She laughed and turned back to Bucky, who was already looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. "I'll see you next Sunday, Mr Barnes. Again, sorry for the suit!" He waved his arm in dismissal and got into the car, throwing her one last blowing kiss before zooming off. Y/N walked back to Clarice, who was staring at her, jaw dropped.

"I know the hell you didn't just do that."

"Did I do something wrong?" Y/N frowned. Then, all of a sudden, a wide grin bloomed on Clarice's face. "Do you even know who you're going to go on a date with next Sunday?!" Y/N blinked. "Is he someone important?" Clarice made a sound of indignation. "Important? Bitch, he's the Kingpin! The King of Brooklyn! A mob boss!"

Y/N's eyes went wide. "No way," she scoffed. "Yes way! Ask anyone! He runs things around here, babe. It was fun to see him all soft, though, he's kinda hot-headed and hard to impress. Even women stay away from him. And now you two are going on a date?! If this relationship does not end in a marriage I'm suing."

Y/N flushed slightly and punched Clarice on the shoulder. "Clair, we haven't even gone on one date." Clarice shrugged. "A girl can dream. Oh, your children will be the most beautiful! Did you see his right hand man, though?! Mamma mia! Said his name was Sam Wilson, I got his number!" The two reached their workplace.

Inside Bucky's car, he was still smiling, lost in thoughts. "So, that chick, huh," Sam spoke devilishly from the driver's seat. Bucky looked at him. "That's no way to talk about the future Mrs Barnes," he admonished and Sam chortled. "Dude, you haven't been on even one date! Slow down, chicks don't like dudes who plan out a marriage on the first date."

"But I know I'm right, so why shouldn't I plan?" Bucky shrugged. He was more than confident that Y/N was going to become his in the future. The way she looked at him, spoke to him, flirted with him… it was enough for him to become smitten with her at the first glance. "What about you and her friend, huh?"

It was Sam's turn to become flustered. "Clarice Light. Has a 4-year old son, Aaron." Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "A mother. Well-maintained looks," he commented, laughing when Sam punched him on the shoulder. "Why don't you think about your own chick and leave mine alone?"

---

Y/N frantically smoothed out her dress, checking herself in the mirror. She wore a beautiful, nude coloured bandage dress that reached mid-thigh, along with similar coloured heels. Bucky was coming to pick her up in 5 minutes. Even after finding out who he was she didn't back away, instead finding it empowering that the most important man in Brooklyn wanted to take her out on a date.

All of a sudden the bell rang, pulling Y/N out of her thoughts. The first thing she saw upon opening the door was a huge bouquet of red roses right in front of someone's face. He then moved the bouquet to reveal his face and Y/N smiled broadly. "Bucky!" He grinned back at her. "Hi, doll! Here, an extraordinary bouquet for an equally extraordinary woman."

"You're too flattering. These roses smell amazing, thank you so much." She took the bouquet from his hands and kept it away, stepping out of the house. Bucky offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her out of the building and towards an audacious, ridiculously expensive looking car.

"Everything about you is lavish, huh?" she teased as he ushered her into the passenger seat, sitting next to her. "Bad to have a taste for the finer things in life?" he teased right back, placing his hand on her thigh as the other gripped the steering wheel. "No, I mean, you are the Kingpin. I should expect luxury."

He glanced at her to see her grinning at him. "You found out?" She nodded. "Yup, Clarice told me as soon as you left. I don't mind though, I'm just wondering… why me?" He laughed. "Why you? Sweetheart, you are the first person aside from Sam who has talked to me so freely since… since I was 18. And you're gorgeous. So why not?"

"Again, with the flattery…"

"Just stating facts, my dear."

"Also, my friend has a crush on Sam, so do tell him to ask her out." Bucky laughed harder. It had been years since he'd enjoyed himself so much. "Really? He has a crush on her too! I guess I'll tell him tomorrow." Y/N looked out of the window. "Where are we going?" Bucky gently squeezed her thigh. It was clear he wasn't taking her to a café, like originally planned.

"A picnic in the park." Y/N's eyes lit up. "I love picnics!" she squealed. "Then I guess I made a good choice," Bucky chortled along. The two soon reached the park and Bucky got out of the car first, holding the door open for Y/N to step out. "A gentleman," she noted, making him grin. He then took out the picnic basket from the backseat.

Y/N laid out the classic pink and white checkered blanket that he had brought along, taking off her heels before sitting down. "Ugh, I'd have worn pants if I knew I was going to be sitting on the ground," she groaned as she somehow sat down, adjusting her dress.

"You look gorgeous in that dress though," Bucky commented, "But you don't need to worry about public indecency because it's just you and me in the park." Y/N blinked at him as he sat down, opening the basket and taking out food. "Just us? You booked the whole park?" Bucky smirked at her. "It's easy when you run things around here."

Y/N fondly shook her head. "So much effort." He winked at her. "All for you, doll, all for you." The two maintained a chat as they ate. "So, you're new here. Why did you move to Brooklyn?" Bucky asked her. "Education. I go to [Name] college, actually, and work part-time as a waitress for some additional income," she hummed. He nodded thoughtfully.

"What about you? Is the mob a family business or a start-up?" Bucky smiled at her boldness. "Family business, my dad used to run it before me. I was 16 when I took over." Y/N realized what must've happened and gave him a sad smile. "I'm sorry for your loss." Bucky returned the smile. "It's fine, he was no saint."

"No?"

"Yup, hated him actually. Used to be cruel to my mom, to me too… until he got shot. Best day of my life." Y/N gasped quietly. "Bucky! He was your father!" Bucky chuckled mercilessly. "An asshole is what he was. Geez, speaking of, my mom is gonna be so happy."

"What's her name?" Y/N took a bite of her sandwich. "Winifred. She's awesome, raised me and my sister alone, ya know? Dad was always too busy. My mom will like you, I can tell. And so will my sister." Y/N smiled at that. "A sister?" He nodded, excited to talk about his family.

"Rebecca Barnes. She's a few years younger than me, maybe your age. She goes to your college too." Y/N suddenly squealed. "You mean to tell me my best friend from college is your sister? Rebecca Barnes?!" Bucky smiled so wide he thought his cheeks were gonna tear. "You've met her?" Y/N vehemently nodded.

"She's really great, the only person kind enough to introduce herself on the first day I moved in. She was the one who showed me around campus and I found out that she mostly spent time alone because no one wanted to talk to her, her brother being involved with the bad side of law or something. But I didn't care. I still don't. She's awesome, you're awesome."

Bucky felt himself tear up at her words. "Doll, you have no idea how much that means to me." Y/N grinned at him, scooting sideways so she could lay her head on his shoulder. "I'm serious, you know. I can't wait to tell her about this." Bucky laughed in a watery tone, pressing his lips to her temple.

The two quietly ate after that. When the food was over both of them lay down on the blanket, looking up at the starry sky. "It's so beautiful," Y/N whispered, cuddling into Bucky's side as she stared at the gibbous moon. Bucky wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him.

"It's nothing compared to you."

Y/N laughed quietly and looked up, the same time he looked down. They met each other halfway; their lips connecting softly yet eagerly. Lost in the kiss Bucky sat up, pulling Y/N on his lap as they continued making out. Finally, after what felt like hours did they pull away, breathless. They said nothing; Bucky looked at her as if she hung the moon.

Y/N stared at him as if he were the only thing in the world. "So, when will I get a second date?" she broke the silence, leaning down to press her forehead to his. "Oh, doll, you're not getting rid of me any time soon," he shot back, laughing. Y/N giggled along and stood up.

Both of them packed their things and got into the car, Bucky offering to drive her home since it was late. So I guess it had been hours. As Bucky drove, Y/N's phone chimed. He glanced at her when she laughed. "What's so funny?" Y/N wheezed before answering.

"I've got two texts. One from Becca and one from Clarice."

Bucky couldn't stop his chuckle. "What did Becca say?" Y/N read out, "Girl, just heard you're on a date with my bro? And I— I swear if you don't become my sister in law, I'm suing." Laughter filled the car. "She really said that?" Y/N nodded. "Yup! Even Clarice, on the day we met, said the same thing! It's nuts. We just met and they're already planning a wedding."

"Speaking of, what was Clarice's message?"

"Oh nothing, just that she got back home from a date with Sam a few minutes ago."

"What?!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"That asshole had work today!"

"Bucky!"

All in all, it was a day well-spent.

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fluff #winter soldier #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

457 notes · View notes

glenncoco4 · 2 years ago

Text

Best Day of the Year

A/N: Been holding onto this one for awhile. Happy Birthday to our favorite Special Agent! Rated T for language.

••••

40. The big 4-0. Many people hate the age and the so-called mid-life crisis that’s supposed to come with it. She’s only 19 hours into her first day and it’s already the best year of her life. It couldn’t’ve started more perfect. Her husband woke her up with sweet kisses, singing his own rendition of happy birthday to her before they joined their very enthusiastic girls in the kitchen who had cooked up a mean breakfast fit for one Kensi Blye Deeks. A stack of chocolate chip pancakes, candles, and another round of happy birthday later, the family of four spent the rest of the morning at the beach, surfing.

After their morning at the beach, Fatima and the two Roundtree siblings picked up Rosa and Pilar, whisking them away to Disney for the weekend. Now here they are…just the two of them, walking down the street to the restaurant of her choosing. She’s not all that into PDA but today’s just too perfect not to be. Her arms have been wrapped around her husband’s since they stepped out of the truck…her husband, he’s a special one. Not that she hadn’t already known that but in the 7 and a half years they’ve officially been together she’s never felt less than the most important thing in his entire world.

He has this way about him that can make any special occasion or normal day, exciting. She loves everything about his enthusiasm for life, especially on days like today when he really shines. Actually, today might be her favorite of all because when it comes to her birthday he shines the most. It’s hard to find words to describe just how much she feels loved by him…seen by him. And cherished, most definitely cherished.

She’s so lost in the moment, the brunette doesn’t even register what he’s saying until he stops them in their tracks. “Hey, this place looks kinda cool. We should check it out.”

“Baby, we have reservations.”

“We still have time. Come on let's just check it out real quick and then I promise I’ll buy you double chocolate everything on the dessert menu.”

“You were gonna do that anyway.”

“Fine. How about I’ll eat you out at least 4 times tonight?”

Her jaw drops and her skin turns flush, immediately transported to a few hours from now when they’re in a big empty house, just the two of them. “Maybe we should just forgo dinner altogether.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Fish gotta swim, birds gotta eat.”

The blonde can’t help the grin that curls at his lips, god how he loves this woman. Shaking his head, he leans down, his lips finding hers in a not-so-chaste kiss. “Fine. What if we check this place out first and then get dinner to go?”

“Extra chocolate syrup?”

“Come on before I get arrested for indecent exposure.”

The pair step into the dimly lit bar. Deeks ushers her in a little further to the back which should set off her warning bells but just when she’s about to question him…

“SURPRISE!”

••••

She’s been searching for him for a good 10 minutes now, but it seems as though she’s misplaced her husband. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Hey, have you seen Deeks anywhere? I went to the restroom and now he’s gone.”

“Last time I saw him he was-“ Sam smiles as he catches a glimpse of the small stage.

“Hey, everybody, settle down.”

The sound of her husband’s voice pulls her attention in the direction where the former Navy SEAL is looking. He hasn’t done anything yet but she can already feel the heat working its way up her neck. Her eyes meet his and the smile that’s solely reserved for him curls at her lips.

“Kensi, baby, you mean everything to me and I don’t know what I did in this life to deserve someone as beautiful and amazing as you but I’m glad I did it. You’re everything…baby, you’re everything. Happy Birthday, Sunshine.”

The familiar tune of My Favorite Girl begins to play. Deeks starts to belt out the first few lyrics but then suddenly stops. She’s expecting to hear just the music but another voice comes from the speaker…a voice she can’t quite place. Then it happens, the person who belongs to the voice steps out on the other side of the stage.

Max’s eyes go wide in surprise. “Is that-“

“Holy shit. That’s Joey McIntyre.” Mandy answers the other woman’s question before she can even get it out.

Mindy keeps her eyes trained on the stage, but lets her thoughts be known to the birthday girl whose being serenaded. “KayKay, you better give Marty anything he wants tonight.”

“Oh, please, like she doesn’t already do that.” Tiffany with a y states. Her eyes also glued to the stage.

Mindy shakes her head. “I’m talking extra.”

“Oooh, maybe you could talk him into having a threesome with Joey.” Tiffani with an I blurts out.

“Tiff!” Mandy shakes her head, chastising the blonde. Can’t take these women anywhere.

Tiffani shrugs, unbothered. “What? When is she ever gonna have another opportunity like this?”

They turn to Kensi, expecting to be met with an affronted glare but the trance she’s in tells them that her attention is clearly elsewhere. Her eyes are glazed over, darker than ever before as she watches him move to the beat of one of her favorite songs and dance next to her favorite boy band member. Oh, she is doing things to him tonight.

“Kens?” Max tries to get the brunette’s attention.

“Huh?” She ‘answers’, but her eyes stay on her husband.

Max grins, shaking her head. “Never mind, Tiff, I think she’s already thinking about it.”

••••

She’s staring. She knows she’s staring but she can’t look away as her husband and childhood crush go on about not being able to dance like they used to.

“Listen, guys, I gotta leave. Sorry to sing and run.”

“Oh, no problem, man. Thanks for doing this.” The blonde shakes the other man’s hand before they both turn their attention to the birthday girl.

“Oh, it was an absolute honor. It was very nice to meet you, Kensi. Happy birthday, again.”

She’s screaming on the inside as the boy band member steps up to her and wraps her in a hug. Her eyes dance with glee as she looks over at her husband and sends him a playful wink. “Thank you, Joey.”

Pulling back from their embrace, the brunette moves closer to her husband’s side, her hand finding his, intertwining their fingers as they watch Joey turn to leave before he suddenly remembers something and pivots back towards them.

“Oh, one more thing.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and proceeds to pull out lanyards but not just any lanyards.

“What are these for?” The agent enthusiastically takes the backstage passes from the other brunette, her wide fan girl eyes shining bright in amazement.

“Well, I heard from a little birdie that it’s been a dream of yours to go to one of our concerts in Hawaii.”

A knowing smile spreads to her lips as she turns to her husband. “A little birdie, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone that talks as much as much as you do, Marty.”

He shrugs, wrapping his arm around his partner and pulling her into his side. “I’d talk every second of every day if it meant that my baby got what she wanted.”

Her eyes meet his as her arms thread around his waist. “Aw…but please don’t.”

The brunette watches the two with a smile. “And on that note, I gotta go see my wife.”

As Joey makes his way out the door, there’s a beat of silence that fills the air, their eyes locked onto one another yet again.

“Come with me.” Taking hold of her partner’s hand, Kensi pulls him to the hallway just off the stage where no one can see.

“What’s wrong-“ Before he can finish his sentence, she cuts him off with her lips in a fiery passionate kiss as she pushes him up against the wall.

They’re in a public place with their friends in the next room, somebody’s gonna come looking for them but he can’t pull away from her, not now, not ever. Threading his fingers through her beautiful brown mane, he wraps his other arm around her waist, closing any distance left between them.

A few minutes and swollen lips later they’re forced to pull back. The rise and fall of their chests show just how much air they're lacking.

Licking her lips, the brunette looks at her husband and then meets his eyes, the same darkening desire she feels in her own, shining in his cerulean blues. “We’re leaving.”

“But what about your party?” He tries to convey concern but the darkening hue in her eyes sends a thrill through his entire body and the way she’s licking her lips sends him over the edge. Why did he ask that question again?

“I told the girls to tell everyone that we had to leave.”

“Why? Wherever else could we be going?”

“Well…” She brings her lips to his ear, tracing her finger down his chest seductively. “I vaguely remember you making a promise to me earlier about your mouth in a special place and I have a few places that I’d like to put mine.”

A shit-eating grin curls at the former detective’s lips as his wife takes hold of his hand yet again and pulls him out the back door. “Did I mention how much I love your birthday?”

#Densi #Kensi Blye #Kensi Blye Deeks #Marty Deeks #Hubby & Wifey #Kensi x Deeks #Surprises #Densi Fanfic #Happy Birthday Kensi #40 #NCIS: LA #NCIS: LA Fanfic

22 notes · View notes

ynscrazylife · 4 years ago

Note

i’m a simple gal...... i like seeing natasha being overprotective and a little homicidal SO could i please request some cute mentor!almost itherlynat x reader? maybe reader gets badly hurt during training or someone on the team hurts her feelings? mamabear stabs? 🥺

More Than A Mentor | n.r fluff fic

Summary: After an accident, Y/N realizes her and Natasha’s relationship goes beyond mentor and mentee.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting! I’ve missed writing Marvel/Natasha.

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 | Main Masterlist

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/marvelocks

Natasha was not an easy mentor, and Y/N learned that quickly. She was understanding and patient, yes, but she also knew when to push Y/N and went to be a little stricter.

The thing was, Y/N was never completely sure what side she’d get of her mentor at what time - though she found herself not having to worry about it after . . . The Accident.

That disastrous day would go down in the team’s history, yet no one liked to talk about it. It was a day Y/N would never forget: it changed . . . everything.

It was one of the rare days that Y/N wasn’t training with Natasha. She had a meeting with Fury so Steve filled in for her. Y/N was not accustomed to training with a super soldier, and had to quickly adjust (it didn’t make it any easier that he had his shield, too).

She was doing well - at least, she wanted to think that she was - and so far had deflected almost every punch from Steve, managing to get one or two punches against him herself.

Nonetheless, the air was knocked out of her when Steve slammed her against the mat. She grunted, angry only fueling the pain when she saw that stupid smirk on his face, and used that to her advantage; he wouldn’t expect her to recover so quickly (and in truth, neither did she) but she did it anyway, throwing all her weight against the Captain. She secured he legs around his waist like Natasha taught her and, using the strength in her legs and pushing his broad shoulders, just about managed to get herself out from being pinned on the mat. Now, though, they were both sorta sitting on the mat, so Y/N kneed him in the chest, pushing him down.

“You’re good,” he whispered, just slightly out of breath, before he - seemingly without using any strength at all - threw her to the side where she rolled.

Y/N cursed under her breath, getting her feet. It was impossible to win against a super-soldier! Think, Y/N, think, what did Natasha teach you? Cmon!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Steve grabbing his shield, and got in a stance to either catch it or evade it - she hadn't decided yet - when yells distracted her. In her hyped up, adrenaline-pumped state, the first thing that came to Y/N’s mind was that someone was hurt. She was about to call of the training when a large, solid force smacked into her stomach, sending her flying into the air where she hit the wall, losing consciousness.

Steve's eyes widened, not thinking it’d actually hit her, and jumped into action. “Who the hell screamed?” The blonde yelled as he ran to his fallen teammate. He carefully turned her on her back and looked her over for injuries, seeing bruises and bleeding starting to form on her stomach and ankle and her head bleeding.

Bucky and Sam practically crashed inside the room, trying to beat each other.

“He threatened me!” Sam exclaimed.

“He tried to steal my metal arm!” Bucky defended.

Both men came to a screeching halt when they digested the scene, though. Steve rolled his eyes at his idiotic friends and tried to put pressure on Y/N’s head wound. “Sam, get Bruce, please. Tell him to prepare med - and Bucky, get Natasha. She’ll want to be here,” he ordered, and the men nodded, guilty.

Steve carefully picked Y/N up in his arms and hoisted her into the air, carrying her to med where Bruce and Helen were, Sam explaining the situation to them. Instantly, Helen jumped into action. She instructed Steve to lay Y/N down on one of the med’s beds and then ushered the men out of the room, where she then began grabbing various medical things and assessing Y/N’s injuries, instructing Bruce to hook her up to an IV.

Steve and Sam stood outside, not saying a word to each other, both pacing back and forth. They did not have to be silent for long, though, because pounding footsteps soon approached and the men looked up to see a very furious Natasha with Bucky trailing behind her.

The redhead’s eyes fell onto the closed med doors and huffed, turning back to Steve. “I leave her with you for training one day and she gets hurt?!” She demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Steve swallowed. “Nat, I-” He began to say, but was cut off.

“What happened?” Natasha asked.

Steve glanced up at her, first irritated when she asked him a question and then interrupted him whilst he was answering, but backed off when he saw the urgency, the nervousness in her eyes; she was scared. Scared that Y/N was really hurt and guilty.

“We were training. I threw my shield at her, expecting her to catch it or duck . . . But Sam and Buck distracted her and it hit her,” he said, not wanting to throw his friends under the bus but also knowing he had to be truthful.

Natasha stood in place, processing the information. She took a breath, and had almost completely calmed down when Bucky decided to open his mouth.

“Y’know, if anything we tested her. What if someone yelled during a mission? Is she gonna get distracted then?” He mumbled, not really meaning it but wanting to spare him and Sam Natasha’s wrath.

Karma’s a bitch, though, because it did the exact opposite.

If you blinked you’d miss it: Natasha swiftly turned and pushed Bucky against the wall, pinning him there with his hands above his hand.

“Don’t you dare start blaming this on Y/N, you hear me?” She said in a low tone, glaring.

Bucky quickly nodded and Natasha released him. When she did, the door opened and Helen appeared.

“She’ll be okay—” Helen began, and Natasha let out a breath of relief, “—but she does need to be off training for at least a month. She has a concussion, broken ankle, and . . . the shield sort of stabbed her in her stomach.”

It took a couple moments for all four to digest this. Steve paled and Natasha’s crossed arms for tighter as she bit her lip. “Can I see her?” She asked.

“She’s still unconscious, but yes,” Helen answered, nodding.

Natasha almost failed to contain the gasp lurching to leave her throat when she saw Y/N, all bandaged up. The spy gulped and sat down beside her, not knowing what else to do other than sit there, and had no clue what she’d say when Y/N woke up because she sure as hell wasn’t leaving her. Thankfully, Natasha had some time to think it out.

Almost a day later and Natasha hadn’t left — Clint had convinced her to go sleep and eat for a couple hours, but that was it — and now, Y/N woke up.

“Ms. Romanoff?” Y/N murmured in a haze of confusion, squinting her eyes to see her mentor curled up in a chair, reading a big book.

Natasha snapped her head up and immediately sat forward, a smile covering her face. “Y/N! You’re awake? How are you feeling? And how many times have I told you to call me ‘Natasha’?”

Y/N blushed but nodded. “I’m fine, probably the painkillers’ doing though . . . How long was I out?” She said.

“Around a day,” Natasha answered.

“Did you . . . Did you stay here?” Y/N asked again, a little smaller this time, playing with her blanket.

“Most of it, yeah,” Natasha murmured, relaxing into the chair.

“Really? You’re-you’re not mad?” Y/N said, eyes wide and jaw dropped in surprised.

Natasha scrunched her face up. “What? No — of course I’m not mad! You’re like my daughter! How could I be—?”

Natasha was cut off by Y/N’s loud, yet thankful gasp. The teenager sat up and wrapped her arms around Natasha and, after a moment, Natasha smiled and wrapped her arms around her too.

Y/N truly was like her daughter, and mothers were always protective over their children.

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes @narcissasslytherin @snipyloulou

MCU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @summerlovingbaby @ineffablebean @okkulta @procrastinatingsapphictrash @prettysbliss @mochamoff @sarahp-stan @thewidowsghost @basiclesbianbitch @mycosmicparadise @kidswhofightmonsters @extraordinary-fangrl @peggycarter-steverogers @username23345 @ima-gi--na-tion @hateinthemorning @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @mads-weasley @tenaciousperfectionunknown

841 notes · View notes

charliedawn · 4 years ago

Text

Marvel x Chubbyreader imagine

Imagine going shopping and one of the employees/customers bodyshaming you.

You find a cute dress and try it on. You get out of the dressing room and Tony's awestruck expression is enough for you to beam with pride.

" What do you think ?"

For once, Tony remains silent and only takes out his credit card as an answer.

" I'm buying this dress, and there's nothing you can do about it."

You giggle, but then someone's nasty comment makes it's way in your ear.

" Look at all that fat, it even moves when she laughs. It's disgusting. Nobody wants to see that.."

Tony stops dead in his tracks and turns towards the man with a fake smile before simply stating.

" You're fired."

The employee only laughs mockingly before replying confidently.

" I don't even work for you."

But, Tony walks to him and stares right at him with a death stare.

" I don't care, a**h*le. I buy the shop, thereby I become your boss and fire you. Now, get out of my sight before I pulverize your a**."

The employee doesn't say anything else and just walks away, not before glancing one last time at you with hatred. Tony wraps his arm around you defensively until he is definitely gone. However, the damage has been done and you finally utter weakly.

" M..Maybe I should just put the dress back.."

But, Tony doesn't let go and whispers in your ear in an hungry tone.

" Don't you dare.."

He then pays for the dress and as soon as you're in the car, he kisses you with such passion that it takes your breath away.

" Home ?"

You ask and he nods before replying in agreement.

" Home."

You already knew that Bucky was handsome..But, that didn't mean that it hurt less when people made comments about it. You spot a beautiful dress and the employee quickly takes out the dress with a huge smile.

" Here you go ! I'm sure you'll be perfect in it !"

You smile happily and nod before entering the dressing room. However, you don't even have to time to get out that you hear the same employee talking to one of the other customers.

" Oh my God ! Did you see that ?! It's a shame to let oneself go this far ! They look like a freaking mammoth in a dress. If she is like this..I can only imagine the man accompanying her !"

You don't dare get out as they start laughing together. You feel tears in your eyes, threatening to spill at any moment. However, the door of your dressing room opens and Bucky gets in, worried since you seemed to be taking a long time. The moment his eyes land on you, he finds you gorgeous in the dress and promises himself to buy it. But then, he sees you face and crouches in front of you with a worried expression.

" What happened ?"

You don't have to answer as the employee outside makes her voice heard again.

" Are you finished, miss ? Or do you have some trouble putting it on ? Do you want a bigger size ?"

He automatically understands and clenches his jaw, glaring at the door before looking back at you with a small smile.

" Did you hear that doll ? Sounded like a death wish to me.."

He takes your hand and kicks the door open, shocking the woman that falls on her butt and looks up at the you with a glare, not noticing Bucky standing behind you.

" Watch where you're going, you big ugly..!"

She doesn't have the time to finish her sentence as Bucky steps out and crouches in front of her to take her by the jaw harshly.

" Next time you even look at her with anything else than admiration or respect, I will make sure that you can't look at all..Understood ?"

The woman only nods in agreement and Bucky stands up, satisfied. He takes you by the waist and leaves the shop after having paid for the dress. You arrive in the parking and Bucky opens the door of his car for you.

" Now, let's go dancing..Okay ?"

Bucky asks and, when you don't answer, he turns around to see you with a frown on your face.

" Are you sure we should still go on that date ? People will still look at us and I think it would maybe be better if..Mmmmppphhh !"

You don't have the time to finish your sentence that he pins you to a nearby wall and kisses you with his hand wrapped around your throat.

" Now, I will only accept two answers from you. Dancing or kissing ? Your choice."

You smile and kiss him hungrily again. Looks like the choice is made.

" Yuck..Look at those stretch marks. They should go cover all of that up.."

Sam can't believe what he is hearing and looks at the man with anger radiating from him. You want to say that it's fine, but Sam doesn't give up and glares at the man while trying to remain calm.

" Man, shut the hell up. She is perfect in every way and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, wrong with having tiger stripes. It just means that if you were in the wild, they would be the one surving.."

You have tears in your eyes at his beautiful metaphor, but the man only laughs mockingly while eyeing you up and down.

" If the tiger is as slow and overfed as this one, won't be a problem outrunning it.."

Sam walks towards the employee and stands just in front of him before replying.

" That's where you're wrong..because this tiger is always accompanied by a falcon that will not hesitate before ripping the eyes of its prey.."

He doesn't understand until Sam punches him straight in the nose. The man whimpers in pain on the floor while Sam doesn't wait before grabbing your hand and stepping over the whimpering man.

" Come on, tiger..Let's go home.."

Vision was clearly excited when you asked him if he wanted to go shopping with you. He was starting to worry about you as you hadn't come out of your room for a while. When you both arrive, your eyes immediately see a very interesting dress that you want to try automatically. It calls you and you drag Vision along as he looks at you with a wide smile, happy to see you so happy. You take the dress and try it on. However, when you get out, you didn't plan on another person being there.

" Oh my God ! You're going to damage the dress ! Take it off !"

The man nearly shrieks and Vision frowns up at the man.

" What do you mean ? You think the dress isn't a good fit ?"

The man sneers in disdain before lookin at you with clear disgust written all over his features.

" No..SHE's not a good fit for the dress.."

Vision's eyes widen perceptibly and you can see his fingers digging into the arms of the chair. However, he still succeeds in remaining calm and answers with cold smile.

" Oh, I see..Apologies my good sir, I thought you were just mistaking, but I can see now that you're just a moron."

The man is shocked and gapes at the insult like a fish out of water.

" What did you call me ?!"

He finally shouts in indignation, but Vision, far from being intimidated, only continues to smile falsely before repeating.

" A moron. Should I repeat it again, sir ? Are you perhaps deaf ?"

The man becomes as red as a tomato and wants to slap Vision that only takes a step to the side. In an instant, he restrains the man on the floor and, in his usual polite smile, says.

" Now, the lady here is doing her best to manage her insecurities. It took weeks for me to reassure her that she is perfectly fine, and you ? You just destroyed all of my efforts with one sentence."

He is about to break the man's arm when you gently run your hand on his back soothingly. He seems to remember where he is and gets up in an instant. He then takes you by the hand to pay for the dress and get out of the shop. You wait until you are in the parking lot before stopping and making him look at you. He seems as upset as you and you try to calm him down by gently kissing him on the lips.

" Sorry..He just was so mean to you and I.."

You kiss him again and he finally melts into the kiss.

" Never say sorry for acting heroically..You acted amazing out there.."

He smiles proudly before picking you up.

" Vision ! What are you doing ?!"

You exclaim before he answers with a small smile.

" I'm taking my wife home."

He then takes back his original form and flies up in the air.

" Miss, I need you to step out of the dress. There is the scale on your right, we don't accept anything outside of size Medium in here."

You are about to reply when Scott suddenly stands up and glares at the salesman.

" No one. Tells. My. Wife. That. She. Looks. Fat."

Scott would normally go with the pacifist approach, but when it comes to directly insulting you about the thing that you're most insecure about ? Get prepared for full-on mad Scott. He will make a scene. He will physically attack the employee. It will take you to physically restrain him from scratching the man too much. He will ask to talk to his boss and will not go without a sincere apology. Don't mess with angry Scott.

" Get up ! Come on ! I'm not finished with you !"

He wouldn't say anything because you told him that you didn't want him to kill anyone again. But give him the chance ? And he would take the man's tongue and cut it so he may never speak again.

" Come on, let's go, Loki..The dress is not that important anyway.."

You take his hand and try to gently guide him outside of the dressing lounge. But, the employee adds before you could avoid any more problems.

" Yeah..The dress would be wasted on you anyway.."

This is the last straw. He turns towards the man with a dagger in hand and threatens him by putting it against his throat.

" One more word, and I will skin you like the pitiful human scum that you are ! Now, address one more time to my future wife with this sort of disgusting behavior, and your may find a thousand snakes hidden in your bed."

You drag him outside, grabbing your clothes and paying quickly. Loki frowns, upset at the fact that you didn't let him finish. You run out and it's only when you're in the car that you turn towards Loki with tears in your eyes.

" Loki. One more complaint and they will throw you in a cell again. Is that really what you want ?! Don't make idiots the reason we are separated again.."

He understands your concern and gently strokes your cheek with his thumb before kissing your forehead.

" Never..I just don't like how people treat you around here. It's so unusual. In Asgard, we don't care about the size, we care about how a woman fights. Here, you are called weak by strangers, and when you try to defend yourself, you are blamed. It just doesn't make any sense.."

You laugh at his perplexity before answering him with a kiss on the cheek.

" Never change, Loki.."

Sometimes, when you're alone like this, Loki seems almost innocent. He hasn't been shaped to understand human flaws, he even has trouble understanding why. But, this is why you love him.

" Hey, fata**! Move out of the way ! You are blocking my view !"

A customer yells at you as you just got out of the dressing room. She tries to get in, but Stephen only arks an eyebrow and uses his time stone on her.

" W..Where..?"

She stammers and Stephen quickly answers.

" You are in my realm. I was just checking if you are relevant in any dimension or time-line..Guess what ? You are not. I could send you to another planet and nobody would come looking for you. Now, do I make myself clear when I say to never speak so rudely to anyone again, and especially not her ?"

The woman nods her head vividly and Stephen smiles before making them both come back to reality. The customer looks shocked for a moment, but she only humphs and walks away. You look at him with an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

" Stephen..What did you do ?"

You ask, but he only smiles innocently at you.

" Nothing, dear. Just had to get some things done..By the way, this dress is lovely. I'll pay for it."

You quickly nod and get back in the dressing room. However, you can't seem to be able to open the back zip and finally ask for Stephen's help. He wants to act casual, but is still nervous when you ask for his help..He still enters and pulls the zip down, marveling on the exposed skin of your back in the process. He slowly runs his fingers up and down your back before kissing your neck shortly and getting out. You still smile. At least, you had your approval on the dress..

The moment you enter, everybody stares at you, Thor had insisted on coming with you in his mighty armor and you just knew it would attract many eyes..and the comments didn't take long to arrive..

" Did you see that ?! How did she manage to pull him off ?! I mean..Why her ?! It's surprising."

You hide behind Thor in shame and he quickly notices why. He approaches the man and leans in front of him with a fake smile.

" Is it though ?"

The employee seems taken aback and takes a moment to answer.

" What ?"

" Surprising ? Is it normal for humans to act in such a way when they have flaws themselves ? I mean, your brain is the size of a poptart, and you don't see me complaining about it now, do I ? I don't think you're even worthy of gazing upon her. She's a queen. A woman who has been by my side from the beginning to the end and who never left my side, even when death was upon us. Would you have done the same ? What are you compared to her ?"

Both you and the employee are shocked by Thor's words and he then takes you by the waist to kiss you in front of everyone, even going as far as squeezing your hips. You blush vividly, but he then takes a step back and looks around before shouting for everyone to hear while pointing you with his index.

" This is my woman ! She is just the way I want her and if everyone has a problem with that, he can come and talk to me !"

That quickly shuts everyone up and he then takes your hand, having spotted a very gorgeous red dress that he just knows would look good on you..or off you. 😏😂

Thor can be very confused about many human things, but he knows when something is wrong with his human and will do everything to make you feel better.

He wouldn't say anything, but as soon as your home..He would take his arrows and bow.

" Where are you going ?"

" Out."

He would simply reply and you already know that if you let him go, the employee will be psychologically scarred for the rest of his life..You post yourself in front of the door and refuse to let him pass.

" Come on, darling. Move. I just wanna talk to him..I just wanna talk to him.."

He would try to reassure you, but then, he would remember how ashamed you seemed when buying said dress. His mindset completely shifts to murderous mode as he tries to get past you.

" I just wanna kill him..I just wanna kill him.."

You wrap your arms around his waist and refuse to move.

" Come on ! You're stronger than this, my love ! Don't do it !"

He finally sighs in defeat before nodding in agreement. However, he takes you by the arms for you to get up and gently kisses you.

" I would do anything for you..Okay ?"

You smile and nod, knowing that he means it.

" I know.."

" Hey there.."

You try to ignore the woman openly flirting with your boyfriend, but it's hard when she whispers something in his ear. Something that makes him cross his arms and frown.

" I'm sorry ?"

He says, apparently confused and the woman only giggles before wrapping her arms around his arm.

" You heard me cutie, come with me and leave the pig behind.."

You nearly choke on your own saliva as she repeats high enough for you to hear..You turn around and see an angry Steve that suddenly gets up and glares down at the woman.

" Oh no..You misunderstood. I was genuinely sorry for the fact that no amount of make-up will ever be able to cover your mean heart. Now, leave us Regina George, before I decide to make you leave."

The woman's eyes widen and she turns around with a loud dramatic humph. In an instant, Steve is by your side and covers your face with kisses.

" Don't listen to her. She isn't worth it..And her perfume was just horrible, I need to wash it off when we get home."

You smile with tears in your eyes, reassured and extremely grateful for having such a perfect man in your life..

" Wait..How do you know Mean Girls ?"

You suddenly inquire as you remember that the movie only got out a few years ago..He smiles before blushing almost embarrassingly. He then admits while massaging the back of his neck with his hand nervously.

" I decided to culture myself..And I also heard Hawkeye talk about how his girl has been going crazy over that movie..So, I decided to check it out.."

Your eyes widen at the information and you smile almost mischievously.

" This is actually very "unlike" you, Rogers..Listening on doors..Are you turning to the Dark Side of the Force ?"

He looks back at you with an arked eyebrow, visibly confused and you sigh loudly.

" Oh come on ! Star Wars ! Don't tell me you've watched Mean Girls but never heard about Star Wars ! "

He only shrugs and you suddenly take him by the arm to drag him towards the exit.

" B..But the dress ?!"

He exclaims and you only reply with a slight grin.

" The dress can wait. We've got other very important matters to intend to !"

He suddenly gets out of your grip to run to get the dress and pay for it before coming back to you. He then grabs your hand with a huge smile.

" Now, we can go."

#fandoms #imagine #marvel #scott lang #scott lang x reader #captain america x reader #iron man x reader #vision x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #hawkeye x reader #thor x reader #loki x reader #doctor strange x reader

723 notes · View notes

estrel · 4 years ago

Text

Are You Happy? (Save Them Some Pie)

HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY, DEAN!! this is my gift to him for being my comfort person that i would hug on sight if given the chance 💗 love you dude, may you indulge in copious amounts of pie. ~ 1.5k words.

also dedicated to marlo ( @heller-jensen ), jace ( @thiscastielhasflown ) and dee ( @castee-yel ) thanks for bein real ones <3

[READ ON AO3]

The day had already started out weird enough.

Dean had woken up drenched in sweat, mind racing with the last lingering thoughts of a nightmare. A vamp nest that he and Sam had been hunting, Dean dying in the most ludicrous way possible, and driving Baby down a long road for an indiscriminate amount of time in a supposed heaven that his father (his father) also co-habited. Needless to say, the dream had come out of nowhere, but it was easy enough to forget once the smell of bacon made its way into his room.

Breakfast was hardy and quick, with enough coffee to fuel him for the rest of the day as he skimmed the internet for a possible case. He had the itch, but apparently, looking around at the three sleepy faces around him at the table, no one else did.

He packed up anyway, preparing for what would likely be an easy salt-n-burn; he’d be gone for only a few hours, tops. On his way out, Cas stops him before he can scale the stairs, arm gripping his shoulder tightly. There’s a memory, briefly—the same hand, the same shoulder. Blood.

Dean looks down at it. Back at Cas.

“…Yeah?”

After a moment, Cas lets go. He steps back half an inch as if he had forgotten himself. “Just…be careful.”

Dean nods, moving to leave again, taking the awkwardness as both a Cas thing and a morning thing and content to leave it at that.

“And,” Cas says. Dean turns back.

“Come home.”

Dean picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean, hey! It’s, uh. It’s me. Krissy?”

Dean feels himself begin to smile, mindful of the road ahead of him. He balances his phone on his thigh while he drives.

“Hey, kid! Long time no call. How are you? Everything okay?”

The case had been as easy as Dean had suspected, but he had that familiar muscle ache and heaviness to his eyes that solo cases usually gave him.

Besides that, he was getting a little confused about all of the calls he’d been getting today. Before Krissy, it had been Garth, and before that, Claire and Jody and…

“Uh, yeah, dude, everything’s good. Um. How are you? How’s Sam and that angel of yours?”

Dean swallows to keep from choking, or potentially crashing the car.

“They’re good. Yeah…good.” Alive, he wants to say, back from the dead, probably in the DeanCave watching Scooby Doo without him. “Sorry, Krissy, ah,” he steps off the break to make a left, “I’m actually on my way home right now. Was there something I could help you with?”

There’s a pause, and Dean chances a glance at his phone to see if the call had dropped off. It hadn’t.

“Krissy?”

“I,” she huffs in what sounds like a laugh, “Nothing, Dean. You get home safe, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“And hey,” Krissy says, before he can say his goodbyes, “Uh, make sure you save some pie for everybody else.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow a bit, but he laughs. “I will. Take care of yourself.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Ba-bye.”

Dean’s still mulling over the pie comment when he nearly falls down the stairs, squinting into the darkness of the Bunker.

“What the hell?” he asks, voice hoarse around the high note. “Guys?”

When there’s no immediate answer, Dean’s instincts kick in. He pulls out his gun and gently drops his bag, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust so he can try for the stairs.

Before he can, though, the lights kick back on. His gaze locks onto the scene below, and Dean slowly lowers his gun.

“Happy birthday!” Jack says, the sound of a party horn whining shortly after. Beside him, Cas pulls the string of a party popper, and he jerks as bits of confetti fall around him and into his hair.

Skeptically, Dean starts descending down the stairs.

“You…this…” he manages.

“It’s your birthday, dumbass,” Sam says, swooping forward to slap a party hat on Dean’s head as soon as he’s made the landing. He smiles.

“Oh…kay.” Around them, the Bunker looks pretty normal. The only difference is the array of pies on one of the library tables, next to what looks like home made rice krispie treats, and a couple of birthday-themed plates and napkins. That, and the confetti from Cas’ party popper that litters the floor. “Are you sure?”

Cas frowns at Sam. “Sam was certain. I can’t imagine he’d get the day wrong, but he has had quite severe brain trauma over the years. Perhaps…” Cas reaches out to Sam’s head, probably intent on searching his brain for said trauma, or for the date of Dean’s actual birthday. Sam swats his hand away.

“Hey, no. My trauma is fine. Dean,” Sam redirects his attention to him, “It’s today. Did you really forget?”

Dean shrugs, trying to piece the day together from the beginning. Shitty dream, good breakfast, the three of them weirdly insisting on staying at the Bunker…the calls. Save some pie for everybody else.

He laughs. “So that’s what she meant.”

“That’s what who meant?” Jack asks. He’s wearing a party hat, too, with ridiculous stripes of blue and pink and purple patterned onto it. It matches the one currently strapped to Dean’s own. He shakes his head.

“You’re telling me all of you knew? This whole time? And…and…” He looks around again, pointing vaguely at the table and the confetti. “You put this all together for me?”

Sam shoves his arm playfully. “Course we did. Now quit pouting and come eat some pie.”

Sam is fast asleep, sprawled out on the couch hours later with one of his hands brushing the floor. Dean thinks he spots drool on the pillow underneath him.

Cas has been quiet next to Dean, at least since Jack had disappeared into the kitchen an hour ago and hadn’t come back, thoughtfully tracing the lip of his beer bottle with his finger.

“Something on your mind?” Dean asks, because he wants to know.

Cas continues unbothered. Scooby Doo reruns play in the background. Dean almost repeats the question, but Cas eventually lifts his gaze to stare at him.

“Are you happy?”

Dean presses his mouth shut. Licks his lips. He takes just as long to answer.

“You know what,” he smiles. “I think I am.”

Cas smiles back at him, soft and genuine. The skin around his eyes crinkling tells more than the gentle upturn of his mouth.

Dean swallows, nervously putting his beer down and turning it a few times until his fingers are wet with the condensation.

“What, uh. What about you?” He swallows again. “You happy?”

What he really wants to ask, though, is if they were good. If, after recent events, they were still the same. If Cas was still fine with “just being.”

He’s quiet again. Dean thinks he deserves that, and tries to pay attention to the TV, but the voice in his head is too loud. Cas has to tap his knee to get his attention again.

“Hm?”

“I was saying,” he moves his hand back, “that I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift.”

Dean stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

Cas looks confused, like he’s about to repeat what he just said. Dean stops him short with a wave of his hand.

“Dude, you just got back from the dead, alright? That’s—that’s gift enough to last me a lifetime. Don’t worry about a gift.”

Cas frowns, and Dean rolls his eyes. It’s another few moments of tense silence, until Dean breaks it, his heart pounding in his chest.

“But, uh,” he says, “I might have a gift for you.”

“Dean, we don’t share a birthday. It’s not customary to gift me something, especially when I haven’t given you—“

“Cas,” he groans, officially putting his beer aside and facing him. Cas’ features are lit up with the colors of the TV. Dean reaches a hand up to pluck confetti from his hair, a green piece that he’d been eyeing all night. Hesitating, he lets his hand fall to Cas’ face, smoothing over his cheek and jaw. The TV paints his cheekbone purple. Dean brushes his thumb over it. “Just...shut up and let me do this.”

Cas tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in that way of his, and Dean thinks he looks perfect. When he dips forward and presses their lips together, it’s perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s warm, his face is burning, eyes almost watering when he pulls away.

Dean lets his forehead rest on Cas’, heartbeat still crazy. He closes his eyes. “We can have it, Cas. This. We can have this.”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, lifts it a little to bring them face to face again, so that he’s looking into Dean’s eyes.

“I’d like that, Dean,” he says, and his eyes are wet, too. Happy, Dean thinks.

“Your gift to me?” Dean manages, smile wobbly. He’s teasing, trying to bring down the weight of this without getting rid of all of it. He likes this type of adrenaline rush, different from any hunt he’s been on. Better.

Cas smiles. “I think technically it was you that gifted me, but, yes. My gift to you, if you’ll take it.”

“Gladly,” Dean says.

Cas hums back, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “Happy birthday, Dean.” He leaves a kiss on his forehead.

Happy.

Dean thinks, for the first time, as he pulls more confetti from Cas’ hair, that it actually is.

—

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

@castiels-a-lamp @jellydeans @writtenmemxries @cestladean @randomblabbling @fluffiestlou @dreamnovak @weird-dorky-little-d @depressivedemonnightmaredean @castiels-pussy @friedchickenangelwings @galaxycastiel @destielle @dickspeightjrs @on-a-bender @organicpurplepants @casbelieves @samuelswinchester @spacegirlstuff @seffersonjtarship @winchester-novak @professorerudite @squintingg @holmesemrys @imnotrevealingmyname @mishha @good-things-do-happen-dean @angxlsgrxce @casandeans @castielscrookedtrenchcoat @destiel-in-its-natural-habitat @gracelesschoice @superduckbatrebel @iheardyourprayer @top13zepptraxx @that-one-fandom-chick @scoobydean @destiels-canonahhhhhhhhhh @maxguevra @cursed-or-not @i-think-im-humanbut-cant-besure @blazeinthedark @madilineskingdom @awolfnamedaliac @castee-yel @tearsofgrace @credentiast @fivefeetfangirl @my-favourite-hellatus @gray-is-neutral @sunflower-vol-28 @ensignabby @ar-bi-trary @lulu-zodiac @y-yo-a-ti-dumbass @castielology @nguyenxtrang @hermit-cas @supergaycas @deancasology @miadeline @save-the-sloths @goblinwritergay @theroguetranslator @imals18 @downtherabbitholeproductions

820 notes · View notes

typinggently · 2 years ago

Text

It's Saturday and Dean's out chasing skirts - approved of by all parties involved, thank you. He's got a beer and his eyes on a few girls by the bar, past college age but still with the beach waves and pink nails, mascara-crisp lashes batting his way as he's killing time by the pool table. Safe to say, he's about to have a good night, when Sam walks in. And that's— Yeah.

Dean's pretty sure that he's not as ignorant to it as he pretends to be, to the effect he has. Heads turn, crowds part. Tall, broad-shouldered, tan. Hot as all hell. And, sure. He's the coy type most of the time, but Dean knows him, can read the guy as easy as anything.

So when Sam strolls in, shoulders back and chin up, Dean narrows his eyes. There’s a promise of danger sizzling under that confidence and Dean sniffs it out like a dog sensing an oncoming thunderstorm. He takes another sip of beer, the bottle sweating in his palm, then pointedly returns his attention to the game. Two, three balls sunk in quick succession, but that only buys him two minutes before the storm rolls in.

"Hey." Sam steps in, too close. Dean straightens, which only brings them closer. "I thought we were going for girls tonight." He can almost smell the faint trace of sunshine and lavender clinging to Sam’s flannel and tries a raised brow, a pointed look.

Gets crowded against the table for his troubles, one hand reaching around him to snatch up his beer. "You're the cutest girl in here."

—

And — Yeah, Dean's not gonna tell him what that does to him, not ever. Shiver down his back, breathing stuttering a bit. Instead, he scrunches up his nose, turns his head to hide his hot cheeks. "Fuck off. Maybe I’m in the mood for something cute and sugar-scented tonight, ever thought about that?”

"Yeah, sure." Distracted, almost. The hand on the back of Dean’s neck is heavy, overly confident in its possessiveness. "C'mon. Car's out back."

And that’s just one step too far.

"Forget it." Dean shakes his head, pushes down the heat slowly unfurling just below his bellybutton. "No way, man. Too cold. Too cramped." Sam’s warm against his side, nice and broad, but he’s huge, a beast on the backseat, and Dean’s not in his twenties anymore.

Sam raises a brow at him. "To drive back to the motel, Dean." His tone is light, all earnest surprise that Dean would ever assume such a thing. As if Dean’s the dog here, as if he can’t see the shine in Sam’s eyes.

But, damn. The girls are a lost cause anyways, judging by how Dean is already leaning into Sam’s space. Might as well skip the dance and go back with Sam right away.

(Besides — and that’s another thing he won’t say out loud —, spending the evening in a motel room with Sammy does sound better than finding some fake lace and fake nails company for a few cherry-sticky hours. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the concept, of course, but — well. It’s Sam, alright? Damn, he’s not getting into that. He’s already picked up his jacket, anyways.)

The car is out back, just as promised, and Sam’s hand slips down Dean’s back pocket to steal his keys. Not that he’d try to do anything useful with them, he just wraps his arm around Dean’s middle and shoves him towards the car, pushing the keys into his hand so quick Dean almost stumbles into his best girl and drops them. That kind of shit should get the guy banned to the backseat for at least two days, but by the time Dean finds himself pushed against the car with a tongue shoved down his throat, he’s already forgotten what he’s supposed to be mad about. He’s much more interested in pulling Sam in, but his hands gets knocked away and suddenly he’s cold and Sam-less, blinking into the night with puffy lips and a wet chin. “C’mon, move it!,” from behind him, followed by the car door. Bitch.

Dean tries his hand at being mad again after that, keeping his eyes on the road and his jaw clenched. It’d be much easier if he didn’t still taste Sam, though, didn’t still feel the warm weight pushing him up against the car. Not to mention that it’d be much more rewarding if Sam didn’t look completely unfazed by the cold shoulder treatment, sprawled out on his seat and looking out of the window. Dean sniffs, senses thunder rumbling in the distance.

In the end, they make it all the way to the small patch of trees at the edge of town before Sam puts a palm on his knee. “Dude,” Dean tries, “forget it.” But Sam’s leaning in, the ass, and nuzzles behind his ear.

“No?” And he’s teasing, smile audible in his voice. He exhales, too, ticklish-soft and hot-sweet. “C’mon, De.”

Dean huffs. “You’re such a spoiled little brat, you know that? How do you ever get laid acting like that, huh?” But that’s just hot air. Not like he doesn't know he's to blame for how Sam turned out. He pulls the car over to the side of the road. At least Sam waited until they reached the stupid little forest.

#this is from APRIL btw #clown boys #drabble #originally this had the lyrics it was referencing at the bottom:#‘the enforcer looking for more women to torture / walk up to the cutest girl & Charley horse her’#we don’t even get to see D get a cramp bc he came too hard but like. it happens. promise.

16 notes · View notes

wicked-mind · 4 years ago

Text

The Night We Met

Summary: When Sam catches you and Bucky making-out in the truck, he has some questions. The most important one being how you two met.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, some talks of boobs.

All Writings Masterlist

Any and all likes, comments, and/or reblogs are deeply appreciated (: I love that shit.

*Gifs not mine.

A soft whimper escape your lips as you tilted your head back, feeling the kisses slowly move along your jaw and down your neck. Your hands tangled in his dark locks as you press your hips more against his, “Bucky…”

Bucky grins against your neck, nipping softly at your skin. The way his name rolls off your tongue makes him grip your hips tighter in his grasp, slowly starting to move your hips back and forth against his own. He knows exactly how to drive you wild. All his focus is on you that he didn’t even notice Sam approaching the truck from the house until he knocked on the window, causing both you and Bucky to jump slightly. Bucky pulls his lips away from your neck and rolls down the window with one hand, “Uh… Hi Sam…” He said with a small smile through the window as you nuzzle your face into his neck embarrassed.

Sam folds his arms at the two of you. He had suspected Bucky to have a girlfriend with how weird he’s been acting lately with his late night phone calls and random trips that lasted for days but he’s never been able to confirm it until now, seeing you straddling Bucky in the driver’s seat of the truck, “Why don’t you invite your friend inside for a drink? Would love to meet her.” He said with a small half smile, “Five minutes.”

Bucky watched Sam turn and walk towards the house for a moment before letting out a raspy chuckle, “I think we’re busted, sweetheart.” He murmurs out to you, gently rubbing a hand up your back.

You giggle softly and pull your head back to look into his eyes, biting your bottom lip at the sight of him. He was the most beautifully built man you had ever seen but you loved his eyes the most. They looked at you like you were his world and he would do anything to keep you safe, which you knew he would, “Well, you did bring me here to meet him anyway.” You say softly, lifting a hand to stroke along his cheek gently, “We just got a little distracted.”

Bucky grinned up at you. Every touch you gave him was like fire to his core, intoxicating him. He couldn’t get drunk but god damn, it sure felt like he was drunk on something when you looked at him like that and touched him so sweetly, “We better head in, otherwise I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off ya.”

That’s how you ended up sitting by Bucky across the table from his friend Sam, drinking a beer as the two men awkwardly stared at each other as if trying to read each other’s minds. You cleared your throat and smiled, breaking the silence “It’s nice to meet you, Sam. You have a very lovely home.”

Sam looked over to you and smiled, “Thanks, it’s nice to finally meet you too. I knew Bucky was sneaking around for some reason.” He chuckled and shook his head, “So how long have you two been…”

“Sneaking around?” You ask with a small smile before looking over towards Bucky, “Uh, about four months?”

Bucky nods in agreement and moves one of his hands under the table to your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. He knew you were nervous just by the way small red splotches started to appear on your neck.

Sam folds his arms and leans back in his chair, his eyes flickering between the two of you, “Four months, huh?” He asks, landing his eyes on Bucky who shifted a little in his chair, “That’s about the time you went to New Orleans… So how’d you two meet?”

You and Bucky look at each other with a small smile.

About Four Months Ago

‘Go explore the world. Live a little.’ Sam had said to Bucky, ‘You’re free now, Buck. Get out there.’

That is exactly how Bucky ended up Bourbon Street in New Orleans in the middle of Mardi Gras in a state of shock while two women had pulled up their shirts to flash him. He didn’t know what to do, they were staring at him like they expected something in return but he was just shocked at what was happening before him with wide eyes and lips parted slightly. He looked like a deer in the headlights except those headlights had nipples.

Luckily, you managed to see the whole ordeal and waltzed on over to the three, pulling some beads off from around your neck and passing them to the two women, “Beautiful ladies!” You tell them as they put the beads on, pulling their shirts back down and stumbling off down the street drunkly. You turn to look at the tall, dark haired man who seemed to relax a little after the women had left, “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

Bucky sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets, “That obvious, huh?” He asks with a small half smile, observing you as you stood in front of him. You had a friendly smile on your face and your neck had many different colored beads around it, “I’m not sure what exactly I stepped in to.”

You chuckle softly and smile at him, “Well, you sort of have this cute lost puppy thing going on. That and you looked like you were going to die from shock from being flashed.” You say, pulling a few strands of the beads from your neck and slowly dropping them over his head to dangle around his neck, “It’s Mardi Gras. Girls get a little crazy and there’s this thing where if they flash you, you give them beads. So here’s these just in case you get trapped by boobs again.”

Bucky blushed but let out a small chuckle, “Thanks for saving me, I guess.” He said before pulling a gloved hand of his pocket and outstretching it to you, “I’m Bucky.”

You smile and shake his hand, “Bucky. I’m guessing that’s not your real name?” You ask, narrowing your eyes a little at his cerulean ones, “I’m Y/N.”

Bucky nods, shoving his hand back in his pocket after you shook his hand, “Yeah, my real name is James.” He said sheepishly, his eyes glued to you, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”

You nod, “Well, since you introduced yourself to me as Bucky first, that’s what I’ll call you.” You beamed at him before looking down the street, “The parade will start soon. We should probably get somewhere less crazy. Neither of us have enough beads for the amount of women that’ll be flashing us.” You chuckle, looping your arm around his and starting to walk him down the street, “So, where you from?”

Bucky keeps pace with you, following to wherever you were leading him as long as it was away from more drunk women, “Brooklyn originally but I’ve been staying in Delacroix with a friend.” He said down to you, watching your movements, “How about you?”

You nod as you listen, looking up and over to him as you weave through people, “I lived in Seattle until I turned twenty-four, then moved here. I didn’t do well with the cold and constant grey. I prefer my sunshine and jazz. Not to mention the history and culture here is very intriguing. I love it.”

Bucky nods as he keeps his eyes glued to your face, dodging people without even looking at them as you lead him down the street, “You live in this chaos?” He asks with an amused grin.

“I thrive in the chaos.” You giggle, “But it isn’t like this all the time. We always have tourists but Mardi Gras is the craziest two weeks out of the year.” You stopped in front of a small bar and looked up at him, “C’mon, we’ll be safe in here.” You say before pulling him inside. The front of the bar was packed but you weaved him towards the back and through an archway that said private to find a secondary, smaller bar and took a seat on one of the stools, “What brings you to New Orleans?”

Bucky followed you, weaving through the crowd of bodies into the less packed area before taking a seat on the stool next to you, “Well, I haven’t traveled much except when I’m… working and just finished up some of that work so I have a lot of time on my hands now.” He said softly, “My friend suggested I explore the world.”

“Sounds like a good friend.” You reply before reaching over the bar and grabbing two glasses and a bottle of whiskey, “You like whiskey?” You ask, looking back to him to see him nod with a sort of uneasy look as you reached over the bar. You chuckled softly, “Don’t worry. It’s not stealing. I work here and I’ll make sure to pay for it.” You told him, watching him relax a little as you poured some of the amber liquid into the glasses before setting the bottle onto the bar. You lifted your glass and held it out to him, “Well, cheers to good friends pushing you into the world of New Orleans so you could meet me.”

Bucky smiles and picks up his own glass in his leather gloved hand, cheering your glass before taking a sip of the whiskey. He smiled slightly as he watched you take a sip of yours, your nose crinkling at the burn in your throat. He thought it was cute.

You set the glass down on the bar and licks your lips before looking back to him, “What hotel are you staying at? Just so I can let you know if you need to check for bedbugs.” You giggle.

Bucky squinted his eyes slightly, he knew he forgot something. Sam had showed him how to look at hotels on his phone and how to pay for rooms but he never got around to it, “Uh… No where.” He replied, “I haven’t booked a room so I guess I don’t need to worry about bedbugs.”

You laugh slightly at his response, shaking your head, “Oh, Bucky. You’re never gonna get a room now.” You tell him, “All the hotels are probably booked since it’s the middle of Mardi Gras.” You bit your bottom lip softly as you looked at him, “You could stay with me if you’d like until we manage to find you a room. You don’t want to be wondering the street all night. Besides, that way I can give you the proper tour of New Orleans without the boobs.”

Bucky smiles over at you, thinking your suggestion over before something inside him told him to agree even though he was hesitant, “Alright. Thank you, doll.” He replies, his smile widening when he saw you blush slightly at the name.

After a few more drinks and shared laughs while you two got to know each other a little better, you lead Bucky back to your apartment after he went to his truck and grabbed a duffle bag with his belongings. You watched as he looked around at every detail in your apartment like he was studying his surroundings. After grabbing some pillows and a blanket for him on the couch, you shared a goodnight before going into your bedroom and falling asleep.

The next day, you took Bucky around New Orleans showing him all the sights and sharing the history about the town. He had a constant smile on his face as he listened to you speak about the history, nodding sometimes to let you know he was still actively listening to you. Although it seemed quick, Bucky was falling for you with every word that dripped from your mouth. Your voice quickly became his new favorite sound, especially when you would get lost in a ramble and then blush when you realized you were doing all the talking. The first day together was mostly just you showing him around and how to get back to your apartment in case he wanted to go out on his own.

The second day together, you took Bucky around to try all your favorite foods. You started with mimosas with chicken and waffles, laughing when Bucky made a bitter face at the orange juice with champagne, making a joke about he must be strictly a whiskey guy which made him smile. You took him to your favorite place to get beignets and when Bucky saw how much powdered sugar was on the pastry, he made a comment about having a heart attack that made you laugh. But beignets quickly became one of his favorite snacks, especially due to the fact you wiped some powdered sugar off his chin and he returned the favor when you got some on your nose. Your night finished up by ordering some take-out gumbo and sitting on the balcony of your apartment as you two ate, watching the people flood the streets as loud jazz music filled the air.

The third day, you took him to the French Quarter after another beignets stop. Bucky was a little hesitant when you told him there were a lot of psychics that do card readings, palm readings, and other things. He was especially hesitant when you told him that you two should stop to visit your favorite palm reader, telling him that she was freaky good. You offered to go first and Bucky watched the psychic intently as she held your palm in her hand. The psychic, named Iris, told you that you have a very bright future and that your person, whether it be a best friend or a lover, was closer than you thought. Then was Bucky’s turn. He hesitantly pulled off the glove from his right flesh hand and outstretched it to Iris who gently took it in her own, tracing the lines in his palm gently with one of her fingers, “You’ve been through a lot, James. Winter has not been kind to you.” The psychic told him, which shocked Bucky. He hadn’t told her his real name and the fact that she said ‘Winter hasn’t been kind to him’ was like saying Winter was a person. Which it was. It was the past version of him, “Your ghosts want you to know they forgive you, something about it not being your fault. They thank you for your amends.” He swallowed hard before she continued, “You’re on a good path, especially since you decided to come here.” She leans forward a little and hushed her voice so you wouldn’t hear as you looked at some crystals on the gift shop wall, “You’re guide is more important to you than you know. Keep your light close.” She said, nodding over to you before giving a soft smile to Bucky.

After you two left the psychic, Bucky was more quiet than usual since you’ve met him and you wondered what the psychic had told him. You bit your lip as the two of you walked in silence, counting the bricks on the floor to distract yourself from the silence. The sun had started to set when you made it back to your apartment. Bucky immediately went out onto the balcony without saying a word and you stood in the kitchen, pondering what possibly could’ve been said that seemed to close him off slightly from you. You grabbed two beers from your fridge and went out to stand beside him with a small smile, holding one out to him.

Bucky looked over at you as you came out, still pondering what the psychic said to him. The words she said had echoed in his mind since she said them. He took the beer from you with a small half smile and muttered out a soft, “Thanks.” He took the cap off and looked out into the streets, watching people flood them again as they did every night. After a few moments of silence and noticing you shift on your feet awkwardly he turned to look at you, “I’m sorry, doll.”

You swallowed hard as he finally spoke to you, turning to face him and putting on a small smile, “It’s alright, Bucky. I’m the one who should be sorry. You didn’t really want to go see Iris and I pushed you.” You said, leaning your elbows on the banister and looking down at the beer in your hands.

Bucky frowned a little as he watched your movements and listened to the apology that spewed from your lips, your tone almost sad for seeming to offend him. He held his beer on his left gloved hand and placed the other on your back gently, “Y/N, no need to apologize. It was… enlightening.” He said softly and offered a small half smile. And it was. Iris knew things about him she shouldn’t. She knew of his ghosts and his amends. But then she spoke about how important you would be to him, calling you his guide and his light and he wondered if it was fate that he met you, “I had a really good time with you. I’m sort of sad I gotta go back to Delacroix tomorrow.”

You smile over at him, “Me too. I’ll miss having someone to eat beignets with.” You said softly, looking back down at the people in the streets dancing to the loud music, “Good thing it isn’t too far away.”

Bucky kept glancing over at you from the corner of his eye. He honestly didn’t want to leave but if he didn’t, Sam would just come looking for him like the annoying friend he was. He swallowed hard before clearing his throat at an attempt to grab your attention, which he did and he felt nervous butterflies in his stomach as you met his gaze with those beautiful, shining eyes of yours, “Maybe I could come back next week?” He asks, “I mean… I’d like to eat more beignets with you.” He internally flinched at how he sounded before letting out a deep breath, “What I mean is that I would like to see you again… Take you out on a date.”

You smile over at him, turning your body to face his and bit your lip as you listened to him stammer over his words which made you giggle a bit with a small blush to your cheeks, “Now here I thought I was taking you out on mini-dates.” You teased with a smile before continuing, “I’d like that very much, Bucky. You know where to find me.” You said softly, reaching over and taking his hand in yours and together you silently watched the parade in the street while giving small squeezes to each other’s hands.

Present

Sam listened to the story and then held up his hand, “Wait… So you two met because you saved him from…”

“Boobs.” You finish with a chuckle, looking over at Bucky who had this look on his face like he was done with this conversation, a slight pink on his cheeks, “Yup. I saved him from boobs.”

Sam nodded slowly and looked over to Bucky with an amused grin, “So your little ‘escapes’ have been going to see the woman that saved you from boobs.” He said, holding back a laugh.

Bucky glared over at Sam, “It’s not like I was scared. I just didn’t know what to do. They kept staring at me like they earned something.” You and Sam both let out a chuckle which made Bucky look over at you with a half smile at the sound of your laughter. You laughing was his favorite sound, especially when it was because of him.

“The boobs kept staring at you or the women?” Sam asks with a laugh. That earned a groan and an eye roll from Bucky and a laugh from you. Sam folds his arms with the same grin on his lips, “Alright then. Well, we have a spare bedroom. You’re welcome anytime, Y/N. You’ll have to come to one of our cookouts.”

You smile and nod, “Perfect. I’ll bring the beignets.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Permanet Taglist: @buckypops @bibliophilewednesday @stcrryslibrary @redhairedfeistynerd @princessnnylzays

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes

400 notes · View notes