#sam wiping the “sweat” lmao

[aquareegia]

I can't with him! (via projektatlantic's IG story)

[brunchable]

𝐌𝐫. 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 | Stucky x f!reader.

Part Two | Four Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!reader, Steve Rogers x f!reader | Daughter of Thaddeus Ross (Red Hulk) Words: 5.8K Themes: Forbidden/Off-Limits Reader, Love Triangle, M for Mature, 18+ , Post-Endgame, AGE GAP (24y/o reader). Summary: Steve and Sam discuss Steve’s lingering thoughts about the mysterious woman he danced with at a party, while Bucky continues his therapy sessions with Y/N. Y/N ends her engagement with Ethan, leading to a tense confrontation with her father, Thaddeus Ross, who pressures her to maintain the arrangement for political reasons. Y/N’s growing connection with Bucky becomes more apparent, but her father's expectations weigh heavily on her, leaving her conflicted about her future. A/N: Steve's song can be One Kiss by Dua lipa lmao.

taggies: @astrelz @pattiemac1

Steve and Sam had just finished their usual morning run, both catching their breath as they walked toward a bench, sandwich in hand, their usual routine after.

Steve’s hair was still damp with sweat, and Sam wiped his forehead with the back of his hand as they found a park bench. The park bustled with early morning energy—people in suits rushing, joggers taking a break, and the steady hum of traffic in the distance.

"You know, you’re getting slower, Cap," Sam teased, flashing Steve a grin as they sat down.

Steve smirked, settling on the bench. "I thought I’d take it easy on you."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, right. Three days ago, you were out there dancing like you had moves I’d never seen before, and now you’re holding back on a run?"

Steve sighed, "You’re not gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope. You’ve been quiet since that night. A little too quiet, if you ask me."

Steve avoided Sam’s gaze, watching the pigeons on loitering around. "It was just... a one time thing."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Just a one time thing? Come on, man, I saw you two. There was something going on out there, and it wasn’t just the music."

"I don’t even know who she is." Steve finally looked up, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

"Doesn’t matter," Sam replied, shrugging as he took a big bite. "You don’t need to know her to know that something clicked. That’s why you’ve been all broody these past few days."

Steve sighed, leaning back in his chair and looking out at the city as it buzzed with life around them. The memory of her—of the girl he’d danced with—had stayed with him, playing in his mind over and over. Her smile, the way she moved, the way it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared for those few moments.

"I don’t even know her name, Sam," Steve finally admitted.

"So what?" Sam shrugged. "You’ve got instincts, right? If it felt right, you should do something about it."

Steve glanced over at him. "And do what? Ask around for the girl I danced with at a party I didn’t even want to go to?"

Sam grinned. "It worked for Cinderella."

Steve rolled his eyes, but Sam didn’t let up. 

"All I’m saying is, you don’t get moments like that every day. Whatever happened on that dance floor, it’s been on your mind for three days. That means something."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, a cyclist zoomed past them, so close that their Sam almost dropped his sandwich. Both Steve and Sam jerked back in surprise.

"Whoa!" Sam shouted after the cyclist. "Watch where you’re going!"

"This city..." Steve shook his head, laughing softly. 

"You know, you could’ve used that super-soldier strength to tackle the guy." Sam pointed.

Steve gave him a deadpan look. "Yeah, that would’ve gone over real well. Captain America assaults cyclist—makes headlines."

Sam laughed, but the seriousness returned to his voice a moment later. "Look, man, I know you’ve been out of the game for a while, but you deserve to live a little. If that girl gave you even a glimpse of something good... you should try to find her."

Steve stared into the distance, the thought hanging in the air. Could he really track her down? Did he even want to?

"Trust me," Sam added, "might be worth a shot."

Steve sat in silence for a moment, thinking it over. Sam’s words weighed on him, the idea of taking a chance—of finding her again—slowly growing in his mind.

Before Steve could say anything, a group of women walked past their bench. One of them glanced back, her eyes widening as she recognized him. She stopped in her tracks, tugging on her friend’s arm.

"Oh my God, aren’t you... Captain America?"

Steve sighed inwardly, but a polite smile spread across his face. "Not anymore," he said smoothly, pointing to Sam, "he is."

The women turned their wide-eyed stares to Sam, and for a moment, there was stunned silence. Sam blinked, his expression somewhere between amused and baffled.

"Oh... um..." one of the women stammered, clearly caught off guard.

Sam shot Steve a playful glare, then broke into a broad grin. "That’s right," he said, leaning back in the bench with exaggerated confidence. "I’m the new and improved model."

The women giggled, their surprise quickly turning into admiration. "Can we get a picture with both of you?" one of them asked.

Sam didn’t miss a beat. "Only if you tag me as the real Captain America."

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on, let’s get this over with."

The women quickly snapped a picture, and after thanking them with enthusiasm, they moved on, still buzzing with excitement. As they walked away, Sam shot Steve a mischievous grin.

"You know, I really should start charging for these appearances," Sam said.

Steve rolled his eyes but smiled. "Maybe you should."

As Steve sat back down, Sam shook his head, laughing. "Man, even when you’re trying to lay low, you can’t avoid the spotlight."

Steve gave him a half-smile, but his mind was elsewhere. He stared out at the busy street, Sam’s words echoing in his head.

"Maybe you’re right," Steve said quietly.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

"About finding her," Steve said, his voice firming up, “I mean. . . my life has been feeling a bit dull.”

Sam grinned, slapping Steve on the shoulder. "Now that’s what I like to hear."

Steve shifted on the bench, a new determination building inside him. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but Sam was right. 

× × × ×

Back at the mansion, Y/N barely had time to settle in when her father stormed into the room. Thaddeus was not a man easily angered, but when he was, the entire house felt the weight of it. Today was one of those days. His presence loomed large as he stood rigid in the doorway, his eyes cold and piercing.

“I just got word that you ended your engagement,” Thaddeus’s voice was sharp, each word cutting through the air. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he took a step forward. “Without even telling me.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she stood her ground, refusing to shrink under his gaze. “I didn’t need your permission, Dad. It was my decision.”

Thaddeus’s eyes narrowed, his face hardening. “Your decision?” His voice rose in fury as he closed the distance between them, looming over her. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? This wasn’t just some personal arrangement, Y/N. This was a political move—a way to solidify alliances. And now, you’ve destroyed it.”

Y/N could feel the tension radiating from him, but she refused to let his anger rattle her. “There was no love between us, and you know it,” she snapped back, her voice steady despite the pounding in her chest. “I wasn’t going to marry someone just because it suited your politics.”

Thaddeus’s expression darkened, his jaw clenched. “This isn’t about love. This is about duty. This is about the family, about what we stand for! You’ve always been reckless, thinking you can make decisions like this without understanding the consequences.”

“Oh my gosh! Duty? So are we some part of the royal family?,” Y/N shot back, her voice trembling but resolute. “I couldn’t live a lie anymore.”

Thaddeus’s laugh was bitter, “You’ve never had to live the life I’ve lived, Y/N. You’ve always had everything handed to you, protected from the real world, from real responsibility. Well, guess what? Life isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you have to do. It’s about playing your part.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words sinking in, but she wouldn’t back down. She’d made her choice, and for the first time, she’d done it for herself.

“You better take it back,” Thaddeus ordered, his voice low and menacing. “Call him. Fix this. The engagement is not over.”

Y/N blinked, stunned by the sheer audacity of his demand. “Take it back?” She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “You want me to go back to Ethan? To a man who’s still in love with his ex? That’s what you want?”

Thaddeus didn’t flinch. “It’s what’s necessary.”

“Necessary for you,” Y/N said, her voice rising as the frustration bubbled over. “You’re already president! What more do you need? This is my life, Dad. Not another political maneuver you can use to your advantage.”

Thaddeus’s gaze sharpened, his lips thinning into a hard line. “You don’t understand how the world works. You’re my daughter. Everything you do reflects on this family, on me. You think you can run around making decisions on a whim? That’s not how this works.”

“I won’t go back to him,” Y/N said firmly, her voice steady with defiance.

Thaddeus stepped closer, his voice low but dripping with cold authority. “You don’t have a choice. In a month’s time, I’ll be introducing you to the world. The daughter of President Thaddeus Ross. You will stand by my side and play your part, whether you like it or not. You’re not just my daughter. You are an extension of everything I’ve built.”

Y/N felt the suffocating weight of his words settling over her, like a blanket she couldn’t shake off. She had always known that being Thaddeus Ross’s daughter came with expectations, but now, more than ever, she felt like she was nothing more than a pawn in his grand political game.

“I won’t be part of your plans,” she said, her voice quieter but laced with firm defiance.

Thaddeus’s eyes bore into hers, his face hardening into a cold, unreadable mask. “You already are,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Y/N standing there, her hands trembling as the enormity of his expectations pressed down on her shoulders. The life she wanted, the freedom she craved—it all seemed further away than ever.

× × × ×

Y/N sank onto the couch, her mind racing. Ending things with Ethan had felt like the right decision, but her father’s reaction made her question everything. Could she ever escape this life? Could she ever truly be free from her father’s control?

Her gaze drifted around the room, settling on a framed photograph sitting on the mantle—one of the few pictures she had of her mother. It was old, faded at the edges, a reminder of a woman she never got the chance to know. After her parents had separated when she was just a baby, her mother had disappeared from her life completely. All Y/N had were secondhand stories and a face in a photograph.

Her father never talked about her mother, and Y/N had stopped asking questions long ago. But sometimes, like now, she couldn’t help but wonder what her life might have been like if she’d had her mother around—someone who could have balanced her father’s rigid expectations, someone who could have shown her what it meant to live freely.

But that life had never been an option. Her mother was gone, and her father was all she had. As much as she tried to carve out her own path, the weight of being Thaddeus Ross’s daughter was always there, pulling her back in.

Her thoughts drifted away from the heaviness of her family and back to her recent encounters with Bucky. There was something about him, something different from everything else in her life. He didn’t push, didn’t demand. He just... was. And that simplicity, that calmness—it was starting to mean more to her than she had anticipated.

Her thoughts shifted to Ethan when she noticed a missed call from him. She stared at her phone for a long moment. They hadn’t spoken since she called off the engagement, and part of her wanted to ignore him. She had made her choice—there was nothing more to say. But curiosity tugged at her. What could he possibly want now?

With a resigned sigh, Y/N tapped on his number and brought the phone to her ear. It rang twice before Ethan picked up, his voice cool and calculated, as always.

“Y/N.”

“Ethan,” she replied, her tone cautious. “I saw your missed call. What do you want?”

There was a brief pause before Ethan spoke again, his voice more measured than before. “I’ve been thinking about everything that happened. About the engagement.”

Y/N’s defenses went up instantly. “There’s nothing more to talk about. I ended it.”

“I know, and I’m not calling to argue that,” Ethan said, his voice calm. “I get why you did it. I’ve been thinking about what you said. Maybe you were right, but that doesn’t change what’s happening around us.”

“What are you getting at, Ethan?” Y/N pressed, her voice sharp. “Why are you calling me?”

“Look, this isn’t easy for me to explain over the phone,” Ethan replied, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “But we’re in a complicated situation right now, both of us. And it’s not just about us—it’s about our families and that event your dad wants to hold.”

Y/N sighed, already feeling exhausted by the conversation. “I know all of that. But I’m not going back to the way things were, Ethan. I’m done.”

“I’m not asking you to go back to that,” Ethan said quickly, his voice becoming more urgent. “Just... hear me out. I have a plan, a way for us to manage this without blowing everything up.”

Y/N frowned. “What kind of plan?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Ethan replied, his voice vague and careful, almost too careful. “But I’ve been thinking. There’s a way to do this... to make sure we both come out of this in one piece. But you’re going to have to trust me.”

Y/N’s stomach churned. “Trust you? Ethan, I ended things because I didn’t want to keep pretending. You want me to trust you with something you won’t even explain?”

“I know it sounds like I’m asking for a lot,” Ethan admitted, his voice softening slightly. “But trust me when I say I’m looking out for both of us here. I’m not going to let this get messy—for you or for me.”

Y/N clenched her jaw, frustrated by his vagueness. “You can’t expect me to just go along with this without knowing what you’re planning.”

Ethan sighed heavily. “I get it. I do. But right now, I can’t give you all the details. It’s just... complicated, I’m arranging plenty of things okay? And I need you to trust me on this. You don’t want to deal with the fallout if we handle this the wrong way.”

Y/N bit her lip, her mind racing. The idea of trusting Ethan after everything felt absurd, but something about the way he was speaking, the way he kept insisting, made her pause. She hated the thought of going along with anything Ethan was plotting, but part of her wondered if he was right—if handling things the wrong way could make everything worse.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Y/N asked, her voice low, testing the waters.

“For now, just... we act like we did before,” Ethan replied, sounding almost relieved that she hadn’t hung up. “Just let things settle. Your dad becoming President is a huge deal.”

Y/N sighed, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her. “I’m not going to pretend forever, Ethan.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Ethan said, his voice firm. “But this is bigger than us right now. Just... trust me. I promise you, it won’t be like this for long. I want out as much as you do.”

Y/N sat in silence, conflicted. She didn’t trust Ethan—not completely—but the idea of making things messier, of causing a scandal in the middle of her father’s presidency, made her stomach churn. She didn’t know if she had it in her to make things worse for everyone involved.

“I’ll think about it,” Y/N finally said, her voice hesitant but tired.

“Sure, think about it, but don’t dwell on it too long.”

Y/N ended the call and placed her phone down on the coffee table, staring at it for a moment. She had always thought that ending the engagement would free her, but even now, it felt like she was still trapped, still playing a role in a life she didn’t want.

Her mind drifted to Bucky, to the quiet ease of their encounters. There were no plans, no demands, no complicated webs of politics and expectations with him. He was just... Bucky. And right now, more than anything, that simplicity was what she needed.

× × × ×

Session 2

Bucky sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his body tense. The room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock on the wall, and the distant murmur of voices outside the door. He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on the notebook in Y/N’s hands. She was back in her professional attire—hair neatly pulled back, glasses perched on her nose, and her demeanor all business.

Therapist mode.

It felt strange to Bucky now. Over the past few days, he’d run into her outside the office—at the market, at the coffee shop—and each time, she had been different. Relaxed. Playful, even. It was hard to take her seriously now, after seeing her “real” character, the carefree woman who laughed easily and joked around. This version of her felt stiff, too controlled.

“So,” Y/N began, her voice calm and measured, as she glanced up from her notes, “let’s talk about the list.”

Bucky frowned. “The list?”

“Your amends list,” she clarified, looking him directly in the eye. “The one you’ve been working on.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, his eyes flicking to the window. “Right. That.”

Y/N remained unfazed, her gaze steady as she waited for him to continue. “You’ve made some progress,” she said, glancing at the file on her lap. “But there are still names on that list, aren’t there?”

Bucky hesitated, then shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, there are names.”

Y/N nodded, her expression neutral. “How does it feel, working through it?”

Bucky sighed, glancing back at her. “Honestly? It feels like a damn chore,” he muttered, not hiding his frustration. “I’m sorry, but I’m finding it hard to take this seriously.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more. “Why is that?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, it’s a little tough taking therapy advice from someone who I’ve seen spill her coffee and laugh about it, or humming ‘80s pop hits while picking out apples at the grocery store.” He shrugged, the smirk widening slightly. “It’s like... therapist by day, party animal by night. Hard to keep a straight face after that.”

Y/N stared at him, her expression completely unchanged, the silence in the room growing heavier by the second.

Bucky’s smirk faltered slightly as the silence in the room dragged on. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling like he was under a spotlight. 

“Tough crowd,” he muttered, letting out a short laugh.

Y/N didn’t budge. She kept her gaze on him, unblinking, before calmly responding, “It’s not about me, Sergeant. It’s about you and the work you’re doing here.”

Bucky’s smirk faltered. He hadn’t expected her to call him out so bluntly. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess.”

Y/N continued, her voice steady but a little softer. “I get that it might feel strange after seeing me in a different context. But here, this is the space where we work through things. You can joke, but the process still matters.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to this version of Y/N. Outside, she had been easygoing, someone he could joke with. But here? She wasn’t giving him any leeway.

He sighed, his hands resting on his lap. “Yeah, well... it’s not just that. The whole list... It feels pointless sometimes. What’s the point of making amends when none of them will ever forgive me?”

Y/N’s expression softened, though her gaze remained steady. “It’s not about them forgiving you, Sergeant. It’s about you finding a way to forgive yourself.”

Those words hit a little too close to home, and Bucky shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Easier said than done.”

Y/N leaned back slightly, giving him some space. “Of course it is. But you’ve already started. You’ve been facing those demons. You’re not running anymore.”

Bucky met her eyes, feeling the tension in his body slowly ease. 

Y/N flipped to another page in her notes. “You said you’ve crossed a few names off the list. Tell me about them.”

Bucky hesitated. He wasn’t used to opening up like this, but something about Y/N—therapist mode or not—made it a little easier to talk. “There’s this one... Yori. His son... I killed him. Not on purpose, but... it happened. I still haven’t told him the truth.”

Y/N stayed quiet, giving him the space to continue.

“I’ve been spending time with him,” Bucky went on, his voice quieter now. “He doesn’t know why I’m there, though. He just thinks we’re friends. And I—” He stopped, his throat tightening again. “I can’t bring myself to tell him. How do you do that? How do you tell someone that you’re the reason their son is dead?”

Y/N’s gaze softened, but she didn’t offer easy answers. “You don’t have to rush that conversation,” she said gently. “You’re allowed to take the time you need. But when the moment comes, you’ll know. And it’ll be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But it might also be the first real step toward healing.”

Bucky clenched his fists in his lap, the weight of her words settling over him. Healing. It felt impossible sometimes.

For a moment, there was silence between them. Y/N scribbled something in her notebook, then glanced up at him again. “You’ve done more than you realize. You’re facing these things head-on, even when they terrify you. And that... that takes courage.”

Bucky scoffed softly. “Courage, huh?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Yes, courage. You’re here, aren’t you?”

Bucky met her eyes for a long moment, something unspoken passing between them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt... different. Like she understood him more than most people ever could.

“Yeah,” Bucky said quietly, glancing down at his hands. “I’m here.”

And for now, that was enough.

× × × ×

After Bucky's session, Y/N sat at her desk, absently scrolling through her emails. A new message popped up, and her heart sank when she saw the subject line: Event Details – Ross Family Introduction.

She hesitated for a moment before clicking on it, her stomach churning as she read through the formal invitation. In a month’s time, her father was planning to host a grand event where he would officially introduce her to the public—his secret family, finally revealed. It wasn’t just a casual introduction; it was a spectacle, one that would change her life forever.

The ornate wording of the invitation made her feel even more trapped. There was no escape from this. Her father expected her to be perfect, to play the role of the ideal daughter, to smile and wave and uphold the pristine image of the Ross family. 

Her phone buzzed, pulling her attention from the email. It was a text from her father: We’ll go over everything soon. Be prepared.

Y/N stared at the message, the weight of it all hitting her again. She was being groomed for a life she didn’t want, expected to conform to an image she didn’t recognize. 

She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples, her mind drifting away from the impending event. Her thoughts wandered back to earlier that day, to her session with Bucky. She had kept her cool, remained professional, but one thing from that session stood out more than the rest: the moment Bucky had called her a party animal.

The comment had caught her off guard at the time, and now, thinking back on it, something about it gnawed at her. A faint, fleeting thought crossed her mind, one she quickly dismissed—but it returned just as fast. Could Bucky have been the guy she danced with at the party?

Her heart skipped a beat at the memory of the man on the dance floor. No, she reasoned. It couldn’t be him. The guy she kissed looked different. His hair was shorter, his face was less familiar. And yet, something about the way Bucky had looked at her earlier, the way he had joked about seeing her outside of therapy, lingered in her mind.

But Bucky couldn’t be the same guy. Could he?

She sighed, shaking her head. She was overthinking it. There was no way Bucky was the mysterious man from the party. The man looked different, acted differently. And yet, the thought wouldn’t fully leave her.

Y/N glanced back at the screen, at the email detailing the event that awaited her. The weight of her father’s expectations pressed down even harder now, but her mind remained distracted, circling back to Bucky and the lingering feeling of familiarity she couldn’t quite shake.

× × × ×

It was late afternoon, and the air was warm with a gentle breeze as Y/N jogged along the park’s winding path. She loved this time of day—when the sun was low in the sky, casting everything in a golden light. It was the perfect time to clear her head, especially with everything weighing on her lately. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the event her father had planned, but out here, she could forget about it for a while.

Dressed in a sports bra and yoga pants, she moved easily along the trail, her ponytail swaying behind her as she ran. The beat of her music thumped in her ears, the rhythm of her steps in sync with the song. She was feeling good, maybe even a little confident—until she noticed two figures up ahead.

She slowed her pace slightly, squinting as she recognized them. It was Bucky and Steve, both casually walking along the path, deep in conversation. For a moment, Y/N considered veering off onto another trail, but it was too late—Bucky had already spotted her.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s voice called out.

Y/N slowed to a jog, then stopped a few feet in front of them, catching her breath. She pulled out her earbuds, her skin glistening slightly with sweat. 

“Hey, Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted with a teasing smile, her breath still coming in short bursts. She gave a quick nod to Steve. “Captain Rogers.”

Steve smiled, his eyes flickering briefly over her before meeting her gaze. “Just Steve, please.”

“Didn’t expect to see you out here.” Bucky seemed momentarily distracted, his gaze lingering on her a little longer than usual.

“Same. But I try to get a run in whenever I can.” Y/N grinned, leaning down for a second to catch her breath, aware of how her outfit might look. 

Steve, ever the polite gentleman, stepped forward, hand reaching for a shake, “Nice to meet you. You must run a lot to be out here in this heat.”

“It’s my way of staying sane.” She flashed a smile, quickly shaking Steve’s hand.

Bucky’s gaze hadn’t left her, and she couldn’t help but notice the slight flicker of something in his expression—was it surprise? Amusement? She couldn’t quite tell, but it gave her a bit of a thrill. 

“So, are you two just out for a walk?” she asked, wiping the sweat from her brow, subtly glancing at Bucky again. She couldn’t help but recall the lingering thought from a few days ago—could Bucky have been the guy from the party?

“Yeah,” Steve answered, a light chuckle in his voice. “Bucky’s been showing me the less crowded areas. He likes to keep things... quiet.”

“Like I said, no need to be recognized every five minutes.” Bucky scoffed.

Y/N chuckled, catching her breath fully now. “Smart.”

There was a brief silence, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little awkward standing there in front of them, especially with how intensely Bucky was watching her. She shifted slightly, not entirely sure why she felt so on edge around him, especially after the last session. The whole party animal comment still gnawed at the back of her mind.

“So... how’s the list going?” she asked, throwing the question at Bucky, more as a distraction than anything.

“Even on a jog, huh? I thought we weren’t in therapy mode right now.” Bucky smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just curious. But if it’s confidential, I’ll back off.”

Steve glanced between them, an amused smile creeping across his face. “Looks like you two know each other. . .well?”

“Yeah, we’ve crossed paths a few times.” Bucky shrugged, still watching Y/N. 

“More than a few,” Y/N added playfully, though her heartbeat seemed to stay quickened. 

Steve gave a nod, his curiosity piqued. “Interesting.”

“Well, I’d better get back to my run. You guys enjoy your walk.” Y/N straightened, glancing between the two of them. 

Before either of them could respond, Y/N turned and jogged off, feeling their eyes on her as she went. She could almost sense Bucky’s gaze lingering a little longer than it should have. Her mind raced, that same nagging thought creeping back in: could it really have been Bucky at the party?

As she rounded a corner and left them behind, she couldn’t help but glance back, catching Bucky’s eyes one last time. No, it couldn’t be him. Could it?

× × × ×

Bucky watched as Y/N jogged away, her form disappearing around the bend of the path. She was hard to ignore—especially dressed like that, with her confidence and energy radiating off her. It was a stark contrast to the calm, composed version of her he’d seen in their sessions. 

What made it worse, though, was the fact that he knew. He knew Y/N was the woman Steve had danced with, the one he kissed at the party. Steve hadn’t figured it out, hadn’t made the connection. But Bucky had. He’d recognized Y/N after seeing her many times, her face too familiar to forget. But he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t know why he kept it to himself—maybe because it wasn’t his business.

His mind wandered back to what she said earlier—about the list. Even outside of the office, she seemed to care about his progress. But Bucky had to admit, something about seeing her like this, away from their usual serious conversations, made it harder for him to keep things professional in his head. Especially with her jogging off like that.

“You’re staring, Buck.”

Bucky blinked, forcing himself to look away. “No, I’m not.”

“You are. And don’t try to deny it.” Steve chuckled.

Bucky shook his head, trying to play it off. “I wasn’t... I was just—” He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“You were just... admiring the view?” Steve teased, a knowing smile creeping across his face.

“Shut up, man.” Bucky shot him a glare, but it lacked the bite. 

Steve’s grin widened. “I get it. She’s... hard to miss.”

Bucky exhaled, his jaw tightening. He hated how obvious he must have looked. “It’s not—She’s... she’s my therapist, kinda. It’s complicated.”

“Oh, so it is like that.” Steve raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve got a thing for your therapist?”

Bucky shot him another glare. He DID NOT have a thing for her, but ever since the first time he ran into her outside of their sessions, he’d been struggling to reconcile the two versions of Y/N—the professional therapist and the carefree woman he kept bumping into. And now, seeing her like this? It wasn’t helping.

“No, I don’t,” Bucky said, though it sounded more defensive than he intended. “She’s just... different than I thought. That’s all.”

Steve chuckled again, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Buck. But from where I’m standing, it seems like she’s gotten under your skin.”

Steve watched as Bucky’s eyes lingered on the spot where Y/N had disappeared around the bend. He could tell Bucky was trying to play it cool, but it was obvious—Y/N had thrown him off his game. Steve knew Bucky well enough to recognize when something, or someone, had shaken him.

“You know, she seems pretty cool,” Steve said casually, watching for Bucky’s reaction. “Smart, confident. You don’t see that every day.”

Bucky grunted in response, still not looking at him.

Steve smirked, deciding to push a little further. “So, how long have you known her?”

Bucky shrugged, clearly trying to downplay it. “Not long. We’ve just run into each other a few times. Nothing major.”

Steve wasn’t buying it. There was more to this than Bucky was letting on. 

“Uh-huh. And you didn’t mention her before because...?”

Bucky finally looked over at Steve, his face guarded. “Because there’s nothing to mention.”

Steve gave him a look, the same one he’d been giving Bucky since the ‘40s whenever Bucky tried to avoid a subject. “Right. You’re just staring after her because... nothing.”

Bucky let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, she’s a therapist I’m seeing for some stuff. That’s it. I didn’t bring it up because it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal. Well, she clearly left an impression on you. The way you were watching her jog away... if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were interested.”

Bucky frowned, throwing his arms in the air. “I am not interested, Steve.”

Steve smiled, leaning in a little. “You sure about that? Because it seems to me like maybe it’s a little more complicated than you’re letting on.”

Bucky shook his head. 

Steve’s smile softened, and he gave Bucky a nudge. “Look, man. I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But maybe... don’t ignore whatever you’re feeling. You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to let someone in.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his jaw tightening again. Steve knew he wasn’t going to push it any further for now, but he could see it—Y/N had definitely gotten under Bucky’s skin, whether Bucky was ready to admit it or not.

As they continued their walk, Steve glanced over at Bucky, a small grin playing on his lips. He’d keep this little observation to himself for now, but he’d definitely be keeping an eye on this whole situation. Something told him this wasn’t the last time Y/N was going to cross their paths.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming I Chapter Two I Tell Me About You

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge of it itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 2481

Warning: I have literally no clue how football works. Enemies to lovers. First Person. Minimal Y/N.

A/N: LMAO I LOVE THIS GIF One of my favorite chapters! Hope y'all are enjoying!

Prologue One

Nearing a year later, I was outside the club, again, in the early morning. After being regulated at the end of last season, I had blamed myself. Ted assured me that it wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Just bad luck. But I took it as a chance to do better. To be better.

But recently I’ve been having a mental blockage. I couldn’t picture myself playing the game anymore. I was struggling to coach and to train on my own. I know they hadn’t said anything, but I could tell the other coaches had noticed. With Nate being promoted I was worried that I was going to be let go or replaced. It didn’t go unnoticed to me that I was having the same insecurity that Jamie had been feeling before he left.

But still, here I was looking down the field trying to shove all those feelings of fear and insecurity aside so I could just train. I took a breath and closed my eyes, slowing my heart so I could focus on the game. With a deep intake of crisp morning air, I pulled back my foot and-

            “’Morning (Y/N)!”

I whiffed my foot right over the ball and stumbled a few feet before whipping around to see who caused the distraction.

            “Oh, good morning, Ted,” I sighed. There was no way I could be cross with him. I kicked the ball up into my hands.

            “Sorry, I didn’t interrupt you, did I?” Ted apologized as he approached.

            “No, no. I was just finishing up,” I conceded. I spun the ball in my hands wishing I could feel the same magnetism to it I had when I started the job.

Ted took a long look at me before speaking again. “Ya know… when I was little, I had this puzzle. I loved this puzzle more than anything. I would take it apart and put it together over and over, excited to see the same photo every time I put it together.  But one day, when I put it together, it felt off. Different. I tried everything to get that feeling back. The excitement to see that photo again. But eventually, I realized I had outgrown that puzzle. That it was time to move on.”

My stomach dropped. This was it, this was the moment he was going to tell me I was being let go.

            “Are you firing me, Ted?” I asked, my voice shaky with fear.

            “What? Oh, good heavens no!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. “Oh my god. You scared me. I thought that was what you were saying. With the whole puzzle metaphor.”

            “Yeah, I can see how you would think that, but most certainly not.” He chuckled and made a dramatic sweat wiping motion with his hand.

After our laughter died down a moment, I twisted the ball in my hands again before looking at him to continue. “What were you trying to say then?

            “I’m just saying that sometimes it time to try a new challenge,” he paused. “I wanted to get your thoughts on bringing Jamie back.”

My eyes widened in surprise. As far as I knew, Jamie wasn’t even an option. He had quite a fall from grace after he left Man City and had his brief stint on ‘Lust Conquers All’. Sam and Isaac had hosted quite a few watch parties to watch his floundering attempt at finding love on the dating show. As expected, he was kicked off early in the game after double crossing one of the girls on the show. It was fun to watch, especially after what he had said about me in the press.

Yesterday, Sam had come to me, showing me a photo of Ted and Jamie together. He was nervous about Jamie coming back, scared of how he might ruin the good vibes that the team had now with Ted in charge. But Ted had assured us both that Jamie was not coming back. He had told Jamie no. I couldn’t lie and say that brining back Jamie wouldn’t have its pluses. The boy was talented and that’s a fact. But was that talent enough to outweigh the team dynamic.

            “Jamie?” I echoed. “I thought you said that you had told him no.”

Ted shrugged sliding, his hands in his pockets. “I did. But it’s been nagging me anyways. He’s going through a tough spot right now.”

            “Oh, really, he’s going through a ‘tough spot’?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

            “I know, I know, but there is something different about him, I swear.” Ted continued. “It takes a lot for a guy like that to come asking for help. And I’m thinking he might deserve another chance.”

I skewed my lips to the side in thought. “Jamie is… talented. But you saw Sam. He wasn’t just angry he was scared. Scared of how Jamie would treat him when he came back. It’s not about talent. It’s about… personality.”

            “So, you think it’s a bad idea,” he clarified.

Is that what I was saying? The truth was bringing Jamie back could be just what we need to push forward in the league. Get out of the tie streak and start getting back to promotion. That, or we could be stuck in the Championship League forever. And I would be known as the coach that ruined AFC Richmond. But how could I know that if we didn’t try. Something had to change. I couldn’t just keep putting together the same puzzle, hoping it would excite me every time.

            “No, I don’t,” I decided, looking at Ted. “I think we just need to be careful.”

Ted sent me a dazzling smile. “Good, cause I’m putting you on Jamie duty.”

            “Jamie duty?”

            “Yeah, cause he’s coming back today!”

            “Today- TED!”

That’s how I got stuck waiting for Jamie in the locker room. Ted thought it would be a good idea to start him slow. Get the team used to him being back, make him earn his spot.  I leaned against the doorframe, waiting for him to finish changing. Out he came, bouncing from foot to foot, punching the air occasionally.

            “’Morning! Ready for a great day of trainin’” He exclaimed, seemingly unable to stop bouncing.

I didn’t react, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “Alright then, let’s go.”

I pushed myself off the wall and headed towards the pitch. But as I walked past him, he grabbed my arm and turned me around to face him.

            “Wait, before we go, I just wanted to tell you that I’m different now, yeah? I’m not a prick, like I was,” he told me sincerely.

I glanced between him and where his hand touched my arm. For some stupid, idiotic, unbelievable reason, it made my heart skip a beat. His eyes looked so desperate for me to hear him. I pursed my lips and gave him a sympathetic, albeit somewhat sarcastic smile.

            “Sure, Jamie, whatever you say.” I gave him a pat on his hand, signaling for him to let go. He withdrew his hand, looking for something more from me. A sign that I had forgiven him for everything. I rolled my eyes at him. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Practice was a mess to say the least. All the lads seemed determined to bring Jamie down as far as they could. Ted told me it was my job to make sure Jamie felt comfortable coming back to practice, but it was really hard when watching Colin and Sam take their revenge was just a little too sweet.

            “Hey (Y/N), why don’t you stick around a bit after practice, give Jamie some one-on-one training to get him back into the sense of what we’re doing around here,” Ted suggested after watching Jamie flub yet another pass.

            “You want me to what?!” I blurted out before I had a chance to think.

            “Yeah! Just give him the run around. Ya’ know, literally!” He smiled at me, like it was the most amazing idea in the world. “Give you a chance to catch up on that personal training you missed this morning.” 

Ted was about to be ded. As in dead. This whole Jamie thing was HIS idea and yet here he was shoving it on me! He’s a shover.

            “Ooooh she’s looking at you with her angry eyes,” Beard cautioned, lowering his sunglasses.

            “That’s actually quite scary,” Nate chimed in.

            “Ted, I swear to god, I better not be your new puzzle,” I sneered at him.

            “New puzzle?” Nate questioned, turning to Beard.

            “Oh, the puzzle metaphor…” Beard whistled lowly. “He’s really trying something out.”

            “You know the puzzle metaphor?” I accused, narrowing my eyes at him.

            “Oh, yeah I know the puzzle metaphor.”

 “Woo, I love the puzzle metaphor, let’s get these kids in the showers!” Ted finally joined in. With that he walked forward, blowing his whistle to signify the end of training.

Then it was Jamie and me. I kicked the ball onto the field. Jamie, somehow, was still bouncing with energy.  

            “Did you see how they was treating me, (Y/N)?” he said, kicking the grass. “I’m trying me best here.”

I passed him the ball. “Score a goal.”

He backed up and readied himself. “I mean, I said I was sorry.”

With that he moved forward and kicked the ball, sending it flying on a beautiful arc to swish into the goal. I rolled him another ball.

            “Yes, you did,” I agreed, rolling him another ball. “Take 5 steps back and score again.”

He did as I instructed, stepping back to score again. “I just don’t know what else they want from meh.”

He moved forward and scored again. This time, however, the ball moved further to the left. Still in the goal, but drifting. I eyed where the ball landed. I rolled him another ball.

            “Another 5 steps,” I instructed. “Are you being serious right now?”

He took another five steps back before jogging forward and hitting another swish of a goal. This time it was even further to the left. “Yeah, I’m being serious. I’m still new at this whole nice thing.”

            “Go get the balls,” I told him. “So, you really just thought you would come back and say you’re sorry and everything would go back to the way it was?”

He jogged back with the balls. He kicked one towards me. “I mean… yeah?”

I studied the ball on the ground. Then I took three steps back, dragging my feet back as I did. Then I jaunted forward and kicked the ball, it flew through the air and swished into the center of the goal. Jamie starred at the ball.

            “You’re trying too hard, Jamie,” I explained to him. “Things aren’t going to go back to the way they were. And it shouldn’t.” I kicked a ball towards him. “You were a prick.”

He stops the ball. “What do you mean.”

            “Score a goal from there,” I told him. “I mean… do you actually know what you’re apologizing for?”

Jamie took a breath before sending the ball flying. “I mean, yeah. I was a dick. I said shitty things. I did shitty things.”

            “Do you know why I’m mad at you?” I asked him. I placed the ball on the ground and took a few steps back, dragging my feet again. The ball flew through the air and landed in the middle of the net again. Jamie looked between the ball and me.

            “How many times do I have to say that I was a prick,” he whined.

            “Go get the balls,” I shooed. “And always, you always have to say you were a prick.” He began jogging towards the goal. “And, you were a prick, but do you know why you should be sorry.”

The kicked the balls back in my direction. He furrowed his brows, thinking hard about it. I rolled my eyes at him while kicking the ball back, at nearly the halfway point of the field it was a long goal. I took a deep breath, taking three dragging steps backwards, then one step to the side.

            “You aren’t actually going to- “

I didn’t listen. I could see it. I visualized the ball and the opponents. I could see the clock ticking down as I set my feet in motion. Like slow motion, I kicked the ball and watched as it went soaring until it landed in the goal with a satisfying noise. I smirked.

            “Holy shit,” Jamie gapped. “That was like… really impressive.”

            “Jamie, I know. I’m fucking good at this. And I am the first female coach in the league. And every day I woke up with a million reasons why I shouldn’t have my job or come to work. I convinced myself every day that it would be worth it. And every day I you came up with another 20 reasons why I shouldn’t be here.” I kicked a ball up into my hands. “And you made sure to let me know that you thought you were better than me. Think about that.” I pressed the ball into his hands. “Score a goal.”

He took the ball from my hands and dropped it on the ground. He took a step backwards before kicking the ball. He missed, but just barely.

            “You need to plan where you hit the ball. The further back you go the further harder it is to get it in the goal,” I explained. He scoffed at me. “It becomes more important to really know where your boot hits the ball.” I placed the last ball on the ground and motioned for him to come stand next to me. “If you drag your feet, it gives your legs muscle memory. You’re more likely to get the ball where you want it to go.” He looked at me skeptically. I moved my hand in a swooping motion, presenting the ball to him. “Well, I’m not going to wait all day.”

He looked at the ball, then down to the goal. He mimicked my movement, backing up three steps with his feet dragging on the grass then one step over. Then he moved forward and kicked the ball. Swish. The middle of the goal.

            “Damn,” he sighed. I came up next to Jamie and stared at where the ball sat in the goal.

            “You made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be here. And that’s what I can’t forgive you for,” I stated, not looking at him. I could feel him turn to look at me, but I shook my head, feeling tears spring into my eyes. “Pick up the balls and go get showered.” With that I spun on my heel and walked inside, Jamie’s eyes burning on the back of my head.

[nev3rfound]

keeping an eye out : h.z

whilst Bucky and Sam are out in Riga looking for any information regarding the flag smashers, you are instructed to watch Zemo. and it's safe to say you definitely kept a close eye on him. (1.8k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: not really? i remember someone asked for some kind of zemo smut and this was my best attempt lmao with angst and fluff of course warnings: brief mentions of poorly written smut, mentions of tfatws series so if you've not seen it minor spoilers ahead (I think)

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website without being credited, it has not been approved to be shared by me. all rights reserved.)

Standing in the streets of Riga. Bucky could feel the civilians watching the two of them closely. "She answered yet?" Sam asks whilst Bucky continues to pace around in a circle with his phone to his ear, listening to it continuously ring waiting for you to answer.

"Does it look like she's answered, Sam?" Bucky quickly retorts, glaring over his shoulder causing Sam to huff loudly and take his phone out from his pocket.

"Let me try too." He mutters, dialling your number and listens for himself as it goes straight to voicemail.

"You get through, huh?" Bucky questions, hanging up as your voicemail message plays for the eighth time in a row.

Burying his phone back into his pocket, Sam looks around. "Got any bright ideas?"

Bucky shuffles on the spot. "It's not like she can be busy, she's babysitting Zemo." Bucky reminds Sam who nods along.

"Hardly a handful for her." Sam jokes as he and Bucky carry on through the streets of Riga, hoping to find some answers.

Yet, back at Zemo's apartment, you were technically keeping an eye on Zemo since he was currently above you in his bed.

"Fuck, Zemo, don't stop." You pant heavily against his ear, faintly hearing your phone ringing from the bedside table.

Zemo reaches down and grips your face. "Focus on me, liebling, nothing else." He breathes out, keeping his eyes fixated on yours. "Is that clear, princess?"

Nodding in response, you can feel the coil inside of you tightening as a moan escapes your lips. "Helmut, I," You stutter, only to feel Zemo pick up his pace, slamming his dick in and out of you faster.

"Hold it, just think what would happen if James and Sam walked in, seeing you begging to cum beneath me." Zemo chuckles, feeling your nails claw at his back, begging for your release.

"Helmut, please," You try not to cry, but you can't hold on for much longer as he continues to thrust into you.

"Cum for me, Y/n." Zemo demands. "You can let go, princess." He softly tells you, watching you become undone beneath him, causing a smile to grow on his face as sweat gleams across your forehead.

Slowly pulling out from you, Zemo moans as he pulls off the condom and heads to the bathroom.

When he returns, he can feel his heartbeat accelerating at the sight of you lying in his bed, the sheets around you creased, your legs still parted and your eyes remaining closed.

"Y/n?" Zemo speaks up, watching you slowly opening your eyes only to see him holding a towel for you. "How about a bath, liebling?"

Smiling, you shuffle off of the bed with Zemo's help, his hand remaining in yours as you walk into the lavish bathroom, the tub close to full already.

"You better not try and escape whilst I'm relaxing, Baron." You quickly comment, looking over your shoulder, watching Zemo leaning against the doorframe with a smirk.

"On the contrary," Pushing himself off from the door frame, Zemo reaches out and brushes his fingers along your shoulders, feeling you shudder in response. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you." He whispers into your ear.

You quickly turn around, looking up at those brown eyes intently. "Helmut," You start, but Zemo shushes you before you can object.

"I mean it, Y/n." Zemo tells you, lifting his hand up to cup your cheek softly. "Now, come, the bath might overflow if you don't get in." He chuckles and brushes past you to turn the tap off.

"Thank you, Helmut." You mutter as you climb into the warm water, letting out a sigh of contentment whilst you lower yourself and close your eyes.

"How is it, mi schatz?" Zemo knows it's the perfect temperature, noticing how you're fully relaxed, a rare occurrence since he's known you.

Humming in response, you open one eye, noticing he's still stood there in a robe. "Why don't you join me? There's room for two I'm sure." You tease, bringing your legs close to your chest.

"Are you sure?" You can tell he's hesitant, but once you nod he removes his robe and motions for you to move forward, allowing him to slot in behind you.

The water spills over the edge at the sudden movement, but you lie back against Zemo's chest, your wet hair brushed over your shoulder as his hands settle on your thighs.

"Can you tell me a story?" You speak up after a moment of silence settled between you both.

Smiling down at you, Zemo nods. "What would you like to hear?"

"I, I'd like to know more about Sokovia. I know I wasn't there when," You trail off, knowing you don't have to explain yourself. "but, it was your home, part of who you are Helmut and I'd like, no I, I'd love to know about it."

You can feel your heart begin to hammer in your chest at Zemo's prolonged silence behind you. Yet, you can't bring yourself to glance up to see what he's thinking.

However, Zemo is trying to remain composed. "Of course," He eventually answers, hearing the breath of relief escape your lips. "well, when I was a child, my father had a farm which we used to visit on weekends,"

*

Pulling the soft robe tightly around you, you couldn't help but struggle to keep your eyes open as you wandered around the kitchen.

"Tired?" Zemo can hear you yawn before you're able to reply, listening to you laugh at yourself whilst he leans against the kitchen counter. "Why don't you lie down, you know I'm not going anywhere." He reassures you, seeing your limbs growing heavy as you shuffle around the counter to stand in front of him.

"I'll be fine, the boys won't be much longer." You mumble through another yawn, feeling your body craving sleep after that relaxing bath. "I blame you, Helmut." Pointing to him, you try your best to glare at him, but the sound of Zemo laughing makes it impossible.

Motioning to the sofa, Zemo rests his hand on your lower back in an attempt to guide you to the said sofa before you fall over. "Now, I'll be right back, I promise." He mutters as you pull on a cushion, burying it beneath your head. Leaning down, Zemo gently brushes your damp hair out from your face, taking a moment to admire how truly beautiful you are and kisses your forehead delicately.

"You are joining me, right?" You mumble through thick sleep, not even able to open your eyes to see Zemo nod as his heart melts.

"Of course, liebling. But I must change first." He assures you before retreating upstairs, knowing there's a fair bit of mess to clean up.

Whilst occupied in the bathroom and you in a deep sleep, neither of you hear the doors opening in a panic.

"Oh thank god." Sam sighs in relief to see you curled up on the sofa, not taking into account the robe you're wearing.

"Where's Zemo?" Bucky tenses up as he scours his peripheral where Zemo is nowhere to be seen. "Check on Y/n. Make sure she's not been given anything."

Rushing toward you, Sam pauses at the sound of footsteps approaching the main living space of the apartment.

"Ah, I was wondering where you two might've been." Zemo walks in, wearing a matching robe to yours as his hair is slicked back. "Did you have a pleasant adventure?" He smiles at the pair who only glare back in response.

"What did you do to Y/n." Bucky snarls, encroaching on Zemo's personal space.

"Nothing." Zemo answers, holding his hands up. "She could barely keep her eyes open so I insisted she took a nap." He explains, glancing over to your sleeping form, remembering how mere hours ago you were screaming his name.

"I doubt that." Sam comments, kneeling down in front of you as he shakes you lightly. "Y/n, come on." He mutters, causing you to stir.

"Helmut?" You whisper, unaware of Sam snapping his head around to Bucky and Zemo.

"Did she just?" Bucky doesn't even finish his question before Sam nods. Averting his focus back to Zemo, Bucky can't stop his frustration from rising. "What did you do to Y/n." He asks once again now clenching his fists tightly.

Opening your eyes, you rub them quickly at the sound of commotion. "What's going on?" Sitting upright, you blink a few times to see both Sam and Bucky standing by Zemo with heavy frowns. "Hey guys." You wave, covering your mouth as you yawn again.

"How long has this been going on?" Bucky demands, evidently disappointed as he looks over at you.

"James, please calm-" Zemo starts, but Bucky grabs the empty whiskey glass beside him and throws it against the wall, causing you to jump whilst Zemo remains stoic.

"How long." He asks again, not daring to take his eyes off of Zemo.

"Since Madripoor." You speak up, keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you tug on your robe. "Bucky,"

"I don't wanna hear it." Bucky cuts you off. "We can talk about this tomorrow." He sighs and heads back out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

"I'll go talk to him." Sam comments. "I, I don't agree with whatever this is, but I trust you Y/n, and Bucky does too." He nods to you before following after Bucky, leaving you and Zemo alone once more.

"Y/n," Zemo starts, but you can't help but crumble.

Tears start to fall from your eyes without hesitation as you curl up on the ground. Zemo sits beside you, wrapping his arms around you and turns you into his chest. "It's going to be alright, liebling." He hushes you, running his fingers through your hair.

"What if they won't forgive me, Helmut?" You hate to imagine what could happen, but you knew your actions would have eventual consequences.

"Oh, Y/n," Zemo sighs, wiping away your tears. "I know they'll come around. They're your friends after all." He admits, not adding the fact he might not be around for much longer. "Come, let's go to bed, yes?" He suggests and helps you to your feet.

Walking together in silence, you enter his bedroom again only to see the bed made with fresh sheets.

"Did you?" You look up at him to see a light blush crossing his cheeks. "You knew I'd end up back in your bed, huh?" You joke playfully, listening to Zemo chuckle whilst he shakes his head.

"I didn't know, but I'd hoped it would be the case." He shrugs his shoulder before pulling the sheets back and climbs in alongside you. "Now, whatever the morning brings, we'll face it together." He whispers into your lips before kissing you softly, never wanting to forget any of these moments with you.

Pulling away, you sigh. "You promise?" You whisper, just about making out his expression in the moonlight.

"I promise." He smiles at you once more before you bury your face into his chest, falling asleep within minutes whilst he remains wide awake. Zemo knows there are watchful eyes never leaving him and won't until he's back where he belongs, without you by his side.

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[atlaese]

Kill with kindness - b.b.

Summary: One moment, you're a stone cold assassin, the next your flowery sundress and radiant smile blind Bucky. Well, a mission doesn't always go as planned, and your sundress doesn't always hide whatever is going on in your life. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Avenger!Reader TW: yeah idk what this is exactly but - lil bit angst, fluff, canon violence, injuries, blood, cursing, some smut allusions last paragraph, like AU kinda thing, wrong medical info bc i aint no doctor, poorly edited bc im a busy bitch Words: 5.9K (sorry i literally couldn't stop writing) A/N: yeah well... its me... again. hope you liked this one, i wrote it like, weeks ago?? and forgot about it lmao but i love it sm💗 also; i woke up at 4:30 am bc finals ✨ and wasn't really in the mood to do extensive editing, so sorry for any mistakes. For everyone who has finals; you can do it!!! Im so proud of you already 💞 Reblogs are appreciated ✨

MARVEL MASTERLIST | BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

Drift off on the floor, I drag you to the shore. Sweating through the sheets, you're gonna drown in your sleep for sure. Wake up and start a big fire in our one room apartment. But I'm too tired to have a pissing contest. All the bad dreams that you hide. Show me yours, I'll show you mine.

- Phoebe Bridgers, Savior complex

The way you effortlessly changed from a world class assassin into a sweet and innocent civilian had always been a mystery to Bucky.

One moment, you were throwing daggers at criminals with deadly accuracy and wiping blood off your cheek and the next you were walking around in the compound, damp hair, your citrusy perfume seducing him and a tiny sundress flowing around your figure.

To him, you were a city personified; the early morning - you were soft and silent and rays of sunshine that bounced off his skin, warming him up from the outside in, but you were also the night - loud and rambunctious, dark humor, like a bass in the clubs that reverberated through his mind constantly.

Everything about you was in stark contrast to him. During combat, you were a swift and silent assassin. You didn’t have any superhero-like abilities like the majority of the team, but the way you jumped up on the wall and twisted your legs around a guy’s neck to then fall down with grace and throw a dagger at another guy, made it seem like you did, always anticipating what was next.

Bucky was a brute force in comparison to you. From the way he ran, heavy boots stomping on the floor as he threw a knife with so much strength it pierced a guy’s hand to the wall, to the way his vibranium arm could easily crush a bone if he needed it to.

When you weren’t on a mission, the contrast was even bigger. Your bubbly laugh rang through the kitchen when you were baking chocolate chip cookies for everyone, or when you’d put a bandaid on Sam’s forehead because yes, it hurt and yes, he wanted you to take care of him, because you always made oolong tea and checked-up on everyone.

Bucky was the silent brooding type, who’d lick his own wounds in the corner of the kitchen, far away from everyone else. Sure, you’d check up on him, all toothy smiles and soft touches, but you respected his boundaries and knew when you had to go.

That was one of the many things he loved about you. The ability to sense how a person was feeling, where their boundaries were. You were one of the only people who could tread the fine line he was, the fine line he didn’t always understand himself.

You had wormed your way into his heart so easily, from the obscene jokes you told during missions to your soft whispers flowing in the night air when you were reading poetry on the roof to Bucky because he couldn’t fall asleep again after another gruelling nightmare.

Bucky couldn’t figure you out - and the more he tried to unravel the enigma that was you, the deeper he fell in love.

* * *

This morning’s mission had been... challenging. Some radical group had stolen a shipment of weapons, based on alien technology and intel said that they were gonna use it to get some people out of the raft - the kind of people that never should leave the raft ever again.

Earlier, the team had decided that Nat and you would enter the building from the back. Bucky, Steve and Sam would cause a distraction in the front of the building.

Sam was the first one up, soaring through the sky with his wings as he took out a guy who was standing on the lookout. Bucky had then proceeded to deal with a sniper, his metal hand crushing the pipe of the gun, then smacking the guy across the face with it, effectively knocking him out. Steve had run in after Sam, throwing his shield between two guys and kicking another one in the stomach. The third guy had doubled over in pain, tried to fire his gun, but missed and Steve had knocked him down.

Meanwhile, you and Nat were working on getting inside through the back. You got out your lockpicking kit, and expertly moved the tools in the lock until you heard the small click.

Natasha silently turned the knob as you put back your tools in the small pocket on the back of your suit and got out a dagger instead, one of the 13 you had on you, along with some other fun stuff.

Natasha had strangled the guy behind said door without breaking so much as a sweat, her red hair still pin straight and framing her beautiful face.

You turned to the adjacent hallway and turned your dagger sideways, so you could use it as a mirror to see what was going on there without alerting any of the potential guards.

You clicked your tongue to alert Nat, who was just done tying down the man with an elaborate knot. She propped a piece of fabric in his mouth so he couldn’t allert his accomplices and silently strode over to you.

“And that’s why I clean my knives daily,” you snickered softly as you raised your brows when she checked the reflection, clocking four heavily armed men.

“‘I’m so glad I recruited you when I did,” Natasha whispered in your ear. The two of you fell into your routine, where you would jump up against the wall and land into a criminal’s neck. You’d cut off circulation for a while, just so he’d pass out. Natasha got out her small electric devices and threw them at three other guys, electrocuting them.

“Lazy,” you scoffed as she retrieved the little devices. Natasha just threw you a lopsided grin and advanced towards the middle of the building, where the shipment of guns should be stocked according to the intel.

“Where are you guys?” Natasha’s voice rang in your ear as she contacted the supersoldiers and Sam through the comms when they still hadn’t arrived at the meeting point.

“Right...about….done,” Steve grunted as he slapped a guy across the head with his shield on the beat of the words, “we’ll be there in a minute.”

You were flipping your favourite knife as you were waiting for the boys, trying to do a trick that hadn’t been a success yet. The last flip still didn’t land the way you liked, but when you heard the three men approaching, an idea formed in your mind.

Hiding behind the corner, you let Steve and Sam pass first. They only send an eyeroll your way, but let you do it anyway. Bucky was lagging behind a bit, but once he was close enough, you rolled out from behind the corner and sent the knife flying his way.

Bucky caught your knife effortlessly, a small grin on his face, because you always kept him on his toes, never ceasing to amaze him. He flipped the knife back to you and you caught it immediately, a lazy grin on your face as you watched his cheeks turn crimson.

“Good catch.”

“Good throw,” he grinned, his blue eyes watching your face with an unreadable expression.

The team huddled together and decided what the best plan of action would be. Sam would send out Red Wing and Bucky and Steve would then bust in and take the brunt of the violence and bullets. Nat and you would sneak in after them and disarm the rest of them - there couldn’t be a lot of people left, right?

Up until that point, the mission had been a success. Everyone on your team was still healthy and going strong, easily defeating the group of criminals that were once again threatening the safety of the world.

But you should’ve knocked on wood or done something else superstitious because when Red Wing entered through the small vent above the door, it was shot out of the air immediately by a slingshot-like weapon that was definitely not from earth.

“The fuck!” Sam called out as his screen blacked out and his mouth fell open, “they didn’t just do that. Tell me they didn’t just do that!”

Bucky just clapped him on his shoulder, a small smirk present as he and Steve got ready to bust through the door.

“Didn’t you just spend like, 7 hours fixing that thing from the last time?” you snickered as you switched out your knives for ninja stars. Sam just stared at you, his jaw slightly twitching in annoyance as he switched off Red Wings interface on his arm.

The whole mission kinda went sideways after that. Bucky had pulled open the reinforced door with his vibranium arm and tossed it aside and immediately shots had been fired at you.

Steve had fended off a few guys with his shield and Bucky had picked up the discarded door to throw it at them, two of them immediately down.

There were so many more though. Intel hadn’t provided you with much information, but the fact that they were actively negotiating with another group of probably very lethal criminals could have come in handy.

“Nat!” you called out as she dodged bullets and flipped over a guy. She grabbed his head, effectively smashing it against the ground as she used gravity to help her bring down the tall man.

She turned just in time, another man blasting some sort of netting towards her. Natasha quickly ducked and rolled out of the way, the netting just grabbing her foot. Natasha was able to cut off the netting and she used it to wrap around another guy who had his back turned towards her, fighting with Steve.

Meanwhile, you ran up to Bucky who was taking on a very muscly man in an intense fist fight. You threw three ninja stars at the guy, two at his knees and one towards his elbow that was just pulling back to punch Bucky square on the jaw.

“Thanks,” Bucky breathed out as the man fell to the ground, screaming in pain. You pulled out your ninja stars again, putting them back into the small compartments of your suit to use for another incoming attack.

“You wanna do our thing?” you asked him as you eyed two other men coming up to you, both holding knives that had a sickening green glow surrounding them.

Bucky nodded and bent down a bit as he held out his arms in front of him. Taking a few steps backwards, you prepared yourself as the two men were just close enough.

You took off towards Bucky as fast as you could and leaped onto his hands that were clasped together. He easily boosted you up into the air, high enough that the men couldn’t reach you, but also not too high, ensuring a safe landing.

The two men faltered in their steps a bit as they watched you fly through the air, momentairly distracted by whatever the fuck you were doing, and Bucky used this to throw a punch as hard as he could against the temple of the left guy.

During your time in the air, you had pulled off your necklace and pressed on the little button on the clasp, turning it into a self tightening string you could wrap around the other man’s throat.

The man tried to fend you off with his knife, but once he started getting lightheaded, he fell to the ground, taking you down to the ground with him.

Once he was out cold, you took off the string and rolled off of him. Bucky was now handling two guys at once, and one of them was holding his right hand in a tight grip, an alien looking gun now pressing against his temple.

Something inside you twisted and snapped as you saw Bucky struggle, trying to avoid the dangerous glimmer of the barrel and you took off without thinking.

You threw one of your own knives into the man’s upper arm and the gun immediately fell to the ground. Bucky used his vibranium hand to keep the man in a choke hold, but he missed the way another guy now turned towards your figure.

The man was quick and stealthy, his knife wielding almost as good as yours as you fended off most of his attacks, throwing an intricate flip in your movements once in a while to get him off your track.

After fending him off for a few seconds, there was finally an opening to do a counter-attack and you flipped another knife into his direction, grazing his shoulder.

This only enraged the man even more and he pounced on you, the green glimmer of the knife now dangerously close to your face.

Your fists were hurting from punching them man repeatedly, blood now coating your knuckles like beet red gloves.

The man tried to stab you with the knife, but just in time you had crossed your arms in front of you, hoping your special suit that had a mix of kevlar threads and vibranium would fend off the knife.

The man was so busy trying to get the knife down to your throat, he missed you still were able to use your legs. You kneed him in the groin and he rolled off of you, grabbing his crotch and wailing in pain.

You grabbed the tightening string and wrapped it around his hands and feet, incapacitating him as he tried his best to escape; it was no use though, your string was made of special material that was almost unbreakable.

That’s when the searing pain on your lower arm finally started to seep into your system. It burnt a little, as if it was actively eating away at the flesh and you winced as you checked out your arm.

The man must’ve succeeded in cutting through your suit anyway with his green knife, leaving a gashing open wound that had a green edge to it.

You grit your teeth and cursed at yourself, before looking around the room to check if there were any more bad guys running around.

Bucky just gave another dude an upper-cut with his vibranium hand and Sam had taken down two others, the room now eerily quiet, only the laboured breath of your team still audible after using most of your energy to fight them off.

“You okay?” you directed the question at Bucky, your adrenaline levels dropping after saving him from being held at gunpoint.

It looked as if those were the last ones remaining and you wanted to check out what they had done to their weapons to make the poison so effective, as you heard Bucky calling out your name, his voice louder than you had ever heard before.

The pain came before the realisation that you were hit by something, no, pierced, as you slowly turned your head to check out your right shoulder.

The metal tip of a green glowing spear was just sticking through the flesh, teasing you that for once, you hadn’t anticipated what would happen to you because you were too busy trying to help Bucky and that you should’ve done another check around the building instead of assuming the coast was clear.

The green stuff definitely wasn’t normal earth-like poison, because it made you feel light in the head almost immediately, shivers running over your whole body and breathing through your nose felt like the most constricting thing you ever had to do.

The spear must have been made from vibranium - or something even stronger, because it easily made your hightec Stark suit look like the homemade spandex onesie Peter Parker once wore, fraying the edges and giving no protection.

There was a struggle behind you, probably Steve or Sam taking out the guy who had thrown the spear at you.

Your knees buckled and you fell down hard on your forearms, your body refusing to cooperate as you felt your eyes turn in their sockets. Your whole body felt like it was slowly getting paralyzed, from your shoulder down to your arms and lower body, eventually reaching your feet.

Bucky immediately came up to you, catching your limp body in his arms before you would fall even further, the spear still stuck out of the back of your shoulder, a sore reminder of how you failed the most basic task an assassin had: always do a double check.

It felt like someone had pushed a giant cotton ball in your mouth, your tongue swollen and foam coating the ends of your lips as you just looked in Bucky’s eyes with the most haunting look he had ever seen.

Bucky was shaking your body, trying to keep you conscious, but when your eyes finally rolled back after a minute, he couldn’t help but whimper your name as you didn’t move anymore.

* * *

Bucky and Steve were carrying your limp body into the medical bay at the compound, Natasha and Sam close on their heels, as they watched your body that was like a ragdoll - your limbs were moving with the sway of their steps, head bobbing up and down.

“Banner!” Bucky called out, his voice alarmed and urgent as he felt your pulse under his finger slowing down to an unhealthy pace.

Bruce showed up in his white lab coat, a pen hanging out of his mouth as he was probably trying to find a formula for something.

“What happened?” he immediately asked as Steve and Bucky carefully placed you sideways on the surgery table. They had broken a part of the spear off for easy transportation, but also to keep the pressure on the wound so you wouldn’t bleed out before Bruce could help you.

Bucky moved his hands carefully over your face, trying to move some of the hair that was stuck to your forehead, your face still wet due to the sweat.

“This spear pierced through her suit,” Natasha said, her hand holding onto yours for support, “it’s laced with something definitely not from earth.”

“I’ll have to see if I can make an antidote,” Bruce said as he got a closer look at the angry green wound, “this spear needs to be removed first.”

“I’ll get Cho on board as well,” Sam called out as he ran out of the medical bay.

“Bucky, I’m going to need you to grab a few things for me,” Bruce said as he pulled on some gloves and checked how exactly the spear was lodged into your body.

“Just tell me what to do, Banner,” Bucky’s voice was a steady beat in the med bay, but his eyes betrayed that he was terrified of what was about to happen to you.

* * *

The moment dr. Cho arrived, everything happened in a whirlwind. She focused on healing your shoulder back to the way it was, while Bruce tried to create an antidote that would reverse the effects the poison had on you.

With dr. Cho’s regeneration cradle, it was possible to heal the wound, but for some reason, your shoulder still had a very large angry green mark left that even the machine couldn’t fix.

Even dr. Cho was surprised when you came back out of the cradle. Her machine had always been able to fix everything, but this poison must’ve done something to the components of your skin, it was impossible to repair - even with her advanced technology.

Bucky had stayed in the OR the whole time, even though he trusted Banner and Cho would fix you up just fine, he couldn’t help but be worried that you’d never open your pretty eyes again or tell another crude joke at an entirely inappropriate moment.

The cradle had done its best, but the poison was still coursing through your veins, the green mark glowing a little and giving the rest of your skin an eerie effect. It reminded him a bit of a book he read when he was younger. The green light across the lake that reminded Gatsby he could never have Daisy the way he wanted to. It felt the same for Bucky. Now even more than ever, as you were on the brink of life and death and he could do absolutely nothing about it.

Right now, he was sitting next to your bed, the slow rhythmic beeping of the machine that registered your vitals a steady beat in his ears. The only thing he could do was hold your hand.

Bruce had been working on the antidote for four hours by now, but still no success. Apparently, the chemical compounds the spear was infused with was breaking down your nervous system, though at a very slow speed, on top of being paralyzing and causing small seizures. There was nothing Bruce could do in the meantime - the only option was to find an antidote. A real race against the clock.

Other team members had come and gone, realizing they couldn’t provide anything for you at the moment. Bucky stayed. He talked with dr. Cho when she came in to check on you, about a possible second round of the cradle to fix your nervous system. The bedside nurse gave him an apple juice after five hours of waiting and Natasha brought him a sweater to change into. He hadn’t even noticed he was still wearing the jacket that was smeared with your blood.

It was after nine hours and 38 minutes that Banner stormed into the room, holding a syringe with a blue liquid that he claimed would reverse the effects of the poison. Banner looked absolutely drained, his skin pale and his eyes droopy, but that motherfucker had done it again, proving he was indeed one of the smartest minds on this planet.

Bruce quickly injected the serum and immediately, your heartbeat sped up to a faster, normal rhythm. It sounded like music to Bucky’s ears.

“Now, I don’t know when she’ll wake up, but I do know she’ll be very vulnerable to the poison, if she ever gets attacked again,” Bruce said as he pulled off his gloves and wiped the sweat off his brow.

Bucky’s fist clenched, the whirring sound of his vibranium arm was aggressive almost as he watched your lifeless form lay in the bed.

“Not on my watch.”

* * *

To Bucky’s surprise, it didn’t take long for you to walk around the compound again, another flowy sundress around your body, the green scar present on your shoulder like a tattoo you wanted to show off.

“What are you doing up already?” he questioned as he strode up to you, his hand coming up to rest on your non-injured shoulder as he furrowed his brows, “it’s only been a few days since you woke up.”

“It’s not that bad Bucky, Cho fixed me up real good,” you waved his concerns away as you stepped around him, “and I want breakfast.”

“You almost died,”  he said, exasperation clear in his voice as he eyed you rummaging around in the cupboard, looking for your oats, “in my arms, may I add.”

“Almost Bucky, important word,” your voice was muffled as you were searching for some fruit in the fridge to top your oats.

“Hey,” his voice was behind you all of a sudden, a stern edge to it as his hand pressed against the door, his knuckles turning white. You were acting completely different from your usual soft-spoken persona.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, strawberries now in your hand as you closed the fridge door and avoided him once again.

“Stop this,” he snatched the strawberries out of your hands and you pouted, “stop. You can’t just go around the compound ignoring what happened.”

There was a twitch in his jaw as he looked at you, signalling that he really was pissed off at how you were acting.

Everything about you looked like it was fine - freshly washed hair, your perfume invading his nostrils and the sundress was back, but the green scar reminded him of what had happened mere days ago.

“What should I do about it Bucky,” you crossed your arms in front of your frame, a frown now present on your face as you watched him tense up again, “it happened. I’m still here and I saved your ass by the way.”

“Seriously? I was doing fine,” he snapped, his blue eyes angry, like electricity ready to shock you, “you and your saviour complex almost got you killed.”

“Saviour complex,” you choked out a sarcastic laugh, “this sounds like a story about a pot and a kettle, Bucko.”

Bucky just furrowed his brow as his eyes turned to slits when he watched you grab a few strawberries from the container he was holding.

“I’ll explain it to ya,”  you clarified as you cut off the stems, your knife like an extension of your hand, “I see the way you look at me.”

Bucky scoffed as he put the strawberries back in the fridge, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

The clinking of the knife against the cutting board was harsh as you chopped another top off, “at the compound. You think I’m like this delicate flower that needs to be protected all the time.

“And during missions, you see me as this whole other-, this whole other person even! Like a badass who doesn’t need help or anything.”

The last cut rang through the kitchen like a bolt of lightning that struck nearby. Your voice was harsh and cold, every word feeling like a punch to his gut - and it hurt even more because it was you who was throwing punches this time around.

“Why can’t you accept that I'm the same person? I can be crude and cold and dark, but I can be light and summer and warm, too.”

“I-uh,” he hesitated, his hands now in his pockets and eyes trained down to the ground. It’s true what you said - every single word. It was difficult to distinguish the colourful compound-you from the dark and mysterious assassin that accompanied him on missions.

“It’s the same thing for you, Bucky,” your voice was softer now, velvety smooth as you saw how his entire form deflated a bit with realization.

For Bucky, when he was at the compound with you, he wanted to cuddle you until your breaths evened out beneath the night sky, to protect you with all his might. It felt like he was the only one who could protect you and your sundresses and freshly baked cookies. It reminded him of his mother and sister, their laughs ringing through the kitchen when they were baking pancakes.

When you were on a mission, you could take care of yourself. Your black suit would whizz past him, accompanied with flying daggers and ninja stars. Bucky didn’t feel like you needed help or protection during those times, because your smirk reminded him that you were a strong person. You were capable of taking down six guys on your own, why would you need him?

The moment you in your dark suit got hurt, something inside his brain short-circuited. It didn’t make sense that your darker, cruder version would ever get hurt - because you had never been hurt before. Sure, there were scratches most of the time, broken bones some of the time, but never anything to this extent. Your body in his arms bleeding out and exposed to a dangerous chemical, the dark suit not protecting you any more than a sundress would. It confused him to no end.

“What do you mean?” his voice sounded small and hurt, his red-rimmed eyes finally connecting to yours.

“You think you’re this awful machine, but that is not the Bucky I know,” you sighed, “when we’re on the roof, and you think I’ve fallen asleep and you whisper those words, I-I heard all of it Bucky.”

“What?” he blinked a few times, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that you were aware of all his ramblings that were supposed to be lost in the cold night wind on the roof of the compound.

“You act like you’re this tough soldier, but I know you’re so much more than that,” you came closer to him, your hands coming up to lightly touch his face, “just like I am not a fragile woman here or an unbeatable assassin on missions.”

His nostrils flared as he tried to suppress his feelings. His gaze avoided yours, it was focussed on the green glowing mark on your shoulder. The green light that would now remind him every moment you could never be his.

“You’re allowed to be soft and happy, Bucky. It’s not a mutually exclusive thing.”

“I just-,” his voice cracked as the green mark glared at him, but when his gaze fixated on your eyes, they were welcoming and clear and had a loving glimmer to them.

“I just don’t know how,” he decided.

“What if- what if we changed our roof visits a bit?” you proposed, your hands now slowly dragging down towards his neck and shoulders, “I know you’ve got some poetry in your little note-book.”

“Ho- how did you know?”

You pursed your lips, a small smile growing on your face, “because you were reciting some? A few weeks ago?

“It was... bewitching, Bucky. Haunting at times. I-I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” His voice was low, a rumble in your ear straight into your chest, making your beating heart grow three times in size as you watched the man before you crumble right in front of you.

“No! No, not at all. I would love to see more of this side of you,” your fingers gripped on the collar of his shirt, “you don’t need to put a mask on for us - for me.”

Bucky let out a shuddery breath as your fingers traced around his collarbone, your eyes still trained on his. He was used to being close to you on the roof - you had cold hands you’d hide inside his coat - but in the daylight it felt like he might collapse on the ground with the way you were looking at him.

The door to the kitchen opened and Sam strode in, a bit sweaty after his morning run and Bucky wanted to step back, pull his face back to a stoic gaze and go back to his room to mull over his thoughts.

Your fingers were still gripping his shirt, preventing him from leaving, “tonight. You and me, on the roof,” you quietly whispered, a hopeful look on your face.

Before Sam could say anything on the little interaction, you let him go and went back to your strawberries and oats.

“How was your run, Sammy?” you called out as Bucky swiftly disappeared from the kitchen.

* * *

The air was cold on the roof of the compound that night and the darkness was in stark contrast with the rest of the compound.

Bucky had been watching you for a few minutes from a distance as you drank from your water bottle and stared up at the stars, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

You probably knew he was there, lurking in the shadows, but he appreciated the fact that you’d let him come over on his own tempo.

This whole moment felt off to him. This Bucky had never been a soft one, someone who you’d read poetry with. This Bucky was all steel and guns and knives and dark colours that made blending into the night so much easier.

The sound of his boots alerted you of his presence and you opened the blanket so he could slip under it as well, his body providing enough heat to keep warm during the night.

His left hand had a small notebook clutched, but he carefully put it on the ground and sank into the old couch you asked him to drag up to the roof.

Your hands immediately disappeared inside his coat, the cold leaving goosebumps on his skin as he inhaled deeply, whifs of your perfume surrounding the both of you.

“Hi,” you whispered as you turned your head to look at him. The moon was illuminating his face, showing all the planes and angles, the highs of his cheekbones and the soft blue that made you want to drown in his embrace.

He softly whispered hi back, his minty breath fanning on your face as he looked at what you were wearing.

You weren’t wearing your usual colourful outfit, instead black leggings and a dark blue Stark Industries sweater now clad around your body.

Bucky scraped his throat, his heart beating a little faster as he thought about what he wanted to say to you - confess even.

“I-uh, I want to apologize,” he started, biting on his lower lip, “I shouldn’t have made a version of you inside my head.

“I think- I think I wanted to protect the soft parts of you, whilst also admire the dark parts you show to the outside world, and I- I never wanted to admit you could be both of these at the same time.”

You nodded encouragingly, one of your hands coming up to rest against the side of his face, his scruff tickling the inside of your palm.

“And I guess, I never allowed myself to be more than one thing. More than just a soldier. And- and I really want to show you the parts I never showed before - to anyone,” his voice travelled through the air, soft and husky.

“Thank you, for apologizing and for wanting to open up,” you said. after a beat of silence as your finger traced the lines on his face, “it’s not gonna be easy, Bucky.”

He licked his lips but nodded, the feeling of your finger tracing his skin was mesmerizing, drawing him even more, “I know.”

His voice was rough, but the words were soft and it was the perfect combination of who Bucky really was. Behind closed doors he was gentle and loving. He wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with you under the blankets in his room, your head pressed against his chest as he stroked the soft skin on your back.

He would shake you awake after a nightmare, wanting to be held when his thoughts wouldn’t calm down anymore.

He wanted to show you who he really was.

His right hand came up to cradle your face, his nose now immensely close to yours and your breath hitched in your throat.

Bucky was also like a city personified; his soft touches reminded you of the early morning light kissing your skin, his sarcastic laugh of the walks home after clubbing all night.

You and him were magnets. The soft parts clung to each other as much as the dark parts. Sometimes they’d push each other off, other times they would cling to each other for dear life.

* * *

That night, when he pulled off your Stark Industries sweater and his lips attached to your throat and slowly went down towards your breasts, the green glow of the scar on your shoulder didn’t remind him about how unattainable you were for him.

It reminded him there was something glowing inside of you for him. A feeling that would never dim. You weren’t this elusive character in his life anymore. You’d be there for him when he needed you to be, just as he would be for you.

The green scar wasn’t a far-away lantern across the lake, seducing him and making him falter in his movements. It was the warm glow of life that reminded him you were breakable, just as you were strong. You were alive and you were his - at least in this moment.

And when you shakily sighed as his mouth latched to your throat again, your hands coming up to his face to drag him back to your lips, he couldn’t help but let three words slip out, mumbling against your soft lips he never wanted to leave again.

Baby, you're a vampire. You want blood and I promised. I'm a bad liar with a savior complex. All the skeletons you hide. Show me yours, and I'll show you mine.

- Phoebe Bridgers, Savior complex

[burnedbyshoto]

Hi! I love your writings and I've never requested a story of any kind,i couldn't find any rules in your feed sorry in advance but i wanted to ask if you could write about bakugo,midoriya or kirishima(you can choose) for a prom au based on how the reader gets dumped by her first date and is left "crying in her prom dress" :')

it’s a prom!au bitcheS

warnings: fluff, cursing

a/n: lets goooo i loved this so much more when i was writing this!!! also my first time,,, writing for two of these characters so idk how well i did, but i tried LMAO

Bakugo Katsuki

Bakugou is already entirely annoyed. 

First of all, he found dances to be stupid. Gross sweating people everywhere, too loud music, people terribly dancing, and on top of everything else when he sweated excessively he wasn’t “allowed to use his quirk”? So how was this bullshit going to be fun for him?

But he wasn’t one to go back on his word either, he had promised Shitty Hair and Raccoon Eyes that he was going to go after they wouldn’t shut the hell up about him not attending. To be honest, the major reason he didn’t want to attend was because of y/n. She was going to this dance with someone else, some irrelevant extra from the business class that Bakugou didn’t know existed until y/n showed him a picture of him.

“He looks like some fucking douchebag,” Bakugou grunts as y/n takes her phone back from his hands, a laugh escaping her lips. It wasn’t her typical pretty laugh, it sounded almost hurt and Bakugou sighed rubbing his temples, this stupid girl was going to give him an aneurysm. “But I guess if you think he’s fucking decent, whatever.”

“You won’t be jealous?” Y/n teases as she flops onto his bed, her hair blanketing around her like some halo, and Bakugou just hates the way his heart jumps at the sight.

“You fucking wish I was.” Bakugou scoffs, “And don’t you dare mess up my fucking bed, dumbass.”

The words, however, are too soft, and y/n sees through the demure and pats the bedside next to her, “Don’t worry, baka, I’ll save a dance for you.”

“I never said I fucking wanted to dance with you!”

The laughter that leaves y/n lips makes Bakugou blush the tiniest amount as he sits stiffly on his bed as she continues talking about the extra details of the prom dance and Bakugou soon finds himself regretting not asking her out sooner.

So as Bakugou reaches the auditorium, he sends a quick text message to y/n:

I’m expecting a dance.

Perfect, Bakugou thinks as he repockets his phone it was the perfect amount of flirting and hears the annoying ding of your phone when you get a text message, and he freezes, “Y/n/n?” He barks into the night and is surprised to hear a suppressed sob coming from the opposite wall of stairs he didn’t walk by. But Bakugou knows that phone chime and the voice all too well and immediately storms over there, why the hell was y/n crying?

There y/n sits, on the middle stair, mascara running down her cheeks as her magical ballgown is poofed around her. She wipes away at the tears running down her face, effectively ruining the makeup on her face even more. “Why the hell are you crying?” Bakugou asks genuinely confused, not that his tone effectively presented that.

“Oh, you know…” Y/n sniffles as she attempts to smile, but fails miserably, “I got dumped by my date, not that I really li-liked him. It was just so… so em-embarrassing.” The words seem weak and altogether embarrassed, but it just pisses off Bakugou to no end.

“You’re telling me, that fucking douchebag prick dumped you on prom night? And didn’t fucking care that you are here crying like some fat baby?!” Bakugou hisses, the anger multiplying at an extremely insane amount. “Who the fuck does he think–” Bakugou is already storming in towards the building, but is stopped by y/n rising to her feet and pulling on his arm.

“It’s okay, Baku–”

“I think the fuCK NOT!” Bakugou roars back.

“I just want to enjoy the rest of tonight, please. I don’t need him to make it a memorable night!” She pleads and Bakugou hesitates, his eyes on his crush who despite looking like a wreck makes him want to follow her course of action. 

“On one condition,” Bakugou grumbles and y/n nods her head quickly, “You replace your shitty date with me.”

The smile that comes on her face is something that Bakugou is still ashamed to admit made him fully blush.

bonus!

“HEY DOUCHEBAG PRICK FACE!” Bakugou yells over the thumping music as he notices your old date standing in the corner as he swings you around while the two of you dance, something that you weirdly were really good at together. “WATCH WHAT YOU’RE MISSING, ASSHOLE!”

Entirely way too pumped on the adrenaline of dancing in front of his classmates, having you in his arms, and having so far actually enjoyed the night Bakugou slams lips against yours, his hands gripping your cheeks as he lays one on you. And the two of you melt into this kiss, as his lips drag deliciously over your own as you eagerly return the passion despite your burning cheeks.

When Bakugou pulls away, he proceeds to flip off your old date without looking his way at all, and you can hear the distant shrieks of your classmates, “Are you going to kiss me again?” You can’t help yourself from asking as Bakugou sort of just stares at you.

His lips back on yours easily answer that question.

Midoriya Izuku

You were best friends with Midoriya, a title that you hated by the way because you were in love with the hero-in-training. As a student from general studies, your relationship was often a bit on edge given that most of your classmates hated the hero studies class. But you digressed.

By popular demand, U.A. was bringing an end of the school year dance as a new tradition, something similar to what Americans had as prom. You had hinted multiple times for Midoriya to ask you to the dance, but he never did, so instead you had agreed to go with a classmate of yours that you knew liked you.

So on the big night, Midoriya had gone off and told you that he was going to get there early to help set up because he thought he would be able to use his quirk for set up, and that was important training or something of the sort. You, however, stayed in your dorm room, sitting prettily in your prom dress waiting for your date to show up. Your eyes glancing over at the clock on your phone and saw the dance was going to start anytime soon, but still, no date.

It was soon an hour into the dance and you had hot tears rolling down your face as you realized just what was happening. You had been stood up.

You didn’t exactly know how to feel, it wasn’t as if you were expecting to fall in love with this boy at the end of the night, but it sure didn’t feel nice to be abandoned. So, gathering up your depressed emotions, you wiped away your runny makeup and stood up, ready to go to this dance alone.

Okay with your appearance, you opened the door, your eyes focusing on the hand that was centimeters away from knocking on your face.

“Midoriya-kun?” You squeak as the hand is ripped away from your face, the curly-haired boy profusely apologizing as he took several steps back.

“Y/l/n-chan!” He cries from against the hallway, “I just saw that you weren’t there, but that your date was, and well, I went to go ask him where you were because I had requested your favorite song to play. But you weren’t there. Your date told me that you weren’t interested in him so you didn’t go, but you were so excited last night that it just seemed wrong, so of course, I came to check on you because it’s–why are you crying?”

Tears are now flowing down your face and it managed to stop Midoriya’s rambling as he was now by your side, wiping away your tears, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, y/l/n-chan.”

A garbled laugh escapes your lips as Midoriya quickly works to make sure your makeup isn’t ruined, “He stood me-me up,” You cry as Midoriya envelopes you in a hug, and there the two of you stand in formal outfits until your sobs turn into hiccups. “I’m not even mad about it, but I was just so embarrassed because I know he has a crush on me… does that mean I can’t even get the guys who like me to like me?” You ramble into Midoriya’s shoulder as his comforting touches rub your back gently.

“Are American dances this dramatic?” You can’t help but ask as a laugh escapes Midoriya’s lips.

“Considering every high school rom-com of theirs ends with a dramatic prom experience, I’m going to say yes.” Midoriya teases as he breaks the hug and wipes tears off your cheeks again. “But, this can’t be the end of the night for you, I won’t allow it!”

“I never said I wasn’t going!”

“Good, because from here on out, we’ll be each other’s dates, and we’ll have so much fun!”

Your breath hitches when Midoriya goes to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, and you flush as he grabs you by the hand and the two of you are now racing to get to the dance.

bonus!

You swayed in Midoriya’s arms, the two of you slow dancing to the slow version of Latch by Sam Smith, an English song that you found to be romantic.

You pressed your cheek against Midoriya’s neck, his left hand in yours, and his right one holding you close. A smile was permanently fixed on your face as Midoriya had taken it upon himself to sing every song that was played, even when he didn’t know a single word.

The English that escaped his lips were choppy, heavily accented, and tone-deaf but you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell with every passing second. You only hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell as you were pressed up against him.

“I forgot to tell you something earlier,” Midoriya says as the words are getting too hard for him to improvise.

“That you’re leaving the hero industry to pursue a life as a recording artist?” You tease him as laughs escaping the both of you.

“I would be pretty amazing, but no, sadly that’s not it.” Midoriya pulls away slowly, and you whine a bit from the lack of contact, but come to stare into his eyes. “I j-just wanted to say you look, well um, you look beautiful tonight.”

Maybe it was because he had been holding you close all night, or maybe it was the spark in the air because of it being a dance, or maybe it was because you could no longer keep your feelings to yourself, but you leaned towards Midoriya and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you, handsome.” You whisper as you return to your old position, and you flushed hearing the roaring heartbeat of Midoriya in your ear as the two of you continued to dance.

Kirishima Eijirou

You tipped the glass of punch into your mouth, staring at the dance floor with immense irritation. You had been asked to prom and had been enjoying the night with the said date until he had abandoned you for some other girl. It wasn’t that it was a big deal, but you just believed there was no point of being asked just to be abandoned.

“Why aren’t you dancing?” A voice asks from behind you, and you choke on your drink momentarily as you turn around to see your classmate Kirishima standing behind you, two cups of punch in his hand, and a curious expression on his face. “I saw y/dates/n over there? Did he make you get your own drink, that’s pretty unmanly of him.”

“Psh, I wish it was just that.” You say as you roll your eyes as you see your date now grinding with the said girl he left you for.

“Is that allowed?!” Kirishima gasps as he sees the same dance moves happening that you see as well. “That can’t be allowed!”

It shouldn’t bother you, you know that, but seeing that you couldn’t even enjoy your prom because of your date, angry tears well up in your eyes. “Well, y/l/n, I don’t know about you but–are you okay?” Kirishima jumps as he sees the tears now rolling down your face as you wipe them away pathetically.

“My date dumped me.” You bitterly admit as you turn away from Kirishima, not wanting to let him see you cry. “He asked me out by the way.” You add the last part in an attempt to make it seem like you were still the winning person there, although you were the one now crying by the sideline like some reject.

Well, in all fairness you were one.

“Did you want to dance?” Kirishima asks you, and you tense.

Kirishima and you were classmates, and yeah you were friends, but you never thought you were close enough for him to be asking you to dance. You turn around and look at Kirishima who is placing the two cups of punch back onto the table, “I was getting Sero and Kaminari punch because they’re in the middle of the floor having a break dancing competition against Mina and Shouji.”

You blink away the tears in your eyes at that detail, and you look towards where your friends are very involved in a break dancing competition. “That explains the chanting and crowds.” You mutter, but you remember his offer and shake your head, “I don’t want to ruin your night with you catering to my hurt feelings, besides don’t you have a date?”

Kirishima laughs good naturally, a hand on his neck as he shakes his head, “The girl I wanted to ask unfortunately had a date.” And your mouth opens in understanding, but you watch as he offers you his hand. “Come on, dance with me, you look too pretty tonight just to be a wallflower.”

You find yourself blushing, grateful for the dimmed setting, but you didn’t put your hand in his, “I m-mean, if you want to be a wallflower that’s okay, too! I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do this!” Kirishima panics and you let out a laugh as you wipe around your eyes hopeful that you didn’t ruin your makeup.

“I’d love to dance, Kirishima.” You say as you take his hand which is now resting by his side, and take him out to the dance floor, a grin on both your faces as you danced in rhythm to the beating music.

Slowly but surely, as the night progresses you find yourself finding Kirishima’s toothy grin, weird dance moves, and terrible jokes sending a fire spreading through your body, especially when he holds you close.

“Thank you for dealing with me tonight,” You whisper as the two of you slow dance, as it was the final dance of the night.

“It was my pleasure,” Kirishima whispers back as his head rests gently on yours. “Can-can I confess something?”

You hum softly, teasing him slightly as you take a while to think it through. “Well, you did put up with me for hours, I guess you can confess something.”

“The girl I wanted to ask out was- it was you,” Kirishima says softly, and you freeze, moving your head from his shoulder and stare at him. “I just couldn’t gather the courage to say something until it was too late, so that was really unmanly of me.”

You rise to your toes and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “You just confessed to that right now, so I think it’s still pretty manly of you.”

The two of you stare at each other smiling as the song eventually ends, but even as the night comes to an end, you feel like something between the two of you has just started.

bonus!

“TAKE THIS!” You cackle maniacally as you and Kirishima are throwing eggs up on your old dates balcony. Bakugou had suggested the two of you go seek revenge, and this was the best thing the two of you could think of.

“Watch this, I’m doing it without looking!” Kirishima shouts as he grabs two eggs and closes his eyes and flings the eggs, and they crack onto the windows.

“Amazing!” You laugh as you reveal the now empty carton, “Should we run now?” You whisper as the lights in the room turn on, you’re already gathering the skirt of your dress, preparing to run.

“YES!” Kirishima yells as he scoops you off the ground and takes off running.

The two of you are laughing, breathless, with smiles that seemed to be permanently plastered on your face. Eventually, you two make it back to the dorms, and he places you on your feet, and with the entire mood of the night, you can’t help but press a kiss onto his unknowing lips.

The two of you still completely as you break apart, your cheeks flushed as you can’t believe what you did. “I-I’m sorry!” You stutter as you begin to ramble about how you didn’t wish to ruin anything, but you stop as his hands touch your cheeks gently.

“Please don’t apologize,” Kirishima mumbles as he presses another kiss to your lips and you melt against him instantly.

a/n: hope you guys liked it, and sorry this is a day late, my posting schedule was a bit pushed back!

[amphtaminedreams]

The Women of Euphoria and Personal Style: Lookbook no.8

Hi to anyone reading,

I hope you’re well considering everything going on! It feels weird to want to talk about fashion or TV shows or red carpets or whatever when 90% of my Google searches are COVID-19 related but there you go. It’s all about trying to power through as normal (minus the social interaction) and pretend the world isn’t ending, right? Queue nervous laughter.

And as if things aren't shitty enough, production of season 2 of Euphoria has been postponed until further notice. 

Okay, in the grand scheme of things, having to wait a bit longer for a TV show isn’t catastrophic but it does just about sum up the transition from 2019 to 2020 thus far that after HBO redeemed itself by broadcasting Euphoria in the summer following an ending to Game of Thrones that has made the whole series unrewatchable, the glimmer of hope in me reignited by the prospect of series 2 this year has been quickly dashed. 2021, I’m rooting for you, because it doesn’t seem like things are getting better any time soon, and in all seriousness, I think everyone needs a break from the collective suffering of the last few months.

For me (and undoubtedly for many others if the hundreds of makeup looks and styling videos are anything to go by), Euphoria’s effect on the world of fashion and beauty is unprecedented. I really can’t recall a TV show in living memory that has had as much of an impact on the way young people dress. I mean, this might partially be because the style of the characters already kind of caters to and draws from the target audience but also, aside from Blair Waldorf did anybody really give THAT much of a fuck about what anybody in Gossip Girl wore?

The draw of the styling on Euphoria is that it has something for everyone. The style of each of the main girls, Rue, Kat, Maddy, Jules and Cassie, all of whom I’ve attempted (emphasis on attempted!) to base (emphasis on base!) outfits around, is varied and distinctive but still so current and realistic at the same time. It’s also consistent; even if you don’t own the specific pieces worn by any of them, similar shapes and details reoccur enough in different looks throughout the series that it’s not hard to create an outfit which matches your favourite character’s overall vibe without buying anything new. That’s kinda what I have attempted to do here and without further ado, I’m gonna get on with it! First up:

Jules (Played by Hunter Schafer)

When it comes to whose style is the most experimental, Jules is the obvious answer. A lot of her outfits are what I imagine a cartoonist in the near-distant future will envision their cool girl protagonist wearing. Whilst her ensembles are generally whimsical and girly for the most part, there’s usually a few slightly punk-ish finishing touches thrown in there too be it through chunky shoes or bold makeup or that incredible mesh trench coat she wears in the series finale with the trans symbol on the back which, honestly, deserves a moment of silence. 

There are definitely nods to current fashion trends sprinkled throughout her wardrobe too. I'm not going to lie, despite someone at work seemingly thinking it was an insult to tell me I look like someone who does (I still don’t know but this person has a Rick and Morty keyring so I don’t give it too much weight), I’ve never watched any anime. BUT, that being said, given the abundance of anime screenshots posted by all these aesthetic oriented Instagram and Tumblr moodboard accounts, I have a vague idea of what some of the more iconic characters look like and a lot of Jules’ looks seem to be very much modelled after or at least inspired by them. In a way, I see a lot of her looks as a blend between modern “e-girl”, Y2K skater chick (yes, I’m thinking early Avril Lavigne), and 2013 Tumblr “hipster” a la 2014 Joanna Kutcha and Charlie Barker, and though on paper that sounds like a nightmare combination, it works. I know-if that sentence were a Depop description I would’ve just gained 30 followers.

When it comes to my own interpretation of Jules’ style, it’s definitely something I like to channel when I’m putting together a proper OUTFIT outfit. Meaning an outfit I actually put effort into and thus will most likely want to get a good photo in, lol. The way her character dresses is almost quite Christopher Kane in that it’s fresh and unusual but still understated enough that I wouldn’t walk into a room wearing any of these feeling like I’m doing a Rick Owens runway.

I’m not TOO far out of my comfort zone but still at the same time, I’d be trying something new and maybe a little bit more zany than I'm used to. As for noting where any of these pieces are from, only a few have been bought in the last 6 months, but from left to right clockwise I have marked out those that have in case they’re still available (though be wary of the fact that it seems a lot of online clothes stores are still forcing warehouse employees to work in close confines at the moment and so perhaps aren’t operating the most ethically):

LOOK 1

Corset-Jaded London

Shoes-TK Maxx

LOOK 2

Dress-Motel Rocks

Boots-Koi Vegan Footwear

LOOK 3

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 4

Dress-Jaded London

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 5

Beret-Ebay

LOOK 6

Mesh Top-Depop

Hair Clips-Urban Outfitters

Kat (Played by Barbie Ferreira) 

Eurgh, Kat. 

I LOVE THIS BITCH.

If I had to choose my favourite character in the show, it would be a very close toss-up between her and Rue, and though I think Rue might just about nab the top spot for her relatability factor, Kat is the girl I want to be or wish that I had been when I was at school. I mean, there’s definitely an argument to be made in that a lot of what she’s doing with her cam work could be seen as a means of validation (Sam Levinson has basically said everyone on the show has some kind of an unhealthy coping mechanism and I would guess due to the circumstances in which her cam girl career was borne and the fact she’s underage, this would be hers) but I do think in other ways we really see Kat reclaim her power and recognise herself for the smart, capable, gorgeous woman that she is. Honestly, the definition of divine feminine energy, and I would completely let Barbie Ferreira/basically Kat if she was also actually 23 dominate me.

Plus! Her! Style! Is! The! Bomb! Definitely the easiest character to base looks around because if I’m totally honest Kat’s energy is pretty much just what I want to emulate in every day life. 

It’s either pieces that are typically feminine, cutesy, and even slightly preppy at times drenched in everything grunge OR vice versa where you have something semi-gothic and then add a colourful, more playful touch in there that harks back to the beginning of the series before Kat had began to explore her identity and sexuality and dressed slightly more Forever 21.

I’d say, not yet with my whole chest, that on a good day the outfits I put together when making an effort aren’t too far off something Kat would wear, minus the more overtly BDSM touches; if wearing a ring choker in London is enough to get me a creepy comment from a gross middle aged shopkeeper (because I apparently forfeited my right not to be perved on when I decided to buy a bottle of Oasis summer fruits), then you can only imagine the kind of looks wearing a full-on harness would get in my conservative OAP dominated hometown. Not the most doable right now, especially considering the only time I get out is to work and to go for a run. The chafing I could deal with but the horrified glares of pensioners whose M&S prawn mayo sandwiches I’ve ruined by simply being in their eyesight not so much.

LOOK 1-

Corset-Urban Outfitters

LOOK 2-

Bodysuit-Depop

Skirt-Zara

Harness-Ebay

LOOK 3-

Co-ord-Depop

Lace-up Corset-Missguided

LOOK 4-

Dress-Vintage

LOOK 5-

Belt-Ebay

LOOK 6-

Coat-Topshop

Dress-Jaded London

LOOK 7-

Fishnet Top-Ebay

Skirt-Urban Outfitters

Maddy (Played by Alexa Demie)

Not gonna lie, I was kind of scared to do Maddy. I’m scared to be posting this, lol! Alexa Demie has played this character for a single season and she’s already one of the most iconic women to grace our screens in years. This is a huge undertaking and I don’t have the bank balance or the body confidence (lmao) to raid IAmGia. 

And this is where I want to stress: THESE ARE NOT OUTFIT RECREATIONS. THESE ARE INSPIRED BY. I HAVE ADDED ELEMENTS OF MY OWN STYLE INTO THEM. PLEASE DON’T DRAG ME. I KNOW, I’M NOT ALEXA DEMIE. I WOULD NEVER ASSUME TO BE ALEXA DEMIE. I’M NOT ABOUT TO TAKE THE LORD’S NAME IN VAIN LIKE THAT. So now we’ve got that out the way (wipes bead of sweat off forehead), let’s continue. 

Everything about Maddy Perez is extra. She has very much been established as a centre of attention character, and her outfits are a key part of that. They’re daring, they’re hyper-feminine, and they are always glamorous. We’re told that she competed in beauty pageants when she was younger and it’s clear that level of excess and coordination and glitz and all-round-boujeeness wormed its way into her DNA during that time. Even the “depression” outfit she wears to school following Nate becoming violent at the fair is costume-like, a 2019 Bratz doll Off-White street style collaboration.

Do you know how HARD I had to try to be HOT!? For these photos. Alexa Demie is one of those blessed women who doesn’t have to try at all, and that translates into the character completely. At any given moment, Maddy could add or remove one item or clothing and be let straight into the VIP section of a club, and that, honestly, is inspiring to us all in these dark times. 

One thing I tried to keep in mind is that she always looks polished and coordinated, I.E the kind of look I would prepare for a night out is something Maddy would wear on an average day. Co-ords and delicate prints seem to be more subtle wardrobe staples along with mesh and PVC and glitter and feathers and fur and basically anything that toes the line between expensive looking and tacky. Yes, I am aware we may toe different sides of that line but please let me stay delusional and believe that’s not the case for 5 minutes. Much appreciated xoxo

LOOK 1-

Bodysuit-Jaded London

LOOK 2-

Bralette-Depop

LOOK 3-

Co-ord Suit-Boohoo

Bodysuit-Boohoo

LOOK 4-

Dress-Motel Rocks

Shoes-Schuh

LOOK 5-

Bodysuit-Zaful

Trousers-Depop

Coat-Topshop

LOOK 6-

Dress-Zaful

Belt-Zaful

LOOK 7-

Top-Jaded London

Hair Clips-H&M

Rue (Played by Zendaya Coleman)

I have a complicated relationship with Rue as a character. When I started season 1 of Euphoria, I was like “Oh my god, this girl is the worst. Jesus, she’s so negative and draining and willingly self-destructive and-”

Then, oh my god is this what it’s like to live with me!?

I will say, to my own credit, that I don’t think I've ever been quite as hard to deal with as Rue (a lot less smashing stuff up and a lot more moping), and to HER credit, by the end of the season we come to realise she’s been through a fucking lot and so it makes sense, but wow. I don’t think I have ever seen a teen show handle drug abuse and mental illness in such a brutal way. It’s quite a talent to be able to show a character cause so much pain to those closest to them and yet do so through a sympathetic lens. And issues aside, whether it’s her occasional social awkwardness or her relationship with her family or watching bloody Love Island (still quite surreal to see Zendaya Coleman witnessing the Amy/Curtis drama unfold), Rue is just my favourite character to follow. 

Her style, though. AH. The thing is, I can hardly drag it, because it’s pretty much what I wear when I’m moping about the house-or just any time I can get away with it to be honest-to a T. I want to stay true to character, but that being said, creating a “Seth Rogen”-esque outfit that’s worth posting on here is difficult. So, with the same kind of artistic license that had me wearing berets whilst cosplaying Maddy Perez, here is the best I could do:

I know, I know, it’s probably too much colour and jewellery for Rue but this is as toned down as I could do and I tried to stick with the key silhouettes we see from her throughout the season; I mean, I can’t see her wearing leopard print but the structure of the coat in outfit 1 is very similar to the one seen in Shook Ones pt.II. I think the bottom line when it comes to her character is keeping things effortless and not overly-feminine; you want to mix street style, athleisure and your dad’s wardrobe favourites like your life depends on it. Plus messy hair and smudged makeup, both of which I’ve already got down according to the completely inappropriate number of customers who’ve asked if I'm tired at work so thanks for that guys, and glitter tears. Lots and lots of glitter tears.

OUTFIT 1-

Dungarees-Vintage

OUTFIT 2-

Trousers-Depop

Cardigan-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 5-

Beanie-Depop

OUTFIT 6-

Shirt-Boohoo Man

Sports Bra-TK Maxx

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Shirt-Jaded London

Cassie (Played by Sydney Sweeney)

Style-wise, Cassie is a hard one. When putting outfits for her character together, I found myself gravitating towards a direction that’s probably a bit too bohemian for her character, under the guidance of loose terms like “girl-next-door”, “floaty”, “delicate”, you get the idea. She definitely feels the least fully-realised in terms of all the main girls and I think it’s fair to say she’s probably got a bit of self-discovery to do. Most of her storylines in the season are dictated by her relationships to other people: McKay, Maddy, Lexie, her parents and so on. 

Nevertheless, I tried to stick to the airier, more traditionally “pretty” pieces whilst still channelling the confidence and ease with which Cassie pulls them off. Sydney Sweeney has the most incredible figure and I feel like whilst the clothes the on-set stylists put her in flatter that and don’t hide anything, they’re still the focus. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything more inherently sexual about her character than any of the other main female characters despite the way the men within the narrative view her, and I think it’s a testament to the the wardrobe department that to me she still gives off big modern Disney princess energy and a certain innocence even whilst we hear her being continuously sexualised by her male peers. 

If anything, Cassie probably dresses the most like an actual teenage girl, and her style, whilst less distinctive than the other girls, still does a good job of capturing the youth and romanticism of her character. 

The colour palette of her wardrobe tends to be quite neutral, with a couple of pastels thrown in there, and if there are any details, they’re usually quite dainty. Similarly, Cassie is probably the least experimental when it comes to her makeup; we don’t really see her wearing the bold eyeshadows or liners or gems like the other girls at any point.

OUTFIT 1-

Bodysuit-Motel Rocks

Hair Clips-Bershka

OUTFIT 2-

Dress-Jaded London

OUTFIT 3-

Trousers-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 4-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Hairband-H&M

`OUTFIT 5-

Top-Urban Outfitters

Jeans-Zaful

Headband-Primark

OUTFIT 6-

Top-Urban Outfitters

OUTFIT 7-

Dress-Urban Outfitters

Hair Clips-Boohoo

SO, I guess that’s it for my Euphoria lookbook! As always, let me know what you think (nicely pls, my ego is fragile lol) and I’d love to hear your opinions on the show too! I really haven’t got this excited over a new TV show in ages and I just think that it does everything so excellently-from the writing to the cinematography to the soundtrack, you can tell each element is so carefully and purposefully constructed. It immerses you into the dramatic highs and lows of being a teenager in a way I haven’t seen since UK Skins and I never thought I’d watch a show which held a candle to that. 

In terms of what I’m doing next, I’ve got a very delayed fashion week masterpost in the works as well as something to fill the Met Gala shaped hole in our lives, which I hope to get up over the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, if you read to the end, THANK YOU! And I hope you’re staying safe and AT HOME where possible. I know this self-isolation feels never-ending and if I’m honest, it is having a hugely negative effect on my mental health, but NHS staff are doing their very best with the shitty recourses they have and whilst it seems that our government have thrown workers under the bus once again, we can all do our bit to combat that by slowing the spread of the virus. Also thank you to anybody who’s out working now in such a scary and uncertain time! I work at a grocery store and can say from experience that the best way to show this thanks is just through kindness and following employee’s instructions without giving them grief for it. Everyone’s scared right now and the best we can do is pull together and look out for each other, as difficult as that might seem at times.

Anyway, sorry for the ramble, and like I said, stay safe! Thanks once again if you read til the end or even if you’re just here for the photos. Appreciate it more than you know either way!

Lauren x

[honestlyfrance]

bury me here

pairing: sam/bucky

square filled: palm kisses/wiping away tears ( for the kisses bingo held by @bingokisses​​ !)

warnings/content: angst, hurt/comfort, soulmate AU, established relationship, angst with very happy ending

summary: Bucky Barnes is afraid of losing his soulmate another time.

a/n: oh hey it’s like 1.8k words and a week after the last one! im not playing to win but it just so happens that my fill is also the bingo call so i plowed thru this :D please leave some feedback and tell me if you like it; it goes a long way <3 enjoy! (also title ripped off from my old fic that didnt finish lmao)

my masterlist | find this on ao3

He asks you to bury him right here, and you laugh. Oh, how hard you laugh. You can’t find a proper reaction to such a thought so you brushed it off with a simple friendly gesture. Bury me here, the request echoes in your head when you drive back to work, when you wake up before sunrise, and when you come running back into his home in a fervent sweat. Bury me right here with you, he says to you. It must be all just a funny joke because there he lay… lifeless; a vessel without a soul. He asked you to bury him that night, and you were a coward, and that killed your lover in the deepest way possible.

You mourn. You sobbed— You screamed, you screamed until the air is exhaled out of your lungs until heaven and hell could hear your plead and resurrect your man. You hold onto his shirt, tugging on it, hoping that his chest elevates just a little. You wanted to find him in the dining room eating his breakfast but all you found was his soul slipping from your fingertips. Yes, Bucky Barnes, the universe isn’t kind, and Fate doesn’t care if Sam Wilson breathes his final breath.

That was two years ago, and Sam had never let it down. He teased and jested at Bucky’s obliviousness every chance he got. Bucky’s just glad they were soulmates with souls irrelevant to time, hence, they were excused from death when with each other.

After that moment, Bucky never left Sam’s side (but if the man says he needs his space, Bucky will give him that). They go grocery shopping together, they sleep together, they were partners in crime together, they did most things together. Out of everything, Bucky’s favorite thing to do with Sam was falling asleep with him. They would both be in bed, in their little bubble enjoying their time in silence and tranquility; Sam would be jotting down in his planner and journal while Bucky would be looking through his socials and occasionally send a link of a funny video or picture to Sam’s respective DMs. After all that mess of poking each other’s feet and just slyly catching a glimpse of each other. Sam would turn off the bedside lamp as Bucky begins to spoon him. It’s their kind of bubble of peace and oh wow they feel like flying being light as a feather right here.

They sleep with each other’s stardust in their veins, wrapping their fingers around the other’s wrists to feel their lover’s life strum against theirs. Bucky loved moments like this, when he could have Sam in his arms for a long time, never letting go. It assures him much like a kiss, fleeting and deep, yet he understands and he doesn’t doubt it. Falling in love must be like this: fleeting and deep, a constant fact.

It’s because Sam was so beautiful it’s incomprehensible, and to think that Bucky hadn’t realized he had fallen in love sooner. It all looks like a joke, he swears, and he still laughs about it, how ridiculously oblivious he was. All those nights under the stars and morning runs that consisted of sunrises that look like his love; these are the things that made Bucky look so stupid next to love, but he thinks it’s alright. He knows now, and he knows he’s so hooked up he’s never giving up.

So it’s no surprise why he’s still shaken up from finding the man he loves slipping from his grasp. It’s a scary moment, to see the love of his life slowly fade away, stars at the back of his eyes, night turns into galaxies, everything so pretty but everything was dead. God, death never was supposed to be so pretty and he was prepared to mourn for that too.

Bucky cries in his sleep as he sees those same stars he looked up to like the art Sam analyzes: carefully crafted by the very thing that created who he was, it was never supposed to be so intimate. He sleeps with Sam in his arms and all he could feel is stardust slipping away, further and further as he drowns in his sleep, and he worries that he’ll lose it all when he wakes up, his arms empty of the world.

He’s shaking, his breath stuttering like a panicked child. He wanted to come back home, back to Earth, relive nothing but happiness and Sam’s laugh, so bright and charming he’s swooned every single time like a damn fool. Bucky wanted to sleep in Sam’s arms without ever feeling like he could lose him at any minute. Bucky wanted to believe that Sam is his soulmate and they’ll live forever, as they feel they could be.

Sam wakes up with Bucky’s tears painting the back of his shirt. His heart aches at the mere feel of it, knowing that his man will never let it go. Let it go? How can I let go of a possibility? he would say, and Sam breaks a little bit in the inside as he turns around to face him. He’ll find him shaking, his arms around himself, and his eyes shut tight. Bucky will see stars in his sleep and that’s too beautiful a dream to wake up from, so Sam really couldn’t wake him.

It’s like this some nights. Bucky refuses to get help but will reluctantly do so anyway, just so Sam wouldn’t pester him. Bucky tries, oh how he tries but it’s no use; how can he not be scared about an eventual thing? One day, it’ll be the day without Sam that he’d lose him, and he’s not ready for that yet.

“I’m dreaming…” Sam sang, his voice so hushed that it’s breaking. The back of his hand brushes against Bucky’s wet cheek and the man visibly shivered. “…of a white… Christmas.”

It was the first of August but Sam couldn’t wait for the holidays. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, and Christmas — oh! and New Year’s Eve.

“Just like the ones… I used to know…” Sam continued to sing, and as he sang, the closer his lips set a gentle kiss on Bucky’s forehead. It was just a fleeting kind of kiss, nothing too exciting, but the way Bucky’s shoulders rolled back, exhaling a little sigh, and his eyebrows relaxing, Sam could tell it meant everything.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at that. He brushes his hand against Bucky’s cheeks and began to wipe the tears away, humming to the tune of Christmas songs as August wind zips past their window.

“Is it the day of your Lord, already?” Bucky hummed in his sleep, his fingers curling around the collar of Sam’s shirt.

Sam hummed back, snuggling closer to his man that their noses are almost touching. “No. Christmas songs are just nice.”

“I know. That’s why I let you play them in July.”

“James… It’s August already.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed deeply as he scowled. “The fuck?”

Sam’s laugh, even in the first few seconds of the next day, was as lively as if he was awake, but in fact, he’s still stiff as a log and half asleep when he’s wiping Bucky’s tears away. Bucky hummed along with Sam and it’s their kind of symphony. His breathing was lax and Sam didn’t have to hold his breath anymore.

“Can I tell you something, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Bucky’s open ones. The room was pretty dark, but it’s as if he could see the blue in them as clear as day. “Yeah, Buck?” he said.

Bucky pursed his lips, wrapping his arm around Sam’s waist. “You don’t have to do that for me. Don’t wake up.”

“I want to. Why don’t you want me to wake up?”

And it’s innocent, almost child-like when he says it. Oh, naive Bucky, he and his aching heart, forever played in Sam’s hands, it’s all in six words: “You grow old when you’re awake.”

There’s goes Sam’s heart shattering into a million pieces, his breathing stuttering for a moment before he stares at Bucky, trying to piece in the vague shapes in front of him, figuring out the details that made sense. After a few seconds of silence, Sam lurches forward and captured Bucky’s lips in his in a chaste kiss, sweet and deep, Bucky’s already twisting him so he could lay on his chest.

Sam lets go but he plants a quick one again before he says: “That’s not how this works, you know.”

“A lover can wish.”

Sam’s got his hands on Bucky’s chest as the man turns the lamplight on. They’re then doused in orange light, and it dances in Sam’s brown eyes, the absolute picture of a supernova, or the sun, swirling in the darkest recces of space like a burst of God’s light. It’s such a beautiful sight that Bucky just had to voice out his thoughts, his breath on Sam’s neck as he says it all, those same words in his thoughts: like a burst of God’s light.

Sam smiled, chuckling as Bucky brushed his fingers above Sam’s eyebrow. “You’re a poet at one in the morning too, huh?”

“A poet’s gotta have ‘nother poet,” he replied as he brings Sam closer to his body, his arms enveloping around him like a warm blanket.

“Hm, all I can say is just stop worrying,” Sam whispers into Bucky’s ear. “You’ll have white hair stressing like that.” Sam’s hands caress his cheeks, forcing the man to look into his eyes. “I need you to know that we both grow old. People age. We do that. But you know what doesn’t change? Our eyes. Ma’s always said if you’re gonna fall in love with someone’s body it better be the eyes, because God— those never change, not even the color nor the pupil.”

Bucky hummed, and when he smiled it was all squished up from Sam’s hands, and that only made his smile reach into both their eyes. “Your mama’s nice. Wish I could’ve met her.”

“Well, that’s a long time from now.”

With that, Bucky’s hand interlocked with one of Sam’s. Turning it over, Bucky pressed a deep kiss into the palm of Sam’s hand. He practically inhaled Sam’s scent as he did so, kissing his knuckles then his fingers, then to the wrist then to the elbow. As he did this, Sam’s found a home in the crook of Bucky’s neck, a smile on his lips he couldn’t wipe off.

“I love you and your eyes,” Bucky says out of the blue, the light turned off and the morning light creeping through the gaps of their curtain.

Sam groaned and rolled over, his hand still intertwined with Bucky’s. “Is it morning already? What did we do.”

Bucky planted a kiss on Sam’s ear and the man snorted at that, turning quickly to face him as he says: “Kissin’ and sleeping. The perfect combo.”

Sam laughed at that, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck as the man brings him close to his chest. There they felt each other’s life strum in a better place: the heart. It’s their favorite song in the entire world too.

[zmediaoutlet]

Have u got any recs (yours or other peeps) of sex pollen fics? Lmao crack or not i dont mind !!! Xx

anon there are like–so many sex pollen fics out there, so many reclists, omg. I recommend you check thewincestreader – and I’m sure @wellcometothedarkside has some sex pollen lists for you – but for now I need to write something today and, you know what, let’s try it:

(read on AO3)

Dean’s trying to be careful—he really is, no matter whatkind of face Sam might aim his way when he insists. It’s just not his faultthat this goddamn weirdo of a would-be wizard has the worst organization sinceSam at age fourteen, and it’s really not Dean’s fault that when he edgesa big zebrawood chest off the high shelf of this wardrobe and the damn thingbursts open in his hands.

“Son of a bitch!” he gets out, through the explosionof—what? Silk handkerchiefs, and who knows what kind of herbs—Sam, probably—andthe rattle of, ugh, bones he doesn’t want to investigate more, and through itall a weird kind of haze that drifts over his eyes and makes him sneeze once,and then twice, and then he coughs and tastes honey in the back of his throatand when he wipes a hand over his face it feels—and he takes a deep breath andthe haze in the air doesn’t look like dust-sparkling-in-sunlight, like the restof the sunny afternoon streaming in the grimy windows has, but insteadsomething… physical, something here, and he says, again, with morefeeling: “Son of a bitch,” just as Sam crashes into the roomand says, “Dean?” before giving him, yes, the friggin’ face.

Worst part at first is that he knows immediately that he can’tdrive. Second worst part, Sam asking him the twenty questions, like he has any damnidea about the answers. He stands on the sagging porch in the clear woodsy air,gulping fresh tree smells and the faint rankness of the molding pine, and thehaze settles heavy in his vision: everything faintly gold-tinged, fuzzy at thecorners, like an old shitty photo. His reactions are sluggish too, except whenSam comes up beside him with the box full of evidence tucked under his arm, andDean grabs his elbow in shock like, if he says so himself, a striking snake,and feels Sam start, all nine feet of him. “Dude,” Dean says,complaining weakly. About what, he doesn’t know. Take a number.

“Come on,” Sam says, and does him the service ofat least pretending to sound compassionate while he sticks his hand in Dean’sfront pocket and steals the keys. In the car, then, and the passenger seatmaking the world seem weird and wrong-way-round like it always does, and thesensation of the world bleeding away around the edges makes him nauseatedenough that he closes his eyes and just listens to the engine instead. Yeah,better. The rumble, and the tires working their way steadily over the bumpywoods path and then onto clean smooth asphalt, rolling easy, the car respondinglike she should even if the wrong hands are on the wheel.

Their place during this whole thing—chasing Mr. Wizard, and killinghim, and investigating whatever other weird experiments he’d had going onbesides a cougar-woman hybrid that was, frankly, terrifying to kill—has beenanother cabin, closer to town but private enough, and it’s got a king bed and aporch to watch the sun set over the lake and a minifridge full of beer. Dean’sgrateful for the last part, fumbling his way across the wood floor as he stripsoff his jacket, too hot. “Dean,” Sam says, and Dean opens his eyes tofind himself sitting on the floor in the kitchenette, shoulders pressed againstthe cool plastic face of the fridge, and he doesn't—remember, getting here, butit’s nice anyway.

“Dean,” Sam says, closer, and smiling kind of—Sammysmiling, that’s nice, that doesn’t happen enough in Dean’s book—and he’s clear,clear even though the rest of the world is really just fuzz, the planes of hisface vivid, that curl that always pops up under his ear in perfect detail. Deanreaches out a hand and tweaks it between two fingers, his breathing feelingweird. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, agreeing pointlessly, and Sam says,“Have you been listening, at all?”

Dean snorts. “Obviously,” he says, and Sam hearsit for the lie it is and rolls his eyes, and then says, “Okay, give meyour hands,” and Dean puts them on Sam’s face, rubbing his thumbs alongSam’s cheekbones. Sam blinks at him and the smile that time is—oh, different.Better. His face, yeah. Yeah. Sam takes his wrists—soft, like Sam isn’tsometimes—and says, “Yeah, buddy, that’s it—come here,” and standsup, and Dean rises up with him without any apparent decision making from hisbrain.

His brain. He breathes in, smells Sam. Salt and the sweatfrom the day, and their Alpine Fresh laundry detergent, and the Old Spice inhis pits, and he says, carefully, “I got hit with something, huh?”and Sam half-laughs and says, “Got it in one, man,” and then says,“Hey, Dean.”

Big hand on Dean’s jaw. He leans into it, feels like all hisbody-weight’s there. “Sam,” he says, the only natural response, andSam touches his waist, holds him steady. “Oh, man, you’re wasted,” hesays, distant somehow, and then he thumbs under Dean’s lip and leans close,close enough that his face is all Dean can—needs—wants to see. “Tell mewho I am.”

Dean blinks, holds onto Sam’s shirt. “Sammy,” hesays, wanting to be right. Knows he is.

“Yeah,” Sam says, encouraging. “And what elseam I?”

“My brother.” Dean ducks in, smells Sam closer.The hollow of his throat, fuck. Who knew it smelled so good. “My…” hestarts, but there’s not—the words don’t fit, that should go there. There isn’tone. Sam should come up with one. He’s smart. God, he smells good, and Dean's—hot,so hot, and he can hear his heart beating hard in his ears.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sam says, low, and cups ahand around the back of his head. “Man, you are gone. Okay. Just—if youcan understand me,” he says, and Dean presses his face into Sam’s throat,presses himself closer, and hears Sam’s breath hitch—"Shit—Dean, it’sgoing to be okay, all right? I think—I’m like ninety percent that it’s notfatal, but it’s going to last a while, and—oh, fuck it, come here—"

It blurs, and it doesn’t. Afternoon still, and the lightpouring through the room, and the heat of it. Dean’s naked, spread on the bed,and he’s not sweating but Sam is, and Sam’s skin—that’s clear, every mole, thefreckle just behind his ear that Dean’s always loved and is so often covered upby that mess of hair. Dean cups his hands around Sam’s jaw, holds him there forDean to look at, because he’s clear in every particular: his eyelashes and his lips,and the tucked-in dent of dimple when Dean says—something—and Sam laughs athim, and Dean becomes aware only after taking in Sam’s face that Sam’s fuckinghim, surging deep with Dean’s thighs slung loose and useless around his hips,slow, good. He arches his back, shoving down on the pressure inside, and Sam’seyes close—but no, no. “Look,” Dean says, stupid, and Sam doesn’t buthe does put his face there beside Dean’s face, their cheeks pressed togetherand Sam’s ear pink and clear in Dean’s vision, and he hauls Dean’s legs up onhis forearms and crushes deep—deeper—and Dean gulps air and touches the sweaton Sam’s back because, oh, there. Sam, Sam, every part of him something Deanloves.

He pushes—uncoordinated—and Sam lifts up, concernedeyebrows, and Dean pushes and Sam lands on his back—and his hands, his hands.Golden light and golden hands and the grip of them, the taste—Dean pushes histongue against the ridge of nail, the bed of it, salt, the fingerprint pressinginto the inside of his cheek. “Jesus,” Sam says, somewhere, butthere’s his ribcage and his chin, and his dick rising high above his hips, wetalready—how?—but Dean takes it in his mouth either way, ignoring Sam’s gaspingprotest of—"Wait—wait, Dean, I already—" but it’s so—solid,and the weight of it right, right, and he sinks down and down and feels it pushinto his throat and Sam’s thighs spasm around him and he says high-up holyshit and Dean presses his forehead against Sam’s belly and his nose intoSam’s pubes and he feels—right, right again, the pain distant, his lungs givingup—and then—no—

Sam’s hands on his face, patting it, holding his throat.“You okay?” he says, red-faced, and Dean doesn’t know why, or why hischest is heaving like it is.

“Sam,” Dean says, dumb, and blinks because his eyesdon’t want to work—wet falling down his cheeks and even Sam sparking strange inhis vision. He gapes, empty. “I—I need—”

“Okay,” Sam says, nodding, and Dean’s drawn up tohis mouth and fed kisses and takes them, so grateful, Sam’s tongue and his lips,his breath filling Dean’s mouth when Dean can’t seem to get the air himself—andSam says, the strangest note in his voice, “Fuck, you’re not evenhard,” his fingers slipping around where Dean’s dick hangs useless fromhis hips—but that doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, and Dean reaches behindhimself and grasps, whining, and Sam knows, Sam knows, and he says, “Yeah—fuck,yeah, I’ve got you, it’s okay,” and that pressure, big and blunt andthreatening and then the, yes, press in, and Dean feels like his lungs work again,and he wraps his hand into Sam’s hair and keeps his face there for Dean to see,to take in, and Sam blinks at him and licks his own open mouth and shoves hiships up, hard, and Dean rocks with it, takes it, because—god—Sam, Sam, Sam.

*

Dean wakes up dry-mouthed, aching. His asshole hurts andwhen he swallows his throat’s raw. “What,” he whispers, and Sam’sthere, immediately, with a glass of water that Dean gulps down.

“How’re your eyes?” Sam says, taking the glassaway.

Dean blinks. Sam’s all he can see at first—bare chest andshoulders, bite—bitemarks?—all over, and a, jesus, hickey blooming up on thebase of his throat. The rest of the room's… there, in a nighttime way, but hestill can’t see the edges. “Not fixed,” he says, rough. Yikes.

A nod and a corner of Sam’s mouth turning up.“Figured,” he says. “Still got a ways to go.”

Dean drags a hand over his face. Aspirin wouldn’t go amiss.“What is it?” he says. “I feel like a—skanky prom date.”

Sam snorts. “I think the only kind of prom date you’dbe is one from a porno,” he says, dry. He shrugs one shoulder. He is stillnaked, Dean realizes, and Dean is too. The sheets are tugged away, though, anda clean blanket’s under Dean’s ass. “It’s a love spell.”

Dean pauses in his struggling to sit up, like an adult.“A love spell.”

Another shrug, and this time the one-sided smile looks alittle smug. “I mean, more or less. Spellwork, as far as I can tell from hisnotes. Trying to get a fair maiden to want him.”

“Is that right.” Dean lets his head thunk backagainst the headboard. He’s never living this down.

“Pretty standard stuff for unscrupulous witches,”Sam says, and his smile goes more natural. “Figure it must not be havingthe same effect, if the feeling’s already there.”

Dean licks his lips. They’re sore, too. Sam looks at himsteady for a few seconds, and then stands up and goes to the kitchenette tofill Dean’s water glass again. His ass looks good, in the lamplight. “Anyway,”Sam says, half over his shoulder. “I figure we can probably work out theworst of it here, and we can start heading back to the bunker in the morning.There’ll be something there to break it, and if all else fails—maybe Cas willknow what to do.”

Cas. Well, there’s a nightmare Dean didn’t need. His chestfeels warm, his fingers itching. He licks his lips again, slides his thighstogether. Slick. Sam leans against the sink, too many yards away, watching himwith eyes that should be hard to see from here but Dean can, Dean can see everydetail, and his whole body’s tingling for it. “Worse ways for a job tofinish up, I guess,” he says, while he’s still halfway coherent, and Samlaughs.

“Yeah, I can think of a few,” he says, and comes backto the bed, and his skin touches Dean’s skin, and that’s all Dean needs, forthe rest of the night.

[lustresky]

make me feel [bi!bucky barnes x bi!f!reader]

summary: Let’s just say that you and Bucky aren’t as bright as you both think you are. (Or, a story in which you both find out that the other isn’t actually completely over the fence— If you know what I mean.)

wc: 2800ish.

themes: reader and bucky are both bi disasters, misunderstandings, pining, a lil’ bit of angst?, crack? (idek at this point lmao), happy endings, not so subtle the witcher references, everyone else in the team getting tired of reader n bucky’s dumbasses.

a/n: title is a song by janelle monáe! also this is inspired by seb saying ‘bi rights!’ and well... also by me being a dumbass bi. this felt like the longest x reader i’ve ever written when in reality it’s the shortest one i’ve ever written lol. :’) oh well!

if you have any questions about this fic, feel free to send me an ask! c:

“Isn’t she just—“ You sigh dreamily, one of your arms coming up to rest at the table; your head then promptly laying on it. “God, I’m like— so gay.”

Bucky just laughs, ignoring the twinge of emotion in his chest. He sips his coffee, eyeing you through the corner of his eye.

Your eyes had been stuck on the Russian spy for the past ten minutes, now. Natasha, however, hadn’t noticed it all; which Bucky finds both funny and depressing.

Funny, because seeing the usually alert assassin being oblivious to your feelings is amusing; and depressing, because he knows that he’ll never be the object of your affections.

The reason isn’t even because of his past— you had made it clear to him numerous times before that you don’t think any less of him because of his history. It isn’t even about his arm— you had called it “Cool.” and “Awesome!” a handful of times before.

No; the reason that he’ll never be able to be with you is because you swing your bat for your own team.

Bucky just lets out a quiet sigh, blowing his coffee to cool it down some more.

When Natasha turns her head to give you both a smile, he doesn’t contain the small chuckle coming out of his throat when you suddenly flinch in your seat.

He wants more, he always had, but he knows better than to hope for things that he can never have.

I’ll just have to settle for this.

Bucky takes another sip.

“Damn.”

You look up from the TV; your view being greeted by Bucky as he sits next to you on the sofa, metal arm gleaming from the dim light of the screen.

The said television currently displays a very delightful and deliciously naked scene of Geralt of Rivia; the camera panning up from his thunderous thighs to his thick upper body— the only thing keeping the whole moment ‘Netflix-Show-Friendly’ is the white cloth haphazardly thrown across his waist, covering his dignity.

You snort as Bucky continues to hungrily stare at the fictional character, unashamed. His eyes are wide, pupils blown and you can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Looks like someone’s a lil’ gay too, huh?” You laugh, trying to swallow down the feeling of heartache.

Bucky just chuckles back, eyes still focused on the screen. “You can say that…”

You tear your gaze off of the super soldier, doing your best to keep your disappointment at bay.

It isn’t his fault; you of all people know that you can’t exactly control what and who you’re attracted and not attracted to.

In fact, it’s your fault for falling for someone who’ll never like you that way.

Bucky will never look at you like that— you know that— but there are times, times like this…

Times where his arm is wrapped around your shoulders, times where your head is tucked under his chin, times where your back is pressed against his chest…

That you fool yourself into the idea of maybe you two can have something more.

Even if you know better.

Bucky hears the clacking of heels behind him, followed by the familiar whistling of Sam when he sees something he likes.

“Goddamn, Y/N!” He hoots, promptly making Bucky turn around from his area on the stove upon hearing your name.

His breath hitches up in his throat as he sees you: a form fitting and long sleeved black dress hugging every part of your body, ending quite high above your knees and showing off a garter on your left leg. Your hair is tousled, framing your face. The whole outfit is paired with black heels, and Bucky knows for sure that anyone else who’ll see you in it will do a double take.

You laugh at Sam. “Sorry, honey, but you know that I don’t see you that way.” You give him a wink, eyelashes fluttering as the eye-shadow on your eyelid glitters. Bucky can slowly feel his knees turning into jelly.

He quickly brushes off the butterflies in his stomach, trying to regain his composure.

Bucky clears his throat and sends you a smile, which he hopes doesn’t look too strained. “You look great, Y/N.”

Whatever his complicated feelings are, he isn’t going to let them stop him from giving you a genuine compliment. Bucky knows how happy it makes you whenever he gasses you up.

As he had expected, you give him a huge smile. “Awh— thanks, Buck.”

Before Bucky can reply, Sam slides back into the conversation. “So what’s all this for, then?” He asks, one eyebrow up. After a beat, he smirks. “Got a date?”

Bucky ignores the heart wrenching feeling in his chest.

You laugh, and that’s when he notices the folded flag in your hands. You unfold it and wrap it around your shoulders. “Nah, just got a parade to go to. You know how it is.” You send him another wink.

The flag has a tricolour design.

Bucky had never seen it before.

Sam just laughs, bright chuckles filling up the otherwise empty space. “I see you, honey. I see you.”

You tie the flag into a knot around your neck, giggling. “Well,” You say, arranging your hair, grabbing a clutch from God knows where. “Enjoy yourselves boys, I know I will.”

With a final wink— and even a salute— you step out of Bucky and Sam’s view, heels clacking once more as you make your way to the elevator.

Bucky’s trance gets broken as soon as he hears Sam snickering. He turns, feeling his cheeks flush with heat.

“What.” He says, furrowing his eyebrows, trying his best to look annoyed even if embarrassment is slowly eating away at him.

Sam just laughs. “God, you need to tell Y/N that you’re into her. I’ve been seeing you pine over her for months, dude. You gotta tell her the truth.”

Bucky scoffs and turns back to the stove, seeing his food now burnt to a crisp. Great. “Yeah, no thanks.” He says, embarrassment now being replaced by exasperation.

Sam groans back. “She’s clearly into you—“

“No, she isn’t,” Bucky cuts Sam off before he can even say anything else; annoyance quickly turning into rage.

He looks back at Sam. “I know she isn’t.”

After a beat, Sam scoffs. “As much as you think you know shit,” He starts, shaking his head.

“You don't know shit.”

You can’t help but let out a small whimper once Bucky’s fist collides with the boxing bag.

The way his muscles flex at every punch, the way the veins in his neck pop out at every grunt, the way his tank top clung to everything…

God. He looks absolutely appetizing.

Wanda snickers from beside you. She passes you a water bottle and you take no more than five seconds to chug it all down. “Well,” She laughs. “Someone’s thirsty today.”

You wipe your mouth, groaning. “Shut up.”

Wanda just giggles. “Awh, come on Y/N, you can be honest with me.”

You turn to look at her, being greeted by her wiggling eyebrows. “Ugh, I don’t wanna talk about it, Wanda.” You roll your eyes and turn your head back again.

Which is a mistake on your part— because as you do so, you’re welcomed by the sight of Bucky’s toned stomach; his hands grabbing onto the bottom of his tank top, rubbing the sweat off of his forehead.

You proceed to choke on air.

Wanda just cackles harder and louder— but at least she has enough empathy to pat your back.

Bucky, upon hearing the boisterous laughter, drops his hold on the tank top. His eyebrows furrow for a moment, before his eyes land on you; his lips then curling up into a small smile.

The heat in your cheeks becomes even hotter, but you manage to compose yourself just for a second to send him a grin; albeit crooked and a bit awkward.

Thankfully he doesn’t notice anything.

As Bucky turns back around to face the other side of the gym, you turn back to Wanda— face fuming.

“Be quiet!” You hiss, irritation and embarrassment settling in. “He can’t know that I’m into him, okay?”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, face contorted to a look of incredulity. “Why?” She proceeds to poke you on your shoulder. “It’s clear that you guys both like each other— just confess already. I’m tired of it.” She groans and rolls her eyes.

You scoff and let your eyes fall downcast onto the wooden floor.

“Trust me…” You sigh, feeling the disappointment bubbling in your stomach. “He doesn’t like me that way.”

Wanda lets out a noise of disagreement. “I don’t even need to get in his head to know that he’s into you—“

“Wanda just—“ You cut her off, lifting your eyes up from the floor to stare at her fully. The disbelief in her eyes upon hearing your words is clear, but it isn’t enough to erase the feeling of heartache in your chest. “Just trust me...”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Oh come on— Y/N!” Tony shouts, sounding exasperated, making you lift your eyes from the chicken on your plate and onto his upon hearing your name.

You cock an eyebrow at him, hands paused midway into cutting your meal. “Yeah, Tony?”

Steve raises a hand up to cover Tony’s mouth, but the billionaire manages to swat it out of the way. “Would you— as in-eloquent as this may sound— bang Mr. Barnes?” He asks, face determined and jaw set tight.

The rest of the chatter on the dinner table promptly stops. Natasha and Wanda both look amused, but the rest of the team just looks either: A) Confused, B) Disgusted, or C) An equal yet unfortunate mix of both.

You don’t say anything for a few seconds, caught too off guard to even answer. After a minute your mouth opens, but it closes back just as quick— open and close just like a fish.

Tony groans, arms crossing around his chest like a child. He leans forward to your direction. “Well? Yes or no?”

You force your lips to part with the intention of saying a reply, but Bucky beats you to it.

“Stark, I think we all know that Y/N would never say yes.” He says, voice dark and unamused.

“Well, I— for one— don’t,” Tony replies, not even letting you speak. His brows are furrowed as he shakes his head. He lifts one hand up, a finger going down as he says, “First off, and I say this totally platonically, you’re jacked. Second, we’re not blind— we see you both cuddling at the sofa when you’re watching The Witcher; and third, as a super soldier, your stamina in bed—“

Bucky cuts him off before he can even continue. “It’s because I’m a man, Stark.” His eyes narrow, annoyance and anger clear on his face. “Don’t you see that Y/N’s not into that?”

Your eyes widen, and before anyone else can interrupt you, you say, “Hold up— what?”

Bucky just stares back at you; and you notice the irritation on his face slowly morphing into hopelessness. “Aren’t you— you know…” Bucky lets out a sigh, metal hand waving in the air. “Gay?”

“What?” You respond back, eyebrows now knit together in confusion and surprise. “I mean yeah, but— no?”

Bucky just looks back at you in confusion.

“I’m not— I’m not gay. Not exactly,” You shake your head. “I’m bi— you know, as in bisexual?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, eyes wide in shock.

A silence reigns over the table before Tony breaks it again.

“Well that means that that lil’ reason is unjustifiable, then!” He claps his hands. “So what is it, Y/N? A yes? A no?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the feeling of rejection starting to bubble in your stomach. You know your answer, but it didn’t matter in the end.

“I don’t think what ever I’ll say will be worth it in the long run, Tony,” You try to play off the heartache by turning back to your plate. “Besides, I don’t have a chance, anyways.” You laugh half heartedly.

A beat passes— even Tony doesn’t reply to your words— until…

“What do you mean you don’t?” Bucky asks, low enough to be a whisper, but loud enough for you to catch it.

You look up, staring back into his cerulean eyes. “Well...” You try not to show your feelings as you shrug your shoulders. “Aren’t you gay?”

A pause, then— Bucky snorts. Actually snorts.

“Doll, I’m not—“ His eyes are crinkling, smile stretched wide. “I mean, yes, but I’m… I’m into women just as much as I am into men.”

You let your jaw drop.

Wait… So that meant…

This time, Steve interrupts. “Okay… I think I’ve had enough of dinner, how about we watch a film?” He stands up from his seat, his own chair loudly scratching against the wood as he tries to act nonchalant.

Everyone else— except you and Bucky— stands up, a chorus of “Yeah, sure.”‘s and awkward coughs filling the room. The team heads out in a straight file into the communal space.

Tony, before disappearing into the corner, sends you both a wink; Steve promptly whisks him away.

You look back at Bucky.

The two of you just stare at each other wordlessly; still reeling over the fact that you two had both been absolute idiots.

For a few minutes, silence engulfs both of you, until Bucky coughs.

“You still—“ He lifts up an arm and rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tick that you instantly recognize. “You still haven’t answered Stark’s question…”

You sit straighter in your seat, surprised at his words. The heat creeps up to your cheeks; and although you know now that you actually have a chance, the weight of rejection is still heavy.

After all, you had already accepted being turned down because of his ‘supposed’ attraction not including your sex— which, truthfully, hurts less than being rejected because of anything else.

You let out a chuckle, but it doesn’t end up sounding as happy as you had wanted it to be. “It’s not that important, Buck— you don’t want to know, trust me.” Your eyes fall down to your unfinished meal once more.

Bucky lets out a sigh, and for a few seconds he doesn’t say anything. Until…

“That’s the thing, Y/N… I— I want to.”

You look up, making eye contact once more.

“I want to know,” He says, eyes full of hope yet also doubt. “I’d rather know now than never.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat.

“So?” Bucky smiles, a small, unsure one. “Do you— as per Tony’s words— want to bang me?”

The laugh escapes your mouth as soon as Bucky pronounces those words, and you just take a second to compose yourself. God, isn’t this night just eventful?

As the last few giggles come out, you shake your head, feeling the courage to say the truth run up your veins.

Fuck it.

You fix your gaze into Bucky’s eyes— those cerulean blues that you can get lost in for days.

“I do want to bang you, Sergeant Barnes,” You say, and as his eyes flash with joy as your mouth quirks into a grin.

“But I don’t want just that…”

Before you know it, you had stood up from your seat and are now walking towards him; the fearlessness in you becoming bigger and bigger with each step you take.

Once you reach him, he stands up from his seat as well. He towers over you easily, but instead of being intimidated, you feel comforted.

“I want to… I want to go on dates with you, I want to cuddle with you, I want to talk about everything and nothing and just—“ You look up at him through your eyelashes, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach as you grip onto your nerves.

“I want you.”

Bucky doesn’t respond for a moment, prompting you to worry that you might’ve misread the situation, but instead of words he leans down— capturing your lips with a soft peck.

It’s quick, chaste— but it’s enough for your heart to soar.

You gaze back into his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn and the butterflies in your stomach having a party.

Bucky smiles, lips quirked so high upwards that his eyes crinkled. You think— no, you’re sure— that you’d never get enough of the sight.

“I want you too.”

“Buck, how in the hell did you not know that I was bi? I walked around with a whole ass pride flag on my back!”

“It isn’t my fault that we didn’t have those back in the day— and besides, I’ve never heard you talk about having a crush on another guy!”

“That’s because I had a crush on you, dumb-ass. Plus, what about you? You spend all your time ogling at Geralt, I’ve never even seen you stare at a woman!”

“That’s because the only woman that I have my eyes on is you, doll!”

thanks for reading! as always, requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

[kaetastic]

Testing Him To His Limits

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: Bucky was just enjoying the sun, until his phone beeped of a message. If only he hadn’t opened it.

word count: 3.6k

warning: nsfw, fingering, language, no metal arm!bucky

note: inspired by this video on youtube! I’m not exactly sure if this is a Modern AU, I still have yet to grip concept on the spectrum lmao. But technically, they are not The Avengers in this. Also, do grills even pop stuff?? Ion no, I never griled lmao. This is a chaotic, messy writing lol.

Despite the guaranteed coverage of the umbrella, Bucky could feel his body fry alive under the scorching heat of the sun. The wavering waves plastered all over his skin as if it was like the surface of a heated desert. Quivering lines danced over his bare chest. Even though his chest was covered by a smeared layer of glistening sweat that twinkled a smile with every churn of his muscle, he didn’t bother to wipe it off. Maybe it was due to the fact that the heat had made it unbearable for him to place a foot on the burning ground (unfortunately for him, he had to find out the pain after scrambling without a sandal on when he wanted to grab a quick sip) or maybe he was just lazy. Bucky opted to believe the other reason.

In the heat (with restricted ability to step off the seat), Bucky couldn’t help but let his mind wander off as it took a leisurely stroll to random thoughts and topics. He questioned why Tony had decided to choose the day it had peaked the temperature of the sun. The week had swum over a steady crest. It was somewhat tolerable to take a walk in the beginning of the week. Now? Now, Bucky was contemplating if he was either nudged out of a plastic bag, straight from the freezer; dunked into the sizzling fryer, or he was the melting ice cream that flew onto the fiery red lava port of a fair near the ocean. It was as if mother nature had been surprised by a wrestling match in her gut.

But, then again, the host had reassured that no one would pass out. Which might’ve been the reason for the heightened concern for the moment where someone who splay against the burning ground. No one had bothered about someone else passing out until Tony had brought it up. However, there was no need to worry as they were blessed to be in the presence of a sophisticated doctor, Bruce Banner. And no, it was not at all reassuring as it literally felt like their feet were being sizzled alive.

The muscles and tendons that cladded around Bucky’s wavering bones were at the end of a merciless stick of heat. It somehow liquified into a puddle of nothing but... meat. Pushing the hideous (and shuddering) visualization to the side, he inquired a question he knew he wouldn’t have an answer to: Why had he been dunked by a bucket of sweat, his soles still bubbling of unbearable bumps that pinched pain from his regrettable decision where he was put at a vulnerable spot... while his friends had been sauntering on the ground? Were the ground not fired enough to melt their foam sandals? Not even their feet, one of his closest friend, Steve Rogers, paced around the pool with only a teasing amount of sweat painted across his forehead. Bucky had to sigh in defeat, though, the man had been consuming cans upon cans. All iced and cold. Oh, how suffocating it felt to sit on the chair.

With only his blue swimming trunks on, he fell into the captivating imagination of him walking over the frying pan to snatch a drink for himself. Bucky could only take a glance at the icebox that poked bobbling heads of aluminium cans of refreshing flavours whenever the lid was opened for him to take a faint glance. The man was sure he had seen a teaser of an iced coffee somewhere. Although, he feared it might’ve been consumed by a somewhat... hyperactive friend. Hands tucked behind his head, Bucky’s fingers were engulfed in the sticky liquid. It weaved as irritating strings that wouldn’t fly off with every swat of his hand. Bucky’s hands were accustomed to the beads of sweat exasperating out of his skin while the air was sizzling. Not much different from pouring oil onto a pan that was ready to exert its anger on.

Chattering from randomly wheeled through topics which had been on a range from an accidental shift of work hours to high school crushes, it was followed by strings of laughter. The noise trickled into the ears of the only man who had found himself in peace without any interaction. Was peace even the right word? Not too long ago he wished he would jump into the pool for a quick cool off (after a few minutes of adapting to the scorching medium, he was sure the water would be just warm- not burning), but then he remembered he had no energy and will to do so. Bucky wished someone pushed him into the pool without having his skin graze over the hellfire-like ground. Another surge of roaring laughter erupted from the small crowd. It was most likely Tony cracking one of those past eggs before the attention had been directed to the man whose face was smeared over with crimson red paint. It was Steve.

Although Bucky had been pulled into some conversations, most of them had ended quite abruptly. One of them had been from the forgotten grill that had been sizzling, popping chunks of burnt meat into the covered lid. At least Thor had the decency to shut it. Or else it would’ve resulted in parkour of avoiding the bouncing hot pieces from the erupting volcano. Despite the chatting had been so quick, he forgot what they were even talking about. He blamed it on the weather, and the scorching temperature, which caused his thoughts to be evaporated into the unbearable heat.

Bucky tried his hardest to enjoy the session of the invisible breeze of wind in the hot air (there was only a teasing amount of appearances from the natural cooling method). Well, he was trying his best to see the silver lining of the situation. After all, it was he who had dragged his girl to go to the gathering. There was nothing worse than having to admit your fault when you had been so determined and persistent on pursuing a belief. Oh, the last thing Bucky would do was give that satisfactory to Y/N; even though, she could practically see through his tears.

Freshly peeled can of soda swirled into his nose, the scent of a too concentrated solution of grape rammed the wall of his lungs. It clashed into the delicately layered muscles, no different to that of poison. Less than a centilitre of poison would be enough to yank the soul of the victim before they could even comprehend it was their last day. To see the same effects, one would have to drink around half a dozen of the sodas that had been hovering in front of the resting (would it be called resting if he was dying inside?).

Despite the obvious taste of chemicals that would linger on ones’ tongue for the whole day even though they had been scrubbing the bristles of their toothbrush on the flap of muscle with immense force, the brand had still insisted on the ‘No artificials’ plastered on their metal cans. The enormous label that was the size of the can’s name was plastered at the top in bright yellow, the outline had been bubbly with a faint shadow that had exposed the grainy pixels. What a way to catch attention.

His eyelids fluttered open as jumping droplets of the soda pierced onto his face. No different to that of popcorns springing out from the machine. Standing beside the chair was Sam, who offered the drink to Bucky. Despite Bucky squinting through his nearly closed eyelids, he could tell that Sam was not at all affected by said-weather.

There Bucky was, having a courtroom debate in his head to the burning temperature, while his friend had been at the merciful end. There were evaporating beads of sweat that trickled down the sides of his face, nothing a swipe from his hand cannot remove. Even though Bucky was sauntering down the lane of jealousy, he was tugged onto a screeching halt in realization. A can that had been freshly plucked out from the icebox was in Sam’s hand. Then, all that glittered in the resting man’s eyes were sparkles of gold as if he had seen his guardian angel who had flown down to save him. His saviour. Wings would look good on Sam.

After mumbling thanks under his breath that came out more of a raspy noise of cheese being grated; he grabbed the can, Sam made a place on the neighbouring chair that was vacant for anyone to use, “Man, Steve’s like a six-year-old who's banned from sugar.” Even though Sam’s eyes were behind the shadowy glasses, Bucky could guess the expression he wore. Bucky chuckled at the sight of his blond friend chugging cans after cans as if it was a competition.

There was no doubt that Steve was in such a state because he had somehow slipped one sip down his throat, which was his first mistake. A mistake that would usually be meticulously watched over by Steve’s other half, Peggy. The woman was the friend in the friend group who sent health benefits of herbs and other green things (unfortunately, not Shrek) to the group chat at two in the morning. Which only left questions and speculations to linger in the air to what she was even doing awake at such times. Maybe it was when Tony had chided for Peggy to let loose of the rope she twirled around the man. Peggy had been persistent that she was loose. So, one thing led to another; the man was now on his third can. Peggy had to watch with her eyes twitching at the hyperactive man. His bloodstreams probably had enough sugar to coat the walls of his blood vessels.

“He’s gonna be a handful for Peggy. Nothing she can’t handle.” The two chuckled at Bucky’s words. It was true, Peggy barely had problem with... taming Steve. They were like a perfect piece of a puzzle, their sides of the parts completed one another. The last time a situation was like so, Steve had been enticed by a sugary pink stick that Tony had lying around, sprawled on his kitchen counter. Once again, one thing led to another, and Steve somehow ended up pounding on his chest as if a gorilla on a table.

Sam hummed, muscles dancing against the ticklish bumps on the chair, “He’s on a leash, I tell you.” Eyes shut tight, Sam practically melted into the seat. Maybe it was from the heat, but as Bucky brushed his eyes over the relaxing figure, he knew Sam found solace in the air. The chilly liquid crawled down his throat.

The silence from the chilling man had only answered to his suspicion that Sam was in fact, fast asleep. The corners of his lips curled up at the sight of the man who was infamous for never finding the time to relax. Sam associated himself with parties; when the man’s mindset had set onto the things that needed to be done on his desk, it was difficult to stir him away from the focus. Bucky recalled the time he had stumbled on Sam who had splayed out on his office floor since the man had pushed himself to complete the batch of work. He still remembered the worry he had at the sight. The only evidence that the man was not dead but just slumbering was the presence of his pulse thrumming.

Shifting his body back to his previous state, Bucky could feel the prickling of kisses from the sun on his hairs. Although he was enjoying the dream of returning back home, all his work completed, waiting for him on the desk, whoever watched over him disliked the idea. The sheets he would have to go through would consume nearly his whole day, if he was unlucky, it would bite off a chunk from his weekend. Oh, no. The weekend was his only method of escape to ignore the existence of work. A vibration echoed from his phone, shaking an earthquake through the glass table. The noise trickled into his ears, shattering the glowing imagination that was too good to be true.

The groaning from the device pierced through the table once again, calling out for its owner, “Hey, Buck, think you could... run a little errand for me?” Before he had the chance to flip the phone to glance at the notification, Bruce stood in front of the burning source of light, shielding Bucky’s blinded eyes. The sneaky ray of light bounced off the umbrella. Bucky quirked an eyebrow, confused to the vague sentence.

“Errand?” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What happened to your new secretary?” Bruce let out a sheepish chuckle, fingers scratching the nape of his neck as he replayed the memory which he now wished he could forget.

“Yeah, about that, I accidentally gave her a leave...” A chuckle fell off the resting man’s face, Bucky shook his head in disbelief. Oh, Bruce. Always expect the unexpected with the man. There had been countless of times Bruce had a word slip off his tongue, most of them were nice. Too nice. So, it didn’t shock Bucky that the man had somehow allowed his new secretary to take some time off. Never will they forget the time they went to a cafe, and Bruce somehow ended up buying a dozen coffees. The doctor blamed it on the enticing offer, one he couldn’t pass off. But the team knew. They knew the cashier cast a spell on him.

“Sure, what’dya need?”

A hand clasped onto Bruce’s shoulders, causing the man to hiss a wince through the cracks of his teeth, “Why’d you run away like that?” Rising from the back, a shadowy figure soon stood next to Bruce. Thor’s booming voice banged into their ears in surges of boisterous pitches. It was a habit the man had, a little quirk, he did. Thor’s way of talking was screaming; although, he had denied being that loud, “You wanna ask Bucky to do it?”

“Do what?” Bucky stared at the two, eyes darting, lost from the lack of context.

“Yes! I do!” Bruce grumbled back, annoyed that Thor had scurried from the circle he was just in, to follow the man. All Bruce wanted to do was mumble the words in secret, away from the people that might whisper his words to other ears. The two fell into bickering. Bruce was prominently shorter than the towering figure of Thor, a reason to why Bruce’s neck would be needed gentle massages later on.

Bucky grabbed his phone, he leaned back with a huff. If the man wasn’t confused already, he had no clue why his girlfriend who sat on the other side of the pool had texted him. Their eyes met. Bucky didn’t know how to react when he saw her shoot a coquettish smirk into his perplexed eyes. Ardent thumbs pressed the password before he clicked on the messaging app.

Then, his heart dropped out of his ass.

The photo of his girl in fiery red lingerie struck a chord in him. Well, snipped away his connection to reality as he tried to digest the picture. It was mostly indulging in the way her skin filled up the brassiere and the garter. Not to forget the accompanying message. Need your fingers in me, “Right, Bucky?”

Bucky didn’t know how fast it took him to switch off his phone, “Huh?”

Thor let out a loud cackle, no different to that of a cracking thunder that zapped the innocent field. Bruce walked away in defeat, shoulders curled down. Noticing the confusion in Bucky’s eyes, Thor chided, “I said some people don’t even listen to what Bruce say. You proved my point.”

The man didn’t have the chance to say anything since Thor paced away. Then, everything flipped.

“Holy shit!” Tony yelled out, his neck veins so close to the surface, it nearly burst the vessel. Without having to say anything, everyone did their part. “Steve! Stop taking so many tissues! I fucking pay for those as a matter of fact! Y/N, could you grab a roll of tissue paper? It’s in the store!”

Pulling her eyes away from her screen, the device was nearly thrown into the body of water at the abrupt change of events. The chaotic mess of shuffling bodies with sheets of ripped tissue papers in their hands that sprinted left and right pierced into her head. What a day for relaxing. Even though she was confused to the commotion, she didn’t need to ask as her eyes brought upon the answer. The bits of meat that had splattered from its main chunk haphazardly pierced the ground, splattering against the floor as if an uncontrollable firearm. Poor burgers.

The woman nodded, sprinting into the house, inching away from the furious grill to avoid being the canvas for its splashes of paint. With her heart thrumming, her feet stomping the ground echoed through the long hallways of the home. Sticking to shuffle in the middle as the path had been blocked by large decorations of lavish vases that sat at her waists’ height, she made sure nothing had been damaged. Y/N was pulled to a screech at the door that resided at the end of the hallway. Practically bursting into the room, she didn’t waste time to nudge everything off the shelves that wasn’t what she needed. The name of the object chanted in her head, echoing as if to remind herself. Everything else was of no use. If her head was a movie theatre and all the seats were take, the audience was probably melting. There was no sight of the needed roll. Her heart sang the last song she would ever hear before it was cut short by the slamming of a door.

“Bucky?” Although she was narrowing her eyes at the figure of the man who leaned on the metal shelves, his eyes amused by her franticness, her attention was averted back to the treasure hunting. Y/N nudged the endless bottles of shampoo aside, not scoring a point of care. She wasn’t sure if it was all for Pepper or Tony. The deep cracks she had meandered through the once organized storeroom didn’t give a sign of the roll. “Not now. I need to find tissues.”

Her words fell on his deaf ears as he persistently rubbed his body into her back. Despite her efforts to shimmy away from him, it seemed the space between the two closed, inching until she could feel a hardness prodding her thigh. A gasp echoed into the air, “You feel that?”

“Bucky! I need to find the tissues.” Y/N managed to breathe out, the words obstructed her throat.

“Then find it,” Bucky’s voice was low, deep as the puffs from his lips caressed her exposed skin. There was barely anything her skimpy bikini could cover. With determination, she continued, ignoring the prominent presence. “Though, I wouldn’t bother. Thor just used a fire extinguisher.”

Even though she wanted to snap her back straight from the news, Bucky’s rigid body blocked her way, “I said find it,” Without warning her, his warm digit nudges her panties aside, dipping into her. A breathy moan trickled into the tranquil air which Y/N tried her best to stifle. There wasn’t any use in pressing her lips together, the way his fingers knew how to rotate her gear had only sent off something in her. Y/N didn’t even dare to cover her mouth with her hand as she knew if she removed the leverage, she would’ve collapsed into the ground. “Sending me photos in public.” Bucky chuckled, not sending the same emotion of amusement to the brutal pace he had pumped his fingers.

He didn’t even bother to tease, pressing his thumb to her sensitive clit, circling roughly. The shelves shake, little bits falling off the surface (thankfully, they were only crumpled up plastic bags). Y/N barely had time to whine about him removing his fingers as she spun around, her lips locking into his, “Bucky...”

The man hummed, his fingers not wasting time to plunge into her, “Wanted my finger. Take it.”

It didn’t take long for Bucky to relish the sight of her head thrown back, chest heaving in surges of breathing. Tongue swirling around the liquid, he hummed at the familiar taste. Y/N had told hold herself back from rolling her eyes.

“What took you so long?” Tony’s eyes darted towards the woman who he had trusted the task of fetching the roll of tissues from the store. The conversation they were having died down, their focus now set onto the exiting figure. Y/N hummed as she practically threw the object onto the wooden table, the legs of the victimized surface quivered. Shivers of the earthquake wavered through the metal rods causing the metal to sing in a falsetto tone as it clashes into its neighbouring accompanies, nearly causing the other occupants of the table to slide off.

“Couldn’t find it.” The words brushed her lips, jumping into the ears of her friends. While she had sauntered off to lay back down on her previous spot, she didn’t notice that everybody’s neck craned to the following body. Fingers weaved through the locks of his hair, Bucky mussed the already messy bundle.

“What?” He couldn’t help himself. The corners of his lips curled up in satisfaction that they had seen the marking he had left on Y/N. Too caught up in the bliss moment, she hadn’t even realized he had left a piece of himself on her neck. The owner of the house threw the utensil on the floor with a huff. Reminder: Don’t invite Bucky and Y/N over.

[simpleb00x]

Attatched

Request: Hey i was wondering if for a fic you could write a castiel x reader where sam and dean find her on a hunt and she’s all injured and stuff so castiel has to take care of her back at the bunker. And she gets like super clingy and stuff. But cas is super protective anyways so its fine. Sry if this is odly specific lmao. I just saw you were taking requests. Please tag me in it as well. :)

@unpublishedpoetryfornerds

Warnings: language, suggestive smut (doesn’t go into detail tho), sexual harrassment?(a weirdo at a bar. Need I say anymore?) angst, fluff, kinda gore?

Word Count: 2,000-ish

Pairings: protective!cas x reader, sam winchester, dean winchester

A/N: okay so, when i was writing the second half i was just after reading a sort of yandere!dean fic so cas comes off a little dom-ish. Like, big top energy. I’m not very good at writing authors notes so im sorry. But I hope you get what I mean. Anyways this was a pretty cool request and I probably wrote more than i should have but screw it. Okay, enjoy!

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-

Castiel’s P.O.V.

To be honest, I wasn’t sure what was going on. Sam and Dean had just walked into the bunker, no not walked, pretty much ran into the bunker. Dean was carrying a figure in his arms, blood staining his shirt. “Castiel! Can you heal her??” He asked, quickly putting the person down on the library table. “I- Let me take a look.” I replied. I brushed the hair out of the young lady’s face and placed my fingers to her forehead, and oh- did I mention that she was beautiful?

“Yes I can heal her. She doesn’t seem to be severly wounded. But I will need to keep an eye on her for a short while. She has suffered a great deal already and I don’t want to risk anything spreading.” Sam and Dean nodded along to what I was saying. “Okay then what are you waiting for!” Dean barked. I turned back to the girl on the table. This time, I placed my full hand on her forehead. After a few seconds, it was visible that she was in much better condition. “Alright. Well, me and Sam need to go and continue this case. But you stay with her. You hear me Cas? Don’t let her out of your sight. According to what we’ve learnt - she has big connections to big things. Even if she doesn’t know about it herself.” Dean said sternly. I nodded.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“So, monsters are real?” He nodded. “And you are an angel?” He nodded again. “Castiel?” I was finding it hard to grasp. But it did make sense. Whatever attacked me that day, was not human. “And your friends.. they kill these bad monsters?” I said timidly. He nodded.

After that, I didn’t go anywhere without Castiel by my side. To the kitchen, the library. The only privacy I really got was in the bathroom. I didn’t mind at all though. This whole thing was terrifying. The attack, the new place, the monsters being real. Castiel was like my rock. Kept me from spiraling out of control. The first night in the bunker. I had a nightmare. It was a bad one as well. Replaying the events of the attack. Me running through the woods, a growl behind me, when I turned to look I slipped and then there was this massive shape above me, pinning me down, and scratching and hitting.

I woke up petrified, shaking and everything. “Y/n?” The door opened and Castiel was standing there. “C- Cas.” I sobbed. Soon he was by my side and the door closed behind him. He pulled me onto his lap and I wrapped my arms and legs around him. He whispered kind words into my hair and kept his arms around me until I calmed down. I didn’t want to let go. He was so warm and his trenchcoat smelt like the earth. Like just after it rains. “Do you want to try sleeping again?” He whispered. “I dunno.” I muttered back. “Here. I’ll stay with you.” He said.

Gently lifting me off him, I lay back down on the bed. He slipped off his shoes and climbed in next to me, his arms wrapping around my waist and my back against his chest. “Is this okay?” He whispered. I could feel his breath on my neck and it gave me goosebumps. “Thank you.” I said in reply. His arms tightened around my middle and soon I drifted off to sleep.

He stayed in my bed every night since then. I told him not to. But he insisted, and every night I found myself curled up next to him. Sam and Dean were back in the bunker after a couple of days. Castiel still stayed by my side, and was even more protective when they were there. “Well. I’d say she’s all better now. Right Cas?” Dean said one evening in the library. “I - I dunno Dean. She’s -,” Castiel started. “You’re right. I’m fine now.” I cut in. Cas clenched his jaw. “Great. I’d say to test this theory. We bring you out for a few drinks. That’ll show us if you’re better or not.” Dean said with a wink in my direction.

We went right then and there. It took a lot of convincing with Cas to let me go. Even though I didn’t understand what the big deal was. I got ready to go out by putting on a little makeup. Some lipstick, foundation, not a big deal. I didn’t do much with my outfit, but I did wear a turtleneck and a pair of baggy jeans. Dean told me I looked hot and Cas said I was pretty. So thats something.

We drove in the impala, me and cas in the backseat. We were sitting right next to each other, and I could almost feel the anger and annoyance radiating off him. I patted his arm gently and gave him a smile. Over the past week of living in the bunker, I’ve learnt to read his mannerisms. I know what he likes and dislikes. To say I know everything about him would be an over statement, but I knew a good amount.

“Here we go. This looks great guys.” Dean said as we pulled in the parking lot of a bar. “Mhmm.” Cas agreed. Sam had stayed at home, even though Dean had been bugging him about it. I got out of baby and followed Dean through the doors, Castiel not leaving my side. We got a nice booth at the end of the bar. It was packed, about ten people were gathered around a single pool table, and the bartender was wiping beads of sweat off his forehead from the amount of drinks he was making.

“Here. I’ll go get us drinks.” I said, getting up. “Beers?” I asked. Dean and Cas nodded. I made my way over to the end of the room, where the bartender was situated. “Three beers please.” I said to him. He nodded and began shuffling around for them. “Hey pretty stranger.” I heard from behind me. A man with dark hair and brown eyes was standing there, his hand gently curling around my waist. “Uh- hi. I- I’m here with friends I’m not really looking for anything -,” I stuttered.

He didn’t care though. Instead, he reached his hand down and grabbed my rear. Which resulted in my flinching away. “I said I’m not interested.” I said, giving him a light push away. “Oh come on. Every girl has got to want just one fun night. I’m sure your friends won’t mind.” He said, whispering in my ear. “I-,” I started talking but soon I found a certain blue eyed angel on front of me. Putting himself between me and the stranger. “She said she’s not interested.” Cas growled.

“Oh, um - sorry man. I didn’t realise that- yeah, I’ll just go now..” the stranger quickly walked away, taking his drink with him. Cas turned around and faced me now, and damn was he pissed. Slamming a twenty on the counter of the bar, he grabbed my hand and lead me away from the bar, and out the door.

“Cas wait!” I shouted, tearing my hand away from his grip. We were in the parking lot, beside baby. “Dean gave me the keys. We’re going home. I’m driving because I know you don’t like being zapped places. Okay?” He barked. I cowered away from him. “Cas what’s wrong? Why are you being so- so annoying!?” I said, my voice getting louder the more I spoke. He was possesive thats for sure. But damn it was one guy.

His features darkened and he took my hand again, this time pushing me into a nearby alleyway and pinning me to the wall. My breath was caught in my throat as I stared into his dagger blue eyes. Why did I feel like this? “Because he touched you. He touched you and you’re not his to touch. You’re mine.” He growled into my ear. I felt my stomach get butterflies and my knees become weak. Just the last bit, ‘you’re mine’ made me want him so bad.

I wrapped my hands around his neck and kissed him. My lips met his and he tasted like honey and vodka. I moaned as he kissed back, his tounge tracing the inside of my mouth. His hands on my waist. Still pushing me against the alleyway wall. I pulled away for a breath, my hands under his trenchcoat. “I don’t care that you don’t like being zapped. We’re going to my room.” He whispered roughly.

The next morning I woke up, tangled in the sheets with the angel. He doesn’t sleep, but he still stayed with me. The entire night. “Hi.” I said. He grinned, gently resting his palm on my cheek, “Hi.” He said. His hand wandered down the my chest, just below my collar bone. Some words of enochian were carved in there. I don’t remember him doing that. “What does that mean?” I asked him. His hand wandered back up to my face and his thumb grazed my lip. “It says, ‘mine’.” He whispered. His expressions were so soft compared to last night. He really showed no mercy, until I said that I was his and his only. It was hot. Hot as hell. Not literally.

“I’m sorry. I must have gotten carried away and left it there. I can get rid of it if you-,” he started. I shook my head violently and pushed in closer to him. “I’m yours. Okay?” I told him. He smiled, using both his hands to play with my hair, and then push it out of my face. “That’s my girl.” He said, planting a rough kiss on my lips once more.

[bucky-at-bedtime]

It Could Be Worse

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader (friends to lovers)

Summary: You think there’s an intruder in your apartment – turns out it’s Bucky and embarrassment ensues. 

Warnings: Second-hand embarrassment, whoops. Also nakedness. and making out. It’s wild. 

A/n: I don’t really know what this is but... here you go?? It’s a bit of fun, I promise. Also, this is just a short break from the hiatus while I had inspiration – we’ll see if it stays lmao. 

Wednesday

It was early – not even 7am – but the sun had woken you up, just moments before your alarm. You had hopped into the shower immediately, letting the warm water run across your sore muscles and making an effort to wake up.

You were about to get out, when you thought you heard your front door open.

Through a haze of steam and sleepiness, you sprung into action. At this point in your life, you’d learned to keep a gun in almost every room of your apartment – being an Avenger was wild. You stepped out of the shower, pushing your wet hair back and pulling a towel around yourself, before opening the bottom drawer and pulling out the ‘bathroom gun’.

You left the shower running, hoping the intruder wouldn’t hear you coming as you tiptoed down the hall, gun up in front of you, safety off and fingers hovering above the trigger. You could hear your heart pumping in your ears, knowing it was possible that you were about to walk into a gang of Hydra agents or thugs – once again, being an Avenger? Wild.

You turned into the kitchen, finger twitching over the trigger as you noticed the shadow standing at your open fridge, and as they turned to face you, you jumped into action – but the rushed movements of bringing the gun up to aim, caused you to lose your grip on the towel.

“Oh, my god! Bucky!” you scrambled for the towel at your feet, pulling it up to cover as much of your naked body as possible, clutching tightly at the edges. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

You didn’t need to ask – as soon as you realised it was him, you remembered what day it was. Wednesday. The day Bucky picks you up to get coffee. Definitely, not an intruder.

“Uh– I… shit, I’m sorry, the door– I mean it was unlocked and–” he was rambling, stuttering like he always did when he was nervous. A deep shade of red had saturated his cheeks as he turned away, running his hands through his hair. “I thought I’d just… wait for you here– I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ‘ve– I didn’t see anything.”

It was a lie. You both knew it was a lie. He had seen everything. He basically had to battle himself to tear his eyes away – your bare skin made his heart jump from his chest, but you had no idea that your hold in him was as tight as your newfound grip on that towel. He thought the words might give you some comfort. He also didn’t want to admit how much the brief glimpse at your bare body affected him.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s... fine. Not completely your fault.” You clicked the safety of your gun back on and placed it down on the kitchen bench with a sigh. “I’m gonna go... get dressed.”

He groaned when your bedroom door shut behind you and fell back onto one of the seats in the kitchen, running his hands over his face. He was pretty sure he was never gonna get that image out of his head.

Monday

That was all it took – a brief moment of embarrassment, and now you would hardly even look at Bucky. He had tried, at first, to make normal conversation – asking you for new Netflix recommendations and bringing you cups of tea like he used to – but there was always something off. You had stopped making eye contact, and even when you did, it wasn’t the same. He was pretty sure he’d ruined a perfectly good friendship.

Sam was sick of hearing him complain.

“Dude, if you don’t shut up about her, I’m going to jump out of a plane. Without my wings.”

“Please do,” Bucky grumbled back, throwing another punch at the bag.

“I’ll tell you what needs to happen – she needs to get even.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Oh come on – it happens in TV shows. She just needs to see you naked, and everything will fall back into place.” Sam stopped, tipping his head back to take a gulp of water and wiping the sweat from his face with his t-shirt. “Maybe she’ll even like what she sees,” he smirked, sending Bucky a wink.

Bucky flushed in embarrassment (he seemed to be doing that a lot these days) and turned back to pick up his own water bottle. “That’s so dumb. That would just make things worse.”

“I thought you said things couldn’t get any worse.”

“Well, you seem to have found the one way they could.” Bucky hiked his gym bag over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at Sam.  “I’m going to hit the showers and head home – you and Steve still coming ‘round for the game tonight?”

“As long as you have beer in your fridge.”

Sam almost didn’t notice the middle finger that Bucky held up as he disappeared into the change rooms.

It was only a few moments later that you waltzed into the gym, ready to train. Sam spotted you immediately and a cheeky smile made its way to his face. He had a plan.

“Hey! What’re you doing?”

You gave him a confused look, raising an eyebrow. “Working out?” you deadpanned, changing direction to walk towards him.

“You said you wanted to learn how to box properly, right? You want a quick lesson?”

You knew how to punch – of course, you knew how to punch. You’d learned a lot of different fighting styles in your life, but never classic boxing. You figured it could be useful when your sparring with the others who knew it.

“Uh, yeah, why not?” you dropped your bag beside his, smiling thankfully at him. “You got spare gloves?”

He smirked – mission success, but you missed it, glancing around at the boxing ring and punching bags. You were excited to learn something new, and glad it was Sam teaching you. You knew if it was Bucky, you wouldn’t be able to focus.

“Yeah, they’re just in the locker room – I don’t think anyone’s in there.”

You started for the change rooms, oblivious to the running shower that had just shut-off, already trying to pump yourself up to train. You failed to notice the lump of clothes on the floor, or the bad sitting on one of the benches.

When you turned the corner, glancing behind a few shelves, you felt the air escape your lungs.

It was as if you had both frozen. Your eyes were wide and your mouth had dropped open, unable to tear your eyes away or even move. You were in a state of shock. Bucky’s hands were loosely holding onto long strands of hair, not even moving to cover himself out of complete surprise.

And then everything clicked.

He spun, hands covering his crotch. You got an eyeful of his perfect ass before you turned away, bringing your own hands up to your temples. Your heart was beating fast and you were saturated in embarrassment.

“Oh! Oh my god, that’s your– Bucky, you’re…” You felt heat rushing to your face and squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment.

There had never been any doubt in your mind that Bucky would look good with his clothes off, but seeing it in the flesh was so much better than you could ever imagine. Even after turning away, the image was seared in your mind – the glistening droplets of water clinging to his smooth skin, the defined muscles along his abdomen and the cut V-line leading right down to–

“What are you doing in here?!”

You tried to blink away the image, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Holy shit I’m sorry– Sam said there was no one in here and I was just coming to grab– y’know what? I’m just gonna go.”

The roles had suddenly been reversed – you were the one struggling through your words, the one stuttering over an apology while Bucky scrambled for a towel, or some shorts, or something.

You found yourself practically running from the locker room, still too shocked to respond to Sam’s faux confusion. You raced out the door. You really needed some fresh air. Or a cold shower.

You had almost made it to the elevator when you heard Bucky’s footsteps – he was running after you, and as you glanced back, you saw him haphazardly pull a t-shirt over his head, not seeming to care that it was on backwards.

You anxiously pressed the down button, praying that the doors would just open before Bucky got there. You almost cheered in excitement when they opened, allowing you to slip inside. But you did not account for how long they would take to close.

The first thing you saw was Bucky’s metal fingers, curling around the side of the door. His body followed, cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. His hair was messed up, wild and still damp from his short run.

“Stop,” he huffed, holding his hands up as a sign of surrender, “You have to stop running away from me.”

You turned away from him again, running your hands across your face. God, you couldn’t look at him without wanting to jump his bones.

Bucky, on the other hand, couldn’t stop looking at you – even with your clothes on, you were the most beautiful, irresistible thing he had ever seen. He realised how much he missed your smile – the one that used to warm up a room. He missed the look in your eyes when you looked at him.

Silence had fallen in the elevator, an awkward intensity filled the small metal box, but Bucky knew he had to fix this. He couldn’t live like this. He took slow steps towards you, a gentle hand on your shoulder prompted you to turn around.

“Look at me,” he mumbled.

He was close. You could practically feel the warmth radiating off his chest. You realised you were staring at his chin – the stubble there was far less confronting than his eyes and you knew if you looked any further down, that image would pop back into your head. You couldn’t have that – not when he’s standing this close.

“Please.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you took a deep breath, trying to gain the courage to meet his gaze. When you finally opened your eyes, you were staring straight into his, and you were starting to think that was worse than seeing him naked. A shaky breath escaped your lips.

“I know it’s awkward – the last few days have been… so awkward.” He shook his head slightly, but didn’t take his eyes off you. “But it doesn’t have to be so weird between us. Ever since… the incident, things have been… off. And I’m pretty sure Sam just made it so much worse, and I’m planning on beating his ass for that but–”

“I hate not being able to talk to you. I hate not making you smile and I miss what we had– whatever that was.” his hands were suddenly on your arms, warm fingers brushing against your skin. You could feel yourself giving in, and with his final words, you were lost. “I miss you.”

You weren’t sure how it happened, but suddenly your lips were on his. Your fingers were tangled into his hair and you were pulling him down towards you. He froze, but when he realised what was happening, he basically melted into you an arm encircled your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

One hand stayed tangled in his air while the other moved to his shoulder, pushing him back against the elevator wall. Your fingers ran across his chest and the image of his naked body flashed in your mind and suddenly every touch, every brush of his fingers was like a fire on your skin, burning through your body like a shot of expensive tequila.

With a sharp intake of breath, you pulled away, one hand still on his chest.

“Woah,” he whispered, wetting his lips.

The elevator doors opened with a quiet ‘ding’ and you allowed your hand to drop. He pushed himself up from the wall and you both stepped out into the lobby. You were both buzzing from the kiss – Bucky could’ve sworn his entire body had been dipped in ice the moment your lips left his.

You adjusted your shirt and he ran a hand through his hair – but you knew neither of you looked presentable at this moment. Bucky’s short was still on backwards from his rushed exit. Neither of you said a word until you got out of the building, the fresh air seemed to snap you out of your trance.

You reached out, entangling your fingers with his metal ones and pulling him to a halt. The traffic rushed past behind you and his hair fluttered in the breeze. You could feel yourself getting lost in his eyes again and you had to look away to get the next words out.

“Okay, I know this usually happens before two people see each other naked and make-out in an elevator… but, would you want to get coffee?”

“Like, a date?” He sounded shocked, and you couldn’t believe that after that kiss, he didn’t expect this.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “A date.”

“Are you serious? Because I thought you hated me after I… well y’know. And then things were awkward and fuckin’ Sam made it worse. I thought for sure–”

He stopped rambling when you leaned towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I really don’t hate you, James.” you finally looked up at him again, your own face echoing the smile on his lips. “Especially after, uh… seeing everything.”

A chuckle escaped his lips and he threw his head back in amusement. “Oh, so that’s the real reason you asked me out?” he joked.

“Let’s just say its the… encouragement, I needed.”

Tags:

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Bucky Tags: 

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[bluesbarnes]

Sweet Homecomings (Bucky x Reader)

Pairing: Gender Neutral! COLLEGE STUDENT! Reader x Bucky Barnes.

Genre: FLUFF with a lil Angst.

Warnings: PTSD, also the reader getting (playfully) chased.

Summary: Reader has too much homework and Bucky is not having any of it.

Word Count: 1,185

Author’s Notes: hahahaha soooo it’s been a while. I’m procrastinating my research paper and I love Bucky more than life itself so I wanted to write this thing. I hope you enjoy it :)

After clicking the “submit” button, you let out a breath of relief. Your nightmare research paper was finally turned in and out of your hands. The people from your group were also relieved, and after saying a quick goodbye over skype, you ended the call. The laptop let out the most satisfying click as it closed, taking all the stress of the assignment with it.

As much as you wanted to damn it all and go to sleep, the sun was too high in the sky and there was work to be done.

After an internal debate, you responsibly got some papers out of your backpack while irresponsibly hopping into bed, and began to work. You knew that homework should not be done in bed, but you were willing to give it a rest. 

The sun settled over the city skyline, touching the Avenger's tower and casting an intense pink color on your sheets. Engrossed in your work, you didn’t even notice the change in scenery until a very sweaty super soldier walked through the door. Bucky was clad in a black t-shirt, red, nylon gym shorts, and sneakers. His hair clutched the sides of his face in odd directions as hair spilled out from his ponytail onto his temples and neck. He smiled at you. He stank.

“Well, aren’t you the apple of my eye?” you teased. He giggled, setting down his gym bag onto the floor inside your closet. He threw his shirt across the room into the hamper and took his hair out of the ponytail. When he walked towards the bed to give you a kiss and say hello, you laughed and pushed him away.

“Uh-uh.”

“Why?” he smiled, knowing why.

“I’m not kissing you until you’re clean. You stink.”

“Oh yeah?” he teased, his eyes going wide and wild. Although, his smile betrayed him, along with his booming laughter as he chased you from the bed and out of your shared bedroom door. The two of you ran around like children, ducking behind couches and counters and tables. He chased you up and down the stairs and around the counter until he finally trapped you in the kitchen, grabbing you and setting you by the kitchen sink. You struggled and failed to get out of his grip. 

“Jaaaaames! Let me go!” You laughed.

He hugged his arms around your torso and buried his sweaty head into the crook of your neck.

“NOOOO! Get off me, stinky man!!”

He obliged, but not before placing a kiss onto your cheek near the corner of your lip. “I love you, doll,” he chuckled. “I want to spend time with you.”

He had just gotten back from a mission the day prior; a pretty nasty one, at that. Followers of Proxima Midnight and Thanos’s mission created more Outriders and got a hold of several city blocks in Chicago. Steve, Bucky, and Sam went to take care of it, but it was out of control by the time they got there: the infestation taking up almost half of the city. Several more Avengers had to fly in for backup. Bucky had to fortify the whole Central and North Side areas by himself until the backup came. What was supposed to be a three-day fight turned into an all-out battle, lasting three weeks. Even though it had been several years since the dusting, you could tell the toll it had taken on Bucky when he came home the previous night.

You were sitting on your couch with a blanket, trying to distract yourself with a Christmas movie. Distracting yourself from the fact that you can’t call him; the fact that he didn’t come home for Thanksgiving; the fact that he may never come back for Thanksgiving again.

This thought ran through your head at the exact same moment that Bucky came through the door: cut up, bruised, exhausted, and puffy eyed. You held him that night. Fixed his wounds. Listened and relived the moments inside the soul stone and on the Chicago streets. 

Working out distracts him. It also makes him feel safer to think that he can punch one more time, get up another time more if he builds up his endurance. It’s his coping mechanism. 

You didn’t want to think about how hard he had worked out as you wiped the sweat from his brow and returned his kiss. “And you’ll get to spend time with me... as soon as you shower.”

“Say you love me first.”

“You know I love you,” you assured him. “By the time you get out of the shower, I’ll be done with my work and we can hang out.”

He entered the bathroom just as you hopped back into bed, the intense pink color of the sunset long gone. The sun was almost below the skyline as you sat down and got back to work. By the time Bucky was done, you still had a few papers to finish.

“What’s this?” He questioned, leaning on the doorframe, crossing his arms.

You were sat cross-legged under your covers with your textbook open, along with several papers scattered across the duvet. “Um... home... work?”

“You said you’d be done,” he pouted.

“Just a few more minutes and I’ll be done, I promise.”

“Okay, fine. But that better be three minutes on the dot; not ‘a thirty minute’ few minutes,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at you.

Ten minutes later, Bucky was done waiting.

When he entered the room again, he wore a pair of fleece pants and a fitted t-shirt. “You said a few minutes,” he said with the most intense pout known to mankind. Crushing all of your papers, he hopped into bed with you.

“Buck!” 

He successfully crumpled every single paper on your bed, cuddling up to you. He rested his head on your thigh and held both of your hands. “You’re so warm,” he sighed into your hands as he kissed them.

“Can I just finish three more questions?”

“No.” He got up and put all of your destroyed papers and textbooks on your desk and pulled you by the arms out of bed. Your verbal protests betrayed your actions, letting him pull you all the way to the living room.

He dropped your arms. You held his face in your hands and kissed him. “I love you. I’m sorry I was so engrossed in my work.” He snuggled his face into your right hand. His beard tickled your palm.

Again, you kissed him. Again. Harder. The pair of you stood there for a moment, enjoying each other’s company.

“I don’t know if I say it too much or not enough, but I love you, Bucky.” You took your hand off of his face and held his metal hand in yours, enjoying the cold surface on your warm hand. With his hand in yours, you led him to the couch. As soon as you had a blanket on top of you, Bucky melted into you. The TV began to play the Christmas movie from the previous night, and you were glad he was by your side.

I haven’t written in so long so I’m sorry if this sucked lmao

~G

[lovedsammy]

All right, ya’ll, I saw Endgame! Major spoilers will be under the cut so if you’re on mobile and it doesn’t work, SCROLL, SCROLL, SCROLL. Also, blacklist ‘a4 spoilers’ and ‘endgame spoilers’! 

Overall? I loved it. There are a few things that REALLY bothered me/disappointed me, which I’ll talk about. As a star rating, I’d say 9/10. 

First for the things that bothered me so I can get that out of the way... 

Complaints: 

- Thor & Loki: It’s no surprise to some of you that Loki is my favorite character (with Tony in 2nd place), and I adore the Thor & Loki bond. So I wasn’t happy at ALL that Loki remained dead, nor the fact that the Loki and Thor bond was completely erased/forgotten. Thor didn’t mention him ONCE, and instead focused only on the bond with his mother, which was, admittedly, beautiful. But the fact that he didn’t think of his deceased brother at all really felt like a disservice. I think it was supposed to be inferred that that what’s Thor’s so depressed about during the film, but it wasn’t TALKED about and instead was played for laughs. Thor’s PAIN was made to be humorous because he let himself go and had a beer belly. And yeah, I can see how at first that can be slightly funny, but it’s really not, if you think about it. Thor was so consumed by depression that all he did was drink himself almost to death. He was a wreck during the whole film and was made to look like a drunken idiot, except for the ending. Making him gain weight just to make him ‘funny’ also rubbed me the wrong way. Being ‘fat’ is nothing to be ashamed of, or funny. Thor’s characterization this movie was a big minus for me, which was disappointing. Him leaving at the end with the GotG made some sense, though, and I’m hoping this will lead him on a path to maybe trying to find Loki, in the past or otherwise. Quill trying to find past!Gamora... maybe it was a hint. 

- Going back to Loki, he showed up in flashbacks from Avengers 2012 which really made my heart swell. Him rolling his eyes at the Avengers, waving ‘bye bye’ to the Hulk sarcastically when he had to take the stairs, taking the opportunity to snatch the Tesseract, not once but twice, and disappearing to God knows where? LOVED IT. It was so nice to see him again, no matter in what capacity. Though I still wish he’d come back for real, ESPECIALLY in that battle at the end. It wouldn’t have taken much more screen time, honestly. They could’ve just shown him arriving with the others at the return, have him fight side by side with Thor, and address Thanos. Maybe hint at some possible control, imprisonment, torture from Thanos? It could’ve paved way for the Loki series. Although, I guess this 2012!Loki disappearing with the Tesseract can achieve that, too, but it would erase all of the development Loki has achieved, and I loved the development. I loved his path to redemption. If they do this, I want a redeemed!Loki, who has a place among the Avengers, not a villain again. 

- Gamora not coming back. I mean, I loved seeing her as her past self, but again... she died by being killed by her abusive father. It leaves a bad taste. 

All right, on to everything else! 

Things that I loved: 

- Nebula and Tony’s friendship! I loved their dynamic a lot. Nebula taking care of Tony, and sitting him upright? My heart. <333

- Tony’s reunion with Steve. Omg their dynamic was FANTASTIC this movie. No leftover resentment from Civil War. It really made me love their friendship that much more. 

- Tony’s reunion with Pepper!

- “I lost the kid. I lost the kid.” The first part I got choked up, of many. 

- omg Scott coming home to see 5 years have passed and his daughter is a teen? omg I couldn’t even handle that. I loved older Cassie, though! 

- THOR GETTING TO KILL THANOS FOR REAL. OMG I CHEERED. It didn’t help his vendetta, though, and once the revenge was complete, he had nothing left, which makes sense. His hate for Thanos was what drove him in Infinity War. He fell into a huge depression once that was taken from him. And why I wish, again, that this hadn’t been used for laughs!

- TONY AND HIS DAUGHTER!!! omg dad!tony was the CUTEST AND SO WAS MORGAN. Tony’s my 2nd fave character in the mcu, so seeing him happy, living life with his wife and daughter? perfection. The “shit” scene was both hilarious and sweet. “Go to bed or I’ll sell or all your toys” and Morgan laughing because she knows he won’t. <3333333333 

- “I love you 3000″

- Clint and his family!

- Natasha saying that her family is the Avengers. 

- the time travel was well utilized, even if it makes my head spin a little. XD 

- LOKI LOKI LOKI 

- “that is america’s ass” lmao

- steve saying ‘hail hydra’ and it WORKING

- tony and steve just KNOWING how each other thinks and using that to formulate the same plan, of going back to grab the tesseract? genius! 

- There was so much foreshadowing in this movie at the beginning and middle of how this was going to end. Tony was unwilling to help at first because he didn’t want to lose what he had gained, and Steve kept saying he was over Peggy but by looking at her in the past, it was clear that he wasn’t, and that was where he wanted to go. I’ll touch on both those things more later.

- Tony getting to talk to his father, and finally come to terms with that relationship, and understanding/loving him... ow my heart. That hug was amazing. 

- Thor getting to talk with his mother, getting that closure as well. This movie centered a lot on family. 

- Clint willing to die to get the soul stone, but Natasha also willing to, and fighting over it, who had the strongest will to sacrifice themselves for everyone else. Their dynamic is also one of my favorites, and even though Clint is happily married with a family, part of me still ships them, and I loved those final moments together. 

-”Let me go. It’s okay.” Natasha’s death was one of the first scenes that got me outright bawling. I adored her, and her death hit me hard because I was NOT expecting it. And for her to die as she did, willingly, with no restraint.... she wiped the red out of her ledger for sure. :( R.I.P Natasha. I’m so sad that they couldn’t even get her body to give her a proper burial. And everyone’s reactions after... devastating. 

- I didn’t think Bruce using the Gauntlet was going to work at first. But once Clint’s phone started ringing, I breathed a sigh of relief and just waited. Then past!Nebula had to ruin everything by getting Thanos to blow up the Avengers HQ.

- Touching on this, btw: Thanos really is the Avengers strongest opponent. He was too clever using the two Nebulas (UGH) as he did, and he almost won again without even breaking a sweat. 

- The. entire. fight. Literally, all of it. Thor using both of his weapons, Tony and Steve giving it their all... omg. 

- The second Steve used Mjolnir, my entire theater screamed, and same, tbh. Thor’s “I KNEW IT!!” was everyone. It was nice continuity with AoU when Thor’s expression hinted that Cap was worthy. YES. 

- It took me a minute to realize that Sam was back, and when it did, I sat there going “IS IT REALLY IS IT REALLY IST THIS HAPPENING OH SHIT”

- AND IT DID!

- Everyone coming out of that portal, focusing on each of them. Omg the theater erupted. 

- “AVENGERS.... assemble.” cHILLS 

- WANDA GETTING BACK AT THANOS’S CRAZY ASS, HELL YES! “I don’t even know who you are.” “You will.” YES, QUEEN. 

- THE WOMEN TEAMING UP!

- Tony and Peter. The hug! The shock from Tony that this boy that he looks at as his own son, the relief that he’s alive, okay.. hi i’m crying again. 

- The second Stephen raised that single finger, and Tony knew what it meant. And we all knew what it meant... 

- “I am inevitable.”  “I am... Iron... man.” 

- Tony’s death hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was sobbing before he’d even collapsed to the floor. Watching the color drain from his face, and his body become so badly damaged.... I knew it was over for him. 

- “We won, Mr. Stark. Come on, you did it, sir, you did. I’m sorry, Tony.” I CANT EVEN HANDLE THIS. PETER DIED IN FRONT OF TONY, AND NOW TONY DIES IN FRONT OF HIM. This surrogate father/son duo hurts me and I feel so much. 

- PEPPER AND TONY. THEY DESERVED BETTER, DAMN IT. THEY DESERVED TO BE HAPPY AND TONY DESERVED TO WATCH HIS DAUGHTER GROW UP. ;A; “We’re going to be okay. You can rest now.” Rip out my heart. Just rip it out. 

- As painful as Tony’s death was, it also felt.... perfect, in ways. He gave up his chance to keep things as they were to save everyone else. He did tHAT. He gave everyone else their families back. He died a hero, a true hero. I feel more at ease with Tony’s death, despite how unfair it was, because unlike Loki, Tony had achieved everything he meant to. He had a little girl who he loved so much and was an amazing father to. He had a son, who he taught to be a hero, too. He had a wife who will go on to keep Stark Enterprises alive. They’re Tony’s legacy. 

- The funeral was SO heartbreaking, I was a crying mess. Happy and Morgan... :( </3

- ok so I’m 50/50 on Steve’s ending. He goes to return the stones to their proper time, and then stays behind to have a life with Peggy. Which, I mean... I’m not opposed to, and I think Steve deserves his happy ending too, but... it also hurt because not only was he leaving Bucky behind, he also left his friends behind. Friends that were already hurting from losing Natasha and Tony. And then to leave them like he did.... it felt... I don’t know, not wrong, but insensitive, considering what had just happened. Everyone had lost enough, and then they had to lose Steve, too. Although, I see his frame of mind. He’d lost so much as well. He wanted to have something for once, something happy, and he took it. I can’t blame him for that. I just wish his timing had been better. 

-Bucky just knew that Steve wasn’t coming back as himself. He knows him so well. And his nod at Sam to let him take up the mantle... I knew it was going to happen, but I thought it’d be different. I’m fine with this, though. Steve’s retired. He can rest now. 

- Tony’s voice over at the end was beautiful and perfect. That is all. 

I loved this movie a lot, and can’t wait to see it again eventually! I had complaints and things I wish they’d done/fixed, but overall, the good outweighed the bad. 

[kennyyomega]

ch | stevie brewin & GUESS WHO lmao it’s sam sorry 

This is your least favourite part. It’s gross, it’s messy, it smells, and it’s just so goddamn tedious.

You wipe your forehead, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and kick at the mess on the floor of the motel room.  

“Stop. Letting. This. Happen.” Each word is punctuated by a heavy kick and a thud. Your shoulders slump forward in eventual defeat, a long, weary sigh escaping your lips. You swear you can already feel how your muscles are going to ache in the morning, but nobody else is going to clean this mess up for you. Buck up, kiddo. It’s you against… Well, you’re not sure who you’re against yet.

It used to take you six hours to clean up, but now it only takes you four. The cleaning itself is fine; you’re used to this by now and it’s made easier with the new industrial washing machine you have out back. Your knees still hurt and your back still aches after meticulously getting into all the nooks and crannies, but you do this so regularly (down to the minute!) that it barely registers until the morning after.

Your least favourite part, though, is the last part. Before you’re even close to done your shoulders are screaming in agony, a splintering ache that mockingly inches its way up your neck.

You bend down, you push, you pull, you dump. Then you do it all in reverse. By the time you’re done you’re sweating in the midsummer night’s heat, chest heaving with exertion.

“For-- fuck’s sake.”

You take a step back and admire your handiwork. It’ll be a while before grass starts to grow over, but it’s not like it’s grown back in any of the other spots back here. There’s no need to hide what you’re doing out here every Thursday anyway. Everybody already knows. They understand.

Sort of.

Whatever. You push those thoughts from your mind and toss the shovel on top of the fresh dirt. All you want right now is a cold glass of water and a shower. You smell like dirt and copper, and despite your best efforts your hair is a mess of it, too.  (Nevermind your clothes, but that’s what the industrial washer is for, remember?)

A moon seems to blink down at you from the sky and in an act of defiance that would baffle naive onlookers you give it the finger and a foul expression. The night’s first breeze blows past with the sound of a mocking chuckle coming from somewhere in the distance. You shake your head and mutter, “If only I could fuckin’ sleep…” on your way back inside.

Your room here at the motel is just within reach when you hear the unfamiliar sound of a car door slamming shut. It makes you flinch and slowly turn. Nobody ever stops here. Nobody ever stays here. Not since the murder anyway.

Who the fuck could it be?

Your mind runs through a number of names and faces, but the person standing in the parking lot wearing sunglasses in the dead of night is entirely unfamiliar. 

Shaking a hand through your hair and wiping away the dirt from your hands and face off on your shirt, you call out, “H-Hi there. Hi. Can I help you?”

Sunglasses stares at you - or maybe past you; it’s difficult to tell with, you know, the glasses on - and the moment drags on and on and you’re already thinking of excuses about your appearance, but he eventually says, “Uh. Yeah. You work here? I need a room.”

You stare at him open-mouthed. A nervous skittering arcs up your spine and your eyes dance around your surroundings, waiting for the punchline to this joke.

You wait, he waits.

Then you say, a little shakily, “Sure. Yeah. Let me grab you a key.”