#reader inser drabble

[ga-lily-o]

Meet-cute Through a Window (Though it Shouldn’t be Possible)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of plague, a bit of swearing (couldn’t help myself, really), good ol puppet fear, I love P so much he’s so everything to me

P x (gn) reader

In the ruins of an ever rotting city, love is the last thing you’d expect to find. Rubble cannot foster the gentleness love necessitates, nor can it pretend to. In the ticking heart of a special puppet, filled with oil and ergo ever pulsing, love finds a way to fester. Pinocchio proves to be an exception to many things, and in loving you he has become an exception to the very notion that love cannot find purchase on the ledge of a burning society.

You meet through a window tucked away in the far corners of Krat, one you’d thought to be hidden from the puppet frenzy. It had been your honest mistake; a moment of forgetfulness wherein you peaked through the curtains and found yourself under his curious blue eyes. Crystalline and shining, they shocked you frozen to the spot. Any initial noise you might have let out dies with a weak flutter in your throat and you beg internally for this person to be a person and not a puppet.

A small whirr fills the air in the next second and your heart drops into your stomach. His expression is unchanging even in the face of your panic, but his shoulders sag (—holy shit is that a sword on his back?) in something like surrender and he tilts his head.

If you didn’t know any better, he might have just looked like a curious, yet apathetic boy peering at you through your window. With the sword on his back and the gentle whirr that rings in the silence, it’s hard not to know better. Never mind whatever the fuck is on his metal arm, you’re just ignoring that for the time being or you’re sure to go mental.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispers at the same time you say, “Please don’t kill me.”

If he’s surprised or hurt by what you say, he doesn’t (or probably can’t) show it. The words are muffled through the glass, but you’ve trained your ears to hear through the small opening at the bottom. He holds both palms open and says nothing else.

You… want to trust him, really. More than just the fact that his eyes are so pretty they shine like a fantastic lake straight out of a story book; or that his freckles paint him like an old, long dead painter might have painted the stars. You want to trust him in the open and gentle way he seems to offer up his hands and promise you more than what the rest of Krat has since the frenzy.

In the rubble of a burning city crashing in on itself, there is not a speck of gentleness to be spared. This— puppet has it in spades, and it draws you out of your panic just enough to pull the window open bit by bit. You do not break his gaze for a moment as you tug it up and open, and he is patient enough not to be the first to do so. Instead, he stretches a hand out to you and waits for your warm skin to meet the cold smooth synthetic surface of his own non-legion hand.

It would be just your luck if somehow puppets learned how to lie, too, but something tells you he means it wholly and honestly when he insists he will not hurt you. The whirring picks up gently, almost imperceptibly quicker, but you don’t pay it any mind. The edges of your instincts are sharp with distrust, but you lay your hand and life in the hands of this puppet and find yourself minding it less and less with each second.

A loaded pause passes— you stare down at your hands barely touching and he watches you with that same, frozen expression. You thickly swallow before you wrap your fingers around his hand and look up right into those beautiful blues.

“Would you… like to come in?”

Now, you don’t have much experience in how to fuel (feed?) an automaton; wasn’t your job before the frenzy and certainly hasn’t become since, but you could learn. It’s a silly thought to have, but you haven’t had a guest in god knows how long and a sharing a cup of tea sounds lovely (if puppets could even have tea). And — sure, maybe openly inviting the literal enemy of every human being in Krat into your house isn’t the smartest thing to do, but you can’t help it. More than just his pretty face, his gentle hand caresses yours so softly and the nod he gives is so warm that in the loneliness of having been the last sentient thing in the area, you couldn’t help but falter.

The world around you tastes of ash and rubble, but you meet someone who seems to bring about a breath of fresh air. His eyes are bright like ergo, and his hair fluffs like a black cloud. When he nods ever softly, something whirrs and clicks in the air. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you don’t know if it’s really out of fear anymore.

Your world ended in a frenzied flurry of plague and massacre; it started again when you peaked through your window and met him.

[waynes-multiverse]

Ok hear me out. I got this idea after the episode of Dean getting his "virginity" back and hooking up with the porn star when he's digging through her dresser and finds the DVD of her ANYWAY

Best friend Dean who's been pining after you for sooo long but doesn't want to fuck it up and lose you. You're hanging out when you ask him to go grab something from your room and he's digging through your drawers looking and accidentally comes across some lingerie and now it's days later and he's so hot and bothered cuz he can't think of anything else (the boy has a serious panty kink lets be honest) and you catch him in your room going through your drawers again and OH

A/N: As I warned y'all, this is a longer DD because, well, the prompt was long, so it's not really my fault. All that backstory took on a life of its own, but I think no one will be mad about it 😅 Again, I had tons of fun with this one! You'll see 🤣

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, a ridiculous heat wave, friends to lovers (Wayne's Version), crack, a panty kink, some sneaky fluff, and some hot lovin' aka smut (oral f & face sitting)

Word Count: 4.5k (whoops)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Cruel Summer

“You open the beaches on the 4th of July, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for Christ’s sake…”

As Jaws flickered across the screen in the Dean Cave, the green-eyed hunter adjusted himself in his seat. Usually, he had perfect control over himself and his feelings for you.

But on some days – like today – when you sat right next to him on the couch in nothing but a loose t-shirt and some short sweatpants, fanning yourself with an old magazine of Busty Asian Beauties as beads of salty sweat collected on your forehead and trickled down your neck, you made it hard for him.

“God, I’m so hot,” you sighed exhaustively and sunk further into the couch cushions, lifting your shirt from your sticky skin to let some cool air to your boobs as a heat wave ravaged through Kansas.

Painfully hard.

“Dean?” You pouted with your best puppy dog look at your best friend.

“Huh?” Dean was in trance, watching you more than the movie, always on the edge of getting caught one of these days.

“We’re out of Sour Patch Kids. I have more in my nightstand. Can you get them for me please?” you asked sweetly. “I don’t wanna move. I might actually die from heat exhaustion.”

Dean sighed and wordlessly rose from his seat. He knew you always kept an array of salty and sweet midnight snacks in your room in case you got hungry and didn’t want to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Moreover, he was grateful for the break. God knows he couldn’t stand to be around you any longer, or he would’ve been too tempted to rip your clothes off and really make you sweat.

I’ll show her a damn heat exhaustion, he thought with a scoff.

Hastily grabbing the desired snack, his green eyes then caught something red and lacy sticking out from the first drawer of your dresser. The hunter knew the decent and honest thing would’ve been to just keep moving and leave your godforsaken room.

Turn around, as Bonnie Tyler sang. But for some reason, his bright eyes couldn’t resist, his curiosity overtaking him.

Dean opened the drawer with the intention to push the naughty little clothing item back into its place and out of sight. Get rid of the temptation, so to speak. It sounded like the perfect loophole. He got to touch it and look at it, but for a very heroic and noble reason – not because he was a creepy perv, violating his best friend’s privacy.

On some level, Dean knew he’d never stand a chance with you. He wasn’t good enough. He had so much baggage all his suitcases wouldn’t even fit into the bunker.

A damn touch of a pair of panties you weren’t even wearing was all he would ever get from you.

But then his fingers touched the soft and see-through material, his pads tracing every delicate scarlet thread with precision and care. It was game over for him then and there, cursing himself internally for not resisting harder as his cock twitched joyfully in his jeans.

Dean had laid his eyes on you the second you strolled with swinging hips into that diner in Wichita for your very first case together, a werewolf hunt six years ago. And he had managed to get by without an incident for years since then, even when you moved into the bunker, being rather proud of that achievement. He never wanted to lose you as a friend and didn’t dare to cross a line. Ever.

Recently, though, it became more difficult to keep his distance and not let his thoughts wander. His feelings were magma that slowly had filled a volcano over the years. Each time you did something sexy or sweet or goofy or smart, another drop was added. And now, that damn fire mountain was overdue for an eruption – no thanks to that stupid heat wave.

“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly as the hunter handed you the candy but didn’t settle back down. Instead, he stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands on the backrest.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Dean was sporting quite the boner and wouldn’t dare to come into your line of view. He was surprised he could even walk up straight and not like a caveman early in the evolution.

A hunter gathering panties.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he told you with a somber clear of his throat. As the fan carried a breeze of your perfume to his nose, his grip tightened on the couch.

You turned in your seat and looked over your shoulder at him, raising a surprised brow. “Already? But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he excused and tried his best not to look strained. He forced a tight smile to his lips while his little dude celebrated Spring Break in his jeans. “‘Sides, we’ve seen Jaws like a million times now, Y/N.”

It was a cherished summer tradition between the two of you, watching it every 4th of July.

“I guess so.” You shrugged disappointedly, watching your best friend retreat to his room. Truth was, you loved spending time with Dean and held those little traditions close to your heart.

The Winchesters were your family, the only one you ever had. And while some families wore matching pajamas on Christmas morning, you watched the first two Die Hard movies. You would watch Dean’s favorite horror movies on Halloween. Sixteen Candles and High Fidelity on your birthday, Tombstone and The Great Escape on Dean’s, and some lame-ass foreign language documentaries that you both snored through on Sam’s.

Valentine’s Day was a dreaded non-holiday for all three of you, but for the past four years, someone would leave a box of chocolate in front of your door. The salted caramel ones would always be missing, and it always came with the same Forrest Gump quote:

I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

You knew the anonymous someone was Dean, and you knew he meant it as a joke. Still, you clung to those little traditions. They might seem silly and stupid to some, but to you, they were your lifeline in a world full of darkness.

So, you felt rather saddened Dean didn’t seem to honor them anymore. It wasn’t just Jaws, either. He’d been withdrawing from you for a while, and you didn’t understand why.

Unbeknownst to you, the green-eyed hunter had kept a lacy souvenir from your room.

Now, Dean had managed to avoid you for four days. Every night since his stealthy excursion, he would lie in his bed with your stolen panties in one hand and his throbbing length in the other, feeling goddamn pathetic for sinking so low.

It was probably so low that even his memory foam mattress would remember it.

With closed eyes, he then imagined how the perky globes of your ass would look like covered in crimson lace. How you would stretch out on his bed on all fours, with your ass high in the air and wiggling in front of him. How his fingers would push the wicked material aside to push into you, taking you deep and hard while you moaned his name.

As he ruined tissue after tissue, the guilt would wash over him as soon as he was done. Call it a post-nut epiphany.

Dean knew it was wrong to think those things. He knew he only made it harder for himself to ever look you into the eyes again. Hell, he barely could do it now, even though a part of him audaciously wondered what other treasures were hiding in that drawer of yours. And more pressingly, what ultimate wealth he would find beneath your clothes. If your lingerie was gold, he’d be a creepy-ass dragon sitting on it.

So, Dean tried to avoid you as best as possible. Mostly because, well…

“God, fuck me,” you groaned exhaustively and opened the refrigerator door, leaning against it as the refreshing cold hit you from behind. On top of that, you held a big bag of frozen peas to your sweaty chest. You already wore the bare minimum – some short denims and a white tank top, your hair up in a messy bun.

“I swear underboob sweat is the worst. Just be glad you don’t have tits,” you complained. “Guys, seriously, can we invest in an AC? This heat wave is killing me! This bunker is like one giant oven…”

You watched as Dean squirmed in his seat as he ate his cereal, looking as uncomfortable as you. Surely, the boys were suffering just as badly during those sweltering temperatures, already forgoing the usual flannels and opting for plain t-shirts instead. How they were still wearing jeans was beyond you. When you first moved in, you protested against Dean’s suggestion of Naked Tuesdays, but these days, you were actually giving it a second thought.

“Well, I’m gonna drive to Kansas City today and see if I can get us an AC. Apparently, they’re all sold out, but I figured maybe with a bit of flirting and some cleavage, I can still get us one,” you explained your plan with a bright smirk and wiggled your eyebrows. “What d’you guys think, huh?”

Dean then abruptly banged his fist on the table, spilling some milk from his bowl on the surface. “For God’s sake, Y/N!”

You frowned in confusion at his unexpected outburst. “What’s up with you? Are you having a heat stroke?”

“Flirting, really?!” the hunter barked, his brow shaped into a deeply furious v.

“What’s wrong with that? Double standard much? You do it all the time to get shit,” you countered and watched his jaw clench in anger.

“I do-... not,” he remarked snappily with a fierce finger drilling into the table, clearly lacking a good argument. Sam cleared his throat in agreement with you, but that only earned him a glare. “And Jesus fucking Christ, would it hurt you to put on some goddamn clothes? You’re not even wearing a bra!”

“Did you not hear my tits rant just now? Of course I’m not! ‘Sides, those boobs are gonna get you an AC, so be a little more grateful to them,” you retorted, annoyed with his attitude. You’d think of all the people in this world, Dean Winchester would understand. (And maybe even appreciate it.) “And how can you even tell, huh?”

“‘Cause science, Y/N! You’re literally cooling your tits! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? Nipples!” he vented outrageously. “This ain’t a strip club!”

“It’s 102 degrees, Dean!” you argued, throwing your arms up. “Look, if I could, I’d even go naked, alright? It’s fucking hot!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen without any further comment.

Confused, you blinked at the younger Winchester. “What’s up with him?”

But Sam only shrugged, shaking his head. “Uhm, I don’t know,” he replied, although he could take an educated guess, suspecting his brother’s feelings for you as the culprit.

“Well, alright, I’m going to Kansas City,” you decided without wasting another thought on the older Winchester’s strange behavior. “Text me if you guys need something. I can pick it up on my way home.”

Dean knew he was in deep trouble as his bow legs bolted down the bunker’s hallways. He tried so hard to keep it together, but when he saw you, half-naked and panting in front of the fridge, he quite literally lost his coolness in this goddamn heat wave.

The green-eyed hunter understood a thing or two about torture, but this was the worst of all. He’d rather have a demon repeatedly peel off his skin in hellfire than endure a day more of this fucking madness.

If the temperatures didn’t drop soon, it would be a cruel summer ahead of him.

As Dean heard the door to the garage close, he knew you’d left for your trip and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. At least he’d get a few hours of peace.

With the best intentions, he strolled to his bedroom, but as he passed your room on his way, he found the door ajar. Whatever good motives he had up until this point, went quickly out the window right then.

His hand twitched at the thought of more riches, worse than any trigger finger and competing with a California earthquake, and well, so did the dick in his jeans. It was an addiction at this point, an obsession he couldn’t resist nor get rid off. The fact that it was forbidden and wrong only made it even more appealing. The apple in the garden of Eden.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an anonymous support group for this kind of sickness.

As unbearable shame and guilt collected in his stomach like rainwater in the gutter, his eager hands rummaged through your dresser drawer. There was purple lace and black satin, navy G-strings and white Brazilians. It was never ending, and the hunter couldn’t stop as he picked up each item and let his fantasies roam wild.

God, the things he wanted to do to you were as colorful as your rainbow full of underwear.

“Dean?!”

The green-eyed hunter froze in his place, a white lace panty still bunched up in his large palm. The hair in the back of his neck stood up in shock, a part of him refusing to turn around at the sound of your voice. He was caught red-handed, and he knew it.

“What are you doing in my room?” you prompted, suspiciously cocking an eyebrow. It looked fairly obvious what your best friend was up to, but you didn’t want to accuse him right away, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Frankly, it was quite unbelievable.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean replied and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held up his hands like a criminal during an arrest, the evidence still in his grasp.

“Well, it looks like you’re snooping through my lingerie,” you pointed out bluntly.

Dean nodded, guilt-ridden and reluctant. “I can explain.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m waiting…”

“Right, uhm…”

“Oh, before you scramble for an answer, you should know, though, that I’m aware a pair of red lace panties is missing, and I know the washer didn’t eat them,” you said and raised an expectant brow.

You had a feeling your pervy best friend was behind the mystery of the missing item. Now you knew for sure.

“Man, I always knew you were a kinky son of a bitch, but this is a new level, Dean,” you scolded.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame, scratching the nape of his neck. “Look, uhm, there’s no good excuse. I know I fucked up here. I’ll sleep in a motel tonight until I find my own place. You can stay here with Sam, alright? I’ll move out and won’t bother you anymore.”

As he tried to brush past you, you blocked his exit and grabbed his arm. “So, you’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have? I don’t wanna make you more uncomfortable,” he stated without glancing at you once. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see the disappointment and disgust there. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Oh, so wrong,” you agreed. “I just figured you wouldn’t run away like a coward and take your punishment like a man, you know? Aren’t you at all curious what I’m wearing right now?”

That was when Dean’s juniper eyes slowly wandered to you and caught your gaze for the first time. You smirked as his breathing became heavy and his look darkened and filled with lust. It seemed like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his goddamn bare teeth like a wild animal.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m dreaming,” he admitted, his deep voice part harsh swallow and part nervous chuckle.

“Neither,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

Carefully, you leaned closer, your hands reaching up to cup his scruffy cheeks. Noses nuzzled as your lips ghosted against his with a daring grin. You wouldn’t go further; it was up to Dean to make that final decision.

And then, as no more than a mere second ticked by on the clock, the hunter crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so scorching it made the current heat wave look like an ice age. If you thought you were hot before, now it felt like you were burning in a wildfire.

Dean roughly pushed you against the door, his kiss all teeth and tongue in an uncontrollable frenzy. His dick was hard and thick, straining against his jeans and rubbing along your thigh. Pantingly, you gasped for air and grabbed his hand, guiding it down your body and into your shorts.

“Feel that?” you asked mischievously as his fingers dug through your soaked folds and collected the arousal he caused. A wanton growl left his plush lips. “All for you, baby. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“Shit, yeah, so bad…” Dean rasped huskily against your throat as he worshipped his path down your body, forcing your shirt up till his wet tongue rolled over your pert and still cold nipple.

“Gonna make it up to me, huh? Show me how sorry you are?” you prompted, your fingers raking through his sandy blond and soft hair, eliciting a groan from him every time you tugged a little harder.

Teeth pinched your skin, tongue cherished your taste, and lips left your throat bruised. It was equal parts hot, sweaty, messy, naughty, dirty, and sticky as your bodies rutted against one another, looking for dire release.

With swollen and plumper than before lips, he came back up for air and found your eyes. He kissed you with heated passion once more as if he couldn’t resist to touch you over and over again. He had to restrain himself to be able to speak.

“So, uhm, you sure about this?” Dean asked between labored breaths with an insecure gleam in his green eyes. “‘Cause if we go further, I don’t think I can stop. And I don’t mean just this time but ever… If you want this to be a one time thing, you gotta tell me, sweetheart, so I can mentally prepare myself. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, you know? Not that I care either way… Well, that’s not true. I do care. A lot… But, you know, you’re you, and I’m me, so I’m not delusional. I know there’s no way you would–”

You interrupted his babbling with a kiss, causing the hunter to lose his words. You looked deeply into his eyes and offered him a small smile of comfort.

“Dean, listen to me, okay? ‘Cause this is very important,” you urged, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

He nodded, gulping anxiously. “O-Okay.”

“You’re incredible,” you said and watched him inhale sharply at your words, blinking at you in disbelief. “Absolutely fucking bonkers incredible. You’re right – you’re you. And thank God you are, because you’re the best, funniest, smartest, kindest, and goddamn hottest man I’ve ever met. I’m tired of you not seeing that. As my boyfriend, I really need to you to see that, alright?”

As Dean pensively took in your words, his brow began to furrow. “Boyfriend?”

The corners of your mouth rose to a beam. “Yeah, boyfriend,” you confirmed. “That’s what you want, right? ‘Cause I’d really like that, too.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah… That’s what I want.” Dean nodded eagerly before another swallow followed. “I mean, among other things…”

You bit your lip, smirking. “What other things?”

“Well, uhm…”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, his lips impatiently claiming yours instead. He pressed you hungrily back against the door, massive hands sliding down your sides till they hooked into the hem of your denim shorts and ripped them down to your ankles, leaving you only covered in teal lace. He growled shamelessly at the sight, his thick digits eagerly diving inside.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groaned into your ear, thumbing furiously at your clit. “Every hour of every day…”

“We can do that,” you agreed with a giggle, your arms locking around his neck, fingers carding through his hair in the back.

“Wanna feel your mouth around my–” The last word was muffled as he ravaged your neck, but you understood where he was going with this.

“You can do that,” you said with a smile.

“And fuck, I want you to ride my face,” he declared. That demand left you speechless, making even Dean stop for a minute and look at you. “Too far?”

You shook your head and smirked. “I can do that.”

Before Dean’s mind could fathom your words, you shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. When you stood before him, slotted between his muscular legs, his gaze trailed up and down your body, memorizing every beautiful curve. As your fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, however, the hunter stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on, sweetheart. Don’t you dare take those off,” he told you, his hands rapaciously reaching out to you.

You played with the hem of your top and smirked, your tongue licking over your lips. “What about this? On or off?”

“Off,” he shot back faster than a bullet leaving a barrel.

“You first,” you demanded and grinned. “Remember, this is still your punishment.”

“God, I love getting punished,” Dean mumbled and slipped out of his shirt. He then swiftly shimmied out of his jeans, discarding each item carelessly around the room.

He then took a deep breath as he tugged the waistband of his boxers, his erection already fighting its way out. “Well, here goes nothing,” the hunter said and pulled his underwear down.

You tilted your head to see his hard cock from a better angle as it sprang against his stomach. Your lips parted in anticipation, wondering what he’d taste like on your tongue and how deep you’d be able to take him. You guessed there’d be a struggle ahead, considering how huge and wide he was.

“Oh, I would not call that monster nothing,” you commented with a scoff, your pussy throbbing with need. “Explains all that BDE.”

Dean blushed. It was cute to watch. “Thank you.”

Giggling, you removed your shirt and tossed it at his face, blinding him for a second. You used that momentum to slide onto the bed and straddle his torso. As his eyes finally found you again, he almost choked on his spit when he gazed up at your perfect tits above him. A primal grunt escaped his throat.

With a mesmerized sparkle in his eyes, his hands trailed up your body and cupped your breasts, massaging them roughly as your panties grew damper by the minute. He then pulled you down to his lips and kissed you breathless before he left them with a boyish smirk on his freckled face.

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

And as if his words hadn’t been enough motivation, his hands wandered to palm your ass and hauled you closer to his mouth. He was an impatient one – or maybe he’d waited years for this and was finally tired of it.

Your knees sunk into the mattress on either side of his stubborn head. His fingers dented your flesh as they grabbed onto your thighs. Yours held onto the headboard for support. You tried not to look down, because then you’d see his big lopsided and full of excitement grin.

The same one he had when you found a diner in Kentucky that advertised the biggest burger in America (it wasn’t). The same one he had when he thought he had run into a member of Metallica at a gas station outside of Phoenix (he didn’t). The same one he had when you and Sam gifted him his own beer brewing station for his last birthday (which tasted horrible, but neither you nor Sam had the heart to tell him).

And now, he had that same grin when he was about to be with you.

As your pussy dripped above him, Dean couldn’t hold back his lewd groans any longer. You didn’t even have to lower yourself; he just dragged you down onto his face all to eagerly. His fingers swiped your panties to the side, and before you could even adjust your grip on the bedpost, his tongue darted into your soaked channel as deeply as he could and sucked you goddamn dry.

With several whimpers, you clenched around his wet muscle. If you were water in the desert, he was parched and drinking to survive.

His nose was buried in your folds, rubbing deliciously against your clit as he lapped your pussy in a vicious attack that left you squirming and moaning to a pornographic degree above him. Because Dean was just that – pure porn.

Instinctively and irresistibly, you ground your cunt against him, the vibrations of his keen groans against your sensitive flesh rocking you to the edge of your climax. He ate you out and devoured you like that damn gigantic burger in Kentucky. And as you dared to blink down and watch him in action, he had the audacity to devilishly smirk up at you with the crinkles around his green eyes alone, gauging your every reaction to his touches as if you were a goddamn movie on a silver screen.

You trembled and quivered and screamed as your orgasm electrified every molecule in your body. You white-knuckled the wood in your grip, your body only held up by Dean’s strong arms because God knows your weak legs were useless now.

As wave after wave washed over you, Dean drank every drop of yours, his tongue never getting enough of your taste. The sounds that filled the room were carnal and obscene.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed blissfully and lifted off his face and captured his swollen and red lips in a grateful kiss, your palms finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Your drenched and sensitive cunt settled on his thighs as an egregiously large erection poked your belly and tempted you further.

Dean smirked up at you, all satisfied and confident with his achievement. “I think we have a slight problem, though.”

Your brow knitted, your heart tightening with anxiety. Had you been as disappointing as the burger, beer, and that fake Metallica band member?

But Dean only grinned teasingly at your confused face. “There’s no way I learned my lesson here.”

You snorted and sought out his lips, the kiss giving you a taste of yourself. “We’ll work on that. I might have to nickname you Jaws after this,” you joked.

“Can’t wait for you to explain that one to Sammy.” Dean snorted, chuckling. “Now, how about you hop on again, but this time a little further south, huh?” he proposed with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive twitch of his cock for emphasis.

You giggled with a few nods. “I can do that.”

Was it worth the words? 😝

For all you newcomers and as a general reminder, Dirty Drabbles are always open. I still have quite a few left, but you're welcome to send more in, and we'll add it to the collection at some point 😎🔥

PUT YOUR DIRTY THOUGHTS HERE

TAGS:

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @imsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou

[knmaskitten]

Messy ‹𝟹

Pairing: Nanami Kento x afab!reader.

Summary: You decide to accompany your father to his business party with all his boring-looking co-workers. Until you spot Nanami Kento and you’re not able to take your eyes off of him the whole evening.

warnings / tags: No use of y/n. Reader is in her twenties, a lot of slapping, creampie, praise and degradation kink, almost public sex?, mentions of the pill, unprotected p in v, oral (f recieving). VERY BADLY WRITTEN SMUT. Sorry if i forgot anything, tell me if that is the case !

notes: This was so self-indulgent. I'm really sorry if you read this I'm so bad at writing smut. This was not proof read so enjoy!

wc: 2,296.

minors dni, 18+ only !!

It was a saturday night when your father randomly asked you to accompany him to one of his work parties. It made sense; your mother was on a trip visiting your grandma, and your dad surely loathed going alone to said gatherings. That did not mean it didn’t take you by surprise—this whole boring ordeal—but you loved your dad and ended up agreeing to be his company for the night.

So this is how you ended up at a party with people clad in work attire; ergo, you felt like you were sticking out like a sore thumb. You innocently picked a flowy white blouse and a black pleated skirt alongside a pair of Mary Jane shoes. Even so, you were not going to feel self-conscious over some stupidly boring outfits that only people who gave up on fun could pick. And also, your outfit was super cute.

“He is my boss, little one. He makes my life miserable.” Your dad whispered to you. You saw a man who could easily be an NPC. You chuckled a little bit, rolling your eyes. You couldn’t believe that a boring-looking man could make your dad’s life so difficult.

“So sorry to be you, dad.”

And then, in a sea full of grey and monotonous office workers, you saw him. Toned, tall and well-built. A blonde guy who could easily crush you between his fingers. It urged you to know who he was. He was no different than the others, dressed in caqui pants and a blouse that, to your surprise, was blue and not white like the other ones. It urged you to know who he was, as you slightly bit your lip when you analyzed him from top to bottom. The room felt a little bit more hot with him in it.

You panicked when you saw him approaching you. Did he see you? Did he notice how you looked at him? You were so out of it that you almost didn’t catch him and your dad exchanging greetings. You heard your name escape your dad’s lips, only to be followed by the guy’s voice. Your name sounded angelic coming from him. You had to force yourself to snap out of it.

“This is Nanami Kento, little one.” Your dad told you. “He works with me.”

“Hello, I guess my dad already introduced me.” You looked at him, this time intentionally, and extended your hand so you could feel at least his hands. He took your hand in his firmly and shook it. This left a tingling sensation on the palm of your hand.

The rest of the night, you couldn’t take your eyes off Nanami, It was as if he had a magnet glued to his torso. He drew you in; he looked so deliciously toned that you started to feel the need to see him without this much clothing. What could he be hiding behind his office worker clothes? Was the room always this hot? My god, he was going to make you collapse. 

For a really short moment, he connected his eyes to yours. Stoic as he was, he did not take his eyes off of yours, not once changing his collected expression. And you didn’t know if this was your delusion, your own imagination, but you swore he signaled you with his head and then walked off the crowded place. So, with your heart on your hands, you told your dad you needed to go to the bathroom and followed Nanami.

You caught a glimpse of blonde walking and taking a turn towards the office desks, so you hurriedly followed him. You saw him standing, giving you his broad and muscular back. You licked your lips before saying:

“Nanami-san, are you alright?” You innocently said.

He turned around to face you, looking at your body, unashamed. The curve of your hips, your plush tits, and your ass that was barely covered by your skirt. He slowly walked towards you, cornering you with the wall. You could feel how his chest rose with each breath he took.

“You’re such a little naughty girl. Looking at me all night long.” He clicked his tongue, disaprovingly. “Thought I wouldn’t notice those shamelessly pretty eyes?”

You quivered looking at him; you saw him starting to loosen up his tie, shaking his head in the process. Deciding it was best not to move a muscle, you gleefully decided to admire his movements. 

“Imma teach you to be respectful to your elders, pretty girl.”

He then put his hand in front of you; he looked to be asking for permission. You knew this meant you were tacitly agreeing to something bigger than just a single hand. And you wanted it so bad, so you gave him both your hands. Nanami very swiftly tied both of your hands behind your back with his tie.

“Pretty eyes wonder how they’ll look brimming with tears while you scream my name.” He whispered near your earlobe, nibbling at it. You shuddered, feeling something deep inside your core. He was going to get you wet with nothing, how pathetic of you. You wanted to touch him, to sink your hands into his neatly done hair, to squish his muscles, but you couldn’t.

Nanami brought his hands to your hips, squishing them tightly, while leaving a trail of wet kisses from your ear to the crook of your neck, he stopped there. With one of his hands, he revealed a little bit more of your collarbone and started leaving lovebites there, marking territory. Anybody who could see you will know that you were his.

“You’re so soft.” He mumbled in your skin, his hot breath making you quiver. He looked at you with hazel eyes, hungry, and then kissed you. It wasn’t a sloppy kiss; this was orchestrated, as if he were a director and you were his orchestra. You matched the kiss, it felt as if he was all you needed in your life. Lips clashing, he glued his body to yours, grabbing you by the hips. He explored.

He decided to explore your ass, squishing it hard once, twice, then slapping it. You moaned in between kisses, feeling how his hand pushed your skirt upwards to gain more access to your ass. His other hand went up, landing underneath your blouse and slowly going towards your breasts; he felt them, over your bra. You could feel how his digits applied different kinds of pressure to your sensitive area, how he placed two fingers in between one of your nipples.

“Nanami-san, ah” You moaned when he started playing with your nipple.

Nanami Kento looked like a cool, calm and collected type of guy, and he showed it in every single one of his movements. On the way he ruthlessly flickered and squished your nipple between his fingers, on how he casually stopped the kiss and looked at you—plush lips, pinkish cheeks, and big, lustful filled eyes. You huffed, trying to catch your breath. 

“You look so perfect like this.” He whispered, close to your face.

He started teasing you, touching the hem of your panties, tugging at them. He then pushed you towards a desk, urging you to sit on it. He positioned himself in between your legs and planted a chaste kiss on your covered pussy. You whined at this, feeling a heat rush deep into your core. You could feel it, you were getting wet. He did not make any comments; he just let out a faint chuckle, as if this amused him. Nanami decided to explore the plethora of reactions you could give him. He first felt your clit over your clothed folds, rubbing slow, delicious circles.

Arching your back, you purred a little moan. He then slapped your clit lightly, scolding you.

“Be quiet now, darling. We don’t want your daddy hearing us, don’t we?” 

He resumed his task, pushing your panties aside, he admired how wet you were. He teased you about it, your name escaping his lips in a degrading manner. This made your head feel fuzzy as he acknowledged that this was, in a way, something that couldn’t be discovered. For fucks sake, you were his coworker’s daughter and at least 8 or 6 years younger than him. You felt so lewd, so out of it. Your hands wanted to explore Nanami, to touch his abs and his well-toned chest. God, you hated being restrained, but at the same time, it elicited some kind of deep, twisted pleasure.

He kneeled down inches from your wet, dripping entrance. You caught him licking his lips, and then he pushed his face into you. Wet sucking sounds were all that could be heard, you tried your best not to be noisy, but it was hard, extremely hard. You felt how he used his tongue to lap at your clit, applying the right amount of preassure to send you to heaven. For him you taste sweet, like honey, and he was enjoying you.

He decided his tongue was not enough, so he used your wet arousal to coat his finger and pushed it into you, you moaned. He started thrusting, his moves deep and well-maneuvered, everything was exactly calculated to his liking. You felt how he was hitting that spongy point of yours, with his finger curled up. The little knot in your lower belly grew stronger by the minute; you were a hot mess. Soaked and messy, the squelching sounds and your whimpers echoed in the room, fogging your brain and clouding your senses. He made you feel mushy.

He increased his pace, knowing this would manage to get you on edge. You arched your back and started squirming.

“I’m going to cum soon, Nanami-san.” You gasped.

He started pumping his finger in and out more ruthlessly, inserting a second finger.His fingers felt tight they were thick and long, reaching perfectly every spot that needed his attention. You felt it before him, how your walls tightened around his fingers before you covered them with your juices, coming. He did not stop pumping, helping you through your high. 

He looked neat, as if none of this had an impact on him; you could only discern the hard bulge that grew in his pants. Nanami made eye contact with you, giving you a stern look, and afterwards, taking his glistening fingers to his mouth, tasting you once again.

“You taste as sweetly as you look.” He commented, wiping his fingers clean. “Look at you; I can’t believe you are doing such lewd stuff with your dad’s coworker. Such a naughty girl, might need a lesson or two.”

You whined, not replying to him. It really made you feel aroused by the way he spoke to you, how he treated you like you were the prettiest thing in the world, and then how he reminded you of how indecent it was what you were doing. He gave you a long kiss, in which you battled against his tongue, trying to win terrain in an already lost war.

After that, he decided it was time for you to have him because he unbuckled his pants and took out his length. You saw it sprung free and pushed your legs together expectantly, trying to ease your need. He was large and thick; he pumped his shaft twice, coating it with precum before he asked:

“Are you on the pill, darling?” He huffed.

“Yeah, please, hurry up.” You pleaded, needing him more than you have ever needed anyone in your life.

He gave you a quick slap to your tits, grabbing them roughly afterwards, flickering your nipples.

“You don’t tell me what to do.” He then added, looking directly into your eyes. “Imma stuff you full, sweetheart.” He then aligned with your entrance, entering in one swift motion, leaving you stuffed and flustered. This was nothing like his fingers; this felt a step further than heaven. Bliss was all that you could think of.

He was good, with each and every pump, he managed to undo you more, leaving you in chaos. He grabbed you by the hips with brute force, fiercely. You knew his fingers were going to leave marks on your soft skin. But it didn’t matter as long as he kept thrusting into you, you didn’t care.

You also knew that, after this, no man could ever satisfy you like he did. Nanami was going to leave you broken for everybody else. You could feel him stretching you out, deliciously, feeling the pang that came with him hitting the right spot. He felt your cunt starting to squeeze tightly around his cock, making him grunt.

“Gonna finish inside of you, angel.” He said, dangerously close to your ear. For the first time in the evening, you were able to see him worked up. Pearls of sweat pooled in his forehead, ruining the neatness of his hair, which was now sticking to his forehead.

And you felt your high coming and moaned in answer; you two were a symphony of grunts and whimpers, clouding the room with heat. And with one final sound and whine of his name, you came undone. Covering his cock with your juices. He didn’t stop, though, guiding you through your high and going into overestimulation. He pushed with more brute force into you, pushing you thighs upwards.

You felt his cock twitch and knew he was close. He increased his pace, smashing his hips into your ass, creating even more lustful sounds. After that, he came, saying your name in a grunt and filling you up with his cum. He gave you a kiss and pulled out.

And as if nothing had happened, he fixed his hair and pants and left you there, panting and gasping, messy.

Thank you for reading <3

masterlist and more.

[jjungkookislife]

#25

pairing: jungkook x f. reader. x jimin

genre: fwb, shared crush, ployam, smut [18+]

summary: When you and your best friend, Jungkook, share Jimin as a crush, you send Jungkook over to proposition him.

wc: 297

warnings: polyam!au, implied threesome, implied smut

date: December 2, 2022

"This is stupid!" you growl as you sit beside Jungkook in class.

Keep reading

"It's not! We both have a crush on Jimin. Why would he turn us down? Besides, you're making me curious. You're kinda hot."

"Kinda? Bitch, I'd suck the soul out of you," you scoff.

Jungkook raises a brow. "Really?"

"Shut up. What's the plan? 101, 58, or 33?"

"I hate that we have them numbered," Jungkook chuckles. "25, though."

"Really? Fuck, okay. Only 'cause he's hot."

"I'm going in," Jungkook chuckles, waving as he strolls toward Jimin, who is sitting alone in the cafeteria.

You watch as Jungkook strikes up a conversation with Jimin, looking in your direction after a few minutes. You catch the way Jimin checks you out, licking his lips as he leans in closer to Jungkook, who is proceeding just like you practiced. That's your best friend, securing dick for the both of you.

"Wouldn't you want to fuck us both? Top us both, baby? All you have to do is ask," Jungkook whispers into Jimin's ear. Jimin flushes with heat, nodding. How could he say no?

"Meet us in our apartment tonight," Jungkook whispers, knowing damn well Jimin will show up. Jungkook is quick to kiss Jimin on the cheek, leaving him to daydream about the both of you as you link hands and walk out of the cafeteria toward your apartment.

Once you arrive, Jungkook has you pressed to the wall, a leg around his waist as he kisses his way down your neck.

"Fuck," he groans into your neck. "That was so hot. Fuck, baby. Gonna stuff you full of my cock before he even gets here."

"Kook!" you moan in response.

"Shh, let me fuck you full of me. Remind you who you belong to."

[luna-redamancy]

Hello loser :) I love your work (duh you knew that) Do you think you could do a short little something? Kinda like lazy mornings with Bilbo but this time it’s with thorin? Gosh just... He’s my love and you’re so good and ugh

Anything for you babes ❤️ Here you goooo:

The sun's rays kissed your skin, warm butterflies floating on your cheeks as your eyes fluttered beneath your eyelids. It was Sunday, a peaceful morning with nothing to do. No meetings, no planned appearances, no stress. Not wanting to wake up just yet, you turned to nuzzle your face into Thorin’s chest while throwing your arm around him, his arms still wrapped around you like a child holding a teddy bear, never letting go throughout the night. 

Thorin shuffled slightly, him too being risen by the sunlight, pulling you closer while one hand moved to cradle your head. 

“G’Morning,” His voice was husky with sleep, like a low growl in your ear. Sleepily pressing kisses to your forehead and temple, Thorin nuzzled the crown of your head while you felt a smile begin to stretch your lips. 

“Morning,” You whispered back, leaning forward to press a kiss to his chest, your hand drawing shapes as you rested your head on him. 

Thorin began to run his fingers through your hair, lightly massaging your scalp as you began to hear the songs of the birds, the sun stretching further into the room. Tilting your head up, you gave Thorin a sleepy smile causing him to give you one back. Bumping his forehead against yours, Thorin continued to rub your scalp as he tilted his head to give you a long, soft kiss. Pulling away you two rubbed your noses together in an eskimo kiss. 

Sighing happily you pulled yourself up higher next to him, burying your face in his neck. He smelt of pine and fires, a hint of ale tying them both together. But to you, it smelt like home. 

Thorin dropped his hand from your hair down to your middle back, rubbing comforting circles. 

“What do you want to do today?” You questioned after a long moment of silence. 

“I could think of a couple things,” He hummed, rubbing his thumb under the strap of your nightgown. 

Laughing you hummed back, kissing his jaw before you heard the familiar sound of boots coming closer in the hallway. 

“Well, I think those things may have to wait,” You prophesied as Kili knocked on the door. 

“Oh Uncle!!!”

A lazy morning can only last so long with more than one Durin around.

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Forever tags-

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Thorin tags-

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[uncpanda]

Childhood Love

Prompt: What would you say if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?

Requested by: @audreythetealovingcat

AN: Yes  . . . it is supposed to end like that . . . that evil laughter you hear is me.

Fandom: the Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings

    You can see it in his eyes, the way he looks at Tauriel. He loves her, and you’re happy that Legolas has found someone to be happy with. At the same time it hurts. You had been friends as children, but as you’d grown older Legolas had drifted towards the guard, towards weapons training, and soon the games of your childhood had drifted away. His had been replaced by training, and yours had been replaced by etiquette lessons and then healing lessons.

    The healing lessons had come from a desire to stay close to him, to help him, and a natural affinity for the art. Your mother was scandalized by the idea. Still, he always had a smile and kind words for you when you met in the healing center. And you made sure to reassure him that you were fine.

    When Tauriel falls in love with the dwarf, you can see it kill him. You can see it affect him. But you don’t say anything. You keep quiet, but you don’t stay inactive. You go with the army as a healer. Your mother screams about it, until her voice goes hoarse. It doesn’t stop you.

    When the war starts, you find yourself in the midst of it all; with a medical bag at your side, you tend to the wounded on the field. You’ve never been good with weapons, and you hated violence with a passion, but that didn’t mean your duty to the men of your race would fade.

    Perhaps that’s why he bring you the injured dwarves. One is already dead, but the king, and the one Tauriel loves are barely alive. You tend to the king first out of practicality and a bit of spite. The other dwarf hurts your friend. You bring the King Under the Mountain back from the brink of death, and turn to his nephew. Surprisingly he’s still alive. It takes hours of work, but you’re able to secure his life. Tauriel weeps with gratitude, and you simply nod before walking away.

    You stumble from exhaustion, and it is your king who catches you. “Aran Nin,” you mutter quietly.

    “Can you walk?”

    You nod, and summon the strength to make your way back to the medical tent. You rest for several hours, before you’re summoned by the king. You pass Legolas on the way in, but he doesn’t say a word.

    Your king is pouring over papers when he says, “I want you to go with my son.”

    Your voice is hesitant, “Go where hir nin?”

    He gives a small smile, “That is for Legolas to decide. Will you go? I’m afraid he’ll get himself in a bind and need your aid. He’s done so more than once.”

    You don’t meet his eyes, “I am not trained in the way of combat Hir Nin. I’m afraid I would be more a hindrance than a help.”

    “He can train you in those things, and you’ll accept because you love him, long to be near him.” You go stiff, and he smiles, “I am not blind, Y/N. You have fought for him in your own silent way. When he drifted towards the guard you went into healing, despite your mother’s loud protests. You sat by his side for days when he was injured, reassured me on top of that. You followed him here, and did your best to protect him. You fought for him where Tauriel would not. I am not as a cruel a man as I may seem, I have no distaste for Silvan elves as one might believe. My people are Silvan. I simply wanted someone who would fight for him as he would them. You are the only elleth to have done so. So my question is this, will you continue to fight for him? Will you stand by him.”

    Your answer is simple, “Of course Aran Nin.”

    With that you’re dismissed. You find Legolas near a set of horses. He gives you a small smile, “I’m sorry he’s asked you to do this. You should not be denied the comforts of home simply because I wish to wander.”

You stroke the side of the horse’s face, “It’s not a problem.”

“I imagine we’ll hear your mother’s disagreement from here.”

“My mother’s wishes have never been mine Ernil nin.”

He straightens at the title, “Since when have you called me that? I have always been Legolas to you, and I don’t remember taking that right away.”

You mount your horse, “My apologies.”   

He catches your hand before mounting his horse, “You are my oldest friend. Please Y/N.”

You nod once, and without another word you head north. You don’t speak for the first several days, Legolas is busy navigating, and the openness of the range is enough to keep you on edge. It is on the fourth day, while sitting around the fire that he says, “You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Your eyes flicker to him, “Have I?”

“You used to talk non-stop as a child, and even in the healing rooms, you would keep a stream of conversation going.”

“I did that to keep you awake, when a concussion was suspected.”

He smiles, “Or you enjoy my company?”

“That too . . . perhaps.”

He scoots closer to you, “This freedom is unique. I haven’t felt this light or carefree since I was a child.”

Your eyes don’t leave the fire, “I’m glad.”

There’s a pause, “No you’re not.”

Your head swivels to him, “What?”

“You chewed your bottom lip, you only do that when you lie. It got us in quite a bit of trouble when we were children. My father pointed it out to me.”

You consider your words carefully, “I am happy that you’re happy Ernil Nin.”

He scowls at the title, before leaning in closely to gently, grasp your chin with his forefinger and his thumb, “You are choosing your words carefully, are you not happy?”

“I am happy to be with you.” You admit, careful to not bite your lip.

“A half truth.”

You scowl, “What told you that?”

He smiles, “You just did. Tell me what is on your heart mellon.”

“You do not wish to hear what is on my heart when yours is so raw. I do not wish to hurt it more than it already is.”

“Even at the expense of your own.”

“I have lived with my secrets long enough, I know how to deal with it.”

“What about an order?”

“You would never do such a thing.”

He lets go of your chin, “You are correct. But as your friend, I would like to share your burden.”

You draw your legs to your chest, and after several moments of silence you say, “That’s the problem Legolas, you are my friend.”

His brow knits together in confusion, “I don’t understand.”

You smile, “What would you say, if I told you I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?”

[katymacsupernatural]

Festival of Lights

Castiel x Reader

500 Words

Story Summary: Dragging Cas along to a Christmas festival.

This was written for Katy’s Christmas Drabbles and was requested by @grace-for-sale. She requested Christmas festival and Castiel x Reader.

“Come on Cas, this will be so much fun!” You exclaimed, pulling on the Angel’s hand as soon as you were out of the car.

“Yeah Cas, go have fun.” Dean chuckled before leaving the two of you standing there.

“And why are we doing this again?” Cas asked, raising an eyebrow as an extremely skinny Santa Claus walked by, wearing a leather suit.

“Because it’s the holiday season and everyone needs to visit a Christmas festival at least once in their life.” You insisted.

“Then why aren’t Sam and Dean joining us?” He asked you as you pulled him farther into the main part of the festival. It was already busy, with kids and adults alike dressed up in heavy coats, cups of hot chocolate in their hands as they waited for the special moment the Christmas trees would be lighted.

“Because they’re bah humbugs, and don’t know what’s good for them.” You muttered, moving closer to Cas as someone pushed past. “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

“As an Angel I don’t taste…” He started to argue, an older lady turning to stare at him, and you shushed him.

“Cas, you can’t talk about that in public!” You admonished. “Stay here, and I’ll get us a couple of cups.”

Coming back moments later, you were nervous to see Cas in conversation with that same older woman. Hoping he wasn’t getting into trouble, you slid up beside him, handing him his styrofoam cup. “Hey sweetheart.” You whispered, trying to read the woman’s face.

“This is your young man?” The older woman asked you, and you nodded. “Quite the man you have there. I can see why he called himself an Angel. This man is a true treasure.”

With that, the lady walked away, and you turned to Cas in surprise. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “After you left, I saw the lady standing there. She seemed sad and alone, so I just placed my hand on her shoulder, and told her what she wanted to hear.”

“Which was?” You asked, just as the mayor of the small town stood on the podium.

“That her Steven is watching down on her, grateful that she gets to spend this holiday season with her family.” He answered, before you were shushed by the mayor’s voice. Reaching down, you wrapped your fingers through Cas’, snuggling against his side. Gasping with the kids as Santa came down from the roof, magically lighting all the trees. When the announcement was over, you stayed close to Cas, walking through the brightly lit trees, listening as people sang along to the carol’s playing in the background.

“I can see why you like these Christmas festivals.” Cas announced suddenly. “It reminds you of the people you love, and that we have many reasons to be grateful for.”

“And what’s one reason you’re grateful for?” You asked Cas, stopping directly under a giant Angel covered in lights.

“You.” He answered simply. “Meeting you is the thing I’m most grateful for.”

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[cvlutos]

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[justsomebucky]

Flashes (Part 3)

Summary: Soulmate AU. “The fault, dear Brutus is not in our stars, / But in ourselves, that we are underlings.” - William Shakespeare (Julius Caesar)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,012

Warnings: language, fluff, angst, it’s actually kind of optimistic???

A/N: Well, I did it…at least I tried. The lovely @minervaem challenged me (sort of) to do an angsty story. I’m warning you now, it’s not gonna be pretty.

Reader has her first flash, and stumbles upon some intriguing information...

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

This is really freaking weird.

That was your first thought when the flash started, and it wasn't an exaggeration. While Natasha had always described her flash scenes as having radiant colors, your first flash wasn't quite so dazzling. 

Everything was very surreal and hazy, as if there was a filter over your eyes that muted each color. You were still standing on a street in New York City, but you didn’t recognize it at all, nor did you understand its significance. Shadows and shade covered most of the street.

You squinted, scanning every direction for any hint or clue as to what you were meant to be witnessing. There was a whole lot of no one and nothing in particular. What good is a flash if it doesn’t actually help you?

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a slight movement – one of the shadows seemed to move ever-so-slightly. You turned your body slowly, focusing on the corner and mentally pleading with your brain to tell your soulmate to just freaking show himself already.

As if someone heard your thoughts, the silhouette of a person came into view. Your breath caught in your throat as you realized that you were staring at a man in an all-black suit…or was it a uniform? You studied his form carefully, raptly tracing every detail and mapping them in your memory.  

Yeah, it was definitely a uniform. 

The hard lines of his clothing showed off his muscular arms, broad chest and shoulders, a fit waist, a pair of thick thighs…

You tried to move closer but found that your feet were fixed in place. You were voiceless when you tried to call out to him. Natasha had always described herself in more of an observer role, having previously mentioned that she couldn’t interact with Clint, but you tried anyways for your own piece of mind.

Well, this sure as hell didn’t seem fair. There was actual man candy standing in front of you, and you couldn’t even interact with him. Shouldn't you get some kind of special deal because you missed out on flashes for so long? Some kind of two-for-one special? You deserved extra-long, extra-detailed flashes for all you'd been through.

The man shifted, placing his hands in his pockets as he turned his attention to something or someone you couldn’t see. As he turned, you noticed a small badge on the sleeve of his shirt. 

 NYPD.

Much to your dismay, your flash ended as abruptly as it started, leaving you dazed on the sidewalk in the light of day.

So, your soulmate was a police officer?

Natasha was going to be so freaking jealous! 

You longed to go back and see him again, or see what else you could figure out. Now you understood all the smiles Nat wore when she was having a vision; there was no other feeling like it in the world.

Since you finally had a flash, it meant your soulmate was alive and nearby. You were so overwhelmed by the mere idea of him that you collapsed to your knees right there on the sidewalk. All your life, you’d been told you were incomplete, but you’d never quite believed them until now.

You buried your face in your hands and wept for yourself, for your soulmate, but most of all, out of sheer relief.

Once you picked yourself up off the pavement and managed to calm down, you called Natasha.

You let her speak first, knowing that she was probably bursting at the seams to tell you about her progress. She informed you that she was still waiting for Clint to come out of a meeting after having two more flashes in the last three hours. According to her, if she didn’t see his face in the next twenty minutes, she was going to go into the board room and drag him out by his ‘sexy arms.’

“So anyways, what’s new? Did you find that Vision guy yet? Get any wackadoo mojo going?”

“Nope. He went out of business or into hiding or something.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.” Nat’s motherly voice was in full force. “I know you really wanted this to work. What are you going to do now?”

It was now or never. “Well…I, uh…I had a flash anyways…about five minutes ago.”

There was a brief pause of what you presumed to be stunned silence, and you bit your lip, waiting for the fallout.

"OHMYGODYOUHADAFLASH?" she shrieked. “Really? You’re sure? You’re not in some weird café where a hippie named Sunflower slipped you something, RIGHT?”

You cringed, pulling the phone away from your ear to try to spare your hearing. "Yes, I had an actual flash. It was...it was incredible, Nat."

“This is crazy! I am so excited for you! Who did you see? Were they hot? Wealthy?”

“It was a man. I didn’t see his face, but I saw his uniform,” you supplied, finally letting yourself feel excitement alongside your relief. “He’s with the NYPD.”

“Ooooooh! I could totally see you marrying a sexy cop.”

“I have to find him first, Nat,” you reminded her, a small smile gracing your lips. “And since this is a huge city with a ton of police officers, I’m not exactly sure where to start.”

“Well, start in the freaking city, of course! We can think this through.”

“I don’t know. It was different for you. You had a lot more to go off of when we searched for Clint’s name and photo.”

“It’ll be all right, Y/N. Reason it out like you always do. Your little impromptu trip must have finally triggered the connection, but I wonder why the distance was a factor. Maybe there’s more to his story than we could have ever guessed.”

“Maybe.”

Natasha was silent for a moment, but you knew she was still on the line because you heard people talking in the background. "Start with injuries," she suggested finally.

"Injuries? Like a head injury?"

"Yeah, like...he was MIA for over a decade, right? Something had to happen to make your connection weaker, to make it go silent for that long."

Nat made a damn good point. "I guess I could try the public library," you mused. "Maybe they have access to old newspaper archives.”

"It's a start, isn't it? Better than going to every police station until you have more flashes. Let me know what you find out, okay?"

"You got it. Thanks, Nat.”

“By the way, Y/N…” Natasha’s voice was wobbly now. You could tell she was emotional now that your news had sunken in. “I’m so freaking happy for you. You deserve love more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

You were a woman on a mission. 

Now that you’d seen him, knew he was real, knew he was within reach, you’d be damned if you were going to let a silly thing like knowing absolutely nothing else about him stop you. Nat was right; there had to be a reason for his prolonged absence, and it was probably the key to figuring out who the heck he was.

The public library was easy enough to find, and they did offer guest passes to use the internet. A man with a very important-looking library badge handed you a pass, then politely told you that you had thirty minutes of free internet usage.

You had thirty freakin’ minutes to narrow down the search for your soulmate.

No pressure.

The first newspaper archive pursuit yielded way too many results, so you narrowed your search.

You were able to get it down to six major results that were within the time frame between what should have been your flash age and now. Five of the police officers listed had died as a result of their injuries, and of the two who were still alive, one was a woman. Since you had seen your soulmate already, you ruled her out. 

That left one profile. Your stomach was churning, your nerves completely frayed as you clicked on the last news link. 

"Sergeant James 'Bucky' Buchanan Barnes, NYPD," you whispered to yourself, scrolling down slowly. “A Profile in Courage.”

The article stated that when he was thirteen, Bucky was the only survivor of a car accident that killed his parents. A drunk driver had crossed the center lane on a highway and hit the family’s sedan head-on. 

Doctors put him in a medically induced coma to try to save his life after significant brain swelling was detected. Once he regained consciousness, it took nearly two years for him to fully recover his mobility, followed by several more years of extensive physical therapy.

Eventually, he was released to the custody of a neighbor, Mrs. Sarah Rogers. She had been designated as his legal guardian in the event of his parents’ death. Her son, Steve, had gone with his adopted brother Bucky to police academy.

Well, that answered at least two of your questions.

Bucky had obviously either been incapacitated due to the coma during his flash age, or his injuries had been too extensive to allow any connection to occur at the time.

He also was able to have a great job with the police department, no questions asked, because he had clearly received an official medical exemption to the soulmate status laws.

Your heart ached for him. You wondered if he went into law enforcement because of that life-altering car accident. You wondered…

The article went on for a while, detailing his education, his time at the academy, and the event that caused him to get a commendation in the first place.

Nearly a year ago, Bucky single-handedly saved a woman and two of her neighbors in Brooklyn. The perp was the woman’s own abusive husband. He’d been drinking, and had come home and tried to kill her. She managed to get away by hitting him with a frying pan and running to the next apartment over for protection.

Lucky for everyone, the neighbors had heard him shouting the moment he came home, and had already called the police. Bucky was in the area, so he responded to the call quickly.  That night, he took a bullet in the shoulder to take the man down, disarm him, and get him in handcuffs. 

Sergeant Barnes sounded too good to be true. 

When you scrolled to the bottom of the page, there was a picture of Bucky shaking hands with the mayor with a bright smile on his face. He had the best smile, with little laugh lines and a mischievous gleam in his blue eyes.

Damn, you were lucky.

It amazed you, too, because you’d never considered yourself lucky like this before, never thought you’d been given the best of anything. But Bucky…

You were absolutely head over heels in love with Bucky Barnes. You were the epitome of the heart eyes emoji at this point, and you didn’t even mind it. It was stronger than anything you’d ever felt for anyone before, and for that, you were grateful.

God, how many times had you sat around wishing for this? The endless longing, the tears, the discrimination, the lonely nights…all of that would soon be distant memories, leaving room for new memories you would make with Bucky, if he’d have you.

If Natasha could see you now, she’d be thrilled, but she would also be sure to get a dig or two in, considering how much you’d teased her about Clint.

Hopefully you'd measure up to his standards, too, at least enough to deserve a man like him. After all, he had turned tragedy into triumph. You...well, you did the best you could with the circumstances you were given. That’s what soulmate connections were supposed to do, though, weren’t they? Your soulmate was supposed to make you want to be your best self, and help you achieve that through your partnership.

There was no way that you were going to let your insecurities keep you from meeting him. Both of you had waited far too long for this connection.

It was time to meet your soulmate.

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4

PERMA TAGS: @sprinkleofhappinessuniverse @minaphobia @amrita31199 @aenna-4 @ailynalonso15 @psingh97 @sofiadiaz04 @mirkwood---princess @lilasiannerd @coffeeismylife28 @capdanrogers @melissalovesmusicyay @hollycornish @northscorpio @gallifreyansass @ancchor @vaisabu @alurea-actually @hailey-a-s @buckyswinterchildren @cleanslates @minervaem @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @winterboobaer @kjs-s @hardcorehippos @jay-birdbitchez @rchlnwtn @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @aeillo @whyisbuckyso @crownie-sr @neverbeforgotten @givemethatgold @notsoprettykitty @punk-rock-princess-626 @dracsgirl @giannastoico @cosmic-avenger @rockintensse @angelicshinigami @heytherepartner @simplyme8308 @ria132love @dolthiac @feelmyroarrrr @assbutt-son-of-a-bitch @johnmurphys-sass @wishingtobelost @nolaimagines @decemberftw @imamoose @kcsavege4134 @indominusregina @kittthekat @smkunz613 @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @miss-jessi29

Story Tags: None this time! only one part left, sorry!

[atocadaalquimista]

Dicas para Ficwriters - Dicionário Ficwriter

O mundo das fanfics possui vários termos que podem deixar os novatos um pouco perdidos. Saber esses termos irá te ajudar a definir as tags da sua história de modo que os leitores a encontrem ou facilitar sua busca por fics que te interessem.

Dica: tecle Ctrl + F para buscar um termo.

Angst: em alemão, medo ou ansiedade. História focada na tristeza e conflito interno dos personagens.

Beta reader: em inglês, leitor beta. É a pessoa que revisa e opina sobre desenvolvimento do enredo da sua história.

Citrus: romance adulto, focado em temas maduros e sérios.

Crackfic: história com temática bizarra, geralmente de humor.

Cross-dress: em inglês, travestir. Quando um ou mais personagens se vestem com roupas do sexo oposto.

Crossover: quando dois ou mais universos diferentes se encontram. 

Darkfic: história com clima sombrio.

Deathfic: história em que um ou mais personagens principais morrem. Marcar uma história como deathfic pode ser considerado spoiler.

Disclaimer: em inglês, renúncia. Aviso que deve ser incluído no início de toda história baseada numa obra já existente, renunciando à obtenção de lucro e à autoria de qualquer coisa que não seja do escritor da fanfic.

Drabble: fanfic com até 100 palavras.

Double drabble: fancic com um máximo de 200 palavras.

Ecchi: quando há sexo ou nudez implícitos na história.

Ficwriter: escritor de fanfics.

Furry: em inglês, peludo. História com personagens animais ou com características animais.

Genderbend: em inglês, troca de gênero. Quando o autor cria uma versão do  personagem oposto ao gênero existente no material original.

Hentai: história com cenas de sexo explícito entre um casal heterossexual.

Lemon: história com cenas de sexo explícito entre dois homens.

Lolicon: história envolvendo o romance entre uma pessoa adulta de qualquer sexo e uma garota jovem ou entre duas garotas jovens.

Longfic: história de longa duração.

Mary Sue: personagem feminina idealizada. A versão masculina é chamada de Gary Stu ou Marty Stu.

OC (original character): em inglês, personagem original. Um personagem criado pelo autor da fanfic.

One-shot: em inglês, um tiro. História com apenas um capítulo.

OOC (out of character): Quando um personagem age em desacordo com sua personalidade original.

Orange: história com cenas de sexo explícito entre mulheres.

POV (point of view): em inglês, ponto de vista. Usado para indicar o narrador ou foco narrativo daquele momento.

PWP (porn without plot): em inglês, pornografia sem enredo. História sem trama definida e que apresenta apenas cenas de sexo.

RA: realidade alternativa. Fanfic que usa o universo e os personagens do material original, mas muda o enredo.

Self inserction: quando o autor se insere na história.

Shortfic: história curta, com mais de um capítulo.

Shotacon: história envolvendo um romance entre uma pessoa adulta de qualquer sexo e um garoto jovem ou entre dois garotos jovens.

Side story: em inglês, história lateral. Capítulo bônus ou história curta que narra algo paralelo à trama original ou explica algo não resolvido.

Songfic: história que contém a letra de alguma música para complementar a narrativa, ou cujo enredo se baseie em uma letra.

Spin-off: obra derivada de uma já existente.

TWT (time? What time?): em inglês, "tempo? Que tempo?". Histórias que não ocorrem em ordêm cronológica.

UA: universo alternativo. Fanfic que usa personagens que uma história em um universo diferente.

Yaoi: história com romance entre dois homens.

Yuri: história com entre duas mulheres.

What if: em inglês, "e se". Fanfic que explora o que aconteceria se a história original tivesse tomado um rumo diferente.

Existem outros termos, mas tentei colocar os que eu mais vejo por aí.

Fontes: "Dicionário de termos e siglas" pela Liga dos Betas, "Glossário Ficwriter" pela Uma Xícara de Fic.

[justsomebucky]

Ten Years (Part 11)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,876

Warnings: language, fluff, confrontation

A/N: Tags are closed. I originally had something completely different written, but it no longer felt like it fit with the narrative here, so I rewrote it. I accidentally increased the amount of parts needed for this story, too. I don’t really know how I feel about it, but I feel like it was necessary. Please don’t hate me, haha. BTW - Thank you so much for the sweet messages, they are simultaneously slaying me and getting me through the day.

Each slow step that you took toward Bucky made your heart ache that much more. What were you even going to say to him? Why had he run off, anyway? Was he here because he found it to be comforting, too, or was he here because he knew you’d find him?

You obviously had a ton of questions, but right now the best thing you could do for him was to simply be there. If he wanted to tell you, he’d tell you.

As soon as you got to him, you sat down beside him without a word.

Bucky must have realized it was you, because he didn’t flinch, didn’t even react. After a moment or two, he finally turned his head to look at you.

The corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Leaving without me?”

Your heart sank. That was the question he would ask you at your desk every time you tried to bail on one of his adventures during these past two weeks. This time, though, the meaning was obviously a little deeper.

“I have to,” you murmured, looking away from him to your hands, now clasped in front of you. “It’s not about you, Bucky.”

He sat up and cleared his throat before nodding once. “I know.”

“You saw my emails then?”

Bucky nodded again, looking down at the pavement. “I bet legal could find a way around whatever Pepper is worried about, Y/N. You deserve the credit and the compensation for this bid.”

You sighed, wondering when he was going to let this go. “Don’t forget, the company hasn’t even gotten the account yet. Just a meeting, remember?”

“That’s all we ever need.”

“No,” you argued. “That’s all you ever need. I, on the other hand, wouldn’t even know where to begin. I haven’t been helpful in my time with Wakanda, Inc., Bucky. I’ve been kind of miserable with the work, to be honest.”

When he didn’t say anything, you looked up and locked eyes with him again.

He rubbed the back of his neck, seeming almost uncomfortable now. “What do you think you’ll do instead?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. It turns out, I’m not really good with planning ahead.”

“No,” Bucky agreed, flashing that handsome grin. “You’re more of a go-with-the-flow kind of person these days.” There was a hint of fondness in his voice now, which woke up those damn butterflies again. You bit back a smile.

As much as you wanted to sit here at the fountain all day, especially with Bucky, you knew you had to face your boss. “You know T’Challa is looking for you, right? He’s this close to calling the police to file a missing person report.”

Bucky shook his head, looking up at the sky as he wrung his hands together. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Do you not want to go back either? Is that why you’re out here?”

“Oh, I want to go back.” His blue eyes were finally starting to brighten up a bit. “I just don’t want to go back, get the account from Stark, and then have to manage it knowing it was yours.”

“You have to stop with that, okay? You worked way harder than I did on this, Bucky. Trust me when I tell you that I won’t hold it against you. You’d do a better job with it than I ever would.”

“Tony Stark’s a people person, though. You’re much more suited to his personality, I think.”

You shrugged, leaning over to nudge him with your shoulder. “So be more of a people person when you have to be. I happen to know firsthand that you’re an excellent actor.”

Bucky squinted at you, his mouth quirking up. “Except…”

“Except what?”

“What if I told you I wasn’t acting the whole time?”

You made a face at him. Yeah freaking right. You could tell he was your friend now, sure…but more than that? “I- I wouldn’t believe you.”

Okay, so maybe it was your bad habit to outright scoff at the idea of someone liking you, but it was also self-preservation. It had been so long since you had an actual romantic interest, that you found the idea absurd now. While you knew this city had millions of single people, you never actually considered yourself to be in the running anymore. No, you were off to the side with Mr. Fuzzypants, watching romance in movies and reading about it in your books, while it happened outside every day for other people.  

So yeah…he’d need to be a little more convincing than that. You didn’t want to dive headfirst into something just because you felt it, and then find out later that it was one-sided. It had happened too many times.

“Y/N, you have to stop thinking of me as your fake boyfriend for a damn minute, okay?” Bucky was frowning at you now. “I can practically hear your thoughts from over here.”

“It’s kind of hard to think of it in any other way when we spent the last two weeks, oh, I don’t know, faking a relationship,” you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. “Plus you’ve never shown any interest in me before.”

Bucky ran a hand down his face in frustration, before turning his entire frame to face you. “What would it take to convince you that I’m serious? If you’re leaving the company it won’t be as weird anyways, right? What do you have to lose?”

For a few moments, the two of you sat together in quiet contemplation. Nearby, a saxophone player was starting his morning routine for spare change, and a bunch of students from Julliard were milling around. Sometimes the acting students would put on little skits for fun right there near the fountain, or the music students would bring their guitars. Maybe you would bring Bucky back here sometime for that.

Your thoughts drifted back to what Bucky said. He wasn’t wrong; now that you were leaving, and there was no potential of him becoming your supervisor, you could breathe a little easier over a date with him.

Clint had hurt you deeply, but it was more than just that. It’s not easy out there in the great big world for a single lady. How did people sell the idea of themselves?

The idea that struck you made you nearly giddy. This would be fun.

“Do a pitch,” you suggested, trying to look as serious as possible.

“A pitch?” He looked totally confused, and you couldn’t blame him. This was one of those go-with-the-flow moments again. But, if he wanted to be in your life, he’d better get used to them.

“Yeah, you know, like the pitch you should be working on right now? A pitch. You’re good at those, right?”

“What kind of pitch?” Bucky looked genuinely intrigued by your proposal. At least that was a start, and he wasn’t laughing in your face.

“A pitch to convince me that your feelings and interest are genuine.”

He blinked at you a few times, then burst out laughing. “You aren’t serious?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, silently taking back whatever credit you gave him a second ago for not laughing in your face. “What’s so funny about dating me?”

That reaction was a bit much, but after he tortured you with trying to fix you for the reunion, you felt like you owed him a little bit of torment in return.  

Bucky’s grin fell almost immediately. “Nothing, nothing…isn’t a first date usually where I would make my pitch, though?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I wouldn’t know, you’ve never asked me on a first date.”

His eyes widened. “So, let me see if I am following you here…you want me to ask you on a first date, during which I have to sell my feelings to you as one-hundred percent real, correct?”

“Gee, Bucky, you make it sound so romantic already, like I’m forcing you to ask me out! I don’t know why I’m not swooning-“

“All right, all right,” he muttered, shaking his head at you. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

You merely hummed at him. He had to step up and take initiative at this point. If he didn’t, you would probably leave him sitting there and never speak to him again out of sheer humiliation.

After all, it wasn’t every day that you decided to let someone in. This was a big deal for you, too, and a risky one. Your heart was already rooting for Bucky, even if your brain was holding you back.

“All right…how about this? Friday is the day of the pitch to Tony Stark. It’ll either be a really good day, or a really shitty one. Either way, I’d rather spend that evening with you.” Those ridiculously adorable laugh lines made another appearance around his eyes, before he finally said the words you wanted to hear.

“Y/N, would you please go out with me this Friday night?”

It took you a couple seconds of merely staring at him to process what he had just said.

Once you recovered, though, you knew you were grinning like an idiot. “I would like that very much.”

The look Bucky gave you in return made you glad to be sitting down.

---

The two of you ended up taking a cab back to work, since it was faster and you both knew you were on T’Challa’s (temporary) shit list.

Bucky was like a different person since you’d agreed to a date. He kept sneaking looks at you and smiling, from the cab, to the elevators, all the way to T’Challa’s office, where you knew you had to part.

“I’m definitely not going in there just yet.”

“Will I see you later?”

You bit your lip, knowing that you wanted to bolt as soon as possible. “He technically hasn’t accepted my resignation just yet, so I guess there’s a slight chance.”

Bucky’s face lit up again, as if you had just told him he’d not only saved the company, but he was getting a million dollar bonus, too. “Well, if you’re already gone by the time I’m-”

“Just go in already!” you laughed, shoving him toward the boss’ door.

With one last lingering look at you, he opened the door and closed it quietly behind him.

You grinned to yourself again, knowing that those stupid butterflies were going to get their fill of flying on Friday night. The grin still hadn’t faded when you turned around and came face-to-face with Wanda.

Her hands were on her hips, and she was frowning at you.

“What?” you questioned casually, moving to walk past her and back to your desk. It was time to start collecting your things.

She trailed after you indignantly. “I cannot believe you haven’t told me a single thing that happened this weekend, then you quit, then you show back up with Bucky Barnes, looking like a couple of teenagers who just got caught making out in your parents’ car!”

“There was no making out,” you reassured her. “Not yet, anyways.”

“WHAT?”

For the second time that day, everyone around stopped to stare at Wanda.

“You really need to learn to control yourself, Wanda, people are going to think you’re unruly.” You eyed her, wondering if you should just leave your stuff and come back after hours for it. Maybe that would be safer, all things considered. At least Sam wasn’t at his desk to hound you for more information. There was a little note on his laptop that simply said in a meeting.

“Y/N, come on! You know I live for this romantic stuff. Give me a little bit of the story at least! I was helping you this whole time, remember? I’ve been supportive, and-“

“Wanda, look. It’s still too soon for me to rehash what happened at the reunion. I promise, when the day comes where I don’t feel like crawling into a hole and disappearing at the sheer memory of it, I will tell you what happened.”

“Okay, fine. But what about what I just saw? Since when are you and Bucky a thing? A real thing?”

“We aren’t yet,” you clarified, turning back to the empty box on your desk as you began to pile your things inside. “He asked me on a date.”

“And you said yes, right?”

“I said yes.”

“When? When is your date?”

Another quick glance at Wanda startled you a little. Her eyes looked a little bit dreamy, a little bit crazed.  “We’re going out this Friday.”

“Oooh! Can I help you decide what to wear?”

“No.” You stopped to give her your full attention, resting your hands on the side of the box. “But you can listen to how it went afterwards, and offer me your solid advice as my friend. How does that sound?”

She nodded eagerly. “That I can absolutely do.”

“Good. Now please, will you let me pack in peace? I’d like to be ready to go the minute T’Challa accepts my resignation letter.”

---

You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants as you made your way to T’Challa’s office. His assistant had paged you about three minutes ago, and it had taken you that long to work up the nerve to go through with resigning. The thought of having to keep up the kind of intense ass-kissing the rest of your coworkers did on a daily basis was the final straw that made you stand up and start walking over.

T’Challa motioned for you to come in when you peered into his office, so you shut the door behind you and sat down.

He was sitting in his own leather chair, fingers pressed together in front of him, his expression serious. “Y/N.”

“Sir,” you replied quickly. “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I want to make sure that this is really what you want?” He shifted to reach for and hold up a copy of your resignation letter. “Our recruiting department assures me that there will be no trouble filling your position quickly, so I won’t be able to assure you a place on my team if you should change your mind.”

“I understand, and it is what I want,” you confirmed in a strong voice. Almost immediately, you felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. “I have really learned a lot during my time here, sir, but I no longer feel that this is the career I want for myself.”

T’Challa nodded slowly, leaning back. “And Bucky Barnes did not ruin your opinion of working here, did he? I know that this past weekend was your first time working with him on a project. He can be a little…intense…according to some of the staff.”

The thought that other people were reporting back about Bucky made you a little furious. “No, absolutely not. I was given a lot of opportunities that most new employees don’t have the chance to experience. I learned a lot from everyone, especially from Bucky. He’s truly the best here, sir, and he’s going to land this deal for you. Tony Stark is extremely interested, from what I was told, and-“

“Yes, I am aware of your connections to Stark Industries, Y/N.”

O-kay? What was he getting at, then? Your brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m not sure what the issue is, here, sir?”

“I simply do not like losing young talent so early in their careers. Not to mention, we have been considering Bucky for a supervisory role. I just wanted to be sure that he would be a fit leader. If you insist that this decision was of your own volition, and nothing from your weekend negatively influenced you, then I have no choice but to-“

“Bucky influenced me this weekend, sir, but not in a bad way,” you interjected.

Why the hell were you even saying this to T’Challa? He already knew Bucky was the best. Who, exactly, were you trying to convince here?  

“How so?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“He proved why he deserves to be where he is,” you explained, fidgeting in your seat a little. “He was calm and collected, he had the pitch down, and he was spontaneous when necessary. Bucky charmed everyone he met, and he’s an asset to your team. Not that I needed to tell you that, Sir, since the number speak for themselves, as does the feedback clients have given.”

“Well,” he replied, sitting up in his chair again with a hint of a smile. “I suppose I will simply say thank you for your time here, and accept your resignation. I am going to waive your two-week notice, but I will happily compensate you for the time anyway.”

“Thank you very much. It was a pleasure working here, even if only for a short while.” You reached up and shook his hand.

“The pleasure has been all mine. Do you have any idea of where you are headed next? I would be willing to offer a recommendation.”

Another idea hit you, and you figured that since you were on a roll with just saying whatever you felt, it was worth a shot. “Actually, there is one place I had my eye on…”

T’Challa leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Go on.”

---

Part 12

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