#and sam is continually shoved to the side in every single way for literally no real reason by everyone.

[emiliosandozsequence]

i'm such a bitter and angry sam girl

[onecanonlife]

Tommy’s getting tired of people thinking he’s not real. Tubbo, meanwhile, hopes that this hallucination of his best friend will stay a while longer.

They work it out.

(word count: 1,563)

............................

It only takes about another fifteen minutes for him to snap.

“What the fuck are you doing that for?” he demands, planting his feet and wheeling around and staring Tubbo dead in the face, because Tubbo’s been trailing along behind him like a fucking lost puppy or some shit since he got out, and he’s tired of it, tired of his best friend looking at him like that, with equal amounts of wonder and dread in his eyes, like he’s not fucking real at all.

Or should that be former best friend? He doesn’t fucking know. Apparently, it didn’t take all that long for Tubbo to replace him with Ranboo of all people. And get married. Apparently.

Tubbo blinks at him.

“I don’t think you’re real,” he says, and if Tommy’s anger hadn’t been boiling over before, it is now. He didn’t go to hell and back for people to tell him he’s not real. He didn’t stay in the same cell as Dream for a month for people to tell him he’s not real. He is so, so very real. The shock that shoots through his system, the bolt of all-consuming terror that overtakes his mind whenever anyone so much as bumps into him is proof enough of that. He is real, and who the fuck is anyone else to say that he’s not?

“Well guess what,” he says, “I fucking am, so deal with it or go away.”

He spent so long wishing to be by Tubbo’s side again. He didn’t think he’d get out to find this. Didn’t think he’d come out to be replaced. Didn’t think Tubbo would crouch along after him without saying anything at all, like he’s the one who died.

“You don’t need to be angry about it,” Tubbo replies, as if he’s the one being wronged here. “I’ve got it all figured out. See, I didn’t think you were dead at first, either. Sam told us and my brain went all weird and flat and in denial, because I knew it couldn’t be true, because you couldn’t be dead. But then it was a few days later and you still hadn’t come out, and it was true after all. So I can’t trust my brain, really, so this is probably my brain going into denial again. Wishful thinking.”

“You—” He cuts himself off, rage warring with confusion warring with he-doesn’t-fucking-know-what, because he’s been dead and locked in prison and he’s not even used to the sunlight yet, much less his own emotions. “I literally pinched you. I pinched you, and then you ran away and stood staring at me from that new—that new McDonald’s!”

“Tactile hallucinations aren’t impossible,” Tubbo informs him. “It’s probably because I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

That draws him up short, just a little bit. “You have?” he asks. “I thought you got married.”

“I did,” Tubbo agrees. “It was a spur-of-the-moment sort of thing, really, so nobody got invited, but I was thinking about maybe having a bigger ceremony once you got out so you could be my best man, or something. I don’t really know how that works. ‘Cause it’s a platonic marriage, right, so I don’t know if you’re supposed to do it differently. But I wanted you to be there, and then it turned out that you wouldn’t ever, ever be.”

Well. Alright, so he wasn’t disregarded entirely, then. But still—

“And then,” Tubbo continues, “and then we adopted Michael, and I wanted you to be his godfather. You were supposed to be his godfather. Michael was going to love you. I thought you were gonna come back out and you were gonna meet Michael and everything was going to be alright. But then you didn’t.”

“Who the fuck is Michael,” he says flatly, even though his head is reeling because adopted—?

“He’s our son!” Tubbo says. “Mine and Ranboo’s! And you were gonna be the godfather. And it was going to be great, and we were gonna be a family, but then you died, and now Michael’s not even going to get to meet you. And you’re just, you’re just dead and I’m following you around because I don’t have anything better to do.”

There is—there is so much to unpack there, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Ranboo is—is the spouse, then, and he supposes he should have guessed that. The Michael issue isn’t too much clearer, since he doesn’t have a frame of reference for this—for this child? That Tubbo has adopted? What the hell? But it’s the last sentence that sends the anger flooding back, because what the fuck does he mean, he doesn’t have anything better to do?

“If that’s how you feel, then why don’t you—” he starts, but Tubbo cuts him off.

“I’m sort of pathetic, I guess,” he says. “‘Cause I’m following around a hallucination. I guess it’s because I know it’s the best I’m ever going to get. And you know, I’d rather have a you that’s not real than not have you at all, because this way, I get to see you and hear you. Even if you’re not here. So I need to enjoy it while I can, because I don’t know how long hallucinations last for, so I don’t know when you’ll go away again. And I don’t want you to go away. I don’t want you to be dead.”

All through this speech, Tubbo’s face remains distant, a little open, a little blank. But his eyes are welling up with tears, and as Tommy watches, they start spilling over his cheeks, uncommented upon.

And Tommy feels the rage drain out of him.

It was hell, where he was, in that terrible darkness, that void, being torn apart and shoved back together again. It was hell, coming back, everything too bright and too loud and too much, his body flinching and his heart racing at any movement, and a single touch is still enough to send him back there, to that moment, his vision fading and pain bursting like fireworks and Dream’s mask leaning over him, grinning.

It’s been hell, seeing how everything’s changed.

But Tubbo missed him. Really, really missed him. And maybe he’s replaced him a bit, and Tommy no longer has any idea how to feel about that, because it seems like Tubbo wasn’t trying to? That Tubbo still wanted him to be there, still intended him to be there? So he’s still a little pissed, maybe, and he still really, really wants people to stop being so weird, to stop reminding him at every juncture that he died, died and came back, but—

But Tubbo is crying.

“Tubbo,” he says, “I’m not a hallucination.”

“You are, though,” Tubbo says. “My mind’s playing tricks. You’re not—you’re not really—” He hiccups, and Tommy comes to a decision.

He extends a hand. It should be fine. It’s just Tubbo, and he’s choosing to do this. It should be fine. It’s going to be fine.

“C’mon, then,” he says. “Hold my hand, I’ll prove it. Maybe you could make up a pinch in your brain, but I bet you couldn’t make up this.”

Tubbo stares at his hand for a very, very long time.

“Don’t make this weird,” he says. “Tubbo, please, for the love of god, don’t make this weird. I really will go away, and you can just stay here and cry.”

Tubbo blinks, hard. And then, slowly, reaches out and takes his hand.

Tommy flinches, every nerve in his body lighting up, screaming at him to get away, and he can’t stop himself from gasping, from letting out a little whimper. But in the next moment, he’s fine, his heart rate already calming, and it’s just Tubbo’s hand in his, his grip loose and warm.

Tubbo’s eyebrows furrow. A minute passes before he speaks.

“This is a long time for a tactile hallucination to last,” he says.

Tommy rolls his eyes as hard as he possibly can, in order to express all of his exasperation.

“I’m not a fucking hallucination, alright?” he says. “Has married life made you an idiot or something?”

Tubbo looks up at him, then. He looks back, and tries to convey with his eyeballs his sheer displeasure at literally all of this.

“I’m holding your hand,” Tubbo says slowly. “You’re not disappearing, and I’m holding your hand.”

He tries to convey with his eyeballs that Tubbo should consider arriving at the point sometime soon.

“Oh my god,” Tubbo says. “You’re real. Tommy, you’re real.”

“Damn fucking right I’m real,” he says. And something like relief washes over him. It’s nice to hear those words, from someone else. And Tubbo just stands there and holds his hand and keeps crying, harder, if that’s even possible, and Tommy thinks that this is a scene that he should possibly put a stop to.

But he doesn’t. He stands there and holds Tubbo’s hand and lets Tubbo cry. Because nothing is alright. Nothing at all is alright. Everything sucks and everything’s different and he needs to kill Dream and the world kept on turning without him. But Tubbo is glad to have him back. Tubbo missed him. Tubbo still wants him.

If his eyes are wet, it’s just the rain. He glances up, and blinks against the sun.

Just the rain.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (14/15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.4k words

Warning : angst, sad reader, angry reader, dumbass Bucky, Steve being likable for once, smartass Sam, reader finally having some friends, mention of assault, confrontation, drinking, fluff, Bec is Bucky’s sister - Rebecca

Unlike you, Bucky remembered everything. He could never forget that you were hurt because of him — tied to a chair for hours while he couldn't save you — crying on the bathroom floor as he held you. The only thing common in all of those instances was him. You had to go through shit because of him, and yet, you still didn't blame him. You wrapped your arm around him as if he wasn't the cause of your pain. It was clear that his past and the baggage that he came with didn’t bother you. In fact, you understood and accepted his trauma and still loved him. You didn't love him despite his baggage. No, you loved him with every bad thing he offered.

Bucky was sure you were delusional. No sane woman would want to be with the man who was responsible for her captivity, yet you snuggled closer towards him the moment this thought occurred in his head. And Bucky loved you more because of that, and he thought he wasn't physically capable of loving you more than he already did. Bucky knew you reciprocated those feelings, it was very obvious that both of you were a goner for the other. Nevertheless, those emotions were not voiced out loud in your relationship yet. And Bucky wanted it to stay that way.

Bucky decided to sneak out of your bed and house before you could wake up. He was aware it was cowardly of him to just leave without giving you an explanation. But if he stayed to explain, you would have asked him to stay, and he didn't have it in himself to tell you no. You were the ray of sunshine in his stormy life and he could never say no to you. You could ask him to get you the sun, and he would get it for you, even after knowing that it would kill him and the humankind in the process. He would still do it.

But what he couldn’t do was refuse you, so he would have to leave you instead.

***

You woke up a bit disoriented, unaware of the surroundings you were in. It took you a minute to process that you were in your own house and not held captive. Once you came back to your senses instinctively you called for Bucky. He held you while you slept the previous night, so he had to be out in the kitchen. When no response came back, you went out to check for him, only to be met with an empty house.

When you tried to contact him, Bucky was distant. He didn’t respond to your texts and your mind was telling you that something was wrong, but you shoved those thoughts sideways, hoping that maybe he was busy with work. But you both went through something traumatic, you needed him to be with you. If he were busy, he could have at least texted you.

Well, if he was going to ignore you, then you wouldn't be one of those people whose life revolved around their partner. You had a book to write and ambitions that didn’t involve him. 

Two hours later, when there was no word from him, you stared at the blank  screen on your computer. You weren’t unfamiliar with writer's block, but it had been months and you haven't written a single line since the incident in the club involving Rumlow. And now that you were alone with your thoughts, you started doubting everything. Should you have stayed in that corporate 9 to 5 job? You'd have a stable life and a fixed salary. Maybe you could have even got a promotion. Should you have filed a complaint against Rumlow? Bucky wanted you to, he even assured you the cops would be on your side, but you just weren't ready. You realized that by choosing to remain silent, you were sending a predator out in the world. He could do that to other people and you could have stopped it.

A knock on the front door interrupted your train of thoughts and you were grateful for the person on the other side. You assumed it was Bucky, he didn’t need to buzz in because he literally owned the building. Well, it could also be any one of his friends. Sam and Steve also didn't need permission . And the other day when Peter came by to give you your phone (you left it in the club), he didn't buzz in either. 

Seeing Wanda, Peter and Pietro on the door was a good change and God, you needed a change or else you'd go mad with self-loathing. 

“We brought pizza,” Wanda exclaimed, lifting the bag in her hand to show you.

You didn't say anything, just smiled at them thankfully. You were really delighted they were here. Not only that, but you didn't have many friends here, and you considered your work friends, your only friends. It was nice to see that they saw you as a friend too and not just someone they work with.

“And beers,” Pietro chimed in, raising the carton in his hand. 

You looked at Peter before teasing, “Is he even legal, guys?”

Seeing you joke around with them made Wanda happy. Between all the testosterone, she truly needed a female friend, and she was relieved to see you treating them as friends rather than colleagues. And she understood the trauma that must haunt you since your kidnapping. She was an empath and when you didn’t show up at work, she grew worried. 

Half an hour later, most of you were on your second beer. Pietro was on his fourth. That man was fast at everything he did. A movie was playing in the background that none of you paid attention to while everyone was settled on your couch. It wasn't a very spacious couch, you were all squashed into it, but it was too comfortable to leave. You were sitting in between Peter and Wanda, while Pietro was situated beside his sister.

You forgot how nice it felt to have friends and bitch about people to them.

“And just like that he was gone. I woke up and he wasn't there,” you told them, “Hasn't been taking my calls either.”

Pietro took a sip of his drink before saying, “What an ass!”

Wanda raised her bottle, nudging all of you to join her, and said, “Fuck men!” 

“Amen!” you agreed, Peter and Pietro nodded too.

“You should focus on your book,” Pietro advised, “Bucky is gonna regret if he loses someone like you, babe.”

The book. Your book. You couldn't tell them why you weren't focused on the book. It was still a lot to process, and you were not ready, so you nodded before chanting, “Fuck Bucky!”

***

“What are you doing here?” Sam questioned as he and his husband entered the  office.

“Last I checked, I own this place.”

Sam huffed, “I meant why are you here instead of her place, smartass?”

Bucky looked around to avoid the questioning gaze of both Sam and Steve. He hadn’t talked to Steve since the argument they had over you. Of course, they did discuss business as usual, but nothing related to their personal life.

 “She doesn't need me,'' Bucky murmured and looked at Steve. “You must be pleased to know that it's over.”

Bewilderment was clear on the faces of both the men because Bucky exhaled loudly before continuing, “I almost got her killed. It would be wise and safe for her to not be with me.”

Steve finally spoke, “Did she say that?”

When his best friend shook his head ‘no’, Steve sighed in exasperation. “You are an idiot.”

“Yeah, well, that's what you wanted, didn't you?” Bucky retorted, “For me to focus on work and not on her.”

 “I was clearly wrong, pal,” Steve raised his hand in exasperation as if it was obvious, “And I’m sorry for that.” 

“Well, it's over now.”

***

“Before I met Nat. I dated a girl who pretended to be gay,” Wanda scrunched her nose, remembering the awful memory.

“Oh yeah, weird Sallie,” Pietro smiled teasingly, “Did you guys know that when Wanda brought her home, she hit on our dad?”

 “No!” Both you and Peter cried out, stupefied at his words.

“Yeah,” Wanda outlined, “And on Pietro too.”

 “I mean, Mr. Barnes is not like this,” Peter brought the conversation back to Bucky and you sucked in a heavy breath. “I’m sure he had a good reason for doing all of this.”

“Seriously?” you were pretty drunk, but not drunk enough to talk about Bucky. You looked at Wanda and Pietro for support, but they shrugged their shoulders in a manner that said, ‘He's not wrong, though.’

You wanted to go to bed and sleep. But you knew they were right. Bucky would never hurt you intentionally, you knew that. “Do you guys know where he is now?”

***

Since trying to talk some sense into Bucky wasn't working, Sam and Steve retaliated back to talk about business.

“Clint is officially out of here,” Steve reported, “Torturing him would just create more ruckus. Rumlow is behind us because he wants his weapons in the government, and Clint would just be a casualty in all this shit. He has three kids.”

Sam huffed, “We told Laura. Her wrath would be worse for Clint than our fists.”

Bucky didn't say anything and just nodded. Steve could feel something was on Bucky's mind, wrapping his arms to his chest, he raised a brow towards his best friend.

“I’m just tired of all of this,” Bucky said sadly, “Is this what we left Rumlow for, pal? You have a kid at home, Wanda has a wife, I have ma and Bec and I haven't met them in years, in fear of someone following me. And now — Well, now I’ve lost the girl too."

Steve and Sam looked at their friend with sympathy. They knew the toll their work took on all of them. Hell, they had a four-year-old daughter at home, and could barely sleep at night, always terrified of losing their kid because of their job.

Sam was about to ask Bucky to suggest an alternative that would help all of them could to make it out of there and just work on the club and not some shady business. Suddenly, the office door flung open and on purpose, everyone’s hand reached for the gun in their waistband. But in walked you with a beer bottle in your hand and a pizza slice in another.

“JAMES BUCKY BARNES!” You exclaimed, your steps wavering a little as you walked towards him. Oh, and you looked royally pissed.

Instantly, Bucky was on his feet and making his way towards you, to hold you — to be near you. And before you could say anything, he was engulfing his arms around your waist, his head settled at the crane of your neck and you frowned. Okay, You did not expect that. You thought he would ignore you, and you would give him a piece of your mind before leaving.

Sober you would have asked him to have a mature conversation like adults, but tipsy you wanted to flip him off and leave. Your arms hung around your sides awkwardly, trying to understand the situation before finally pushing him away.

“You left me,” you spoke so softly that if Bucky wasn't so close, he wouldn't have heard it. “I needed you and you left me alone.”

Bucky’s heart broke at your words. He didn't consider how his rash decision would affect you. You were kidnapped by the person who assaulted you. Fuck, he cursed himself. He was supposed to be protecting you, not hurting you. You sounded so hurt that Bucky wanted to get on his knees and ask for forgiveness. He was so focused on your physical injuries, he did not even realize he was hurting you emotionally.

Steve cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable to present. He interrupted and took his husband’s hand in his, “We’re going to go.”

Before they could leave, you shifted your attention towards Steve and pointed a finger at him. “Why do you hate me?”

Steve stammered, he didn't expect you to put him in a spot like this, but you had a tad more than necessary liquid courage in your system.

“Doll,” Bucky breathed, and you moved your gaze back towards him. Steve took the opportunity and left the room with Sam.

You were on the verge of tears by now — both of you were — Bucky wasn't a man who could voice his feelings, but with you, all of his armor came shattering down. With you — he would tell you his vulnerabilities and fears just so he could let you in. You meant so much to him that the fear of losing you blinded his sense of understanding. He realized that he acted immaturely and by doing so, he almost lost you.

“You hurt me,” Your voice wavered, the traitorous tears made their way down your eyes, and Bucky couldn't see you like that. Instinctively, he stretched his hands to wrap around you, but stopped, “Can I hold you?”

You sniffled and nodded, and Bucky engulfed you flush against his chest. After a while, you snaked your hands around his shoulder too, and a sob broke down from your throat.

He didn't remember how long he held you like this, but after a while, he picked you up and made his way to the couch. He stood before you and then slid one hand up to your cheek. Likewise, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. And then you slowly straddled his waist as you both settled down on the soft sofa. Bucky’s hands fell naturally to your hips to pull you closer.

“I love you, Bucky,” you whispered, once your tears suspended. You enveloped your arms around him and pressed your forehead against his.

Bucky didn’t know whether you meant it or not. You were pretty drunk. He hoped you did.

“I love you, doll,” he confessed as he kissed the crown of your head. He noticed that you were on the brink of sleep, your breathing even, and you looked so peaceful in his arms.

 He felt at ease — calm even with you in his arms and in that moment he decided he was never letting you go no matter what.

TAGS :  @bananapipedreams​ @akkinda10​ @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes​ @valsworldofcreativity​ @boofy1998​ @marvel-3407​ @mybuck​ @priii​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @ladydmalfoy​ @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy​ @maladaptivexxdaydreaming​ @sabrinathesimp

Taglist for future stuff.

[its-moopoint]

Moo, shippers have his Father's Day denial sorted out. The thrill continues.

mariaae - The games played don’t bother me at all. He’s relaying his true message another way. Lucky Dad...

dillon7fan: HE LOVES FATHER’S DAY

citrinesun said: I’m gonna need actual proof either way.

rosegoldcameo said: No way can SC admit it if they were hiding their family or relationship

auburncurlslass said: Shove that TBag!

wildfernflower said: (*) I would take every his word with a big grain of salt. I have an impression he’s fighting not to burst into laugh (his face expressions and eyes give him away, he’s so obviously acting and pretending that all to be so serious) and I think this is the first thing he did when the camera was off. As usual, he’s playing with all sides of the fandom.

wildfernflower said: This commercial was purposely made in a humorous, exaggerated manner. Sam is messing around pretending to be an elderly, tired father in his 60s, who sighs with relief while sitting down in his comfy armchair to let his stiff, sore joints relax and have a wee dram. This whole promo is a kind of a joke, Sam’s acting all the time and almost winking at his audience. One can take what he’s saying literally, but having in mind a playful convention of this promo, (*)

jclovely said: @hewhohas4 we and when I say we I mean a lot of us saw Cait and Sam in person with their first and second pregnancies, believe what you want but if you study from Jan 2016 and through seasons 2 to 6 you will see Cait in multiple pregnancies, all is there in public for scrutiny for those that have eyes to see and ears to hear. Both Sam and Cait are married since 2015 with 5 children. I rest my case.

claraisabelcampohermoso said: I won’t buy your whisky either… Punished !!

gabysachs said: Come on Sam implies he loves Father’s Day addding he extends his wish to all those who pretend to be. In short, he’s meaning that he has something to hide. Exactly @odessa eight years in throwing us clues while still acting like a single man to boost his sales. It’s wrong.

findingweeherbs - read between the lines. Daddy Sam is at it agin…gotta love him for these.

hewhohas4 reblogged this from jclovely and added: You forget he’s an actor, marketing his product and we don’t know. I hope he is!

auburncurlslass said: Anon….for pete’s sake, use the fucking spell check key! Publicly not Publicity!! But then again he’s getting PUBLICITY FOR PUBLICLY MARKETING ‘FATHER’S DAY’! When he’s never done it before

jclovely reblogged this from odessa-2 and added: Thank-you Odessa some are more aware then others about the "fake" narrative. ..

odessa-2 said: @zeya-zg oh he’s sneaky alright. These type of stunts are his bread and butter. Eight years in and he’s still toying with the fandom and pretending. C'mon Sam. You’re a 42 year old man ffs. Time to grow up and own your life and your truth.

hanashegum said: He throws out the word “pretend” for good measure. Very postmodern, this people pleaser! (2)

hanashegum said: Of interest to me is that S is acting out a commercial and very deliberately and conspicuously using cinematic props and devices. When he suddenly turns to the camera and says to the viewer “oh wait, I’m not” he’s calling up the “different narratives” he’s said he loves. He’s saying “I see you” to the viewer. As usual, he’s fusing fiction and reality in an inseparable hug. (1)

sheonamarie said: bahahaha to T-man “buy it for yerself…pretend ya  ARE one” lol

odessa-2 - He was gloating in his daddy chair and looked like the cat they ate the canary. He pretty much laid it out that he’s a father. “I love father’s day”……“then I remembered that I’m not one” (publicly). All the while showing us what a lucky Dad he is!!

LOL LOL I hadn't seen such a compilation of pure bullshit in ages!!!

You can see these folks are nuts, twisting stuff into pretzels to make it work with what they want reality to be. Poor unfortunate souls.

One tells you you need to take what he's saying literally while the other claims you need to read between the lines... LMFAO. The only reading you all need is a book called How to improve your reading and listening comprehension.

My favourite is "jclovely" with her lies. I bet she's one of the usual baby train loons using yet another fake account to seem like a different person. That's what they do.

[truckloadoffrogs]

SamBucky Daddy Kink

It’s after the mess at the airport, after Siberia, after Steve and him broke everyone out of the weird fucking prison in the ocean (?? what the fuck??), that they finally get to breathe in Wakanda. The King gave them guest rooms in the palace, not accepting no for an answer. He kindly gave them an apartment with three bedrooms and a spacious living room and kitchen, one bedroom for Bucky and the other for Steve when he wasn’t off in some other country glaring at politicians. Unfortunately, he gave Wilson the third bedroom.

There wasn’t anything necessarily wrong with Wilson. He was just-- He just bothered Bucky. He got under his skin. Though he seemed to get genuine pleasure out of annoying the ever living fuck out of Bucky, it never seemed to be with malicious intent. He seemed to be testing Bucky, seeing how far he could go before Bucky would snap, but not because he was cruel. It almost seemed like Wilson was doing it for Bucky’s benefit, not his, like Wilson was showing Bucky that he was fine, he was safe, he wasn’t actually going to snap and go on another murderous rampage because Wilson watched Real Housewives every single day on their couch and refused to change the channel. 

Once Bucky got over that fact, he started to notice other things. Though Wilson didn’t stop teasing Bucky even when Bucky growled at him to quit it, he did stop when Bucky started to curl in on himself, when he got a little quiet and a little scared, waiting for the next baton hit or jab of electricity. Maybe it was Wilson’s own experience with trauma, or maybe it was his inherent goodness, but Bucky appreciated it. Not that he would ever tell him that. 

Wilson also seemed to care for Bucky in ways no one else did. With Steve off in who knows where, struggling to get them pardons, Bucky was adrift in a new country and a new century with new people around him. The other (ex) Avengers seemed wary of him, addressing him in overly polite tones when Bucky ventured outside of the apartment, seeming to wait for the day he reverts back to the Winter Soldier. But Wilson was different. 

He was always there for Bucky when he needed something, but he still teased Bucky and kept him human. He reminded Bucky to eat in the same breath as telling him his flesh arm was beginning to look a little chicken adjacent, he asked Bucky if he wanted to go on a run with him in the morning and get out of the house, and when Bucky mumbled the same “no, thanks” he always did, he grinned in relief and said that he was glad he would be able to run at his own pace for once, but still asked him the next morning and the next morning and the next morning. 

Soon Wilson became Sam, without Bucky even realizing it. Sam had wriggled and shoved his way into Bucky’s life so quickly and smoothly that Bucky had no way of stopping him. Bucky began to respond to Sam’s gentle prodding and encouragements with little smiles and an eye roll, instead of just an eye roll.

One day, when Sam and Bucky were sitting on the couch watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, Sam asked Bucky what he would like for dinner and reminded him that he had an appointment with Shuri in the morning. 

Without even thinking, Bucky said, “God, Wilson, you’re such a Da—”.

Many things ran through Bucky’s head as he cut himself off. Shock. Alarm. Panic. Also, what the fuck???

Sam looked away from the television and glanced over at him. “What? I didn’t hear that last part.”

Bucky coughed. “I said 'God, Wilson’.”

Sam hummed, looking speculatively at Bucky. Bucky, still in a state of panic and shock, refused to look away from the screen, hoping and praying Sam would let it go and forget about it. 

Thankfully, some merciful god heard Bucky, and Sam turned back to face the television. 

Bucky let out a relieved breath. What the fuck was that? He almost called Sam Daddy. He’d never called anyone ‘Daddy’ before, not even when he was young and pretty in Brooklyn. He wasn’t some punk, especially now that he was over 250 pounds of muscle and literal metal. If anyone would be called Daddy it would be him. 

He had to admit though, Sam was a Daddy. He takes care of Bucky, he smiles indulgently at Bucky when he stumbles out of his room at the smell of Sam’s cooking in the morning, he bought Bucky’s favorite shampoo before Bucky even knew he was close to running out. He was warm and soft and big. Bucky wanted to curl up in Sam’s lap and feel his strong thighs under him and his gentle arms around him and-- Oh god. Oh no. This wasn’t good. 

If Steve were here he would laugh and laugh and laugh at Bucky’s misfortune. God. Bucky couldn’t believe he went and got a crush on Sam of all people. And not just a crush, oh no. Bucky’s life wasn’t that simple. Bucky wanted to call Sam Daddy. 

Bucky was now hyper-aware of Sam on the couch next to him, still watching the show on the television in front of them. There was maybe three feet between them, both Bucky and Sam leaning on opposite arm rests. Sam’s thick thighs were spread, with his feet flat on the ground, and his arm was stretched out along the back of the couch, big hand almost brushing Bucky’s shoulder. He even sits like a Daddy would, Bucky thought. He looked down at how he was sitting. He was in an almost completely opposite position. One of his legs was curled up under him and the other was up, with his chin resting on his knee and his arms wrapped around it. He looked small and submissive, and Sam looked dominant, like he could grab Bucky’s hair and shove his face down to his dick and make him--

Bucky shivered and uncurled from his position, stretching out his back. Sam looked over at his movement. 

“What did you say you wanted for dinner, Bucky? You didn’t say before,” Sam asked. 

“Uh-- Whatever you want. You pick.” 

Sam looked at Bucky for a beat, before saying, “Okay, baby.”

Bucky looked sharply over at Sam, but Sam wasn’t even looking at him anymore, and gave no sign that he knew what he just said. Though Bucky’s face was calm on the outside (he hoped), inside he was shrieking !!!!! BABY???!?!?!?!

They continued to watch until the end of the episode, Bucky sitting tensely on his side of the couch, and Sam spread out like a whole meal on the other side. When the end credits finished rolling, Bucky dragged a hand through his hair, wincing when it snagged on a tangle. 

“Ow. Shit,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?”

Bucky looked over at Sam to see him looking back worriedly. “Oh, it’s nothing. I just have to spray some detangler on my hair later.”

“Why don’t I just brush it now? You know it’s easier with another person.” 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. “You’ve never wanted to brush my hair before.”

“Yeah? Well first time for everything, right?” Sam asked sweetly. He spread his legs impossibly wider and pointed to the ground between his feet. “Why don’t you get your comb and sit there, and I’ll brush it while we watch a movie?”

Bucky hesitated, before getting up and walking to his room. He had no idea what Sam was playing at, but he wasn’t going to skip out on someone brushing his hair. As he walked back into the living room with his comb in hand, he saw that Sam had moved to the middle of the couch and had turned on a Star Wars movie (Bucky still had no idea which one it was, the order still confused him). 

Bucky slowly walked up to Sam, and shifted back and forth on his feet. Sam smiled encouragingly, and widened his legs again. At his encouragement, Bucky nervously sat between his feet, his back up against the couch and his legs crossed. He reached behind him to hand Sam the comb, and then put his hands back in his lap. 

Sam reached over and started the movie, and then began combing through Bucky’s hair. He started at the ends, and the comb’s bristles gently caressed Bucky’s shoulders and upper back, making him shiver. As Sam slowly made his way up Bucky’s curls, Bucky relaxed more and more, his shoulders slumping and releasing tension he didn’t even know they had. Once Sam’s combing had reached the top of Bucky’s scalp, he was so relaxed he was almost swaying in place, his eyes heavy lidded and vision blurry. 

Gently, Sam pushed Bucky’s head to the side so that his temple was resting on Sam’s knee. 

“There you go, baby.”

Bucky was so out of it he didn’t even recognize what Sam said, he just shivered and slumped more so his cheek pressed against Sam’s thigh. 

Sam hummed appreciatively, and continued combing through Bucky’s curls, even though they were silkier than they had ever been. He continued combing Bucky’s hair until Bucky was fully asleep. 

When Bucky blinked his eyes open again, the television screen was black. He was still leaning on Sam’s thigh, and one of Sam’s hands was gently playing with the ends of his hair, while the other was holding a phone up to his ear.

“Everyone’s fine here, Steve, you don’t have to worry all the time,” Sam was saying, when Bucky finally focused on his voice and not on how comfortable he was on the floor between Sam’s feet. 

Bucky was embarrassed that he fell asleep while Sam was caressing him, like he was some kind of pet, so he started to sit up, but Sam pushed his head back. He continued playing with Bucky’s hair, occasionally threading his hand in at the roots and tugging gently, making tingles spread across Bucky’s scalp and down his neck. 

After a couple minutes, Sam said his goodbyes to Steve and took his hand away from Bucky’s head. Alarmingly, Bucky felt a whine bubble up in his throat, but he stopped it before it could pass his teeth. He still twitched a little though, making Sam glance down at Bucky. 

“Do you want me to keep petting you, Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled quietly. 

Sam put his hand back in his hair, but instead of petting him, he pulled hard on Bucky’s hair, hard enough that Bucky’s head snapped back. Opening his eyes, Bucky saw Sam’s upside-down face leaning over him, brown eyes glittering. 

“That wasn’t very polite, baby. Where are your manners?”

“...please?” 

“Please what, baby?” 

Bucky’s eyelids fluttered. Was he really going to do this?

“Please, Daddy?” Bucky whispered, “Please keep petting me?”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Sam smiled softly. “Of course I’ll keep petting you.”

He gently stroked a thumb down one of Bucky’s cheekbones before tipping his head forward again. Bucky leaned his cheek against Sam’s warm, strong thigh, and closed his eyes as Sam ran gentle, possessive fingers through his hair again. 

--

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Two

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Peter Parker (platonic), background MCU characters

Warnings: [chapter] language; [series] language, smut, violence

Summary: The only people who knew she was actually a Stark were her dad, her step-mom Pepper, and her “uncles” Happy and Rhodey. A promotion within Stark Industries takes her from an already-sought after position in the Weapons Anaylsis Unit straight to the Avengers as a Weapons Enhancement Specialist... which means her dad is her new boss. There’s only one rule at work: no fraternizing with coworkers. There’s one more rule at home: no dating any Avengers. So what is she supposed to do when a grumpy super soldier becomes not-so-grumpy around her? At 25, do her dad’s rules still apply? Or is her entire livelihood at risk?

Author’s Note: This one was gonna be super short but I felt bad so it’s super long instead lol. I originally planned on posting shorter chapters more frequently so it might be closer to 3-4 days between parts now that I’m posting longer chapters. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m going to keep the limit pretty small. And if you want, you can buy me a coffee! ❣️

(Part One)

Tags: @kennedywxlsh

About an hour later, a light knock on the lab door drew your eyes from your work to Bucky as he walked in. Peter’s eyes darted up but immediately looked back down when he realized the visitor was for you.

“Hey Bucky,” you smiled. He smiled back and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“So… you wanted to see my arm?” he said, more as a question than a reminder.

“Yeah, if you could sit right here, that’d be perfect.”

He did as you asked and took a seat on a lab chair, letting you lean across the lab table toward him so you could fiddle with his prosthetic arm. You quickly grabbed your magnifying glasses, flipping the magnifiers up so you could examine him at face value first.

After a few minutes of looking at the outer plating and sensory receptors, you pulled away.

“Can you feel with this arm?” you asked.

“I can feel pressure but I can’t actually feel with it.” You gave him a confused look, only sort of piecing together what he meant. As he fumbled over his words to explain again, you put your glasses to the side, running around to Bucky’s side again to stand in front of him.

“Okay, this might be weird but it’ll really help me. Hold your hands out, palms up.” He did as you said. “I’m going to do the same thing to both arms and then I want you to show me, using just your right arm, how it felt on each one, okay?”

Bucky nodded and watched as your fingertips gently glided over his forearms, leaving goosebumps in your wake. The second time, you brushed your palms against his skin, as if you were brushing away crumbs. The final time, you scratched your nails down his right arm, making him take in a sharp breath as he watched the skin of his arm turn a pale pink. His left arm, however, kept catching your fingernails between the plates so you resorted to scratching across instead of down.

“Okay, now show me.” You flipped both of your arms over, palm up.

Using just his flesh arm on your right arm, he grazed his fingertips over your skin, admittedly sending a shiver down your spine. You didn’t even consider how weak that touch usually makes you, especially from someone who looks like that. And you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t find him attractive before you even graduated college. You and your roommates were guilty of many nights of fuck-marry-fight with the Avengers as your victims.

When your gaze moved up to meet his, he brushed his hand over your arm, then delicately scratched his nails down your arm.

If it hadn’t been for the slight hum of machinery across the room, you’re sure Bucky would’ve heard your heart beating out of your chest.

Dad would literally kill me if he knew the thoughts going through my head right now, you thought.

“Okay,” you started, pausing briefly to clear your throat. “What about what your left arm feels?”

This one made him furrow his brows, either in concentration or confusion. He pushed his fingertips against your skin harder than before and moved them down your arm. He used more pressure again with the second movement, then went back to heavy fingertip pressure for the scratches.

“Hm,” you said simply, letting your arms drop to your sides again. “So you feel the weight of the touch but not the sensation that comes with it?” The confusion in his eyes made you rephrase. “So this on your right arm —“ you ran your fingers down his flesh arm again, “gives you goosebumps, but this on your metal arm —“ you repeated on the left, “is just a weight, no shiverbugs?”

“Shiverbugs?” he repeated with a barely noticeable smile.

“Goosebumps! Sorry. Shiverbugs is something my grandma used to say. Sometimes I slip into the family slang,” you chuckled. Bucky’s smile grew a bit at the sound of your laugh.

“Yeah, I only feel that on the right arm. No shiverbugs with the left.”

You jokingly scrunched your nose at him before returning to your previous seat. He stood there as you scribbled down notes on how he feels things and your immediate thoughts on how to make it more real for him.

“Is there anything you want done to your arm?”

Bucky seemed slightly taken aback at the question, but quickly steeled his expression. “I know Tony wanted to make it quieter,” he said.

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned your elbows on the table between you. You could tell he was still pretty reserved, either because you were new and he didn’t feel comfortable around you, or because he didn’t feel comfortable in the tower as a whole yet.

“I know what Tony wants,” you said gently. “What do you want?”

He frowned at this, turning his eyes to the floor as he thought. After a beat, he finally said, “I just want it to feel real again.”

And you could’ve cried right then and there. You knew the story of the Winter Soldier. You had heard what Bucky had been through. You couldn’t imagine going through anything close to what he experienced, and you’d be damned if you let him down.

But you couldn’t cry in front of him on your first day, so you smiled at him softly.

“That’s not an easy feat but I’ll do what I can, Barnes.”

He smiled briefly before frowning again. That frown seemed to be his default expression.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked.

“Not right now. Thanks for helping me out,” you replied. He just nodded before walking out. Your eyes stayed on the door for an extra couple seconds before you spun around on your seat and scurried across the room to plop down next to Peter, who was packing his stuff to head home for the day.

“Hey, Boy Wonder, question.” Peter looked at you with raised eyebrows. Nicknaming ran in the family. “Want to use that biomolecular engineering and help me with something?”

•••

Nearly every day when you stopped in the kitchen for lunch, you’d run into Bucky. Sometimes he’d be with Sam, sometimes Steve, sometimes on his own. But almost every single day, he’d be in the common room chatting or the kitchen eating. For the first couple weeks, he was a little tense when you were around. You’d hear him and Sam bickering as you approached, just to see him quiet down once you entered the room. It was a bit disheartening at first, but when it was just the two of you, he always engaged.

You’d called him into the lab a couple times to look over his arm again, but you always felt bad taking him away from whatever training or cases he was working on. The digital renderings were always there, and you spent plenty of time digging into those and running simulations of the different ways you could muffle the wiring. And it’s a good thing you ran the simulations, because a couple of them would’ve fried his whole arm and then some.

Peter was a great help too. When he wasn’t working on his own projects, he’d poke his nose into your work and throw out recommendations. Robotics may have been your specialty, but the kid knew his stuff. He’s the only reason you finally figured out the perfect combo to quiet Bucky’s arm without knocking him out.

Nearly four weeks after your first day — and a week after Peter went back to campus, leaving you alone in the lab — you cornered Bucky in the communal kitchen again and turned on your classic Stark charm.

“Hey Bucky,” you said sweetly, leaning over the counter across from him while he tossed fruit into a blender.

“Hey [Y/N].”

You’d grown a bit more comfortable with each other, mainly from when you two were left alone. He still was a bit quieter with one of his friends around, but he was growing more talkative in general. You felt comfortable tossing nicknames at him; he felt comfortable saying “hey” instead of “hi” and once gave you your own nickname. Since you called him Bucky Bear a time or two, he called you Build A Bear. He almost looked panicked when it slipped, but your initial shock was quickly followed by giggles, easing the tension in his shoulders. But the feeling that name sent to your stomach felt more like bats than butterflies. He even joked with you now.

“So I’ve been looking at the blueprints we have for your arm and I was wondering — I know this is a lot to ask — could I maybe spend some more time digging around in your arm?” You flashed him a hopeful smile, even propping your chin on your hand to look cuter.

Before he answered, he put the lid on the blender and started it, staring at you blankly as the sound filled the entire room. You just sat there, continuing to smile at him. And the more you fluttered your lashes while he let the blender run, the more you could see his frown-y facade start to crack.

He finally broke into a smile when he shut the machine off.

“You don’t have to ask, [Y/N]. I mainly train in the mornings so my afternoons are free. As long as I’m here, you can call me in whenever.”

You jumped up and ran around the counter, giving him an unexpected hug, made obvious by the way he tensed up. You elected to ignore it.

“You’re the best, Bucky Bear.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said, gently pulling away from you to pour his smoothie into two glasses. “I just have one stipulation.” You looked up at him expectantly. “Take the rest of this? I, uh, I made a bit too much.”

With a laugh, you grabbed the nearly full glass and led him down the halls to your lab. Since Peter was only coming back one weekend a month, you had kind of taken over the lab, adding some color to make your workspace a little less drab. Your guilty pleasures playlist — aka your favorite middle school dance songs — played quietly over the speakers as you directed Bucky to sit down.

Getting into his arm wasn’t the easiest task. You had to pry off the opening of each individual outer plate, then unscrew — yes, with a screwdriver — the covering on the inner plates to actually see the wiring inside. Fortunately, Bucky brought his phone with him so he could occupy himself and let you focus. You were a bit surprised at how easily he understood modern technology, but he wasn’t quite the old man Steve was when it came to the changing times.

After spending a solid 10 minutes leaning over the lab table to open Bucky’s arm, you poked around inside for a while, jotting down notes as you went. Shuri had sent Tony quite a few notes for you to reference, but seeing everything firsthand and taking your own notes always helped.

Unfortunately, Bucky had two removable sections in his arm: one on his forearm, one in his bicep.

“Scale of one to ten, how comfy does the table look?” you asked.

Bucky looked up from his phone and gave you a confused look. “Uh, maybe a two? Why?”

“Well, Buckaroo, I need to get to the top plate too so you’ll have to either hold your arm up for me to get to it or lie down somewhere.”

He glanced back down at the table, then looked at you in confusion as he voiced his own suggestion. “What about the couch in the common room?”

You tapped your nose and pointed at him with a smile, gathering your supplies and the rest of Bucky’s arm. He led the way, lying flat on the couch and raising his left arm over his head.

“Is it okay if I play more music out here?” you asked as you unloaded everything.

“Sure. I should probably catch up on modern music anyway,” he said with a soft smile. You had Friday play your guilty pleasures playlist again while you got to work on opening up the top of Bucky’s arm.

You’d been poking around for almost 20 minutes when the silence was broken.

“Music nowadays is so sexual,” Bucky said suddenly.

“Hm. What makes you say that?” you asked, only half paying attention as you drew up more stream-of-consciousness notes on the coffee table beside you.

“This song.” You paused and immediately recognized the beat for “Candy Shop” by 50 Cent.

“Oh come on, as if you didn’t have any inappropriate songs in the ‘40s,” you scoffed.

“Of course we did but it was never this blatant! We were more subtle back then,” Bucky defended.

“Bro,” you deadpan. “If you think ‘Candy Shop’ is obvious, you have way more catching up to do. Friday, play ‘WAP’ by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion.”

You watched Bucky react as the song started. Even the initial “there’s some whores in this house” made his eyes go wide. At “wet ass pussy make that pull out game weak,” he turned to you, beet red in the face.

“What kind of music do you listen to?!”

“This is a popular song!” you laughed. “We have some obviously sexual songs that aren’t quite as… vulgar too. Friday, play ‘T-Shirt’ by Thomas Rhett.”

Bucky eyed you cautiously this time, not quite sure if you were actually playing a more censored song. He visibly relaxed when he heard the first lyrics, “Get off of work and we meet down at our spot. We got a patio with a view of a parking lot.”

“See, this is already so much better.”

“Don’t act so innocent,” you smirked, rolling your eyes at him.

“That sounds like an accusation,” Bucky laughed.

“Oh, it is.”

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up to face you directly, one leg landing on each side of your body sitting on the floor. His posture combined with his playful conversation had you wondering where this confidence came from. Because you definitely liked it.

“Come on,” you scoffed. “You can’t convince me a face like that,” you pointed directly at him to emphasize your point, “wasn’t making panties drop left and right back in the day.”

He shook his head and laughed to himself, leaning back on the couch, yet made no move to deny your accusation.

“Who would’ve known my sweet little Bucky Bear was a player?” you joked.

“Oh, like you’re not the same way, Build A Bear.”

“Excuse me?!” you squealed. “I’ll have you know I’m a good little Christian girl and I’m saving myself for marriage,” you said with a grin, maneuvering from sitting on your butt to kneeling and clasping your hands together like you were praying.

“You’re a lot of things, [Y/N]. A good liar is not one of those things,” Bucky smirked.

Your mouth fell agape. You liked this confident, playful side of him. You’d only seen glimpses until now.

“What’s your number?” you asked, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Uhh… My phone number?”

“No, your sexual body count,” you laughed, making sure to clarify; former assassins probably have a different interpretation of ‘body count.’ “How many people have you slept with?”

You knew it was a personal question but given the topic of conversation and casual tone you’d both taken on, it didn’t seem totally out of bounds.

Bucky thought for a second, slowly counting on his fingers. Your eyes watched as the slender metal digits flicked up: one, two, three... “Four.”

“Yeah, okay,” you scoffed.

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Bucky said with a laugh.

“Because that’s my body count.”

“Doll, I took plenty of dames out on the town, but I’d leave the night with a kiss and nothing else,” he said, that old school Brooklyn lilt sneaking up on him.

You sighed and shook your head, still not believing him but choosing to let it go for now.

“Give me your arm,” you said, holding your hand out. Bucky let his arm drop into your hand while you picked up a microchip with a needle-thin pair of tweezers. “This will adhere to the vibranium and essentially act like a pillow to muffle the sounds of your arm. So it’ll still make noise — I can’t just get rid of all sound — but it’ll be notably quieter.”

You tucked the chip under the inner plating of Bucky’s arm, watching as it sparked over the metal to let you both know it was working.

“Now lie back down so I can put you back together, Humpty Dumpty,” you said.

Bucky let out a quiet chuckle, but leaned back on the couch with his left arm over his head. After 15 minutes of angling the plating just right so it would fit back together, you climbed off the couch, distancing yourself from Bucky for the first time in nearly four hours.

“Anything else I can help the mad scientist with today?” Bucky asked. He had moved to rest his elbows on his knees, looking up at you from his spot on the sofa.

You checked your watch to see how much time you had left in your workday. 4:15. Forty-five minutes until you can clock out for the weekend. Not quite close enough to bullshit through some dumb side project so you don’t get too invested. But there’s one thing you wanted to check out to improve the feeling in Bucky’s arm.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you asked plainly.

Bucky’s eyes went wide for half a second before he slipped back into his playful demeanor. “Shouldn’t you take me on a date first?”

“Shut up,” you giggled. You giggled. “I just want to see how the arm is connected to your torso.”

Without pause, Bucky leaned forward, grabbed the back of his shirt, and tugged it over his head to let it fall to the floor. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t consider what he’d look like underneath his clothing, so it took you a second to gather your bearings again. You couldn’t help yourself. How could you not admire the slender lines of his collarbones, the thick layer of muscle covering his chest, the distinct ridges on his abdomen speckled with scars, the very tip of what you could only assume were two tantalizing depressions leading right to —

“Like what you see, doll?” he smirked.

Your eyes met his, reluctantly pulling away from what you knew would be the source of your dreams tonight.

“Four, my ass,” you mumbled in fake annoyance, kneeling between his thighs again to get a better look at him. Your fingertips trailed along the smooth line of scarred skin bordering the harsh metal of his arm. It took all your willpower to focus on work instead of the heat his body was radiating being so close to each other. “Was this how, you know, they put your arm on?”

Bucky shook his head, his expression growing sullen at the indirect mention of his tormentors. “They just kind of dug away at it. The Wakandans actually cut away a bit more of my skin to allow for healthier healing.”

You could tell it was carefully done, judging by the faint discoloring and thin ridge alongside the metal, as opposed to angry red lines that protruded out like the photos Shuri sent.

“Does this area hurt?” You pressed your hand flat to the scar; Bucky had to try to reign in his heartbeat. You had leaned in close to see his arm, leaving you close enough for him to just dip his head down and —

“What’s going on here?”

Both of you whipped your heads to the side to see a very confused — and slightly annoyed — Tony standing in the entrance to the common room, clearly just passing by and stumbling on a somewhat compromising situation: his daughter on her knees between a shirtless Winter Soldier’s thighs.

Without taking your eyes off your father, you reached around on the coffee table and grabbed your notebook.

“Research! I promise!”

“Research that couldn’t happen in your designated lab?” You could tell there was so much more he wanted to say, but had to keep it to himself for now to avoid telling Bucky who you really were.

“I had to open the compartment in his tricep area and didn’t want to make him lie down on the lab tables for three hours.” The accusatory glare from your dad made you shrink into yourself, your voice growing quieter as you spoke. Fridays were family dinner night, and you already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, still eyeing you and Bucky suspiciously. “And why did he need to be half naked for that?”

“Da — Tony,” you said, barely catching yourself. “I mean, Mr. Stark. I was examining the scar tissue and spinal connection to determine how to enhance the sensory receptors currently embedded in the vibranium.”

Tony’s eyes flitted between you and Bucky. Your eyes were wide, clearly nervous as he grilled you. Bucky, on the other hand, was flushed pink and leaning a little too close for Tony’s comfort.

“Keep this PG from now on, okay? And no working outside of the lab. This is Stark Tower, not Bezos Tower. We’re not gonna work you to the bone.” He started to walk away before stepping back and adding, “No fraternizing with coworkers, remember?”

With a quick nod, you stood abruptly and gathered your things to take it back to your lab for the night. Bucky was quick to slip his shirt back on and followed you with his head down to avoid the burning gaze of your father — or as far as he knew, his boss.

You didn’t expect Bucky to go back to your lab with you, but part of you was glad he did. Being around him brought you a sense of calm and comfort, even after what just happened. If he had just walked away, you’d assume the worst: that an accusation like that was far from what he wanted to hear.

You set all your things back on your table to start putting them away when Bucky shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat.

“Sorry about that,” he said. You spared a quick glance at him, seeing the tension in his shoulders as he chose his words carefully.

“Why?” you asked, genuinely confused on how that situation was somehow his fault.

“Tony… he doesn’t really like me much.”

“Yeah, I know,” you laughed. “But that was way more of a me-problem than a you-problem. We’ll just have to work in here from now on.” You shrugged and went back to putting your tools in their respective drawers.

Bucky still stood right inside the doorway, the door shut behind him so no one outside could hear you two. He rocked back and forth on his feet, trying to force himself to follow through with at least mentioning what he planned on asking you.

“I was actually gonna see if you wanted to get dinner together sometime until Tony gave us that speech,” he chuckled.

You slid the final drawer shut and turned to Bucky. You knew you two were getting closer and you couldn’t deny feeling an attraction to him, but you never expected him to feel that same pull. The thought made you smile back at him while he cracked his knuckles, most likely from nerves. What happened to that fun and flirty attitude he had just a few minutes ago?

Your grandma always said to never date a man who wasn’t nervous about asking you out...

“I’m pretty good at keeping secrets,” you said quietly.

His eyes stopped darting around the room to find your gaze. You stepped closer, taking slow steps as you crossed the room to him until you were toe to toe. He didn’t take his eyes off of you until you held your phone out to him.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” you said with a small smirk.

His lips curled into a small smile as he snatched your phone and entered his number.

“I’ll text you my address. Does tomorrow night work?” you asked, unintentionally biting your lip but not missing the way Bucky’s eyes followed the movement.

“Tomorrow sounds great,” he replied.

“Okay. See you tomorrow, Buck.” You took a bit of a risk and stood on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, his face immediately flushing red. Your own cheeks grew warm when you stepped back, tossing Bucky a quick wave as you turned back around and hoping he’d leave before you started screaming.

[mrwinterr]

Die Happy

Pairing: Ghost!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader; tiny hint of Sam Wilson x Female Reader

Summary: You summon a really friendly ghost.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (consensual vibes all around, masturbation, vaginal fingering, oral [female receiving]) and language. Dabbling into the occult (use of a Ouija board).

Disclaimer: I’m a spooky bitch, I like how Ouija boards look like, but I would NEVER mess with them.

Title Inspiration: “Die Happy” by Dreamers  

A/N: I was on Reddit and I stumbled across an erotic audio that inspired this, so I definitely owe it to them. I’ve just been dying to write a ghost AU. I decided to hold back on the smut on this for now and maybe save it for later. This can be turned into a series, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Idk. You tell me! Enjoy!

It’s here.

It’s finally here. The package that would help you find the answers you were so desperately looking for was finally here.

Package in hands, there’s a skip to your steps as you happily make your way back into the living room of your somewhat new home. You had moved in almost six months ago, but it still felt so surreal. You, a homeowner. All those years of saving up and house hunting - you finally did one of the most adult things you could do in your life.

The small house had been in the neighborhood for decades and owned by plenty before you, in fact, too plenty, but for a home in Brooklyn, New York it was surprisingly affordable. You’re still patting yourself on the back for how you managed to score this place at such a bargain price.

It was the ideal place, really; surrounded by friendly neighbors and with a great home association. It was at a reasonable distance from your workplace and the city. Furthermore, cosmetically, it was your dream home. You never took a second to ask why someone would quickly put this home back on the market...until recently.

The realtor had assured you that everything in the house was functioning properly before you signed away. There was little to no refurbishing on your end, which was part of the dealbreaker, but now you can’t help to wonder if the realtor was duping you. A young, pretty woman and a first-time homeowner? That was easy bait for them, right? There had to be a catch or information that they were withholding and well, you weren’t about to wait any longer to find out.

Lately, strange things had been happening and while at first you brushed them off as mere coincidences, they were becoming almost too outstanding to ignore.

First, it was the air conditioning unit acting all wonky. You kept the house at a reasonable and comfortable temperature, but you found yourself often sporting hoodies even during the warmer seasons. The technicians couldn’t find a single problem with it and besides whenever you scheduled a visit for inspection, it was magically working just fine. Never mind the breeze that blew past you here and there…

Next, much like the AC unit, the electricity started to have a mind of its own. Before you could flip the light switch or press the button on your remote, it was always one step ahead of you. It was almost like you were living in a smart house, but instead of acting on voice command, it read your mind.

Not to mention, things disappeared and reappeared every now and then. Small things like the morning paper would vanish from the coffee table and if you couldn’t locate where you last left your keys, you never searched too far.

Then the eeriest one of them all was the unexplained smell. There was a distinct yet alluring scent that would waft by when you felt that breeze pass over. You had deduced that it wasn’t any like of your fragrance collection nor was it from the only friend that visited you. It was a pleasant odor and almost calming to you.  

You didn’t want to believe it, but these weren’t just common occurrences - these were tall tale signs of a haunting. The spirit wasn’t vengeful, that much you gathered since it didn’t make attempts to harm you in any way. Sure you could just either ignore these oddities or relist the home, the latter which wasn’t in your favor because it wasn’t that simple. Instead, curiosity won the best of you and you opted to take matters into your own hands.

Literally.

“Whoa!” You hear your close friend Sam Wilson exclaim and watch as he scoots to the other end of the couch as far away as he could when you pull the Ouija board out from the box. “Shit, girl. I knew you liked Halloween, but I didn’t think you were that spooky!” He said, his eyes bugging out in disbelief that you’d ordered such a thing.

You roll your eyes at him and place the board on the coffee table. He immediately gets up from his spot and sets what he deems is a safe distance from it as if the object was cursed. You’re not deterred by the Ouija board at all. It had quite the opposite effect because you were all too fascinated with the supernatural.

“You really shouldn’t mess with that kind of stuff,” Sam warns as you handle the remaining piece, the planchette.

“I don’t know why you’re so scared,” you respond, blowing him off and kicking away the now empty box.

“And you’re not?!” He says incredulously, “trying to speak to the dead is not right!” Well, it certainly wasn’t normal, but so weren’t the things that were happening in your home lately.

“I need to find answers, Sam!” You bite back, the volume of your voice matching his. You didn’t miss the hint his exclamations gave off and it bothered you. “What do you expect me to do? Continue living like this? I’m not in control of my own home.”

Oh, he knew. He was your closest friend and you trusted him enough to share your theories about your home and the experiences in it.

“You really think this place is haunted.” It comes off as more of a statement because he can see you’ve clearly made up your mind on how you’re going to prove the theory.

“Why do you think I can’t have Sarge or any pets over?” You absolutely adored Sam’s dog Sarge, but he made it apparent that he didn’t like something about or in your house.

Before Sam could try and spit out an explanation you’ve already heard, you stopped him, “I’m not going crazy! And I certainly am not going to spend another fee on having a technician tell me there’s nothing wrong with the units again.”

“Look. Why don’t you just come spend the night at my place and we can think of another way to approach this?” He offered and you knew that offer all too well. It had always been on the table. When you decided to move to Brooklyn and were looking for your own place, Sam had offered you a room, but you were hellbent on making it on your own. You were proud and independent...and weren’t sure about taking the next step with him.

Sam was everything your past lovers weren’t and you while you both weren’t official, a couple of dates happened here and there, something was holding you back. You cherished his friendship so much and a part of you feared finding out what it could be that you weren’t willing to jeopardize what you two already had if anything more came out of it and then failed miserably. He made it clear how he felt about you, but you brushed it off casually each time. Sam knew you simply weren’t ready.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” You reply, breaking away from seeing the look of concern on his face and back to the planchette your hands were fidgeting with. You knew he was a skeptic on these kinds of things and only worried for your safety.

The nights he had spent here nothing strange ever happened. It’s like these occurrences were only happening about you. Sam wasn’t sure if he believed in ghosts or not, and he deeply cared for you, but he wasn’t about to stick around and find out. He knew that you could be stubborn, but there was only so much he could do to change your mind from where he stood and he just hoped he hadn’t lost you yet.

The small crack of thunder in the sky indicated a storm was coming and you took that as a sign to convince Sam to leave for the day. You didn’t want to fight with him about this. The few times you did talk about a possible haunting were just humorous conversations to Sam, but you were always being serious. It was evident that you two were not on the same page.

“You should probably start heading home before the rain comes,” you advise, standing up to walk over to the front door, hoping it’d sway him, but he knew what you were doing. Sam wasn’t mad. He was always very patient with you.

He only nods in false agreement before following your lead. “I’m coming back first thing in the morning to check if you’re still alive though,” he jokes, before pulling you in for a hug and giving you a kiss to the side of your head. His words elicit a light chuckle from you, but is mostly muffled against his biceps, then you’re playfully shoving him out the door.

As soon as his car disappears from the end of the street, you jolt and head snaps quickly at a sudden crash from the kitchen. You make your way in that direction to find the mug gifted to you on your last birthday from Sam shattered in pieces all over the kitchen floor.

The last roar of thunder must’ve been a strong one or the elevation of the shelf had been slightly off or maybe the house didn’t like Sam…

You shook your head at that last silly thought from your mind and sighed preparing to clean up the mess. Once that was done, the gloomy weather quickly casted a blanket over the sky and with a remix of fast raindrops against the windows and pavement and the lag in thunder, you didn’t waste time on the mission.

What better time than now? It set the mood. Were you scared? You weren’t sure. You were already convinced you were living with a spirit. You didn’t ponder long enough to think about the aftermath. Was this all just a bunch of hocus pocus or pseudoscience? Would you get possessed by a demon or would he be like Casper?

The use of a Ouija board, especially by someone inexperienced as yourself, was highly not recommended and very much frowned upon during your upbringing. If only your parents could see you now...

The spirit in your home couldn’t be that bad though, right? If they wanted to possess you, they would’ve done so by now; unless they were just waiting for an invitation. Well, there was only one way to find out.

You dimmed the lights and lit a few candles around you. Was this insulting? You did some fair share of research, but most of what you knew about Ouija boards were credited to horror movies.

You take a deep breath and begin to summon your supposed roommate.

Bucky felt bad as he watched you clean up the mess he made in your kitchen. He knew you liked that mug, but he didn’t and he certainly didn’t like how Sam made you feel. Sam made you feel all sorts of things and Bucky knew that, which explained why Sam never experienced anything unusual in the house because Bucky didn’t like seeing you with him.  

He was aware of how silly it was. A ghost jealous of two living humans. He had his turn, but it was tragically cut short. He was so young. He left everything behind to fight a World War. There was a high chance he wouldn’t come back and he was sadly part of that statistic.

But why did his afterlife have to consist of seeing the most angelic living human being just waiting to fall in love with the perfect living man? He didn’t get a chance to live out that part of his life, so was he bitter? Yes. And especially outraged at any distress that was brought upon the current tenant of his old home.

Bucky wasn’t sure why he was able to roam around his old stomping ground over the last couple of decades. He tried his best to communicate with the previous owners but he always ended up scaring them off. When you moved in, if he wasn’t already dead, and you could’ve seen him, he just knew he would’ve been as pale as a well...ghost. He made sure to not send you running for the hills.

He tried to help you with everyday things, trying his best to be subtle. He didn’t even spy on you during private moments like in the shower or on those lonely, needy nights. He proved himself to be a ghostly gentleman.

He even tried to not eavesdrop on your conversations and almost always disappeared when guests were present, but he heard you raise your voice earlier at Sam. He wasn’t sure what you two were arguing about and sure it was petty on his part, but before he could summon enough energy to knock over the mug, Sam was already gone.

Bucky followed you back into the living room and watched as you lit the candles scattered around. He lightly smiled believing you were attempting to relax. If only seeing you in peace was enough to put him to rest - permanently - but when he sees you take a seat back on your couch his expression fell and he swore his heart would stop again if it could.

“Oh no,” he says as he watches you stare at the Ouija board on the table before you. Bucky starts pacing in front of you, his hands over his head. Anyone that set foot and stayed long enough knew this place was haunted, and he knew you weren’t stupid and besides he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to have been lately.

“Is anyone here?” He hears you ask the first question. He looks over your direction and sees your eyes are closed with both hands on the planchette.

“Oh my God,” he barely whispers and realizes, “she’s really trying to talk to me.” He couldn’t believe you’d be so brave to risk such a thing and importantly willingly reaching out to him.

“Yes! I am! I’m here!” She can’t hear you, idiot. “Fuck, of course she can’t hear me.” Bucky argues with himself on what to do before he remembers how Ouija boards work.

He almost can’t believe it when he does it, but he’s able to delicately move your hands and slide the planchette over to the word ‘YES’.

Your eyes pop open and you gasp when you see that you got an answer. You're frozen and look up in front of you half expecting the spirit to show itself to you, but you don’t see anything.

At least that’s what you think. Unbeknownst to you, you’re staring right at Bucky or rather through him. His expression mirrors yours - complete and utter shock. He was never able to easily move or touch anything solid in years. The incident with the mug earlier, that kind of stuff usually required a lot of concentration and energy on his part. He’s also scared that he’s frightened you with that move, but at the same time excited that he’s successfully communicating with you.

You’re unsure if you should continue. You were half expecting this to be a bust, but it moved. It actually moved! While you were excited that this worked, the tiny voice in the back of your head had you considering that maybe you shouldn’t go any further, but who ever really listened to them? You blink a few times and refocus your attention on the task.

“What are you?” You ask.

“What am I?” Bucky repeats the question, “I’m dead.” Wait. He starts to spell the letters ‘D-E-A-D’ with your hands on the planchette. He compares the sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, amused at that response, of course he was dead, as to what angels must’ve felt like when they earned their wings. If anyone believed in that sort of stuff...either way he felt very blessed.

“You liked that one, didn’t you?” Bucky said more to himself with a big smile on his face. He loved this! It was like he was having a conversation with you. It was something he only ever dreamed of for the last six or so months.

A particular flash of lightning followed by a thunderous sound startles you and you breakaway from the Ouija board. You weren’t going to lie. You were still absolutely spooked out and decided that maybe that was enough contact with the dead for the day.

When your heartbeat finally returned to its normal pace, you got up and turned on the lights, made sure you blew all the candles out and turned in for the night. Before you left, Bucky watched you look around the room and bid goodnight to seemingly nothing, but he knew it was meant for someone - it was meant for him.

The days that followed, you were growing curiouser and curiouser that in your spare time, you started digging into how much can come out of the Ouija board, but first you needed to figure out who you were dealing with.

With as much access as you were granted, you found out about a man, who was around the same age as you, that had died during World War II and the hauntings that would start to occur after the first tenant took residence upon this home.

The house belonged to a man named James Buchanan Barnes, but signed it under the name Bucky. How cute. You thought to yourself over the nickname, then you saw an accompanying photo of who you assumed was living with you. It was in black and white and the quality wasn’t that up to par, but from what you could make out you could determine enough. Cute name for a cute guy.

You read the experiences of others that lived here before you and they all seemed harmless. They were just spooked and you didn’t blame them. They had every right to be scared, but you didn’t scare that easily.

You’re so engrossed with your findings, you barely paid any attention to Sam, even when he’d come in to check on you. He had the spare key in case of emergencies, and you ignoring most of his unreturned phone calls and missed texts, uncharacteristically you, to him was deemed as an emergency.

Sam was only less than thrilled to see your enthusiasm on all this. Normal people didn’t go around poking at the dead. He pointed out you were lucky you didn’t get possessed, not paying any mind or adhering to you claiming he was probably a friendly ghost.

“This isn’t an episode of Casper!” Sam says fed up again. His face falters as he watches your shoulders visibly slump. He hated killing the vibe, especially when you were excited, but you were excited about something all too unreal and that shouldn’t be messed with at all in the first place.

“What if I can help him?” You try reasoning with him, “What if I can help him pass on? Then I can live in peace...and so would he.”

“You’re already lucky that you’re unharmed,” Sam reminds you, “I’m just worried about you.”

“I know you are, but I’ll be fine,” you assure him, hoping you could keep that promise. After all, you couldn’t even confirm you were really communicating with Bucky.

You were relieved that the conversation with Sam didn’t take a turn for the worse like it easily could have. You understood where he was coming from and you were lucky to have someone like him care so much about your wellbeing. The realization never fails to punch you in the gut for not allowing yourself to give in.

So why were you more scared to commit than of willingly reaching out to a ghost?

Take two.

You sat perched up and ready to communicate once more. Bucky, on the other hand, is more than ready and the cool familiar breeze that passes you by lets you know that he’s here.

“Who are you?” There weren’t exactly formalities with contacting the dead and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you’re slowly spelling out ‘B-U-C-K-Y’.

“Bucky,” you whisper. Boy, did Bucky like the sound of his name coming from your lips.

“How did you...die?” you had to swallow in between the last word in that question, hoping it wouldn’t trigger a negative response. Even in the afterlife, death couldn’t be an easy topic.

The letters ‘W-A-R’ and the number ‘2’ gives you your answer. It was him! Internally, you’re overjoyed that you’ve figured out your ghostly John Doe, but you try to remain at ease.

“Did you knock down my mug?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at that, but swiftly moves your hands over to ‘YES’.

“Okay. I mean that wasn’t very nice,” you couldn’t just bite your tongue as the sass flowed right out of you.

‘S-O-R-R-Y’.

The apology takes you by surprise, and suddenly you weren’t mad about the mug anymore.

“It’s alright. It was just a mug,” you try to assure him. You’d just have to explain to Sam another time that the ghost broke it. No biggie. Yeah, right. What with the tiny arguments, he’d most likely believe you destroyed it out of anger and frustration at him.

Your arms were getting tired from the position they were in. Several minutes had passed since you last said anything to Bucky and you weren’t sure of what to ask next.

Where does this end? Do you ask him to leave? This is his home. No, it’s not anymore. It’s your home now. But he doesn’t belong here anymore. How do you help him pass on? Did you have that ability? Do you hire a medium? Enlist the help of a priest? Call a ghostbuster? Your mind grew tired all too quickly, you slumped back in your seat, breaking away from the Ouija board.

Bucky watched as you rubbed the muscles of your sore arms. He felt helpless. He wishes he could ease or take away your pain. Instead, all he could do was watch and make sure you were okay until you were ready to start talking again.

With your hands back on the items, you ask, “are you still here?” Bucky responds with ‘YES’. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, mentally preparing yourself, before proceeding with the next question.

“Can you show yourself to me?” There the ultimate question and Bucky can’t help but ask why? Why were you interested in seeing him? He was a lost cause.

“No?” you ask more to yourself, still staring at the word through the eye of the planchette, and frown at his response.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to show himself to you, but he didn’t know how. For decades he was nothing but a gust of air. No matter how hard he tried to show himself to previous owners, he was never successful.

You pull your hands back away and place them in your lap, unsure of where to go from here. Well, you couldn’t force a ghost to do something they didn’t want to do, but you hoped that maybe perhaps seeing him would make it less taxing while communicating.

There’s a sudden iciness that covers the side of your cheek, sending a chill down your spine, causing you to flinch and your hand rising quickly to warm the spot.

Bucky almost disappears at the sudden reaction. He can’t believe it. You felt that. You could feel him. It was different than pushing your hands in different directions because this time, neither of you needed the help of the Ouija board.

You’re not sure where he is as your eyes scan the room, you wanted to feel that again. Sure, the cold was a bit alarming, and as sharp as his icy touch was, so was the surge that flowed through you. It was unexplainable, but soothing.

It sucked for Bucky because he couldn’t keep your eyes trained on just him.

“Are you sure you can’t show yourself?” You ask again, this time convinced you didn’t need the Ouija board anymore.

However, Bucky needed the board to reply. You sigh in defeat as you watch the planchette slide across to the word ‘YES’. You couldn’t allow yourself to get mad. You just couldn’t understand how it was possible for him to do all these other things, but not be able to show himself. Whatever it was, you’d just have to accept that you’d never understand ghost logic.

The sound of the planchette scraping against the board, offers you the word, ‘F-E-E-L’.

Feel? You definitely felt a presence, but now it was confirmed. It was him. He was trying to communicate through touch.

“Yes, I felt you,” you let Bucky know quite eagerly. The planchette remains unmoved after that and instead of what would appear to be awkward silence, the seconds that were passing by could be more appropriately compared to that of a ticking time bomb.

“Touch me,” you request.

Bucky’s stunned. If he were alive and well right now, he’d no doubt be on his knees for you with a command like that. He floats over to you and is only more than eager to touch you again, but he’s not sure of where. Feeling a soft anticipation of a ghostly tingle, he hesitantly places both hands on the underside of your jaw, in a cradle-like fashion, hoping it'll stop your wandering eyes.  

You stand still, frozen in place, now seeing the breath of air that escapes your mouth in a cloud of smoke. He’s definitely here and in front of you.

“More,” you say barely above a whisper.

Fuck. Bucky inwardly swears at himself as you unintentionally egg him on. Testing his limits, what more could he already lose? He was already dead.

He goes all in. He leans in and presses his cold, dead lips to yours in the most gentle and light kiss ever. When he pulls away, he sees that your eyes have closed and he can’t help immediately start to wonder if you actually felt that or not. He sure as hell felt it. He can’t be certain as he tries to gauge at the expression on your face. Shit, why did he do that?

“Do it again,” and this time with a more affirmative tone, Bucky doesn’t question anything anymore and obeys. His lips dig deeper against yours, you let out a small moan and purse your lips to respond. You don’t think about how silly it must look to be making out with practically nothing, not knowing what to do with your hands because there was nothing to hold onto, but despite that it all felt too real. He was real.  

Bucky’s mind is reeling at the sound of pleasure that spews from your mouth, he can’t comprehend how this is even possible. He’d been dying to know what kissing you felt like - what you felt like at all.

When your lips start to get numb and turn blue, you reluctantly pull away. You open your eyes to a dark room and wish you could at least hear him, the sounds of ecstasy played a pivotal role in intimacy.  

Your body temperature returns to normal, blood rushing, mind a haze. You stand up and head towards your bedroom without another word. Would he take the cue to follow you? You can’t be sure. You can’t see or hear him, but your actions say otherwise and make you both feel as if he wasn’t dead at all. It was now a game of cat and mouse.

Bucky or not, you were unabashedly turned on. In moments like these, it was hard to be in control of your own body and the only thing you could do was give in to the desires. In this instance, your body couldn’t make up its mind because as if you weren’t just freezing your ass off while kissing Bucky, you were suddenly hot all over.

Flustered, you pulled down your shorts, tossed them carelessly across the room, perhaps a little too harshly. If he wasn’t going to help you out, then you would do the job yourself. A mad smile on your face, surprised you weren’t the least bit embarrassed if he was going to watch you or not. It only added to the thrill and the excitement.

Trying to regulate your breathing, you lie down on the center of your bed and run your hands over your face down to where you needed them the most. Your fingers experimentally graze along the wet spot of your panties, groaning in acknowledgment of the sudden arousal. There’s no sense in conjuring up a justifiable explanation as to how something so seemingly innocent as the kiss you shared with Bucky got you so crazed. Not wasting any time, you lift your hips up and bend your legs to slip the flimsy garment off.

No longer a thin barrier between, your entire body shivers slightly, a sharp gasp escaping your lips, when your fingers make first contact with your clit and you begin to rub slow slow circles over it. Your stomach sinks in with each relieving exhale, your breathing growing heavy. Your fingers run off course and dip into your folds, past the floodgates, your fingers resurface coated in your own wetness and you use it to an advantage in invigorating your clit.

Eyes closed, you start to think about Bucky. You want to feel guilty or believe this was all wrong. Instead of getting off to someone like Sam or someone real for that matter, you lied there baring yourself to a ghost. You try to picture that baby face of his, and all that you could based on the lone image you found of him on the Internet.

The curve of his full lips that you were fortunate enough to feel on yours moments ago. You already knew they were soft, but what about his other features? Did his eyes sparkle or were they like black holes? What color were they? They had to be of a set that could hypnotize someone. Maybe it was okay that you couldn’t see him because if you had you just knew that you’d be at his mercy.

And that was just on the surface of it all. How was he like in other areas? How would his tongue feel against yours, on your skin, in you...The simulation causes your thighs to clamp up, knees involuntarily knocking into each other; your other hand clutching onto the bed sheets. He made it that easy, but you needed one more good push to dive in the deep end.

A thin layer of sweat coats your skin from the increase in body heat, then an abrupt familiar cold sensation runs through you, his alluring scent filling your nostrils, your legs forcefully separate; all tells you that Bucky was here. You pick up your head, always a small hint of disappointment flashes through your features at the fact you still and won’t be likely to ever see him.

It shoots a wild pang through Bucky’s chest because he doesn’t miss it; never knowing he could read someone so openly. He missed out on a good chunk of his life. He missed out on someone like you. Life was so cruel.

Your thoughts aren’t as far away from his as you start to wonder, why was it all so easy - seamlessly flawless - with him? Running with only first-party information and two silent conversations, you were already willing to go headfirst for halos for Bucky. Was it pathetic? You didn’t care anymore, whatever would ultimately bring you to him, you just knew in the end you’d die happy.

Your head falls back in defeat and you try to keep your emotions at bay, until you feel the hem of your shirt being lifted, exposing your midriff. Your lips cave in and you wince at each uncalculated cold peck Bucky’s lips leave on you. Whereas you felt a minor sting at how cold his touches were, for the first time, Bucky felt like he was on fire at how hot to the touch you were in this moment. This moment with him.

His lips create a path down to your core, and the contrast in temperature feels good. Not knowing what to do with your hands again, your arms lie sprawled on the bed on either side of your body, then you mentally curse at another sad truth that you had no one to hold on to.

A cool breeze brushes past your folds and your heartbeat spikes up again. Bucky never imagined he’d ever be able to make someone feel this way. It was pointless for him, but he dreamt about it countless times. And then he wickedly thinks how he was dumb to not spy on you during those nightly sessions. He was missing out. You were absolutely divine in his eyes.

“Bucky,” his name slips past your lips when his make contact with your swollen clit. It started off so innocently, but when he pulled his lips back and ran his tongue over the wet spot you left on them, giving him a taste of what you had to offer, he wanted more.

The cold, with each bit of contact from Bucky, was no longer a thing as your body quickly acclimated to it. Bucky uses his fingers to spread your pussy lips apart and allows himself to get a better taste. Your head lulls back, sinking in deeper into your pillows.

There’s only so much you could do to communicate with Bucky, you want to feel his hands all over, but instead you pick up on the slack as you grab and squeeze handfuls of your breasts, massaging them and adding onto the sensation. Your groping proves to be successful when you draw out more noises.

Bucky’s eyes never tear away from watching your reaction, the way your body moves from pleasure - pleasure he’s bestowing on you. His mouth doesn't require guidance as his tongue pulls all the right moves, weaving its way through and between your folds. He drags out a long moan from you when he dips his tongue in and then captures your folds between his lips, tugging as he sucked on them.

“I-I need,” you try to voice out your desires, but you’re reveling in so much, especially in being able to feel Bucky’s fingers digging into the sides of your hips; you bite down on one of your fingers, trying not to let out a crazed scream.

Bucky doesn’t want you to hold back though, so he introduces his fingers into the mix as they take turns in you. You wished you could hear him and all the sounds of his onslaught. To hear those pretty boy moans, the filthy pops and slurping noises. Was he a dirty talker? God. Imagine the things he would say.

He gets the message loud and clear. You want to come, and so he quickens his actions until your body goes into overdrive. When you reach your peak, your eyes snap open, pupils blown, and your back arches up in perfect bridge-like fashion. It almost looks like you’re being possessed before you come back down releasing choppy gasps of breaths.

Exhausted, you struggle to stay conscious wanting to communicate with Bucky one last time, but it felt like the orgasm almost sucked the life out of you. The puffs of cool air against your pussy are an indication that Bucky is still present and he wasn’t going to go anywhere just yet. He hasn’t moved from his position and is short of breath, in awe of seeing you coming undone for him and more so the fact that this happened. This wasn’t just another one of his dreams.

For as long as he’d been an apparition, he’d hoped to be able to finally pass on and if this was his actual last day on Earth, then he’d gladly accept it because one night with you was enough. 

Bucky would die happy.

A/N: Yeah, the ending wasn’t strong, but I wanted to leave it open for interpretation. Let me know what you think! A simple like and reblog is enough to help a sis out! Thank you for reading! 

[pies-writes-and-more]

accidentally ruining relationships

Word Count: 3,851

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: a very stupid Bucky? some terrible humour by yours truly? lol all fluff though I promise 

A/N: PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ON ANY SITES WITHOUT MY PERMISSION! (Reblogs are totally okay!) Look at me posting a WIP that’s been sitting in my drafts for literally forever haha. I hope you guys like it, I love these two idiots so much <3

(Not my gfif, creds to the original creator!!)

Y/N groaned, lying on her stomach and pushing herself into the pillow beneath her, burrowing her face into the fabric in hopes that she could suffocate herself and be done with this world.

“Doll, it’s okay. Breakups happen. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened.” Bucky apologized, rubbing his hand against her back from where he sat next to her on the bed. He had just come back after a three month long international mission, only to find out that a few days he had gone off comms, Y/N and her recent boyfriend had broken up. The soldier moved his hand move to her hair, playing with a few strands like he usually did when she was in need of some calming energy . “I thought you were thinking about breaking up with him anyways.”

“I was,” Y/N frowned tightly, pulling her face from the pillow and looking back over her shoulder at her friend. “That’s not why I’m upset.” She sighed as she thought about it for a moment, wishing that talking about these things didn’t make her feel so frustrated again. Over the last few months, she had been healing, getting over the typical breakup feelings, but she knew that deep down, this relationship had been all fake anyways.

Bucky waited for a moment with raised eyebrows as Y/N moped further into her pillow. “So… why are you upset?” He finally asked after she didn’t continue.

Y/N huffed and pushed herself up off the bed, sitting up to look at him, “The problem is I expected to feel something... he broke up with me in the worst way, over a fucking phone call, and I feel nothing!”

Bucky blinked, watching as she whined and fell back into his bed. “And... that’s... bad.” Bucky responded slowly, attempting to catch up in her thoughts.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, her bottom lip pulling into a small pout. “It means that I just spent months of my life with this guy who literally made me feel nothing.”

Bucky thought about it for a moment before lying down next to her. “I mean it only happened a few weeks ago. Maybe you’ll feel it later.” He suggested, nudging her playfully.

“Maybe,” (Y/N) murmured, though she knew she wouldn’t. It had been a long time since she felt anything towards her now ex-boyfriend. Or anyone else really, and she had known this even before she met the newest ex. She had tried to bury it, tried to deny it, but it always came back the same way. She was in love with someone else.

The two laid in silence for a while, until Y/N’s fingers clicked onto her phone screen and found a playlist called ‘For the Brokenhearted’. Soon, soft melodies floated in the air, lyrics that made Y/N’s heartstrings feel numb. She felt guilty that she felt nothing, felt upset that there was nothing left over.

“Bucky?” Y/N asked after a while, glancing over at him. After the months he had just gone through, Y/N knew that he was probably sleep-deprived and mentally and physically exhausted, so she wasn’t surprised at all to find his eyes closed. But since there wasn’t his usual falling-asleep twitch in his leg, she knew he was awake.

“Mm?” The sound made Y/N’s lips turn into a small smile, watching the flutter of his eyelashes.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Such a simple question and yet, Bucky felt like he had just been smacked in the stomach, as if all the breath had just been knocked out of him. “S-Sorry what? Me?” His eyes opened to look at her, gazing at her thoughtful expression.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nibbled on her inner cheek, a nervous habit of hers that Bucky had started noticing the first day they met. “Like heart skipped a beat, smile at the mention of their name, cheeks rosy when they look at you, giggles in your throat kind of in love,” Her voice was lofty, matching her head-in-the-clouds sort of facial expression.

Bucky scratched his head slightly, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to understand why she was asking, “That… sounds super specific,” he commented slowly, but he knew exactly what she was talking about. He had felt all that and more, starting the very moment he had met her, how could he not?

“I’m scared it doesn’t exist... every time I think I’m in love, it doesn’t work out. I feel flutters with someone and I think hey maybe these are the right kinds of butterflies in my stomach but it turns out I was just looking for something that wasn’t even there,” She sighed, turning onto her side so she was facing him and taking his hand, her fingers playing with his. “I don’t want the next guy I think I’m in love with to turn out to be an ass too. What if I think he’s this super amazing guy, like all the others, and it turns out he’s the worst person I could ever be with?”

Bucky thought for a moment and turned his head to watch her. “One day, you’re going to find some super cool, awesome guy who’s going to treat you like the queen you are, doll. You’ll know it when you’re with him… it’s like magic. Or a puzzle piece. You’ve got to find the person who fits you and your heart just right. Can’t just shove some other piece because it just wont work. But when you find them… it’ll just click.”

There was a pause filled with a sort of tender love in the air, coming from the romance that filled Bucky’s voice as he talked. Y/N watched his eyes sparkle and they shared a gaze for just a moment that made Y/N’s insides turn.

“But until then, you and I can hang out and gossip,” Bucky added in playfully, a smirk on his lips.

Y/N smiled, eyes dropping nervously away from his his but they kept falling t o his lips, as if unable to stop herself from investigating those incredibly kissable lips, “I don’t know how I’d live without you, Bucks.”

He grinned hearing those words, hoping she couldn’t feel his heart racing, “Well lucky for you, you’ll never have to.”

“Until some girl comes and sweeps you away from me,” she tried to laugh, tried to make that smile on her face as genuine as possible because he deserved to be happy. She wanted him to be happy. Somehow, not one single girl that had crossed paths with Bucky had seemed to catch his eye, all of them absolutely stunning. If they couldn’t make Sergeant Barnes swoon, the kind of woman that would must be out of this world incredible.

“Awh come on, no one’s going to be taking me away from you. Not anytime soon.” Bucky’s shoulders gave a simple shrug as his eyes started to close blissfully again, not noting the sadness growing in Y/N’s eyes as she thought about the kind of woman that could make Bucky Barnes feel the way that she herself felt about him.

For just a moment, Y/N watched as he breathed quietly. Her eyes admired every freckle, every piece of hair, every little part of him that she could. She could very much be in love with this idea of something she didn’t know, something new, she was aware of that. She had been so scared that she was just falling in love with Bucky because her relationship didn’t work out and she found solace and comfort with him.

But it wasn’t just because of this asshole breaking up with her. The more she thought about how she felt about Bucky, the more she thought about how often she had waved the idea away with I’m not good enough for him… but that wasn’t really saying she didn’t like him.

And there was more than just what he was like with her. She loved the moments he thought no one was watching, the way he smiled seeing families play together at the park, the immediate need to help someone when they needed it, like that time he had brought home a litter of abandoned kittens.

There was just something about him.

“You’re staring,” Bucky’s voice and cocky smirk broke her out of her thoughts, his eyes not even bothering to open.

“Can’t help it, you’re far too gorgeous,” (Y/N) shot back, hoping her playful tone would hide her true feelings as she quickly turned to her phone to find more music. She begged the universe to keep his eyes shut, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous she got all of a sudden.

Bucky peeked an eye open at her words, smirking slightly, “Says the most perfect girl in the universe,” he tested. He just wanted to see that smile once more.

And there it was. Her lips turned into a bashful smile, her lower body squirming shyly. Bucky closed his eyes again, smiling as he saved the picture of it in his mind somewhere.

He felt her shift on the bed and suddenly there was a weight on him. He opened up his eyes to see her straddling his waist, staring at him. “Oh I’m sorry, did I wake you?” She teased, the playfulness in her eyes sparkling.

Bucky swallowed hard, feeling a deep lust for her itching inside of him. His thoughts wandered off for a moment, imagining different scenarios in which she was straddling him. “Nah, can’t fall asleep. Gotta watch after you and that broken heart of yours,” he finally managed out with a smile.

He watched as she slowly leaned down towards him, her eyes hiding a curiosity behind them as they followed his facial expressions. Their faces were so close at this point, Bucky couldn’t help but think about kissing her. Showing her that no other guy she’s dated was worth her.

Y/N moved some hair out of her face as she continued to examine his expression, his eyes, his lips. She couldn’t tell what had come over her, where this confidence had come from, but here she was, closing in the distance between their lips. Bucky’s eyes saw her gaze flicker towards his lips and the back to his eyes. Were they thinking the same thing?

“AND THEN WHAT?” Sam asked with wide eyes, watching as Bucky paced up and down his room. He was at the very edge of his seat, as if Bucky was retelling the most dramatic story of a lifetime (which he was)

“And then nothing!” Bucky groaned, shaking his head. He let out a sound of frustration, kicking at the air.

“What do you mean nothing? Sounds like she wanted to kiss you.” Steve’s eyebrow raised in confusion, leaning back into the couch he and Sam were sitting on.

Bucky sighed and after a moment, he finally threw himself onto a nearby chair, “I couldn’t do it, Stevie. She just went through a breakup. How is that fair of me to take advantage of her feelings like that?”

“I mean, you could’ve been her rebound.” Sam offered. “And then she just so happens to fall in love with you. You two get married, have kids, be disgustingly adorable-”

“That just sounds like I’m using her emotions to my advantage. She deserves better than that.” Bucky sighed, putting his head in his hands. “That was my one chance, wasn’t it?” He moped.

“Bud, everyone can see that you like each other. There’ll definitely be another time for it. Maybe when she’s not dealing with a breakup,” Steve nudged his friend, attempting to be comforting. “It’s only been a few weeks, give it some time.”

“I mean to be fair though, maybe that was her trying to tell you that she likes you and when you didn’t kiss her, she took it as you not liking her. I mean she did make the first move,” Sam thought out loud. Steve grabbed the pillow seated next to him and swung it out right beside him, hitting Sam smack in the face, glaring at the now laughing Sam Wilson as Bucky let out a whine.

“Dammit!” The dark haired soldier yelled out, his voice echoing into the room, thinking through his options. “The hell do I do now?”

“Well what happened after you didn’t kiss her?” Steve asked as Bucky hit his head against the back of the chair frustratedly.

Bucky sighed and looked over at him, “She just smiled kinda sadly and said she wanted to go talk to the girls or something.”

“Okay so why don’t you ask her if she wants to go get some snacks or something from the grocery store. Do that movie date thing you guys normally do.” Steve shrugged, not at all worried by the situation. He had seen the lovey-dovey glances these two sent each other all the time, and to be honest, he was getting so sick of it. It frequently disturbed meetings, ruined plans on missions, and right now, it was ruining what was supposed to be a peaceful Sunday night. With his luck, this would continue for a long time, so there was so need for his best friend to be worried.

Before Bucky could decide if it was a good plan, there was a knock on the door and Y/N peered in. “Bucks?” She blinked, surprised to see the three men sitting around and Bucky looking depressed. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

“Not at all,” Sam smirked. “Sorry to hear about Johnny...Mark...Marcus?” He offered, stretching his mind.

“Tommy.” Y/N responded with a laugh.

“Right, Tommy... the... doctor?”

“Dentist,” Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Seems like you put in so much effort to remember my dates, Wilson,” she teased.

“What can I say, I just don’t think they’re that memorable compared to other guys,” Sam grinned, wiggling his eyebrows in Bucky’s direction when she wasn’t looking. “Well, sorry anyway,” Sam added in with a smile.

“Aw, don’t be sorry,” (Y/N) shrugged, sighing as she let her thoughts lead her words, “Any boy who breaks up with me over working here, isn’t really worth it.” The words spilled out before she could stop herself, smiling brightly until she noticed all the boys turning to look at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“He broke up with you because you work with the Avengers?” Steve frowned tightly. “What’s wrong with working with us? Did we do something? Is he one of those guys that doesn’t like us?”

“O-Oh-” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, “U-Um like, partially because I work with you guys.”

“Who the hell doesn’t like the Avengers?” Sam scoffed. “What’s so wrong with working here?”

“I-It wasn’t so much working with you guys as it was... you know...living with you.” Y/N admitted nervously, avoiding Bucky’s gaze as she desperately tried to put out a fire she started but only really making things worse. He stared at her hard and she knew it was because he was surprised she hadn’t told him this earlier.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bucky’s voice was quiet but it sent a little shiver down Y/N’s spine. Sam and Steve shared a look, attempting to sink back into their seats, twiddling their thumbs.

“It’s not really that important,” Y/N told him quickly. “He just...got jealous that I’d be hanging around you guys and that I’m always with you and that I talk about you all the time and-”

“So it wasn’t so much the Avengers he was jealous of, but...Bucky?” Sam sat up straight as he spoke up, trying to contain the smirk on his face but it was hard. He didn’t need any clearer sign than that that these two were pining after each other - even Y/N’s idiot ex boyfriend could see that. Bucky’s face lit up like a tomato, which made it harder for Sam to contain any laughter.

“I-I mean...” Y/N scattered for a good excuse. Tommy had hated her relationship with Bucky and always felt like he came second to him... he wasn’t wrong.

“Did I do something?” Bucky asked nervously, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come between you and your relationship-”

“No no!” Y/N burst out, shaking her head, “Please don’t think like that. It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened!” She laughed nervously, but the boys were still staring at her. Goddammit, stop talking! she begged herself, letting out a quiet groan when she realized what she had admitted.

Bucky’s heart was falling. So he had been the reason for all those nights she cried and wondered if she’d ever find love? “It’s happened before?” Bucky asked slowly, shoulders falling. “Fuck, how many of your relationships have I ruined?”

“Bucky-” Y/N started.

“I think this is our cue to leave,” Sam mumbled, nudging Steve’s arm. The two of them patted (Y/N) on the back before sliding out, Sam sending Bucky a supportive grin and a thumbs up before closing the door behind him.

“How many?” Bucky asked again, standing up stiffly.

“What?”

“How many times have I ruined a relationship with a person you really liked?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to find the words to explain what it had all been about, “Bucky please, it’s not what you think-”

“Not what I think? You’ve been in and out of flings and relationships this whole time and now you’re telling me that this isn’t the first one to end because of me? What did I do? Is it because I’m around you lots?” Bucky looked angry and desperate for answers. Y/N’s heart broke seeing him like this, unsure of how to explain.

“B-Bucky, please, let me explain-”

“Damn, what kind of friend am I to be in the way of all your relationships? How could you not tell me? You could’ve told me to back off or something! How many of them did you actually like and I fucked it up?” Bucky ranted, his voice raising.

“Bucky stop!” Y/N yelled, eyes desperately following him. “I-It’s not like that. It’s not just because we’re always together. These guys just get jealous and...and...” Y/N swallowed hard, trying to figure out what to say. Was now a good time to admit all the feelings that were bottled up?

“Jealous of what? Of how you spend time with me here? Of how you take care of me? Is it because of who I was? Because of what I did?” Bucky pleaded, begging for answers. Why wouldn’t she just tell him the truth? “All those nights you spent in my room, crying over boys, and it turns out it was just my fault all along-?”

“Bucky Barnes, it’s because I’m in love with you!” (Y/N) yelled out, a desperate attempt to pull him out of spiralling.

Bucky’s eyes shot over to her, wide as he processed her outburst. There was a dead silence as the two of them stared at each other.

“You what?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Y/N sucked in air, heart pounding against her chest. There was no turning back now. “I-I’m in love with you, Bucks... and they all knew it. I tried to play it off as them just being jealous of my best friend being a guy but... I’ve always known I was in love with you. Even the girls knew,” she sighed, thinking about how Nat and Wanda were so relieved to finally hear Y/N admit she may have feelings for the soldier.

Bucky suddenly felt incredibly lightheaded. He searched her expression for any sort of sign that she was lying, but she sounded so genuine. “Y-You can’t,” he told her softly. “Not me.”

(Y/N) felt defeated, her heart was falling every second, “Because you don’t love me back,” She stated softly and Bucky’s eyes looked like they would pop out of his head.

“No! Of course I’m in love with you, doll, who the hell wouldn’t be?” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His shoulders fell from his normally straight posture, eyes dropping to the floor. “My heart’s been yours since the first time you smiled at me. But what could I give you? I’m an old man, I don’t understand anything you grew up with, anything we’re going through right now. Not to mention the obvious,” he scoffed, closing his eyes slightly. “I couldn’t live with myself if one day I snapped back and you were scared of me.”

(Y/N)’s heart was in turmoil. On one hand, he had just admitted he loved her too. Her heart soared at the thought of them being in love, at having a chance to be with her best friend. And then it fell. Bucky was stepping away from her, as if distancing himself would do anything. “I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, frowning at him. “Do you really love me?”

Bucky looked at her with a sad smile, moving to sit on the armrest of the couch. “With everything this broken body has.”

“Then kiss me,” she demanded, surprising herself with how confident the bold statement sounded.

Bucky stared at her for a moment, his fears and his feelings mixing together. He was in such turmoil, watching as she stepped closer moving to stand between his legs. “Doll, I-”

“Do you not want to?” She asked quietly, watching his eyes. She needed to know how those lips felt on hers, if the spark that she had fantasized about was real.

“Of course I want to-” He insisted, searching her earnest eyes. “But what if-”

“Then kiss me, Sergeant.”

Bucky watched her for a moment, deciding that this was the one moment that he got. Steve told him that he deserved to be happy, especially after everything that happened. Did he? Did Bucky Barnes, a trained assassin that became a murdering tool deserve to be happy? He stared at this woman standing in front of him, a glow on her skin after such a passionate confession, eyes fiery with confidence and demand.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered to himself. He stood up swiftly, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to him. And he did it. He kissed her. His lips eagerly pressed against hers, her arms finding their way around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer.

It was everything the two of them had dreamed of and more. Y/N thought about all those people who said you know it’s love when there’s sparks flying. The comical idea of fireworks off in the background played in her head as his lips moved along hers. It was magical, it was fantastic, it was everything.

The two pulled apart for a moment, eyes fluttering open to see each other, to make sure that this wasn’t just a dream, “I really really like you, Bucky Barnes,” Y/N whispered against his lips, pecking them again gently.

Bucky smiled, brushing her hair from her face as he tried to bring himself back to earth. There was no way a girl like this wasn’t an angel, he had to have been brought to Heaven or some etherial plane,“I really really really like you too, Y/N Y/L/N.”

** ** ** ** ** ** **

I hope you guys enjoy this!! I’ve been toying with this WIP for a while now and just figured it was time to post it :) Please let me know if you like it! I love to hear from you all!

Masterlist

[shallow-seas-we-sail]

£ (A Girls Night Out on the Town)

Alex taps the center of the table, “Okay, call it. Fifty bucks in the pot. Shot glass in five. Lets go.”

“The barstool in ten.” Sam grins and smacks her money into the center of the table. Nia rolls her eyes over the glass of her fruity concoction before setting it down and turning in her stool to rummage through her purse, “Shattered cue ball in fifteen.”

Alex lifts her chin towards Kelly, “What do you think?”

Kelly shifts in her seat, and absently picks at the label of her beer bottle, “I think this is a bad idea.” 

“Boo, okay mom.” Sam deadpans into the top of her bottle before taking a sip. Alex snorts as she throws back a shot, the tequila nearly burning its way out of her nose.

Kelly drums her fingers impatiently on top of the table before reaching into her jacket pocket, “Fifty on the table in..,” she pulls her lip between her teeth and narrows her eyes towards the bar where Kara is waving down the bartender, “eighteen.”

“Why do you always pick such a weird number?” Nia asks, poking at the small umbrella sticking out of her drink, “This isn’t the Price Is Right.”

“Isn’t it though?” Kelly retorts with a sideways smile as she slides the bill across the table.

“Alright, you’re last, Luthor.” Alex jabs Lena with a playful elbow, “Main event. Whatcha got?”

Lena presses a single finger to her lips thoughtfully and her eyes flit over to Kara, who looks confused as to how to precariously balance the six drinks the bartender has placed down in front of her. 

“The jukebox is getting fried tonight in twenty.” Lena says ruefully as she opens her wallet and lays a crisp bill down. Alex smiles, and pokes a shot glass across the table towards Lena that she waves off, “I hate tequila.”

Alex gives a knowing look, but doesn’t stop the forward momentum of the glass until it is bumping against Lena’s knuckles, “Come on...”

Lena licks her lips, and plucks her wine glass up, giving a tight smile towards the older Danvers sister, “Fine, but this is,” she taps the side of the shot glass, “contingency. plan. only.”

continue on ao3 or

Alex scrunches her face up, a little drunk and a little excited as she reaches into the center of the table, collecting the money in a scramble and shoving it into her pocket, “Okay. okay, okay, okay, here she comes. Shh.”

“You are literally the only one talking.” Nia says, flicking a rogue pretzel across the table towards Alex.

“Talkin’bout what?” Kara asks, carefully setting down the drinks and glancing around the table.

Alex freezes for a moment, a tight smile plastered across her face and narrows her eyes, “Uh...”

“My semester abroad.” Lena finally interjects.

Sam’s eyes widen, a devious smirk pinching at the corner of her lips, “Oh?”

Lena glances towards Sam, giving a subtle wink as Kara takes the seat beside her, “Play along.” she mumbles half-heartedly out of the side of her mouth.

Sam’s eyes narrow for a moment as she weighs her options. If Lena is giving her the green light to improvise, she is going to take it and run. Decision made, she gives an emphatic nod, “Right. You semester abroad in..”

“London.” Lena finishes.

Sam snaps her fingers and pushes lightly against her friends shoulder, “Of course. London.” 

Sam is sure that was a semester she visited, but can’t quite remember. She does distinctly remember the apartment Lena had sublet above a bar and the fish and chips smell that clung to everything. That doesn’t mean that she can’t work with this tiny sliver of information. She is also in a wicked dry spell in their betting pool, so, whatever it takes to get a barstool shattered, she is ready to take on. She needs to poke Kara juuuust enough, and honestly, it won’t take much, and Sam is teetering on the sort of drunk that she will absolutely use to her advantage to bend the rules in her favor. 

Kara takes a sip of her drink, the strong taste burning in the back of her throat and winces as she lowers her glass, “I didn’t know you did a semester abroad.”

Nia’s face screws up in bewilderment as she looks between Sam and Lena, “What the fuc-? OW.” she snaps towards Alex, who is digging the point of her boot into her shin beneath the table.

“Are you okay?” Kara perks up.

“Yeah, just a little bitch.” Nia says curtly, cutting her eyes at Alex.

“Hmm?” Kara hums, half paying attention as she leans back and stretches her arm out so it rests on the back of Lena’s chair. She barely contains her smile when Lena gives an assuring shoulder shimmy, and pushes in closer, settling into the crook of her arm.

“Itch. Just a little itch.” Nia laughs mirthlessly, bending forward, and swatting at Alex’s foot under the table, “It’s fine.”

“So,” Kelly intervenes, resting her hand on her girlfriend’s thigh and giving a tighter-than-warranted squeeze, “how did you like London?”

“It was beautiful. I enjoyed the autonomy of being out there and exploring a new place on my  own,” Lena says wistfully, “especially becau-..”

“Because I was there.” Sam finishes, her head falling forward and sucking in a breath as she slams her shot glass down on the table, “Visiting and pulling the stick out of this one’s ass and dragging her out all over the city.”

Sam grins, Oh yeah, it’s all coming back to her now. 

Lena’s distant, nostalgic look shifts into something more dumbfounded and with a pinch of horror as she turns her head slowly towards her friend.

“Don’t you dare.” she warns.

Sam wiggles her eyebrows and gives a faux pout towards her friend as she leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “Playing along remember?”

“I thought you went to school with Andrea?” Kara asks, absently twirling the stirrer in her glass.

“I did. Sam visited, usually around finals to cause trouble.” Lena says, side-eyeing her friend.

Sam waves off the comment, even if it is true, “No. I came to loosen you up because you were, and continue to be, a nerd.” she mocks in a low tone, “Plus you were literally living off of Wispa bars and black coffee. I was doing you a favor.”

Kara smiles and leans in, and goosebumps begin to prick up on Lena’s arm as warm puffs of breath pass over her ear, “Oh, so that’s what you keep stowed away in your desk drawer.”

Kelly turns over her hand, ignoring how insufferable those two are, and glances at her watch, “Three minutes. You’re about to be out.” she whispers out the side of her mouth to her girlfriend.

“Like hell I am.” mumbles Alex, shooting her hand up and snapping her fingers. She presses her beer bottle to her lips, finishing the last of the amber liquid as a waiter approaches the table, “Six shots. I don’t care. Anything.”

The waiter gives a tight smile and nods as she heads back towards the bar. Alex drums her fingers impatiently against the table as she tries to peer around the throngs of people crowding the bar and glances down to her watch.

“You think showing up to my flat in the middle of finals and dragging me out to every bar so you could find someone and get laid was a favor?” Lena asks incredulously. 

“Come on, come on.” Alex pleads, biting her lip, and gives a small fist pump when the waiter returns, “Thaankk you,” she sing-songs as she picks up the glasses from the waiter’s tray and passes them around table.

“Pffft, that flat was a glorified closet at best,” Sam says, lifting her shot glass. Lena scrunches up her nose and makes a face, “and secondly, I wasn’t the only one getting laid.”

Kara stiffens and her hand tightens around the shot glass as she raises it. Alex is so, so sure she hears it crack.

“What are we cheers’ing to?” Kelly asks, picking up her glass, and studying reddish liquid, “And what is this?”

Nia lifts her glass to her nose and grimaces, “Oh, that’s a Washington Apple,” and she wafts the offending odor away from her face.

“Okay, okay. To Lena’s semester abroad.” Alex chortles and raises her glass.

“To Lena’s semester abroad!” the other women echo, except Sam, whose eyes stay fixed on Lena as she raises her own glass.

It is too easy, honestly.

“To Pound Town.” Sam crows and throws back her head, the drink easily sliding down her throat.

Lena nearly chokes as she swallows, and quickly Kara’s hand is on her back, shot forgotten on the table and eyes wide with worry, “Are you okay?”

Nia licks her lips and shakes her head, trying to loosen the disgusting taste in her mouth, “What did you just say?”

“I-.. I’m fine.” Lena waves a hand and presses it against her chest, sucking in a breath.

Alex clenches her jaw and reaches across the table, snatching Kara’s drink and begrudgingly finishing it, “Damnit.”

“Sorry, babe.” Kelly consoles, rubbing her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Alex sits motionless for a moment before snapping her head up and staring at Sam, “Did you just say ‘pound town’?”

Nia nods in agreement as she sips on her drink, trying to get the bitter taste of cranberry and whiskey out of her mouth, “Yeah, what the hell is that?”

Sam leans back in her chair and brings her arm around Lena’s shoulders, squeezing and pulling her in close to her side and out of Kara’s loose embrace.

Kelly sucks in a breath and glances down to the table, eyes wide by the sheer audacity of Sam. While Alex audibly scoffs at the power move. Nia sways in her seat, and points an accusatory finger in Sam’s direction.

“I see your angle. Rein in it, why dont’cha?” she laughs, drunk and proud of her wordplay, and raises her hand for a high five. When no one at the table moves, she lowers her arm and rolls her eyes “Whatever,” she mumbles, poking at her umbrella again. 

Kara looks over to the growing space between herself and Lena and leans forward slowly, her eyes fixed on Sam and set to kill.

“Pound town,” Sam twirls a finger into Lena’s ponytail, her tongue peeking out between her lips as she glances at Kara, “We used to go there all the time.”

And this must be what death feels like, calmly and cold, settling into her palms, its icy grip moving its way up her back. And Lena is going to welcome it right here and now. Just to die and be dead and cease to exist. Lena closes her eyes, ready to welcome oblivion. She should have known better than to give Sam an inch. Because if she gives Sam an inch she takes a whole goddamn marathon mile.

Alex lifts a single finger and motions between Sam and Lena from across the table, “You two used to...” her eyes wide and expectant, but mostly pleading for her question not to have an answer. Not for her sake, but for Sam’s.

“Go to Pound Town?” Sam finishes as she lifts up her beer bottle and takes a sip, “almost every night.”

“Stop saying ‘pound town’.” Kara pleads and squeezes her eyes shut as she pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Pound City, then.” Sam quips, and waves her hand in a flourish as her other dips down into the collar of Lena’s shirt, tracing abstract patterns just below the nape of her neck, “Whatever, Lena loved it.”

Lena tucks her head, chin pressing against her chest, and glances woefully over to Kara who will likely pick up her body from the sticky bar floor and be writing her obituary by morning. Lena gives herself over to something greater and makes her peace that the only monument to the Luthor name will be an “In Remembrance” plaque hung up above the jukebox in an alien bar.

Sam presses a wet, drunk kiss against Lena’s temple; which causes her to jerk up, ramrod-straight in her chair. Maybe if she doesn’t move, she will just disappear. 

“Shit, babe, remember that night you were all like, ‘no, we can’t go again,’ and I told you we totally could, and finally, you were like, ‘okay but this is the last time Sam-a-lamb,’ and one time became three times and then six times, and finally you had gotten so much you couldn’t even walk straight.”

Kara’s eyes slowly grow wider, and Alex realizes with growing horror that her sister is possibly about to commit murder. Like, public execution. Like, kill-Sam-and-stick-her-on-a-post-in-front-of-Al’s-as-a-warning-to-all-others-not-to-remove-Lena-Luthor-from-super-cuddles assassination.

“Is she always this extra?” Nia asks painfully, lowering her head down onto her crossed arms, and resting on the table.

“She’s insufferable, and obviously she is embellishing.” Lena says, jabbing an elbow into an amused Sam’s side, “But you can practically get anything you want. We did spend many an inebriated night there.”

“Kara!” Alex yelps, slipping out of her seat with a small, drunken stumble, and linking her arm through her sister’s. “How’bout a round of pool, huh?”

Kara plants her feet, and the dirty linoleum floor cracks beneath her, “Shiiit,” Nia slurs, lifting her head up, “should’ah bet on the floor.” Alex bungees back into sister’s side, and tugs her arm again. This time Kara’s relents and allows Alex to pull her away.

“She’s messing with you.” Alex hisses as she shuttles them away from the group towards the pool table. Kara’s gaze stays planted directly over her shoulder, eyes flickering with cerulean heat as she half-listens to her sister.

“Six.” Kara says resolutely, hands nearly on her hips as she turns before thinking better of it, “Six, Alex.” she hisses back at her sister, “6.” she says, defeated. 

“How in the hell can I compete with that? Bring gatorade and trail mix to the bedroom?” Kara says, worry edging into her voice.

“Like Lena is ever going to be in your bedroom at this rate.” Alex slams the rack down on the table, and Kara straightens up, “Do you know what Pound Town even is.”

Kara waves her hands in a flourish, and plugs her ears, “La-la-no-no-no. Stop saying that.” she squeezes her eyes shut.

Alex juts out an arm, and collects a pool stick propped up from against the wall. She leans down, squaring up over the edge of the table and strikes a perfect break against her sister’s abdomen. Kara looks down in faux shock at the perfect blue ‘o’ dusted on her shirt.

“It’s like...the limey version of a Dollar General.” Alex pushes herself up from the table's edge, and leans back, rolling her eyes, “Kelly looked up on her phone while you were death-glaring at Sam. You fall for this every time she does it.”

“I do not.” Kara tuts, crossing her arms.

“The Rail Yard?” Alex drops her chin, giving her sister a blank stare.

“Tha-..that could’a been a sex dungeon.” Kara protests, pointing an accusatory finger at her sister.

“It was literally a restaurant they remodeled from an old train depot.”

“How was I supposed to know that?!” Kara throws her hand ups

Alex’s eyes go white for a moment as they roll into the back of her head, “This is it. This will be the time you two idiots finally make me stroke out.”

Kara’s head falls back and she stares up at the ceiling, a frustrated groan rumbling in the back of her throat.

“Look, she knows how you feel about Lena. Hell, anyone with eyes knows, and both of you just sit there, ocular intercoursing each other out in the open and we all have to suffer as unwilling voyeurs every time you two are within ten feet of each other.”

Supergirl looks off into a distant corner of the smoky bar, eyes shining with the knowledge of the cosmos. She also doesn’t need this shit. She is practically a god.

Alex snaps her fingers in front of her sister's face, “Don’t go all smoldering and stoic. This is the same thing she did at game night.”

“What game night?” Kara drops her arms, relenting to her ever present weight of loving Lena bearing down on her shoulders.

“The best of fiv... ya know what,” Alex shoots up her hands, effectively cutting herself off, “wrong timeline.” Kara blinks, “The point is, she is trying to rile you up so you finally make a move.”

Kara’s brain short circuits and boots back on, “I can make a move.”

“It’s been four years.”

“I can make all kindsa moves.”

Alex purses her lips and frowns, “You are drawing up blueprints to plan the plans for your moves.”

“Whatever,” Kara groans, changing the subject “What’s the bet tonight?”

“FIfty on what you break.” Alex taps her hand over the bundle of cash in her pants pocket.

“What did you have?”

“Shot glass in five.”

Kara blows out a low, sad whistle and clutches her hand to her chest, “Rao, have a little more faith in me then that.”

“Sam has the barstool in ten.” Alex smirks deviously, “And, there is a contingency plan.”

“What?” Kara whines through her teeth, eyes widening behind her glasses, “I thought that was a myth.”

“Someone has to make a move. And it’s not like you were ever gonna get around to it.” Alex snarks, widening her stance, arms akimbo, “Plus it’s not a myth, super dork. It’s just in a group chat that you’re not a part of. Tonight is the night, so if you don’t, Lena is.”

“That’s rude you know.” Kara chastises, and drops into a take-off stance, rubbing her hands together and a little giddy at Alex’s revelation. She bites her lip in thought and glances up to her sister, “How much time do I have?”

“Almost...” Alex looks at her watch and winces, “six and a half minutes give or take? Where are you go-..” But a gust of air is already hitting Alex’s face as she stares at a swinging alleyway door. Kara is gone, and a distant boom echoes in the distance as the sound barrier cries out, cracked by one lovesick and slightly horny Kryptonian.

“Oh shit.” Alex breaths in, and then forces a bright smile as she turns, making her way back to their table of friends.

“Where did Kara go?” Lena asks more jovially than necessary as she pushes a hand into the side of Sam’s laughing face. 

“Probably flew to Sexless in the City.” Sam blurts out, busting into another fit of hysterics as the front door blows up. The gust of accompanying wind sweeps up a dusting of leaves that silhouettes Kara, box tucked beneath her arm in its threshold.

“God,” Kelly whines, “Good or bad. You Kryptonians and your dramatic entrances.”

Sam throws a thumb over her shoulder towards the door, “I wasn’t that dramatic.”

“Mmm, but weren’t you though?” Alex tilts her head side to side thoughtfully.

“Took a trip over to Pound Town and got this one her own girlfriend.” Supergirl says, voice low, dripping with bravado and jutting a finger at Sam as she stalks forward.

“Told ya to Rein it in!” Nia perks up, and gives herself an astral high five, incandescent purple sparks fading off the tips of her fingers because, Boom. Fireworks.

Kelly lolls her head in Alex’s direction and screws her eyes shut because she is just so tired™ and because ‘these fucking idiots’ need so much therapy.

Alex blinks, and gives a quick, agreeable shrug as she comes up beside her girlfriend.

Sam tips her bottle at Nia, “Fair. May have crossed a line.” she concedes as a gust of wind blows up through her hair, sweeping it across her brow and obscuring her view.

“Shit, or a few lines.” Sam grits through her teeth as she runs her hands back through the tangles. She immediately chokes out a breath as the sharp corner of a box slams into her solar plexus and the barstool being kicked out beneath her shatters. Before Sam realizes she’s in a slow motion free fall, she is on her back in a crater of shattered linoleum, box clutched to her chest and gaping up at very pissed Kara Zor El.

“Here.” Kara snarls, pressing the box into Sam’s chest with a final push, eyes pulsing with heat behind skewed glasses.

All higher brain function shuts down for Lena then, her eyes fluttering shut for the briefest moment, and Nia juts out her bottom lip as she cheers her astral-projected self, “Girl, same.”

Back online, Lena reaches out, hands flexing needy, open and shut towards Kara. But before she can grab the fabric of Kara’s taut shirt, straining over those flexed biceps, she is face to face with a disheveled and flushed Kryptonian.

Kara throws a thumb over her shoulder towards a wheezing, supine Sam’s direction, “I’m sorry.” She confesses through her teeth.

Lena licks her lips, and does her best to suppress a dangerously bright smile, “Did you really...” she trails off as a laugh tumbles out of her, and Kara swears it is the only sound she wants to hear for the rest of her life.

“Go to Pound Town?” Kara asks leaning in conspiratorially, and with a little too much confidence, “Why? Would you like to come if I did?”

“Oh shit. That’s a move.” Alex mumbles under her breath.

Heat race under Lena’s skin, like a fever in her blood, and the flush creeps up all the way to the tips of her ears. And no, this is how Lena is sure she dies, by some corny double entendre from Kara that shouldn’t be having the effect on her that it does but absolutely is. So she plays it cool, feverish expression and all by resting a hand on her hip and giving an over exaggerated eye/head roll combo.

“Did you really think that line would work?” she says about an octave too high as she reaches around Kara and grabs her contingency plan. “Sláinte.” And Lena tilts her head back, throat open and burning with tequila. After a moment of reckoning, she brings her head forward and is met with a smug smirk pulling across Kara’s mouth.

“Did it?”

Lena schools her painful expression to something sadly more concerning; the inherent awe that comes with the knowledge that she is hopelessly in love with one (1) alien himbo.

“Unfortunately, yes.” she says in a huff, wrapping her arms around Kara’s neck, and pulling her into a hard kiss.

Their friends and the bar patron’s lets out a collective sigh, and the voices of ‘finally’ and ‘bout fuckin time’ are mumbled in concordance around the bar.

Sam raises a limp hand that Nia takes, helping her to her feet, “What’s the time?” she asks, pulling herself up.

Kelly turns her wrist over, and gives an approving nod, “Barstool in ten.”

Sam presses a hand into her lower back and slowly straightens herself up, rolling her eyes at the public love fest happening beside her, “Ew, gross, but worth it. Gimme my money, Danvers.”

Alex begrudgingly digs into her pocket, and smacks the wad of bills into Sam's outstretched hand, “Why can’t you just do this normal for once?”

Sam waves off the comment as she slips the money into her pocket, and brushes a few stray pieces of floor off of her shoulder, “Because where is the fun in that? It works every time.” 

Lena gently pulls away from the kiss and stares into the clear skies of Kara’s eyes. She adjusts her glasses and turns in their embrace towards Sam, and dips her head, motioning to the box her friend is still holding.

“Looks like someone is getting lucky tonight.” Lena murmurs as Kara’s warm lips move up her neck, nipping and kissing along the underside of jaw.

Sam arches a questioning eyebrow, and turns the box over in her hands. She is met with the plastic, blown up, cartoonish face staring dead-eyed back at her, mouth positioned in a perfect ‘O’

“She kinda looks like you.” Nia observes over Sam’s shoulder.

Kara’s hums in agreement as she walks her fingers around Lena’s back, pulling her close against her chest, “Yeah. So she can go fuc-...”

“Myself, yeah.” Sam cuts in, raising and shaking the package, conceding to Kara, “I deserve that.”

[sunflowersteves]

Pink Palettes

Feminine!Bucky Barnes x Reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: To your surprise, Bucky already knows how to do his makeup but not everyone seems to like it.

author’s note: This can be a sequel to the first fem!bucky fic I made but it can also be stand-alone. I hope you all enjoy! Also, happy father’s day :)

warnings: a wee bit of toxic masculinity, a wee bit of angst, fluff! doee

Masterlist

Bucky’s teeth shone bright and his eyes crinkled in delight as he watched you do your makeup routine. He really loved watching you, eyes fluttering as you press the sponge on top of your skin and the drift of the brush wisping across your eye.

“You want some?” He nods, and you pick up your primer and hand it to him. You were both sitting at your vanity in the bathroom while Bucky had a chair pulled up that was right next to yours. He smears the product around his face, making sure everything is rubbed in. You grab a fresh beauty blender and damp it, then hand it to him. You poured Bucky’s shade onto the back of his hand and he pressed the foundation into his skin and dabbed the sponge, letting it blur and blend into the skin.

After he finishes, you grab an eyeshadow brush and pack one of his favorites, hot pink. Since he wasn’t comfortable with doing his eyeshadow yet, especially for big events, you had normally done his eyeshadow. He was still practicing with his eyeliner and full face, he didn’t want his first appearance to be beginner’s makeup. Even though you disagreed.

Your eyebrows shoot up as he picks up the brush from your hands, having his lids already set with eyeshadow primer and started to pack the product onto his eyelid. “You’ve been practicing more, huh?” He hummed, trying to concentrate on the strokes of spreading the product. You slid over the eyeshadow palette as he picked a darker shade of pink and started packing it near the corner of his eyes. 

You just curiously watched, leaning on your hand, and wondering what kind of look he was going to do. A light tinted blush forming on his cheeks. You wouldn’t have noticed if his ears hadn’t turned a bright red. “Babe…” Your lips curl into a bright smile, eyes shining with adoration. He practically melted at your stare and he suddenly became nervous, that all too familiar butterflies filling the brink of his stomach.

He then picked up a flat brush and a small tube of concealer. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ and he just chuckled at your reaction. “Been practicing a cut crease, huh?” He started to cut his crease with the concealer and then grabbed a nude. 

As Bucky was finishing up, you decided to finish your makeup routine too, and then finish getting ready for Tony’s party. Bucky no longer hated going to these, proudly showing off his freshly beat and glam filled face. He would smile to others' surprise as he had normally been so cold to everyone.

You both walk out of the elevator and into the heart of the party, grabbing a cocktail for the two of you and sauntering to wherever your friends were.

“God, tin can, you always look amazing with makeup.” Steve smiles and pats a hand on his shoulder. “Gettin’ better, Buck.” You press a kiss to his cheek and he gasps, making sure the product was okay. “He’s been practicing more.” He sticks his tongue out to tease you and you laugh, enjoying this moment with friends.

Bucky just lightly smiles, watching his family laugh and tease each other relentlessly. He realized how lucky he was to have such an amazing family that supports him to do what makes him happy. He was lucky that his girlfriend was such an understanding person that never doubted your love and encouraged him to wear makeup, even teaching him. He never had that in the 30s and 40s. Growing up, he and Steve were always told that one day they’d be a man and they’d have to like cars, guns, football, beer, and anything that screams traditional masculine.

He was happy that not only was he open to being true to himself, but his family never judged him a bit. 

-

You sat with your cup of coffee at the living room table, frowning. Every single morning, you and Bucky would read the paper in bed. You would always groan, ranting on about how nobody uses or reads the paper anymore but he always insists and ends up convincing you to read it with him. Your favorite parts were laughing and giggling with the sheets around you at the Newspaper comics.

But this morning was different. You woke up cold, the absent feeling of body heat that was normally wrapped around you or right by your side made you practically shake. You miss his arm lazily slung around you and soft snores leaving his mouth. You missed the sleepy open mouth kisses he’d give you as a greeting. Only one morning without Bucky and you’re already a mess.

You sipped your bitter coffee, realizing that it’s not the same since Bucky didn’t make it. God, you were so in love it hurt. Your mind clicked as to where he could be. Normally, before you would calm him down, his nightmares would end up leaving him restless and he wouldn’t want to go back to sleep. He was afraid. Afraid of those nightmares coming true or reliving things that he wants to forget. So, he’d go to the roof. At night, you could see the New York skyline in the distance and the night’s stars shining brightly in your face. You text Tony that you needed the surprise you had planned now, it couldn’t wait.

You walked out on the roof, the sun beating down on your face so you covered it. “Buck… I missed you this morning.”  He didn’t answer you and kept staring ahead of him, his legs folded on the fancy outdoor furniture. “Baby, what’s wrong?” His eyes drifted over to the newspaper next to him and he shoved it towards you, tears pricking his eyes. You gasp as you read the big bolded letters:

WINTER SOLDIER HAS GOD AWFUL MAKEUP AT TONY STARK’S CELEBRATORY PARTY

You then look down at the picture to see Bucky’s laughing face from last night, his arms wrapped around you. You reread the statement over and over again, not believing it. It’s 2020, how can people be so cruel? “Oh, baby…” You pull his head into his chest as low rumbled sobs fill the air. Your shirt became damp and you rushed your hands through his hair, trying to soothe him. “Don’t listen to them, they’re just jealous.” 

He shakes his head and your body is suddenly filled with anger and rage. Nobody makes your Bucky feel this way. You may be a civilian but you’d be damned if anyone hurt Bucky. You’d destroy anything in your path. He could feel your body tremble a bit, which he knew was from anger. “Doll, it’s alright. I’ll just get over it.” You pause, not even listening to a word he was saying because he shouldn’t be the one that has to resolve it.

“Can I show you something?” He utters a small yes and you grab his hand, leading him into your bedroom. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you walk him in the bathroom. “What- oh!” He gasps to see the team, all standing near the shower proudly smiling. Tears filled his eyes as he ran over to the vanity. “You guys…”

The vanity that was attached to the bathroom sink had been completely revamped, having an additional spot for Bucky to do his makeup next to yours. You both had matching stools. It was a nice white fluffy cushioned stool, and storage for all your makeup. There were even new cabinets so Bucky could have room for new makeup products to come. Tears filled his eyes and before he knew it, they started to fall. 

“They’re assholes, Buck. They’re doing it to get a rise out of you. They should be ashamed because femininity isn’t assigned to anyone’s gender. You can be and use anything you want with your appearance, it’s your life.” Sam nods, “Not to mention that your makeup was literally bomb as fuck.” Bucky smiled, sniffling a bit. “Thank you, guys.”

“I just wanted to remind you that you’re loved, Buck. Those asshats got nothing on your eyeshadow skill.” Bucky chuckled and pressed a big wet kiss to your cheek, giggles filling the echoing bathroom. Steve agreed, spouting about how maybe Bucky could give him a ‘complete face.’ You just shook your head while Bucky groaned and slapped his forehead. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s full face?” Sam and Nat continue to rub and tease at  Steve for his mess up and he just groans, knowing it will never be lived down.

You encircled your arms around Bucky’s waist, pressing a kiss to his neck. “But seriously, if anyone ever says anything like that let me know and I will hurt them.”

“y/n.”

“I’m serious. I will commit murder.”

[egoludes]

since you’re such a good writer, you seem like you’d have taste haha!! what bucky or Steve fanfics do you recommend for a good read?? thank you!!

honestly i love spreading the wealth and promoting authors / pieces i love so this got long-winded – i hope you find something in here that you enjoy! please come back if you do because i’d love to hear what you thought! and thank you so, so much for enjoying my writing, you are a blessing 💞

screaming about some faves below the cut! 

before we get into specific pieces, i would hit up any of the following folks for incredible reads. a few of them are recent follows so i haven’t read too much, but i’m blown away so far: @tropicalcap, @sunlightdances, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan, @whistlingwillows, @wkemeup, @honeyloverogers, @all1e23, @heli0s-writes, @gagmebucky, @cake-writes, @venusbarnes, @brooklyn-boy, @cptnbvcks,@dirtychocolatechai, @barnesrogersvstheworld, @evanstarff, @floatingpetals, @shotsbyshae, @justreadingfics, @heartopen-testify, @moonstruckbucky, @interestedbystanderwrites, @captain-kelli, @bitsandbobsandstuff, @feminarrie, @shreddedparchment, @captain-rogers-beard, @et-lesailes, @sunriserose1023, @notyetneedcoffee, and @invisibleanonymousmonsters.

now, for actual fics! disclaimer that some of these are from writers who tread into darker / grittier territories in their full masterlist. this obviously isn’t everyone’s cup of tea so, please keep that in mind if you decide to explore beyond what i’ve linked (i don’t read anything violent/noncon, so no need to worry about that here). heed warnings, and only read what you want to!

slow like honey by @heli0s-writes - any and everything helios writes is top tier, but slow like honey was the first fic by them i read and it was such an experience. like truly an experience. i felt that fic from start to finish; every emotion was captured beautifully, every point in the plot from the first date to the heartache to the reconciliation fit together so well. i think if you start anywhere on their masterlist, that is the perfect spot. honorable mention though? mystery of love - steve and bucky are such distinct, but cohesive soulmates in this fic and it is such a joy reading the journey of their falling in love. and it is still one of the best fics i’ve read probably ever.

never let you go by @bitsandbobsandstuff: all i can say for this one? get ready to ache. it is such a beautiful portrayal of loss, grief, and the absolute desperation that can come out of losing someone you love. what i really love about this fic is the very, very raw look we get at bucky and steve because of reader’s death – our super soldiers are so ordinary, so human here and it hurts. it resonates. they’re just as broken as anyone else would be and it just leads to some really great spooky consequences. also love me an appearance from the winchester boys!

looking for a heartbeat by @justreadingfics: this is a recent read, but god is it intense. i, for one, love exes back to lovers fics, especially when there is some real focus on unpacking the reasons things didn’t work out. throw in attempts to move on, some well-written action, and the struggle not to fall back in all over again? i’m completely sold. the fic was recently completed, too, so it’s a good option for a binge!

parabellum by @whistlingwillows: there isn’t much i can say about this one without ruining the plot, but god it is so worth it. beautifully written with twists and turns in ways i never expected – hydra!steve is always going to hurt, but this just took it to another level. easily a top ten fic rec every single time.

ingenue by @until-we-fall-in-love: listen - mafia aus deserve hella rights and this one is just written so beautifully, both from a historical and characterization perspective. the tension between reader, steve, and bucky is damn near palpable and the whole thing is just so easy to envision - like an episode of peaky blinders unfolding in writing. there is also some appearances from other beloved characters like sam, which makes it all the more fun.

compromise by @cake-writes: i don’t think i can explain how much i love this one better than my original tags about it, so we’ll just leave it at that, heh.

literally anything by @brooklyn-boy - honestly, i don’t think i have enough words to do aura’s writing justice, so let’s just go with this: three of my all-time favorite steve fics – wanderlust; sugar, sugar; and twenty/twenty – all came from her and the list just continues to grow. the impact. the power. the talent. her characterizations of steve is my favorite and i always just want to melt into them when i read her fics. another major reason to show love? she’s moved towards writing woc!readers exclusively, and that representation is so important. love that for us!

hungry like the wolf by @imanuglywombat: i’m a big sucker for werewolf aus, and this one is written so deliciously. it’s only at two parts now, but i’m so intrigued to see how the reader progresses not just as steve’s mate, but also as someone only just now realizing she’s a wolf at all. i think the newness of it makes it a fascinating, fun read and a fresh take on the au so i can’t wait to see where it goes. 

tapestry by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - a darker fic, this one just full of intricate plot, characters, relationships, and build-up. it’s a really well-written look at the ugly side of royalty, particularly a very thirsty greedy king and roo portrays the politics of this situation so well. that ended up being the key reason i read it in the first place too – the drama and push and pull between reader and the court is so intriguing, it’s hard to stop.

push and shove by @tropicalcap - oof. toes fucked me up enough, so to get a whole series out of it was a doozy. just a very realistic show of the way emotions and relationships ebb, flow, and cool. i think it can be hard reading fic that doesn’t have a happy ending, but honestly it’s real and as valid as any perfect ending. and i love the progression this had, it was cathartic in a lot of ways and so artfully written.

astrophile by @all1e23 - we opened this with a single dad!steve au, so it feels only right to close it with single dad!bucky. this fic is so CUTE and the will-they, won’t-they vibe between bucky and reader that builds from chapter to chapter watching them fall in love was as heartwarming as it was painful. one thing i particularly loved about this one, though, is the care that went into build ori and reader’s r/s as much as bucky and reader’s. by the end of it, you end up so attached to everyone in bucky’s found family and that’s the best thing a fic can do, i think. make the people in it real.

there are tons more incredible fics out there and i’m realizing i have not done a good job of reblogging them as i thought, so i’m also going to link my fic rec tags for future reference - i’ll be beefing it up with all the things i’ve read on mobile recently without getting a chance to reblog! so, feel free to keep checking back for more :) folks can also submit their faves and i’ll post!

steve fic recs

bucky fic recs

[touchstarvedsam]

So.... what are your thoughts on spn 11X17 "Red Meat"? 😉

An anon after my own heart! Brace yourselves, it’s a long one, sorry.

Red Meat is my comfort episode. I watch it when I’m feeling down, or when I need an escape. Sometimes I forget that Andrew Dabb is one of the writers because the episode is so brother -- and Sam in general -- positive. It’s definitely one of my favorite episodes, one that I will never get over. It’s one of those episodes that if I see anything about it on my dash, it’s an immediate reblog.

So, let’s recap, highlights mostly, yes?

The episode literally starts out mid-battle, which is cool on its own, but Sam is so incredibly badass. His high kick, and then headbutting the werewolf, just-- GAH. I can never get enough of badass Sam Winchester, okay?

Sam gets shot within two minutes, and if any of you know me, you know that hurt!Sam or Sam whump of any kind is my motherfucking jam. He’s my favorite character, whom I’ve loved for half of my life, and any time he’s in anguish it brings me life. Not because I enjoy seeing him hurt, but because I love when Dean worries about him.

Dean kills the werewolf that shot Sam before Sam even hit the ground, then he was at Sam’s side and digging the bullet out. Dean worrying about Sam literally feels like my life force repleting.

I also love how the scenes are played out of order. I like the aspect of that. Flashing back to Sam telling Dean about the case and Dean being reluctant. Their roles really revered, huh? It used to be Sam saying they should continue with hunting down the big bad and not going on random hunts, now Sam wants to keep on saving people on those random hunts, to keep them busy when they’re stumped on how to beat the current big bad.

In the second cabin, Corbin suggests they keep going “those of us who can” and Dean whirls on him so fast with the “what’d you say?”

Pure, unadulterated, protective big brother. The you suggest we leave my brother, I’ll fucking kill you big brother look. The I know over a hundred ways to kill a man big brother look. The no one fucks with Sammy big brother look.

Dean shoves Corbin, then, ever the selfless man Sam Winchester is, Sam suggests they leave him, get Corbin and Michelle to safety, and then Dean can come back for him. Dean’s reaction, again, is pure big brother and I love it so much. He wants to carry Sammy. My whole heart. T.T

Dean fighting with branches sticking off a tree trunk, angrily hitting the tree, then stopping for a moment to breathe and calm himself because he knows losing it won’t help Sam.

Calming himself down before he gets back to the cabin. T.T

Sam -- dying, short of breath, wheezing -- begs Corbin to go find Dean so they can leave without him. Sam has never once put himself before others, even now when he should because of how hurt he is, and how much blood he is losing, and still he doesn’t. There isn’t a single character in this show more selfless than Sam, and this episode proved that.

Corbin suffocating Sam, and then Dean walking in to find Sam completely lifeless. I cry every fucking time Dean starts shaking Sam. (Not gonna lie, it gives me Simba trying to wake Mufasa vibes, and that hurts really bad, too, man.) Just, the look on Dean’s face. The heartbreak, the tears...

The way he says “Sammy?” broken, shattered.

Dean making the decision to stay and die fight since it’s because of the werewolves that he lost his little brother. This man literally cannot and will not live without his brother. It’s ingrained in his system, engraved on his bones and in his skin, that he never wants to be in a world where Sam is no longer alive. He can’t physically or emotionally endure that pain.

This is the face of a man who has given up, who doesn’t want to live because Sam isn’t, but right here, I think at the very last moment, Dean remembers that Sam would want him to save these people. So he makes his decision.

“I’m gonna come back for you, okay?” He gives Sam this broken, quarter smile, then says, “I promise.” Then the shaky way he repeats “okay” two more times, then pats Sam on the chest and gets up fucking shatters me in a million pieces.

His last look at Sam before leaving him... with the tears! It literally makes me tear up. This whole episode is just chock full of painful pining.

Dean punches a sheriff! I still don’t understand why he didn’t just say “my brother’s body is in a cabin in the middle of the woods and I need to get back to him” but this is Dean, and Winchesters never really do anything the easy way. I do enjoy him angrily punching a sheriff because he wants to get back to Sammy, though. It’s a highlight, okay.

Then! As if this episode didn’t already give us the gift of badass!Sam and hurt!Sam and pining!Dean! It gives us the ultimate proof that Sam is the Juliet to Dean’s Romeo! It’s canon! Canon, I say! Canon! Dean kills himself with pills to talk to Billie -- to make a deal, to sacrifice himself, anything to bring Sam back -- and roundabout the exact same time, Sam wakes up!

Dean: “Tell the doc to bring me back if she can... if not, no hard feelings.” Dean literally does not care if he lives or dies! He just wants Sam! Be still, my heart. The man pines for his little brother, and his little brother alone.

The whole exchange with Billie:

“We need to talk about Sam.”

“What about Sam?”

“I need him back.”

“Back?”

“Stop playing. Look, you got him, I need him, let’s make a deal.”

“Pass.”

Then we have Dean saying that Sam’s the only one that can stop the Darkness. It just. It feels so good to hear Dean say that, okay. Sam being recognized in any light is just very important to me.

“It’s cute, though, you pretending to save Sam for the greater good when we both know you’re doing it for you. You can’t lose him.” That’s it, that’s the whole show.

“I’m asking you... I’m begging you, please. Bring him back... Bring him back and take me instead.” I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over codependent brothers.

Then! Such glorious, such beautiful, such badass hurt!Sam! Gets himself on his feet and takes on not one, but two werewolves! With all the blood he’s lost, and the immense pain he’s in, he literally fights for his life and wins! There is not a more badass character on the planet, and I would give my life to protect that truth as gospel.

He steals their pickup, gets to the Impala, and calls Dean who literally just heard from Billie that Sam wasn’t dead. Also, can I just say that I really do like Billie? She is cool as all fuck.

Sam practically falling out of the truck is one of my favorite things. His legs move like a newborn fawn as he stumbles over towards the Impala, towards safety and Dean.

The unadulterated relief on Dean’s face when he hears Sam’s voice. God, I love these brothers so fucking much. They love each other so fucking much. I can’t believe Dabb wrote an entire Wincest episode, wow. Such a goddamn gift.

Then the panic on Dean’s face once again when he loses signal with Sam. And honestly the way Sam can even see straight and drive himself to the urgent care is phenomenal in and of itself. Is there anything this man cannot do? I think not!

The Sam saves Dean, shooting Corbin before finally giving in to the pain and collapsing. I will forever love the way he falls to the ground, the way his legs just kind of give out and he just hits the floor is amazing to me. I wish I could make gifs because I’d fucking gif the way he falls. It’s both graceless and graceful at the same time, if that makes any sense.

 “I watched the man I love die... there’s no normal after that.” Dean feels her words more than anyone else, apart from Sam. Because he’s seen Sam die multiple times, and even though Sam is alive, Dean’s still not normal, he’s still not fixed. He gets that. He knows that a part of him will always be broken just because he’s watched Sam die, more than once. He’s never, ever going to be over losing Sam, even when Sam’s standing right beside him. Not to make light of the situation, but this made me think of the “Stop telling everyone I'm dead!” “I can still hear his voice” meme.

Dean helping Sam down the stairs with a hand on his back brings me the utmost joy. If I could gif, I’d make a gif of that, too.

Sam asking what Dean did when he thought Sam was dead, and giving him this ridiculously adorable squinty face!:

His little “I know you did something stupid because you’re making jokes” squint. Always sees right through his big brother.

I’m sorry for the lack of Sam caps. This episode was literally gigantic amounts of pining!Dean. He literally just wanted to be with Sam the entire episode, and Dean’s emotional anguish because he lost Sammy is such an important part of the episode. So many brother moments without the brothers being near each other. I will love this episode until the day I die and even then I will carry it with me into the afterlife to play on repeat forever and ever.

Thanks for the ask, anon! And sorry my post is so long. Red Meat is just really fucking important to me.

[sylvie-writes]

Exhausting yet Fun

Request: hey it’s my birthday on the 5th and I was wondering if I could request a fic/hc about Steve? Maybe there was a surprise party that the team put together for the reader and there were games and all that. Don’t feel pressured to do this though, I completely understand. Thank you anyways! @marvelfanatic16

Hiya hon! I really wanted to write this for you, so here’s my early present to you hehe! Happy Early Birthday!!! (I would’ve queued this but why not post it now?) 

So sorry if this is bad and/or not what you wanted. I’m preparing for school soon and my brain is already in shambles. I just really wanted to give you this!

The title tho..

“Babe, wake up.” Steve gently shook your shoulder, whispering in an attempt to wake you up. 

This morning you and Sam went for a run after you lost a bet the other day. 

“So if the team likes my mac n cheese better, you and I are gonna go running.” 

“Keep dreaming, Sammy.” You patted Sam’s shoulder, confidently walking away with a hot pot of mac n cheese, your grandmother’s recipe. There was absolutely no way you would lose. 

“Sam, is that bacon!” - Bucky

“Oh my god, this tastes like liquid gold with pieces of heavenly bacon.” - Tony

“Don’t break up with me darling, but the bacon is killerrrr.” - Steve

Famous last words- “There was absolutely no way you would lose.” 

Needless to say, you and Sam had shaken on that deal, there was no turning back. 

So this morning from 3am to 6am Sam had you running, jogging, sprinting. Whatever you’d like to call it, bottom line, it was painful. 

To make matters worse it was your birthday and no one had said a single word yet. 

It’s not like you were trying to be vain or anything, but one day out of the year, it’s nice to feel loved!

As soon as torture time was over, you hopped in a car and headed back to the compound. 

Maybe it should’ve been an ambulance

Sam dropped you off at the front before driving off once again. Where was he going at 6:30 in the morning?

You had no clue and if you weren’t exhausted you would’ve bugged him about it.

Moopping to the bathroom, you started a hot shower, grabbing epsom salt for your jelly-like legs. 

It’s not that you were physically inactive, no, it was the fact that Sam has suddenly started to run faster, almost catching up to Steve and Bucky’s speed. Come to find out they’ve been training him.   

At 7:45 am, now clean and fresh, yet still tired, you crawled back into bed. Steve’s light snores signaling he was still out like a log. Or so you thought.

Turning on your side, your back to Steve, you shut your eyes, until you felt warm hands on your shoulder.

Just as you were about to turn, Steve shushed you. 

“Shhh, just go to sleep, doll.” 

His sleepy morning voice was groggy but adorable. You could tell he was just as sleepy yet he still continued to lightly massage your shoulders, sending you to sleep. 

Now, it was 1 pm and Steve was trying to wake you.

It was a plan.

Last night, the mac n cheese.

Everyone had come together to conspire a plan for your birthday. They all knew you were never one to back down from a challenge. So when opportunity presented itself, they gladly took it.

In reality, your mac n cheese would’ve won had not everyone decided to let Sam win, now enabling them to have time to plan for your surprise party. 

While Sam took you on the longest route in hopes of tiring you out, the team rested, knowing very well you’d sleep for hours into the afternoon.

When Sam had dropped you off, little did you know that he was going to get your party decorations and cake.

Andddd while you were sleeping, Steve and the rest of the team decorated the compound. 

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you turned on your back to see a showered and dressed Steve sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Can I help you, sir?” 

Steve chuckled and then grabbed your hands, tenderly helping you out of the bed, holding you upright as you were still trying to wake up. 

Reaching behind you, he grabbed a fresh cup of coffee, which you happily took, the warmth of the steam hitting your face, a bliss feeling. 

“To answer your question, when you're ready, get dressed and meet me in my office.”

A kiss on your cheek and he was gone, and out the door.

Slightly confused, you finished your coffee and left to go get ready. 

At 1:43 pm exactly, you walked out of the bedroom and towards the elevator, taking the route to Steve’s office which was two floors above you. 

Once again, little did you know, Steve really just wanted you to deliberately miss the kitchen and common room, where the rest of the team resided with all the decorations and games. 

It was an annual thing with the team to have a game nice once or twice every month. You all played games from Uno, Battleship, Apples to Apples. 

You name it, you played it.

Well, an all time favorite was monopoly, where you all would get on teams and see who’d have the most property and money at the end. A game Tony was terrible at playing. 

Soooo they had it for your birthday! 

Board games with the team were absolutely hilarious. 

You’d all play mario kart but last time that happened, this got a little out of hand, literally. *ahem Natasha* 

She may or may not have tried to rip off Bucky's metal arm…

You opened the door to Steve’s office and he immediately jumped up from his desk, totally not fiddling with something in his hand. 

He shoved the thing in his pocket and nervously chuckled walking up to you. 

“You look gorgeous as always.” He held out his arm and you looped yours within, curious as to why you were leaving the office when you had just shown up.

In the elevator, you could tell Steve was nervous, his foot slightly tapping.

“Are you okay, Grant?” 

Grant- a term of endearment you’d always use for Steve. 

Unlocking his eyes from the floor, he looked at you and smiled, like he was relieved. 

“Definitely.” Steve pecked your lips and escorted you out of the elevator as the door opened up.

Upon entering, you rounded the corner and to the common room, in which the lights were off. 

You almost went to turn on the lights when they shot on and the team popped up from their hiding places. 

Startled, you jumped onto Steve as he and the team laughed, you joining in on the laughter. 

“Happy Birthday, (y/n)!!!!” 

You walked forward and smiled gleefully, your cheeks were hurting from smiling so much but it was impossible not to. 

“Guys-you didn’t have to do all this for me.” Your hand covered your mouth as you took in all of their lovely work. Wanda came up and hugged you, the other team members coming up to do the same.

“Of course we did! We love you, (y/n).” 

At Wanda’s statement you just hugged her tightly and let out happy tears.

This team- well your family! They have shown you so much love, how could you not cry? It was a nice feeling to feel loved and appreciated. 

Soon after all the salutations, Steve put his hand on the small of your back leading you to the kitchen, where the lights were also off. 

The team followed suit, Tony telling F.R.I.D.A.Y to turn on the lights. 

The relaxing ambiance of yellow lights, shown on a beautiful birthday cake. 

One Sam had gone to pick up from your favorite bakery, which when you later found out and hugged him to death. 

Too caught up in the cake you hadn’t even noticed Steve until he spoke up, the team all standing around with their phones, you looked at them and then down at your boyfriend, on his knee. 

Steve’s hand was shaking as he held out a box, and you just wanted to soothe his nerves. 

He was so adorable you just smiled sweetly at him as if telling him to proceed. 

“Doll, (y/n), I love you so much, you’ve been here for me, you are loyal, loving, and funny. My best friend, and I don’t know what I’d ever do without you. Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man alive by marrying me?” 

His little speech was just the cutest and you vigorously shook your head. The ring slipped perfectly on your finger.

Steve stood up and you flung your arms around his neck as he swung you in a circle.

Setting you down, Steve then leaned in for a kiss, the team cheering you on.

The excitement of the proposal was the main topic over the delicious cake, the team already preparing for your wedding.

After cake, Tony giddily whipped out Monopoly, already predicting his win, the total opposite of what actually happened. 

Let’s just say that Tony can never. ever. be the banker again. 

To end your lovely birthday, you and the team sat around on the couch, watching a comedy Bucky had found. 

Joyful laughter filled the room as you looked down at your ring, smiling. Sighing blissfully then leaning into Steve’s arm. 

This indeed had been the best birthday, the team succeeding in their mission. 

These people were definitely your family and this man beside you, your husband to-be. 

[bottlesandcats]

Pardon My 15x20 Rant

I woke up this morning with Thoughts, so time for a ranty post. Be prepared this is going to read more like word vomit than anything, but I just wanted to get my thoughts down on paper. No one may even read this bc I don’t have a lot of followers but it feels good to just get this off my chest and out into the Universe. Warning, there is a gratuitous use of caps.

So....I see so many fans on Twitter saying how beautiful and perfect that ending was and, I have to say, I’m truly bewildered by that.

 Even if you aren’t a Destiel fan, I’m not sure how you could’ve found that ending to be remotely satisfying. See list of non Destiel-related reasons below (bc I’m trying to see this from the perspective of someone who isn’t in that part of the fandom):

1. The MOW was crap; wtf was with the Halloween masks? When have we ever seen that with vamps? The dumbest shit I’ve seen. 

They trotted out some extra from season 1 like it’s supposed to be some fun little Easter egg. Why are we supposed to give a shit about her? I didn’t even remember her with the flashback. Who are you, again? NM, I DON’T CARE. It also honestly made no sense to feature a MOW episode after everything that just happened, it wasn’t necessary. It was clearly just a means to an end to get Dean killed.

2. They shoved some random family, for Sam, into the last ten minutes of the episode. Sam’s kid is named Dean? OF COURSE HE IS. And that whole father-son montage was so clunky and awkward, I would’ve been more convinced if you told me Sam actually just wandered into some anonymous woman’s backyard and started playing ball with her kid. 

We’ve seen how emotionally invested Sam gets in his relationships and we’ve had such beautiful moments: Sam/Jess, Sam/Madison, (even Sam/Ruby), and of course Sam/Eileen. And now we are supposed to care about Anonymous Brunette Woman #4? GTFO. I’ve seen some people saying they couldn’t get Shoshanna bc of COVID, but give us something to indicate it was Eileen. Have Sam sign something to her from across the yard; IT’S THAT SIMPLE. But no, not one single mention of her in either 19 or 20, after Sam nearly broke when he lost her in 18.

 I couldn’t even feel happy for him bc I had 0 emotional investment in this life of his. And it was all just rushed through so we could get to the “good part” where Sam dies and is reunited with Dean in Heaven. 

Also small note, what happened to Dean’s dog???

3. The wardrobe department really needs to reconsider some of their life choices. I’ve seen tufts of cat hair in the corners of my house that would’ve made a better wig than that rag they threw on Jared’s head. It was so ridiculous, I started thinking this was going to wind up being some big gag like The Mystery Spot” and The Trickster was going to pop out. 

And why did Jim Beaver’s beard look like they spray-painted cotton balls brown and glued them to his face? It was honestly distracting. 

4. After 15 years, and FINALLY achieving freedom and happiness, Dean gets taken down by a rebar and a Vamp-mime. The only way I could justify this to myself was that, now that they are no longer God’s puppets he’s not bending the rules for them and they don’t have that death-defying luck on their side now. But even that is weak. After all his fighting, sacrificing, and wanting nothing more than to chill on a beach with Sam and Cas, this is what he gets. This was a show about defying destiny, THAT WAS THE WHOLE PLOT OF S15.

 Dean always said he figured it was his destiny to die bloody, and that’s exactly why he shouldn’t have gone out this way. STORY ARC, WHAT’S THAT? Cas told Dean, when he first met him, that good things do happen. So basically, the only way Dean could get his happiness was to die? What a heart-warming message. 

5. Dean’s lack of emotion over the loss of Cas was the most OOC I think I’ve ever seen from him. Dean DOES NOT accept the deaths of those he loves in any way. He does not cope, he does not move on, he does not happily eat a bunch of pie. We’ve seen how Dean has handled Cas’s death in the past. It’s...not good, and it only became more unhealthy as the show progressed, with the last time (before 18) having Dean literally killing himself. Even in 15x19, we still got that desperate heartache from him with Dean demanding that Chuck bring Cas back. We also saw him sleeping amongst a pile of empty liquor bottles, which is very on-character for him. But in 15x20, he’s the one telling Sam they need to move on and keep living (oops) over a giant tray of pie slices at a county fair. Even Sam feels off. One minute he’s all “I’m sad about Cas and Jack” and the next he’s putting a pie in Dean’s face and is like “I feel better now!” You’ve got a direct in with God!Jack now, and we know from 15x19 that God can pull beings out of The Empty bc he did it with Lucifer! THAT WAS YOUR IN, YOU IDIOTS. You ask Chuck to bring back Cas, but not the one to whom he was a father to????????? 

6. Even if you weren’t a Destiel shipper, you should still be disappointed in the noticeable absence of Castiel, especially since he was left with such a cliffhanger of character development and was mentioned multiple times in episodes 19 and 20. He was a pivotal part of the show for 11 years. Even if you take out the Destiel stuff, the boys have called him their brother numerous times. Dean’s call him his best friend. Wouldn’t his ideal Heaven have his best friend in it?

7. I’m not going to rail on the scene between the brothers while Dean is dying. I didn’t really get Wincest vibes from it, though I never put much stock into that side of the fandom anyway. My one issue is this was the “love confession” moment they gave us. Dean dying in a barn and telling Sam he loves his baby brother. *SNORE*

8. The big reunion moment we were hoping for? They wasted it on Dean’s car. A FUCKING CAR. Yes, I get the Impala is important to the story, but come the fuck on. NO CHICK FLICK MOMENTS. MUCH BRO. 

All-in-all the whole ending felt like 1 step forward, and 15 years back. After all the character development and story arcs, it’s like they just threw it all out the window. Nothing changed. Everyone was back to where they started: Cas working for God, Dean being a good soldier and dying bloody doing the only thing he knows how to do, Sam being left to pick up the pieces with some distorted version of an apple pie life where he was basically just living to die so he could be with Dean again. I felt like the lesson was that the only way you get what you want is to die. It was gross. It was a disservice to the actors, the characters, and the fans. I can’t begin to even see this as fan-service bc I’d love to know who the TPTB thought they were serving with this garbage. And honestly, I don’t think they knew either. I feel like they were so worried about pissing off all the different subsets of the fandom that they went as safe as they could. *slow claps* Way to go, guys, really groundbreaking stuff.

At the end of the day though, it’s my fault for being disappointed. I shouldn’t have expected so much of a show that had mostly cis white men working behind the scenes. A show that’s killed almost every female character who stepped up to the plate (also, POC anyone? Nahhh). A show that took their one real LGBTQ character (also female), killed her and left her body in a bathtub (FRIDGING IS FUN) for absolutely no good reason. A show that, at the end of the day, is just a show about a couple bros who kill monsters, on the CW, and the CW is hardly the go-to place for real boundary-pushing content. A show that has managed to drop the ball at almost every opportunity though we, as a fandom, have continued to lower the bar for them.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me 100 times? 

So with all that being said...

Peace out bitches.

[buckyreaderrecs]

Blood

Summary: Bloody Mary; a ghost who appears in a mirror when called by name three times.

Words: 2235 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Shuri Additional Tags: Infinity War and Endgame didn't happen, Stark Tower is still a thing, recovering Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky, a bit angsty, mostly canon compliant, Bruce Banner and F.R.I.D.A.Y. are mentioned but aren’t in the story, I love Shuri SO MUCH, female pronoun Reader Warnings: death/dying, blood, description of body decomposition, nightmares

Note: This is my submission to @waiting4inspiration's Myths, Folklore and Legends writing challenge! Hope you love it, Jess!

Tag list (open): @darlingtholland @browngirlmagic

Blood

Bucky Barnes doesn't believe in ghosts. In this day and age, it's more likely that a ghost is just a loved one brought back to life. Reanimated to fight on the wrong side, kind of thing. Or maybe the ghost is a clone. A hologram. A science experiment gone wrong. If you are lucky, the ghost could simply be a hallucinatory symptom of brain disease. But, no matter what, there is always a scientific explanation.

Bucky Barnes doesn't believe in ghosts because the existence of them implies the existence of an afterlife, some sort of potential of God. Of meaning and purpose. If he thinks about that too much, he unravels. So, he chooses to not think about it.

Bucky Barnes just does not believe in ghosts, so when he sees you standing behind him in the bathroom mirror, he runs straight to Steve.

"Something's wrong with me," he blurts out.

Sam and Steve look up from conference room B's table. Case files are open and spread across the room, spilling down onto vacant chairs and placed in chronological order on the carpeted floor.

"Gonna have to be more specific, Buck," Steve replies, eyebrows furrowed.

Sam considers making a joke, but there's a darkness splashed across Bucky's face that warns him away.

"I'm… They… I don't think they got everything. In my head," Bucky tries to explain.

"What happened?" Steve asks, pushing away from the table and assessing Bucky's body language. He's cagey, almost afraid.

"I saw… someone… She's dead. She's dead but I saw her,"

"Happens a lot around here, man," Sam offers.

"It's not like that. I was in the bathroom. She was in the mirror,"

"Like, in the mirror?" Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head, annoyed but aware that he's not really helping them help him. "No… I was shaving and…" He tried to think. What exactly happened? When did he notice you standing behind him? There was blood…

 …

 The small cut would heal before he left the bathroom, with only the few drops of red blood in the porcelain sink left as evidence that he'd been distracted enough to cut himself shaving at all. You'd been in his head again. The nightmares had started on the day that would be your birthday.

Somewhere in the middle of being The Solider, the people around him made the mistake of not seeing him as sentient. They spoke around him, conversed and told secrets to each other, thinking he couldn’t understand. That's how he learnt about your arrival at the facility. Your name. Birthday. Power.

Bucky had nightmares about a lot of things, but you were often there. Sometimes you were centre stage with your sad eyes and painful defiance. Sometimes you lurked in the shadows, having being taught by The Solider how to do it so well. Nightmares and restless sleep were synonymous with being an Avenger, a hero. It was a high price, but Bucky considered himself to be in enormous debt.

The blood in the sink reminded him that he was still there, alive, human. He watched it slowly seep downwards, sighing out loud to himself. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head and trying to move the haze from his head. "Y/N," he said, then stopped. Your name had slipped through his lips straight from his unconscious. It didn't sound quite right. "Y/N," he tried again, adding another sigh like it was the last syllable of your name.

Bucky looked up, studied his reflection. He wondered what you'd think of him now.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," he whispered, his attention returning to the razor and shaving cream.

The bathroom light flickered, freezing Bucky entirely. Without moving, he glanced out the open bathroom door. The hallway outside was still. He couldn't recall if the light had flickered out there too.

He felt it then. He wasn't alone.

His eyes moved fast, up to the mirror. You were there.

Sad eyes. A strange fragility despite being possibly the most dangerous thing in Stark Tower. Alive.

He bolted. The razor clanked into the basin and the bathroom door slammed shut behind him.

Steve… Find Steve, Bucky thought.

"There's something wrong with me."

 …

 "We talked about this. It's normal to se-"

"It wasn't like that," Bucky interrupted Sam.

"We can look at the CCTV. I'll ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. to-" But Steve was cut off too.

"She's dead, Steve. There's no way… She's dead, alright?"

"I would have said the same about you," Steve softly tried to reason.

Bucky could vividly remember what it felt like to lose you. He chewed his lip and crossed his arms across his chest. "I watched her die. She… she died in my arms and nobody came for us for three days. Alright? She was dead in my arms for three days."

Sam and Steve glanced at each other.

"Okay… Okay, Buck. I'll talk to Shuri. See what we can do," Steve agreed.

"If I'm- I'm seeing shit, I should be-"

"Come on, man," Sam stopped him, moving to hold his hands on Bucky's shoulders. Bucky felt the weight of each of them differently. "If you're seeing shit, you're like every other vet out there. Something's wrong, we'll cross that bridge. Ain't no use walking around all gloom and doom… We need a break anyway, right, Steve? Let's go get some pizza."

 …

 In Bucky's nightmare, the three days turn into a week. Then longer. He sits as still as a statue in the corner of a boarded-up room of an old snowed-in cottage. It's a Hydra safe house, and it contains the bare essentials to keep someone alive. Not you though. You're too hurt. It's bad. There's so much blood. He can see your insides and shoving everything back in and holding his jacket hard to the wounds isn’t helping.

You cough up blood as you watch The Solider panic. It's rare to see any emotion, so you feel grateful in your final moments. When you die, The Solider shuts down, like a computer malfunctioning. Hydra would have to do one hell of an 'alt ctrl delete' when they finally come for him.

It's cold, which is good. But you're an open corpse, which is bad. The blood hardens and turns dark. He can smell your organs as they begin to decompose. The whites of your eyes turn a sick colour, but The Solider never tries to close your eyelids. If he does that, he's alone. The inside of your mouth goes darker and darker, and the weight of your body on his continues to change.

In reality, that's about when Hydra arrived. Any longer and you would have started to fall apart very literally. In his sleep though, that's exactly what happens.

Your body begins to bloat, small blisters appearing along the surface of your skin. Parts of you liquify, find their way out, soak into The Soldier's clothes. It happens slowly at first, then within dreamstate minutes your muscles and organs and skin tissue turn to goo. Sometimes The Solider just sits in the human muck, counting the teeth left behind. Sometimes he's frantic, scooping you back up and trying to hold you together; it makes it worse.

And, although he hasn’t seen a single fly in the safehouse, there are hundreds of maggots infesting the deepest cavities of your body.

When Hydra came to claim their property, The Solider fought back. He clawed and kicked to get you back close to him. He screamed your name in every language he knew. That's where the memory stops. Often too, the nightmare.

"Y/N,” Bucky whines in his sleep, almost sounding like he's drowning in sticky, syrupy blood. “Y/N!” It is louder the second time. “Y/N!" Bucky yells, shooting up in bed and almost tearing a pillow in two.

He tries to breathe in, but the air is icy cold. Bucky only then notices the door. The balcony door is open. And you are standing there, hair moving in the breeze. Suddenly the room is bright, and warm palms are dragging his head to face away from the balcony.

"Buck?! Buck, are you okay? You’re screamin’ again,”

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky replies, pushing Steve's attempts at emotional first aid away. "Just a dream… nightmare… whatever."

He looks back for you, but you are gone.

Steve stands and watches Bucky crawl out of bed and move across the room.

"You hate the cold," Steve laments, concerned.

"Did you-" Bucky goes to ask, but stops himself too late.

"You saw her again, didn't you?"

 …

 Wakanda is beautiful. It's the closest thing to peaceful Bucky's ever known. Before making his way to Shuri, he visits old friends. The goats don't seem to remember him, but the children promise the White Wolf that they do. They show Bucky how well they've been caring for the goats, and they show him all the things they're learning in school. They ask if they can be Avengers too. He smiles sadly, and tells them, "Not yet."

"Ah! Bucky Barnes! My favourite broken White boy!" Shuri greets while pulling Bucky into a hug, then immediately focusses on his left arm. "So, your boyfriend says you need a check-up?" she asks as she opens a panel and frowns.

"It's not my arm, Shuri. That's workin' perfect,"

"Of course it is!" she laughs, yet doesn't stop tinkering. "But there can always be more. Be better."

When Bucky fails to reply, Shuri studies his face, then nods. Softly, kindly, she says, "Come, my friend. We'll have tea."

Shuri is easily one of Bucky's favourite people. She listens, which is already more than she has a responsibility to do. Bucky knows she's just a kid, but he also knows better than to stop a kid with that much genius and tenacity.

...

When all physiological and psychological avenues have been explored, Shuri shrugs at Bucky. "Maybe she's real,"

"She can't be," Bucky replies quickly.

Shuri makes a face. "You, of all people, really gonna stand there and say it's impossible for the dead to come back?"

"She was… very dead,"

"The dead are never truly gone, White Wolf. Not really."

 …

 Bucky hasn't seen you in a couple weeks. Sam says to him, "Two's only a coincidence, man. Three times, then we'll worry, yeah?" But Bucky remains worried nonetheless.

The mission they've been preparing for, the one that has taken over conference room B, is on Bucky's mind. He finds Steve sketching away, curled into an armchair and looking a lot smaller than he actually is. For a second, Bucky almost catches himself missing the 1940s.

"I shouldn't go," Bucky declares, dropping to the floor in front of Steve, back resting on the armchair and head falling back.

Steve looks down at his friend. "Nobody's going to make you do anything you don't want to do… But you are okay, Buck…"

Bucky looks up at him, exposed and vulnerable. Slowly, he shakes his head. "If I see her again while I'm meant to be focussed… I don't wanna screw anythin' up,"

"Okay. Sit this one out," Steve replies, brushing loose strands of hair out of Bucky's eyes. "But you gotta promise to be here when we get back."

 …

 The floors occupied by the Avengers are quiet. Bucky’s almost alone, save for F.R.I.D.A.Y. and Banner who is basically living in his lab. Bucky doesn't ask why he's not on the mission, and Banner returns the favour.

The irony isn't lost on Bucky; he haunts the spaces he shares with Steve, silent and invisible like a ghost. Part of him is waiting for you, he knows. The other part is genuinely terrified in a way he hasn't felt in decades.

He kills a few hours in the pages of a book, then finds himself lingering outside the door of the bathroom.

It's a little past two am when he gives in, stands in front of the mirror and closes his eyes.

"Y/N?"

He listens.

There are sounds but none of them you.

"Y/N… I… If you're there… alive… I'm sorry…"

His voice is shaky and he feels stupid, but he's started and now he can't stop.

"I'm so, so sorry… I… tried. I tried but I couldn't… And we were… If you're here, if you're here, please… just… Are you still…? Are they still out there?"

Bucky can't collect his thoughts. Each shatters into ten more, then those explode into even more, until there are hundreds of unanswered question in a web of confusion and emotion.

"Y/N…" Bucky's voice cracks.

It hurts you to hear.

You listen to his uneven breathing, listen as he tries to calm himself, hold back tears.

Bucky stands up straight, stretches out his neck muscles. He opens his eyes.

Those stormy blue-grey eyes.

"Hi," you say as softly as you can.

There is a split second where Bucky almost turns, an automatic movement, but he stops himself from spinning and stays firmly planted where he is. He's afraid that if he moves, you'll disappear again, like you had before.

"…Hi," he replies.

"You know my name… My real name. I didn't know that you knew it…"

Bucky nodded, slowly. The Soldier had never called you by your name while you were alive, just like you had never said 'Bucky.'

His blood gets pushed faster and faster around his body when his heart rate increases. The top of his cheeks flush pink.

"I know your name," Bucky says.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sinday: The Bet

can you write something where an innocent reader loses a bet with steve and basically has to be his little maid/sex doll for a month, and he's super into free use so literally just fucking her while she's cleaning or just chilling reading/watching tv lmao as requested by anonymous

Warnings: dark!fic, noncon

It had all come down to this. A single ball. If you sank it, you won it all, but if you didn't, you'd never hear the end of it.

It started friendly. A game of doubles. You and Sam against Steve and Bucky. Two games all and some smack talk that went a little too far and your partners had called it quits. You and Steve opted for a fifth game. A tie breaker.

You lifted your cue but barely chose your shot before Steve's voice interrupted you. You huffed and lowered the pool stick.

"Wait, wait," Steve leaned on the opposite side of the table. "I was thinking…let's make this a little more interesting."

"What? Me rubbing your face in it isn't enough. I gotta take your money too?" You teased.

"Money? Nah." He smirked. "I was thinking something else."

"Like?"

"Name your price."

"Hmm," You stood straight and leaned on the cue. "Well…how about, you lose, you take my Brazil posting. There's a concert that weekend I was hoping to see."

"Brazil?" He repeated. "Fuck."

"I mean, you could win. You do, I'll take whatever mission you don't want." 

"Actually, I had something else in mind." He said.

"Oh?" You tilted your head.

"You scratch and you're mine for a day." He stated. 

"Yours?"

"I've been away a lot lately. My apartment could use a good scrubbing." He said. 

You thought for a moment and looked at the table. It was an easy shot. You really didn't want to go to Brazil. You bit your lip and weighed the risk.

"Alright, deal," You declared. 

"Deal," He rounded the table and held out his hand. You shook it and turned your attention back to the table.

You bent and lined up your shot. You exhaled and cleared your mind. Just there and the spin would carry it into the corner. You called your shot and pulled back.

The ball hit the exact angle you wanted and you stood straight to watch it roll towards the pocket. It hit the felt just beside and bobbled at the edge of the hole. It stopped. You blinked. It was impossible.

"Ha," Steve whooped. "Yes!"

"Fuck." You weren't looking forward to scrubbing Steve's toilet.

"That's a whole twenty-four hours," He gloated. 

"Yeah, yeah," You crossed your arms. "Too bad for you I'm a shitty maid."

-

You had been to Steve’s apartment several times before, but never alone. It was a peculiar realization as you waited for him to answer his door. Every other time you had been there, it had been neat. He didn’t seem the type to let a mess gather.

When he opened your door you ignored his greeting as you tried to peer past him. It didn’t look a mess. You grumbled your hello and he welcomed you in. You crossed your arms as you glanced around.

“Steve,” You sighed, “What am I supposed to be cleaning exactly?”

“There’s some dishes, and it could always use a good dusting,” He explained. “But you can’t start without your uniform.”

You squinted at him. “Uniform?”

“Every maid needs one,” He turned and crossed to the coffee table where a flat white box sat. He grabbed it and offered it to you. “There.”

You took it and balanced it in one hand as you opened the lid. You blinked at its contents and snapped it shut.

“You’re not serious Steve,” You tried to shove the lingerie set back into his hands. “I’m not wearing that.”

“Let’s go over what you agreed to. One day and you’re totally mine. To do as I wish.” He smirked.

“You said to clean,” You frowned.

“That was an example of what your day may entail.” He pushed the box back towards you. “You didn’t ask for a detailed list.”

You stared at him. Then the box. Then him again.

“The sooner you get changed, the sooner your day will begin,” He checked his watch.

“It began the minute I stepped in here,” You countered. “I think I’ll take my time.”

“I think you’re not in charge,” He grabbed your arm and turned you suddenly. His strength surprised you as he ushered you over to a closed door. “Now, you can change in there or you can keep up the lip and just change right here.”

He released your arm and slapped your ass. He opened the bathroom door with his other hand and pushed it inward.

“Five minutes,” He warned. “You can start with dusting and work from there.”

You gave him a sharp look but he didn’t seem to notice as he turned away and dropped down onto the couch. You reluctantly stepped into the bathroom and resisted the urge to slam the door behind you.

The uniform was a joke. A black and white set with particularly frilly panties. You stripped and squeezed yourself into the lingerie. You felt your cheeks burn as you looked in the mirror. The bra was entirely the wrong size and you could feel your ass peeking out of the bottoms. 

You folded your clothes into the box and tried to cover yourself with it as you emerged. Steve looked over and pushed himself back to his feet. “I forgot your shoes,” He searched around and bent to retrieve the heels from beside the coffee table. “Here.” 

He held out the shoes with one hand and took the box from you with his other. You let go of the box and snatched the shoes. You didn’t miss the flick of his eyes along your body. You looked at the shoes and huffed. “These are too small.”

He shrugged as he passed you. He carried the box to another door; his bedroom. “That’s too bad.” He said before he dipped through and dropped the box inside. He returned and crossed to the closet just inside the kitchen, he pulled out a bucket of cleaning equipment and plunked it in front of you.

“Well,” He stood with hands on hips. “Better get started.”

-

You dusted, swept, and vacuumed the living room and hallway. It was easy enough. You gathered up the few pieces of rubbish Steve had produced as he sat in front of the television and fluffed his couch cushions. 

You began on the kitchen, the dishes first, and wiped the already spotless counters. You suspected it was just another way for him to gloat. He always had been a braggart.

You mopped and left the floor to dry as you started on the bathroom. It was simple enough. It looked as if he had only recently cleaned it himself. It annoyed you further to think that this was all a ploy to shame you.

You returned to the kitchen to pull the dishes from the rack and stack them in the cupboards. You stood in front of the counter as you placed the first plate in the cupboard and sensed Steve behind you. His footsteps were soft as he neared and you shook your head.

“Here to rub it in,” You asked.

He shushed you as he came up behind you and you jumped as he pressed himself against you. “You can always take a break.” He offered.

“I don’t--” Your voice died as he played with the frills along your ass. “Steve?”

“I might have some other work for you to do,” His fingers slipped under your panties and pulled them up to bare your ass a little more.

A plate slipped from your hand as he tickled your ass and you tried to step back. You pressed yourself to him as the plate smacked the counter and split into three chunks. You cursed as his hand slipped around you and gripped your hips.

“Bad girl,” He purred and it sent a shiver along your spine.

“S-sorry,” You stuttered and tried to sidestep him. He pushed you flush against the counter and picked at the waist of your panties. 

“Mmm,” He hummed. “Better finish up.”

His hand slipped down the front of your panties between your pelvis and the counter. You could feel his erection against your back. You shakily lifted another plate as his fingers pushed along your folds. He shoved his foot between yours and edged your legs apart as he played with your clit.

“Steve,” You squeaked in surprise.

“Keep going,” He ordered. 

You focused on emptying the rack as his hand kept moving. Soon you were wet as he toyed with you and the cupboard was full. He dragged his fingers along your pussy and tutted as he withdrew his hand. His fingertips glistened as he held them up.

“Look at this mess,” He pressed his fingers to your lips and forced them apart. He shoved them in your mouth and growled. “Clean it up.”

You closed your lips around his fingers and licked them clean. He pressed down on your tongue and rocked his pelvis against you.

“Take a break,” He removed his fingers and wiped them off on your panties. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you around. He dragged you into the living room where the TV flashed still and to the couch. He let go and flopped on the couch, legs splayed wide. He reached down to push his jogging pants past his hard cock and it stood against his stomach. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” He stroked himself.

You stared at him and exhaled slowly. He grinned and his hand continued to move. He spread his other arm across the back of the couch. “It’s been what? Three hours? You’ve got twenty-one left…There’s not nearly enough cleaning to do around here.”

“Steve...this is--”

“Sore loser, are we?” He interrupted. “You made a bet, you lost. You’re mine, so...come here.”

You neared slowly. He shook his head. “You’re gonna need to take that uniform off. It’s filthy.”

You looked down at the lingerie. There was some damp spots on it but nothing glaring. “Off.”

You stared at him and dropped your eyes to the floor. You undressed carefully; your bra fell too easily down your arms and the panties rolled smoothly down your legs. When you made to take off the shoes he stopped you. “Keep those on.” 

You stepped between his legs and he spun his finger in the air. You turned and he grabbed your hips. He pulled you down into his lap and slid into you in a single motion. You gasped as he filled you and you tried to stand. He held you in place and wiggled his hips. You moaned as his cock sent a ripple through you.

He lifted you and pulled you back down. You teetered on your heels, your legs bent between his as he led your motion.

You were in shock as the swirls crawled up your thighs and left you breathless. You reached back to steady yourself against Steve's firm stomach and he gathered your wrists together.

"I never was one for gambling," His voice was dusky as he rocked into you from below. "Not til you and your big mouth."