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writethelifeyouwant · 2 years

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Made For You | Chapter 15

Summary: Dean and Sam like what they have together, and if screwing your brother screws with the universe’s “grand plan” while they’re at it, then even better. Neither of them has ever cared much for tradition or fate, but it turns out there are some destinies you can’t escape. Sometimes, someone is just made for you.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Incest Tags: AU, Time Jump, Omegaverse, Alpha!Dean, Omega!Reader, age difference, taboo relationship, scent attraction, true mates, Dean’s self-loathing, Ellen not taking anyone’s bullshit, overprotective father, overprotective alpha, angry angry daughter Bingo Squares: @spnabobingo - Overprotective Alpha Word Count: 2.3k

Series Masterlist

Dean’s POV

Dean’s head is spinning. The shock of running into Sam after all these years apart is staggering, and it hasn’t gone at all like the countless reunions he used to picture in his head. He hasn’t bothered picturing them for a long time, given up on the possibility of ever seeing his little brother again. Yet here he is, sitting across from him. Except this isn’t the Sammy Dean had known twenty years ago. Hell, Dean isn’t the same person he was twenty years ago either. Twenty years ago he’d been head over heels in love with the man who’s now sitting across from him, even though they’d never really spoken about it like that, in such specific terms. Maybe he should have, Dean thinks with regret. Maybe then Sam wouldn’t have thought that he’d be unwanted, he would have felt safe confiding in Dean and raising their child with him. But he hadn’t, and that was Dean’s fault.

Dean’s fault that Sam ran away. Dean’s fault that Sam never came back. Dean’s fault that he had to raise their daughter all on his own. Dean’s fault that she’d grown up with a made-up story about who she is, and where she’d come from. Dean’s fault that he hadn’t known who she was when they met, and he’d taken her fucking virginity. And then fucking abandoned her less than seventy-two hours later. God, how has he already surpassed John for ‘worst father of the year’ award when he’s known his daughter for all of a week?

“Dad?” Y/N’s voice brings Dean out of his thoughts, and he finds her staring at Sam with hurt in her eyes. Dean looks at his little brother and sees an unfathomable mix of emotions playing across his face. There’s wrinkles on his forehead that hadn’t been there the last time Dean saw him, and another barb of regret at everything he’s missed stabs at his chest.

“Yeah?” Sam asks gently, eyes trained on their daughter almost too concertedly as if he’s purposefully avoiding looking at Dean.

“Is there something wrong with me?” she asks meekly, stealing the barest of glances towards Dean, before darting her eyes back to Sam.

“What? Sweetie, no,” Sam’s hand jumps forward to grab hers, a show of paternal comfort that looks so natural he must have done that a thousand times, Dean thinks bitterly. And he was never there to offer the same thing. “Why would you think that?”

“Because we–” Y/N breaks off, looking at Dean helplessly.

“Y/N,” Dean warns with a low voice, shaking his head.

“Because you thought you and Dean were mates?” Sam asks sympathetically, his hazel eyes flickering to meet Dean’s in a sort of begrudgingly understanding grimace. “No, Y/N that doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you,” he reassures the girl, his attention firmly back on her. “We all get confused sometimes, hormones at your age are overwhelming and unpredictable. There must have been something in you that recognised the family bond that you have. He made you feel safe, and comfortable? Happy?”

Y/N gives Sam a tiny nod, tears gathering on the rim of her lashes.

“And you feel all those things with me too, don’t you?” Sam presses on, his voice patient but clearly pleading with her to understand.

“Of course I do, Dad,” Y/N answers immediately. “But–”

“Then that’s all it was, baby girl,” Sam interrupts with a sad smile and another squeeze of her hand where it’s resting on the table. Dean thinks he sees Y/N flinch back when Sam calls her ‘baby girl’, probably remembering, just as Dean is, when he had called her that in bed last weekend. “Get up on your hands and knees for me, baby girl. Wanna watch that pretty little cunt stretching around my knot when I fuck you this time.” The memory should make him sick to his stomach, but it only makes his cock twitch in his jeans. Yeah, he’s the goddamn father of the year alright.

“Dean?” Y/N turns to him, struggling to find the words, but Dean knows what it is she’s trying to ask him. It wasn’t just that, right? It was more, you felt it too, didn’t you? You told me you felt it too. But when Dean opens his mouth, he can’t make any answers come out. He doesn’t know what to say to this, how to handle what’s happening. His daughter is crying, looking to him for answers, and he doesn’t have any. No comfort or wisdom he can offer her.

Can you even be true mates with family members? Dean hadn’t thought so. That’s why he’d always reasoned that he and Sam could be in love, but they never felt that thing that people talked about, the thing that made you certain someone else had been made for you, and you alone. As much as he loved him, Dean had never had that with Sam. He has it fucking bad for Y/N though. And it’s not just an urge to belong together, like family might feel, it’s a primal need. It’s physical lust, and an irrational desire to be wrapped up inside her body, and put a bite on her neck to show everyone she ever meets that she belongs to someone. To Dean. These are not fatherly feelings. Despite his lack of familiarity with the role, he’s certain of that much, at least.

“Sam,” Dean breathes, the name pushing itself out from between his lips against his better judgement. Sam and Y/N both turn to look at him, one wary, the other burning with hope. “It’s not just Y/N that felt it,” he admits shakily, making himself hold his brother’s gaze. He’s not a coward, he can look a man in the eye when he tells him he fucked his daughter. Their daughter. “She’s right, there’s something more than that between us. She–” his voice chokes up a little, to his extreme embarrassment, but he clears his throat and ploughs on. “I’ve felt more alive since I’ve met her than I have for the past twenty years. An–and being with her last weekend, it was like a missing gear finally clicked into place, man,” Dean laughs at how fucking cheesy he sounds, dropping his eyes to his hands momentarily and rubbing the heel of his hand across his brow. “I know how it sounds, but all that shit people say about finding ‘the one’ and just knowing, somehow,” Dean’s laugh dies on his lips when he looks back up to find Sam glaring at him with a hatred he’s only ever seen on their father’s face. He never could have imagined that Sam could feel that depth of malice. Very slowly, Sam stands from his seat, hands resting on the table as he leans forward.

“Are you telling me–” every word is measured, precise, deadly. “–that you touched my little girl?”

Dean swallows thickly. Right. He should have seen this one coming. This is the fight he had been expecting to have with Y/N’s father when they met, after all.

“Dad, it wasn’t like that!” Y/N leans between them, tugging on Sam’s sleeve in an effort to get him to return to his chair. “He helped me, I went into my heat too early. I could have wound up in the hospital if Dean wasn’t there.”

If Y/N thought that would help matters, she was sorely mistaken.

“You took advantage of her when she didn’t have clear judgement?!” Sam roars, the chair flying across the room as he storms around the table and hauls Dean out of his seat by his collar.

“Dad!” Y/N shouts, but Sam isn’t paying any attention to her now.

“Hey! Cool it, Sam! You know I’d never fucking do that,” Dean hisses, his breath a little constricted due to Sam’s hold on him.

“Do I?” Sam demands, seething. “I haven’t seen you in twenty years, Dean! What the hell do I know about you?!”

“I’m still your brother! You should know I’m not a fucking rapist!”

“Boys!” There’s a shout and an audible click of a shotgun being loaded, and Sam and Dean both spin around to see Ellen walking steadily in their direction. “If you’re gonna let this dissolve into blows, you’ll kindly take it outside my establishment,” she fixes them with a look that brooks no argument, and Dean feels Sam’s anger deflate a little under her glare.

“Sorry, Ellen,” Sam grunts, releasing Dean’s shirt and running his hands through his hair, pulling himself together. “There’s no need. Dean’s leaving.”

“Dad, you can’t be serious!” Y/N stares at the pair of them with wide eyes, brimming with disbelief, and Dean thinks his own face probably looks quite similar.

“Y/N Campbell, do not give me that look. I’m deadly serious and you know it.” Sam takes hold of Dean’s arms and marches him towards the door, Y/N following hot on their heels.

“I was dropping by the Roadhouse to see if Ellen wanted to swing by a hunt I found a few counties over,” Sam informs Dean when they get outside to the parking lot, and Dean feels like he’s gotten whiplash from the change in conversation.

“Okay… and?”

“Why don’t you look into it instead?” Sam suggests, fishing a notebook out of his pocket and tearing out a page to hand it to Dean. He doesn’t look down as the paper is crumpled into his palm, he can only stare incredulously at Sam. “And then, don’t come back.”

“And what if I do come back?” Dean asks stiffly. He’s never been a big fan of taking orders, his dad had left a bad taste in his mouth where that was concerned.

“It will be pointless if you do. You’re never gonna see Y/N again,” Sam crosses his arms over his chest, squaring up to Dean menacingly, and instinctively he takes a step back. It feels like Sam’s knocked the wind out of his chest without even touching him.

“Dad, please. You can’t mean that,” Y/N tries to run to Dean but Sam catches his arms around her waist and holds her back. “Dean, please!” she turns to him now, begging him not to leave.

“What are you gonna do, Sam? You gonna send her away? Like what Dad did to you? Is being with me really so awful that a life on the run is the better option?” Dean’s voice cracks, and he has to hold back the tears that are threatening to break free. This is all his fault, the hurt he sees on both of the faces in front of him. Maybe Sam’s right, and they’d be better off if he stayed gone.

“You know what Dean? Do me a favour and just let whatever monster that is take care of you for me, okay? Because if you ever touch my daughter again, I’ll kill you myself,” Sam snarls, and by God, Dean believes him. Y/N is sagging against Sam’s arms, tears falling freely as she continues to protest, her fists beating weakly against her father’s embrace.

“Okay, Sam, okay,” Dean holds up his hands in surrender, flashing the paper Sam had pushed onto him. “I’ll go, and you won’t see me again.” He starts to step back towards the Impala when he hears a deep grunt and the skittering of gravel.

“Dean, wait!” Y/N runs after him breathlessly, throwing herself into his arms. “I’m coming with you,” she pants, but Dean shakes his head immediately.

“Y/N, no, you can’t,” he insists, brushing the hair back from her face so he can look at her properly, but not daring to do anything more affectionate with Sam staring at them, seething and still bent double from where Y/N had apparently kicked him between the legs. Dean feels a grim swell of pride at the sight. His baby girl is a fighter. “I know we didn’t get to talk about any of this, but I wasn’t about to start bringing you out hunting with me,” he laughs sadly, hoping she’ll understand.

“Why not?! I can take care of myself, I can shoot, and I know about ghosts and demons and monsters–”

“Knowing about them ain’t the same as hunting them, baby girl,” Dean holds her cheek, savouring the way she presses herself into his palm. Sincerely hoping this isn’t the last time he feels that, but also knowing that it very well might be. “It’s way too dangerous.”

“At least we agree on one thing,” Sam huffs, holding his hand out in ready as if he’s waiting for Dean to pass their daughter back over to him. “Say goodbye, Y/N.”

The omega looks pleadingly between Sam and Dean, both resolute in the decision that she’s not going anywhere, and she realises she has no chance of persuading them otherwise. Desperately, she throws her arms around Dean’s neck, pressing her nose into his skin and breathing in as much of him as she can, and Dean can’t help but do the same, wrapping her up so tightly in his arms that her feet come up off the ground.

“I’ll call you,” she whispers in his ear, and Dean squeezes her tight in response, to indicate he heard her, before he puts her down.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he breathes, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Sam yanks her away before he has a chance to say anything else, marching her back towards the Roadhouse.

With nothing else to do, Dean unrolls the paper in his hand and scans over the info Sam had given him. If this is a real lead, it does sound like something supernatural, so he may as well take a look at it while he and Y/N figure out what to do. Because he’s not going to let Sam run away from him again, and if he does, he’s not going to stop looking until he finds them.

Series Tags: @outofnowhere82 @ladysparkles78 @missusbarnes-rogers

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore @letsbys-library @fictional-affairs @leigh70

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @alaufeyson @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @cluz1babe @maliburenee

#spnabobingo #dean x reader #alpha!dean #omega!reader #smut fic #angst fic #supernatural fic #supernatural smut #wincest #omegaverse #made for you #series #please read warnings

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weaselle · 2 years

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in this essay i will hobbits

here is something about Hobbits i’m not sure everyone gets

hobbits are cockroaches

i mean that in such a loving way, but they truly are the cockroaches of the LOTR races. Maybe that’s a bit much -- but they are super sneaky and super hard to kill.

Let me sum up. No, is too good. Let me explain

First of all, they are the sneakiest sneakers.

Hobbits are just naturally nearly invisible most of the time except when they are in their other natural state, Being Noticed.

They are small, they are barefoot, they live in little burrows, they are THE SNEAKIEST SNEAKERS.

The books (and therefore movies) are low-key from the point of view of the Hobbits themselves (we are actually meant to be reading the book(s) written by Bilbo and Frodo, you know, that leather bound thing with the actual book titles on it that we see handed over to Sam at the end). It’s all a hobbit POV, and since hobbits find the sneakiness of other hobbits to just be normal, it isn’t explicitly focussed on.

Think about it though. They are small, they have large padded feet and never wear shoes, they are very quiet and hard to notice -- except when they are Being Noticed.

In fact, Being Noticed is a part of how they are so sneaky, because everyone who knows hobbits knows they love to sing, and dance, and mess about with everything, and have loud opinions, so of course you always know where the hobbit is... until suddenly you don’t.

Usually you see them chucking rocks at stuff, or shoving their friend, or hear them singing a song, or complaining about literally everything in that almost cheerful conversational way they have of complaining, or asking endless inane questions ...

But that’s how you always and easily know right where the hobbit is, you never get around to listening for footfalls or other signs of their presence. You never even have to really look for one. For the last hour they’ve been slightly behind you on your left side, idly wondering out loud how many bad puns about dogs they could make. But suddenly you notice you haven’t actually heard them make any noise for five minutes and you now have zero idea where the hobbit is.

What do their footfalls and breathing sound like? what do they smell like? They, well, hell, they smell like food, don’t they. That’s what you always smell when you’re around a hobbit. They are so good at Being Noticed that you don’t actually have to notice anything about them. So when they stop Being Noticed, they go entirely unnoticed.

But even if you’ve never noticed a hobbit before, if they don’t want to be seen, you probably don’t see them.

I mean, it takes forever, but the Fellowship’s plan was basically: give The Ring to one of these ghosty little shadow steppers, and let them walk it right through the middle of the enemy’s home base.

Yeah, for sure, the enemy is personified as a literal giant Eye that Sees All, and yeah, he is obsessively looking specifically for this thing (which, by the way, is calling out to him) but don’t worry, this fine fellow and his gardener are going to walk it right under his actual eyeball without him noticing.

And it works!

The reason this works is because Hobbits are the sneakiest sneakers to ever sneak around Middle Earth.

consider this

Elrond, a ruler of elves, thousands of years old, no stranger to secrecy and hidden things, calls a high-level secret meeting among vassals from the highest powers left in the land. A meeting held in the center of his own controlled realm. And not one but three! uninvited hobbits find out about it, show up to it, = and secretly observe the entire thing unbeknownst to kings, wizards and elves. Not even mentioning what I assume must have been SOME kind of guards or security force appointed by Elrond.

I love the angry startled look Movie-Elrond gives Merry and Pippin when they run into the meeting to join their kin. Like, he was very gracious about Sam, played it super cool, but then this ruler of elves sees two more!? hobbits jog right into the middle of his very private meeting and he’s clearly all “how the fuck?!”

And yo, it must have been embarrassing to have his most secret of meetings be so entirely spied on. And not spied on by magic or espionage professionals, no. His fate-of-the-world secret military meeting was just sort of invisibly and casually attended by, though i say it affectionately, a sort of average kind-hearted chap and a couple of idiots.

But nobody throws shade at Elrond over it, nobody even makes a comment, no sarcastic “if your vaults are as well guarded as your secret meetings my Lord Elrond, I am afraid you may find yourself without coin” Instead everyone just seems to be like “yep, hobbits stepping out of nowhere, that’s hobbits for you”

Or think how, in The Hobbit (book or movie[s]) Those dwarves were like “how the hell are we going to sneak past a dragon, a DRAGON of all things, ultimate predator created by dark forces, how can we sneak in right under his actual nose?” and Gandalf immediately thinks “A Hobbit could do that. Any hobbit at all could do that, actually -- the real trick would be getting some hobbit to agree to travel more than three days from his hole...”

And then in nearly every encounter, this gentle-hobbit, who is missing his fine linen hankie, manages to sneak off and not be noticed by whatever enemy they face. Near the end of the book Bilbo comes and goes between the various armed forces like he’s going for a morning stroll, just leaving guarded fortresses and showing up at king’s tents like it’s nothing. Sure he’s got the ring, but i am certain this is only augmenting his stealthing habits, not creating them.

Early in the fellowship one of the Nazgul stands directly over the four hobbits while actively searching for hobbit-shaped prey AND feeling the homing energy of the ring, and all four hobbits still stay unnoticed.

I’m convinced the elven cloak works so well to hide them at the gates of Mordor because natural hobbit abilities to stay hidden and the simple elvish cloaking magic crank each other up to 11. Like, that same cloak would not have hidden Gimli the same way in that situation, i’m sure. It would have helped, maybe enough to work at a distance, but not at the enemy’s very feet like that. But a hobbit could almost pull that off even without an elvish cloak, so it’s no problem to do so while wearing one.

Faramir only finds them because a distracted Frodo literally bounces off him while walking through the bushes.

All the time, the hobbits hide and sneak. Frodo and Sam even sneak out of the middle of a group of orcs that are focused on them when they get inspected while disguised as orcs in Mordor. Like the Head Inspector, looks right at them and demands to Inspect Specifically Them, and they, so done in they are barely able to march, still manage to just, y’know, start a distraction and vanish.

Hobbits are, just, unbelievably stealthy

Now think on this. If I asked someone who the sneakiest character from LOTR is, you know who they would say. The sneakiest, stealthiest character in the lord of the rings universe? You all know exactly who everyone would say.

And that’s exactly who is the only one to be able to consistently and accurately locate and sneak up on hobbits. Gollum, that sneakiest of creatures, who spent five hundred years perfecting the art of slinking unnoticed through the tunnels of the Mountain Goblins, skulking around and actually preying on the goblins and never getting caught. Only Gollum manages to find the hobbits again and again, ambushing them several times. And likewise hobbits are quicker than most to notice when Gollum is sneaking around, even catching him unaware a time or two. Two stealth builds playing chess.

Now onto Hardy as in Hard to Poison

I wholeheartedly agree with another post i saw proposing hobbits are naturally poison resistant. The post pointed to their almost reckless lust for shoving mushrooms into their mouths as an implication of both the reason for an evolved immunity, and the example of it working. The same post notes Boromir’s description of Mordor as being a deadly environment “the very air you breathe is a poisonous fume” supported by there being no birds or fish or i think animals of any kind in the surrounding marshes... and yet the hobbits live relatively well there, merely inconvenienced instead of dying.

There are many instances of hobbits being particularly resilient.

Frodo is resistant to being stabbed by the morgul blade on Weathertop, which by rights should have either killed him or transformed him into a wraith. The wound is so virulent in corruptive magic that it never heals, and Frodo is like “you know? sometimes it bothers me a bit” Merry survives a similar cursed wound after stabbing the Witch King in battle and recovers completely. On the twisted magic paths of Mirkwood, only Bilbo was able to keep his head and break free of the spell, refusing to become fully hypnotized, correctly assessing the source of the enspellment (noxious fumes) and climbing up a tree to fresh air. Even Pippin is startlingly resilient to Sauron himself when he handles the Palantir, giving away no information and refusing to answer questions even having his will bent by the Dark Lord himself. And then afterward recovers completely without any desire to seek the seeing stone again, which is nearly as seductive an artifact as a ring of power.

The hobbits are noted by many of the important knowledgeable characters as being very hardy - Aragorn remarks upon it. Elrond and Gandalf both notice the one ring’s soul-poisoning curse seems to have a much weaker effect on true hobbits

(sidebar: smeagol’s character was only “hobbit-like” for example being “river-folk” instead of what we could call burrow-folk, and were probably quite different form hobbits in some ways) True hobbits all fare better with the ring than Smeagol and Deagol did that fateful day.

Bilbo handles it quite well, all things considered, for a significant time. Frodo even tries to give the ring away several times, which is probably impossible for most. Sam struggles only for a few seconds with it, when he returns it to Frodo in the orc tower after Shelob’s lair; as I recall more curious about than overcome by the feeling of the ring’s attempted possession of him, if i remember the books correctly.

And Speaking of Shelob! I know i know, “if hobbits are so poison resistant why could Shelob so easily poison Frodo?”

Well first of all, Shelob is an actual demon of rather royal evil lineage, so jot that down.

She is stated to have multiple poisons, and while that orc had every right to assume she was playing with her food as usual, he didn’t see Frodo make a real threat of himself by attacking Shelob with elvish magic. There is every reason to believe she was intent on killing Frodo actually. And then, spider-wise, simply was not going to waste a meal. I’m saying there’s a good chance she dosed Frodo with something much more deadly than sleepytime juice, and he recovered fine anyway.

But even if that’s not the case, Shelob is a literal demon older than Sauron, and i’m sure if she wanted to paralyze a hobbit she could. Even, as not the book but the movies do seem to imply, through mithril mail. Shelob’s mother partnered with Sauron’s old boss to basically end the first world, and later survived a battle against an entire army of balrogs when he drove her off. Shelob herself is a demon at least equal to a Balrog, I’m certain if she wanted, her sting could pierce a dragon’s hide or any metal of equal strength.

And not just Frodo, but Sam also survives a bit of an encounter with her venom.

In the books she half smothers Samwise in a puddle of her various poisons that spill from her slashed abdomen. It nearly makes him lose consciousness and i’m positive being half drowned in a literal puddle of demon venom would have killed most things, and he just shakes it entirely off with the help of a minor blessing from Galadriel (which, by the way, is a get-what-you-give kind of magic, the book explicitly says Galadriel’s Phial acted strongly for Sam because of his own inner strength: “As if his indomitable spirit had set its potency in motion, the glass blazed suddenly like a white torch in his hand”)

In the book it goes

“[Shelob] yielded to the stroke, and then heaved up the great bag of her belly high above Sam's head. Poison frothed and bubbled from the wound. Now splaying her legs she drove her huge bulk down on him again ... as Sam was crushed slowly to the ground.”

I presume a puddle of some sort resulted because the book describes her after being wounded as dribbling venom from her mouth and dragging a trail of green slime behind her when she retreats.

So she spews poison from an abdomen wound over his head (and possibly throws up some poison too) and then uses that poison covered belly to push him into the resulting puddle. Sam is effected thusly

“Sam had fallen to his knees by Frodo's head, his senses reeling in the foul stench, his two hands still gripping the hilt of the sword. Through the mist before his eyes he was aware dimly of Frodo's face and stubbornly he fought to master himself and to drag himself out of the swoon that was upon him”

Then moments later, after a jolt from Galadriel’s Phial “And with that he staggered to his feet and was Samwise the hobbit, Hamfast's son, again.” And he charges back into the fight

This demon gives him a damn poison swirly and he’s all, “Wow! that was bracing!” smacks, like, an epipen in his leg, and comes back swinging

Anyway, I could go on and on but what i’m saying is hobbits are clearly the stealthiest beings on Middle Earth, and are also nearly immune to all toxins, be they physical or magical. They are the perfect rogue... except they don’t want any excitement and largely refuse to go adventuring.

unless it’s the literal fate of the world at stake. Or maybe, maaaybe, if you send a company of hungry dwarves to eat ALL the hobbit’s food stores uninvited, and then offer to pay them back for what was basically a small warehouse of food (plus compensation for the severe emotional damage involved of course) but only if the hobbit promises to come along and help secure the funds to be used in payment of said debt. Maybe. It’s that or the end of the world.

Otherwise it’s help yourself to another ale (and bring me another too) on your way out the door, no hey, i’m over here now, what do you mean stop sneaking around

#tolkien #lotr #why did i just write so many words about this

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acertainmoshke · 1 year

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WIP Intro: Cold Iron

So I decided to turn Cold Iron into a series. Which means I need to come up with more book names, yay! But basically Cold Iron is currently both the title of the first book and the series as a whole.

Book 1 takes place in 1956. Shakatra Zoawin and their chosen brother Kristoffer have been alive for 40 years. Well, for him it’s approximate, but they know their birthday and they just turned 40. Which really shouldn’t matter. I mean, it really shouldn’t. Physically they’re still 20 and they never cared much about time and age anyway. They’re happy to live in the half-finished empty subway station, sometimes going to the old abandoned motel instead. They pick fights with the Wild Fae that live down the track, make up silly games, sometimes save people from Fae trickery or their own foolishness. They’ve never needed anyone but each other. No one else accepts them as anything but monsters anyway.

Their life isn’t lonely. They are happy with Kris. They don’t like other people and have no desire at all to meet any. Kris is different. He sits and people watches sometimes, wondering what their lives are like or describing feelings of desire Shaka can’t relate to at all. Kris likes to talk in general, which is good because they really don’t. They can talk, sometimes, but mostly it’s too much trouble. This is greatly helped by the fact that Kris has a particular ability that almost makes up for his struggle with and disinterest in other magic: he has telepathy. He can’t read minds, but he can speak into your mind and with practice you can speak back silently. Shaka has had lots of practice. Most of their conversations are Kris talking and Shaka thinking back. And it doesn’t matter that he hates the feeling of doing magic because he’s big and strong and a physical fighter while Shaka’s magic is so powerful and instinctive they sometimes struggle to reign it in. Part of that is their excellent glamour ability. The two can almost pass for human at a glance now, and while Kris has some pretty impressive stealing abilities, Shaka can just ask for food and then convince the person they already paid.

Really, their life is everything they want it to be.

Except that they just turned 40, which made them realize that She must have too.

40 years ago, there was a baby named Cassandra Tapple who had 2 older brothers, Jon and Sam. That baby was loved until she was stolen and replaced with a monster. The monster was hated and hurt until they ran away, changed their name, tried to forget. But there was a baby who never hurt anyone and was stolen by the Fae, the ones who live in courts in another realm and have all the menace and cunning of the ones Shaka fights daily, but so much more power.

It’s not fair. They’ve never liked things that weren’t fair. That lady is 40 now and missed half her life. She could be married with her own family, she might have been a nurse in the war, she would wear the polka dot dresses and shiny heels Shaka sees everywhere now. So they make up their mind to go rescue this innocent lady, just set her free. Maybe steal her some money to start. Then they could move on and fully forget their past.

Getting to the realm of Faerie isn’t easy in itself. They have to track down and demand debts from a lot of specific and angry beings, and then go through a whole adventure to make it work. And it’s every bit as illogical and horrifying as they expected. It takes a bit to find the right place with only her name, but eventually they do.

Only she isn’t an exhausted and overworked 40-year-old lady. She’s a bouncy, sharp-tongued 10-year-old girl. It turns out that while some humans are put to work as servants, many of them are frozen as children to dress up and entertain with song and dance, serving food and smiling. They are carefully controlled and, despite being kept young, are rarely allowed to play as kids.

They try everything to set her free, while panicking about how they are barely able to care for themself, much less a kid. But they can’t leave her. She likes them but is also wild, impossible to keep track of or get to listen.

And nothing works. They try trickery, running away, and other plots. They know they aren’t powerful enough to fight. So they end up at negotiating. They give up a lot for it and still aren’t allowed to keep her.

But the Fae let them take her out on a short trip. And when they return, they give her a plastic horse (the child had no toys!) and negotiate to take her on vacations a couple times a decade. It’s something, at least.

General tag list: @blind-the-winds

#moshke writes #writeblr #cold iron #WIP intro #I know I’m still not writing on it but I’m so excited about this idea

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spencersawkward · 4 years

Note

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

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

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

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

word count: 5.6k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Spencer Reid

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fluff.

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sure. thanks, Penny."

she nods. "of course, sweet cheeks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought it was going so well."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"me?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I feel bad." Penelope says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then he's gone.

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"did he apologize?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"what?" he's curious now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"listen, Spence--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought you knew."

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

"well, you are."

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

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

"yes." he's unwavering.

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

"one."

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

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

"sorry." he apologizes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"do you want me to stop?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Spencer, holy shit." I moan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

the erratic nature of his jerking body tells me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hi."

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

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

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

"of course."

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

"thank you." he whispers into my hair.

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

"for doing this."

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

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

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

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

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

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

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #virgin spencer #reader x spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid one shot #baby spencer reid

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autisticandroids · 3 years

Note

"you couldve gotten him to sleep w you if you could convince it was his obligation as a man" ok this would not be hard to do AT ALL though is the thing. cas being visibly lonely and possibly weirdly horny and obviously into dean and then saying that if he was not around dean all the time, it'd be way easier to get laid would probably do it.

also stream the girlfriend experience by rageprufrock where cas complains about gettting boners like once and dean is like god ok i guess i'll teach you how to jerk off (fair warning sam characterisation in this sucks a little though)

re: this post.

i love the girlfriend experience! but no literally actually like the little posting spree i went on this morning about cas/lisa parallels was specifically inspired by a train of thought related to this. like. i was thinking about on labor by a_good_soldier + six hundred sundays by sobsicles (some specific relevant excerpts) + this vibe and i started thinking about like. okay a hypothetical post confession fic where cas is resurrected and jack returns him to dean and cas is like hm. well, fuck. now that dean knows about my feelings, there are two possible reactions he could have:

one: he could become angry with me for expecting something of him, even though i don't even though i don't expect anything from him, because wanting something from him and expecting something from him are the same in his mind.

two: he could try to fulfill my expectations without regard for his own desires, even though i don't even though i don't expect anything from him, because wanting something from him and expecting something from him are the same in his mind.

either of these would be bad. i should leave.

and so cas tries to leave and dean is like no. you cannot leave. why the fuck are you leaving me you bastard.

and cas is like "well, eventually, you are going to do one of these two things, because you have serious boundary issues." and dean, who was definitely at least considering doing thing number two, is like "obviously that's not what i was going to do, idiot."

and then i started sketching out more dialogue from this exchange and it came out like this:

cas: you don't want me

dean: you don't know me! i could be gay

cas: that is Not what i'm talking about

dean: ????then what are you talking about

cas: dean. did you love lisa braeden?

dean: but- i- wh- of course!!

cas: of course you played the role of being in love with her but, dean... did you want to be with her?

dean: ...

cas: you can't answer me because you don't know because it never occurred to you to ask the question

dean: but... but... you're not lisa.

cas: i'm someone who loves you and wants you to be my child's father. you and i already have a domestic life together but i have no idea where i stand with you. surely you can see the parallel.

anyway that's why i was thinking about that all morning. deancas deanlisa parallels are not just for "you did something terrible to my son" posting or guiltposting they're also for like. dean's-dysfunction-around-romance posting.

also, incidentally, i think on labor has one of the most interesting handlings of dean's sexuality crisis i've seen, which is: dean starts having sex with cas because he thinks he owes it to cas and then after the fact he's like wow! i liked that! i guess i'm into men. like he would have struggled and had a crisis except that he's too busy having other, even more insane problems. i'm actually going to pull out the paragraph that starts the sexuality crisis portion:

Pretty much the only thing about the whole Cas situation that doesn’t lead to a dumpster fire in Dean’s brain is the sex, which is the last thing Dean expected. Dean, it turns out, is bisexual. Which he probably shoulda figured out and gotten okay with before going and committing to fucking a man for the rest of his godforsaken life, but that woulda taken five billion years and he’s only got the next few decades with Cas, so. Time to speedrun it.

like i don't think this method would work for most fics but it's a really interesting direction to take it in.

i'm gonna end this post with a quote from a post about boundaries that i find applicable to the situation:

When you don’t feel like you fully own your own body, the world is a scary and unpleasant place. Every single desire expressed by another person is a demand on you. From there, you can screw up in two ways. There’s my failure mode, doing things I don’t enjoy and which my partner only enjoys because I’m lying to them. And there’s the failure mode where you go around invalidating desires when you can’t fulfill the implicit demands. Thus all the people who start arguing when they hear people say preferences are socially mediated. Thus all the people who insist that sad lonely people are in fact acting "entitled” when they talk about being sad and lonely.

When you believe that your body is yours, you can say “your need is valid and important and I’m not going to meet it because I don’t want to.”

When you believe that your body is common currency, the only 'no’ available to you is “your need is not valid and not important and I’m not going to meet it because you are not worth it.”

#spn #asks #anonymous

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simsadventures · 4 years

Text

Panopticon: Chapter 27: War Path

Alpha Steve x Omega Reader

Summary: Steve is livid and tries to find you but somebody keeps putting obstacles in his way. You, on the other hand, get to meet the devils and learn some harsh truths.

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, angst, abduction, slight mentions of torture, life in captivity, lying, swearing, mentions of violence against women, shitty people in general, loads of feels, I would hope, mentions of suicide, mentions of death

Word Count: 3800

A/N: Du dun… Who is ready for some angst? Many of you weren’t happy that we’re taking this route, but it needed to happen because the world is full of assholes who try to make people unhappy. Anyway, so excited about this one, and I can’t wait for you to tell me what you thought. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

“That won’t help to find my Omega, so no!” Steve yelled across the whole room, and even the experienced Alpha fighters gathered in the room couldn’t help but shudder at Steve’s authoritative voice. They were trying to help, coming up with new ideas to try and bring the Circle down, or at least make somebody from the inside communicate with them to tell Steve and his team the location of his Omega. But no idea was good enough for Steve.

It had been four days. Four days without his precious Omega, and Steve felt like he was slowly losing his mind. He desperately needed you next to him, just to feel your warm, soft skin pressed against his, or to see the light in your eyes whenever you looked at him. But he had nothing.

He often saw broken Alphas after all that went down on Earth a few years ago, and while he couldn’t really imagine what they must have been feeling at that time, walking like dead men, some of them on the brink of death because they just couldn’t handle their lives without their loved ones, Steve understood it all now.

He knew he had to concentrate because he felt you in his veins, felt that you were alright considering the circumstances and, most importantly, that you were still alive. That was the sole reason why he didn’t end it yet. But he was hanging on a thread because each day and night he had to spend without you, his mind was going just a little more insane. He was hearing your voice and this morning, he even saw you standing by the bed. He was elated, but when he blinked a few more times, he realised that it was his brain playing tricks on him and that none of what had happened was just a nightmare.

Moreover, he had to orchestrate a funeral for Peter and Gamora. The sadness over their loss was embedded deep in Steve’s soul, and he knew he would never get over it, even if he got you back. When he got you back, he scolded himself every time he thought of it, but it was to no avail. The desperation and pain seeped deep into his bones, and the once positive Alpha, who used to be full of life was just a walking shell of numbness.

Sam and Bucky tried to pick up the mood in the room now and then, but they knew all too well that there was nothing they could say or do to make the situation better. The only thing Steve really needed was to get you back, and they empathised with him. Moments after the realisation hit them that you were indeed gone, they rushed to their own huts to check on their own mates. Their bonds felt fine, but the fucked-up situation got into their heads, and they needed to see their loves for themselves. Both Meera and Tina were sitting comfortably in their houses, unaware of the terror going on just mere meters away from them. They all spent the afternoon scenting and crying, their hearts clenching for their friend who was lost in his thoughts and his pain.

But Steve tried to come up with a solution. He knew Rumlow would take you somewhere far, but not far enough not to brag about it. The circle was almost a day drive so Steve would have bet Rumlow’s hiding place was somewhere between his own house and the hell house they called the Omega haven. But that was still too much land to cover just by foot or by car, since there were so many abandoned houses and warehouses, not even talking about all the hidden places deep in the forests. So, just going somewhere blindly was not an option.

Then, he thought of using what was left of the functioning camera system between the city and his lands, trying to see if he could pinpoint at least the direction where Rumlow and his team went. But he came up with nothing since most of the cameras had been destroyed soon after the war had started.

Steve even thought of taking some military dogs and making them sniff your clothes to find you, but that would mean hundreds of kilometres to search, and that was just impossible. Every single thing Steve came up with was a nonsense, and the longer he couldn’t figure out how to find you, the more desperate and angry he had become. His people knew it was nothing personal, but his yelling and blaming was sometimes too difficult to bear for any of them. Steve knew he was being a dick, and he apologised every time his nerves got the better of him, but it was like he couldn’t do anything about it.

It was when Bucky spoke up with a guilty look that Steve finally got a good idea from somebody. Not that he particularly liked it, but it was something useful at last, and Steve was actually quite angry with himself for not thinking of it sooner. The idea was to call Peggy because she was always able to find Rumlow a little easier than the rest of the world. How that worked exactly Steve never asked, because Peggy was one of those who kept their work pretty shut, and she wouldn’t brag or even talk about it, so Steve had barely any idea of what Peggy really did. There used to be times when he minded when it drove him up the wall, but not anymore. He didn’t care how she did it, the only thing Steve needed was to get you back.

He called her almost immediately, listening to her smooth voice as she assured him that she would devote a majority of her time to help him because, after all, she still cared for him very much. Steve thanked her from the bottom of his heart and resolved to wait for her to come back to him since there was literally nothing else to do for him but to wallow in his pain.

Surprisingly, it only took a few hours for Peggy to reach out and tell Steve that she might have found him. His heart started beating like crazy as if feeling that he might be getting you in his arms sooner than he expected. Peggy told him that she got the memo that Rumlow was hiding in an old warehouse south of the manor, around 70 kms away, and Steve just growled, knowing he was kind of right in his assumptions. He quickly gathered his team, not really speaking much, but they all understood. This was a life or death mission because most of the team was sure Steve wouldn’t survive that if they didn’t find you.

Steve pretty much jumped out of a moving car when they neared the building, and he got to work immediately, going into the commander mode, assigning roles and talking strategy for when they would come in contact with Rumlow’s team. Everything was meticulously planned, and Steve had a good feeling about that. The only issue was that he couldn’t smell you. But he simply thought that he was still far enough to be able to do that and that they were probably keeping you in some shutoff room.

The closer to the building they got, however, the weirder the whole situation felt. No men were standing outside on the lookout, there were no specific smells to tell the team that there were indeed people hiding inside, and when they finally got in, they found the place completely empty.

They rummaged through all the rooms, even in the basement and on the roof, but the only thing they got was some cloth lightly smelling like Rumlow, but not enough to tell them how long ago he was at the warehouse. Steve screamed in frustration because there was no sign of you, not even a hint of your smell that he so helplessly craved.

Bucky and Sam shared distressed looks before they each grabbed Steve from one side and brought him back to the car, hollering at the whole team that the mission was over and that they needed to come back home. Steve didn’t speak the entire ride back, just staring out of the window, thinking of all the times you two would take such rides to and from the city, always discussing new books or just sharing stories from your youths. Steve now found that he took these moments for granted. He enjoyed them, sure, but not enough. There was the nagging voice telling him that he should have done more, that he ought to have taken you with him to that fucking meeting, and none of this would have happened.

“Stop it, punk. None of this is your fault so stop with the self-blaming and call Peggy to tell you what the fuck happened that her tip wasn’t true,” Bucky interjected Steve’s thoughts, and as many times before, Steve wondered whether Bucky could just read him like an open book or if he had a direct link to his brain. Steve shook his head and dialled the number.

“So, happily ever after?” Peggy said smugly, and if she stood anywhere near Steve, he swore he would have hit her.

“Nothing and nobody’s fucking happy, Peggy. Nobody was there except for some piece of cloth that was supposed to smell like Rumlow. Who the fuck gave you this tip? I need to find my Omega, and I don’t have the time to drive around the city and march into every single abandoned building just because you have a hunch. I need real information, Peggy, and if you can’t give that to me, then you’re just wasting my time,” Steve said more tiredly than anything else, but Peggy’s face contorted in annoyance on the other end of the line.

“I never waste your time, Stevie, you remember that. Look, I thought the info was top-notch, but I’ll keep looking. How about I come to your place, and we can think of a plan together?”

“Yeah, yeah whatever, it definitely can’t harm us. I’ll be expecting you,” Steve sighed and hung up, nodding at Sam who was watching him through the rearview mirror.

“Peggy said she’d come and help from the mansion. I mean, I’d rather have the whole fucking team together looking for Y/N, but I can’t fly everyone here from god-knows-where, so anyone who wants to join in is welcomed.”

Sam nodded but didn’t like it one bit. He understood that Steve was desperate, but Peggy was and had always been bad news, and Sam had a hard time trusting her even back in the days when they had to fight side to side. All the secrecy surrounding her just stank, and Sam was sure he’d keep an eye on her, just in case. He wanted everything to go over smoothly for Steve, and nobody needed a sneaky bitch who would throw them under a train the second she got a better deal from the opposing side.

You let your hand slide on the ground underneath you. It was rough with what felt like small rocks that were cutting you in the palm. You were seated, and your whole body hurt since you have been in this position for hours. Nobody talked to you since they killed your friends and abducted you. They just blindfolded you and tied you up, changing positions every few hours probably to disorient you since you doubted anybody really cared how comfortable you were. All you could do was rely on your senses and learn as much about your surroundings as you could. You weren’t even sure why you cared, but your brain couldn’t take thinking about anything related to Steve, so you busied it by making sure you knew everything you could.

You learned that there were three places they would keep you in. You presumed that they were all in one room, but they changed whether you were sitting or lying down. You weren’t even sure what time it was and slept when they put you laid you down. Nobody ever touched you inappropriately, and that’s how you assumed not one of those people was Rumlow.

The first place they would let you sit in was in an old crinkly chair made of rough wood as you had a few splinters from rubbing your hands against the arm-holders. It had four metal legs, and from the sounds, it made every time you shifted, you thought it was a rather old and overused piece of furniture.

The second place was where you were sitting now. It was by the wall, which was cold and smelt of moss, and you even though you sensed death a few times, you knew that was just your exhausted brain playing games with you. The ground was full of rocks and shards of glass, so it was your least favourite place to be of the three. The ground was colder than all the other areas, and every time they made you stand up, there was a wet patch where your ass touched the ground as the coldness accumulated against your hot body, making you wish you could just change. But your abductees would never answer to your pleas, so after what you assumed were a few days, you just gave up asking them altogether.

The third place was a makeshift bed, created out of a few pieces of wood pushed together and an old and smelly mattress. You tried to ignore all that the smell evoked in you, but you sometimes choked on your own saliva as you shifted and changed position, getting another whiff of what smelt like a hundred of butts and sweat. But it was a mattress, and you could get a few hours of sleep, so you couldn’t dwell on the details.

When you found out everything there was with your surroundings you tried to pay attention to your abductors. And while you couldn’t say precisely how many there were, you had a pretty good idea. As you were an Omega, blindfolded and cuffed, they always came alone, and you recognised each of the people by their steps. There were four of them, each of them having differences in their weight, the length of their steps and the carefulness with which they handled you. That’s how you came up with the number of four.

Number two was by far your favourite. They (you assumed it was a he but you couldn’t be sure) would always leave you alone even when you needed to use the bathroom. You knew they were in the room, but they had the decency to at least not physically touch you, and, in your mind, you created this picture that the person even turned around to leave you to do your business. They would also give you the biggest amount of water, seeing how you were parched because number four was a complete asshole and would always allow only a gulp before he drastically took the cup away from your mouth.

And that was your days, filled with diverting your brain from thinking about the graver questions, like where were you, would Steve ever find you, what did they want from you, etc. Every time any of those popped up in your head, you choked up, and had to start touching your surroundings or else you’d have gone insane by now.

It was when number three was supposed to come and let you sleep that you heard it. It was faint, but your ears perked up at anything that wasn’t your own breath or the sound of boots of your abductors hitting the ground. And this was neither. These were human voices talking about something behind the door. Your heart-rate picked up immediately because, while you hated the routine of four guards and three positions, you also knew that routine was good. Anything that was out of the routine could possibly mean death to you, and you tried to do anything to avoid that. The voices grew nearer, and you shuddered involuntarily, bracing yourself.

When the door opened, the cold air hit your face, and you hid it between your shoulder blades.

“Well, well, well, here is the famous Omega the world is searching for. You look so pathetic, it’s actually quite funny,” you heard a female voice say, and your brows knitted together. You heard it before, you just couldn’t place the voice for the life of you.

“Yeah, well, the sooner she stops pining for that pathetic excuse of an Alpha and becomes mine, she will look much better. I mean, not that anybody’s gonna see her since she is just an Omega pussy, but she is my Omega pussy, so,” the man trailed off, and you didn’t have to think to place this voice. This voice haunted your worst nightmares, so you were pretty familiar with it.

Rumlow

“Whatever, Rumlow. All we need is to get rid of her mating mark, and we’ll be good. Steve called me and found the warehouse where I sent him empty, and I, as a devoted friend, told him I’d help him from the mansion so I’ll have easy access to him and I will divert him from here if need be. You just need to do what you must so that I can have him back,” the woman spat, and it was as if a light bulb switched on. God, you felt stupid for not suspecting she had her ugly fingers in this. Fucking Peggy who obviously wanted Steve back even when she visited him all those months ago.

And while it was nice that Steve didn’t feel the same, this woman was clearly a maniac, and she wouldn’t stop at anything to get what she wanted.

But, there was one more thing that caught your attention. They wanted to get rid of your mating mark, and the thought paralysed your whole body. There were only a few ways to do that to any mated couple, and none of them was humane or accepted by most people. You’ve heard of Omegas trying to sever their bonds as they didn’t like who chose them, and so they cut a clean line across their mark, but even then the bond couldn’t be severed completely. There was also the option of just biting an Omega hard enough where their mates’ mark was, and trying to beat mark with a mark.

You also heard that true mates were inseparable, and while Bruce told you that you were true mates, you could never know for sure. The inseparableness of true mates could just as well be some old maid tales, it was one of the things your mother used to tell you, but you had no idea where the truth was.

The only thing you did know was that however they wanted to do it, you would go through hell, both physically and mentally, and that there was a more than likely chance that you would die in the process.

“You’re not afraid she’ll die on you?” Peggy asked more curious than concerned because, for her plan to work, your ties with Steve had to be cut. She would have preferred killing you since it was easier, quicker and with long-lasting results. But Rumlow had been obsessed with you ever since he lost the fight with Steve back at the Circle. When Peggy heard about it, she just scoffed and told him he was an idiot, because if he would have called her, she could have just snuck you out without anyone knowing and they wouldn’t have been in this mess.

“I mean, there’s always the possibility, but I’m not letting her run around with his mark. I wouldn’t like pounding a pussy marked by somebody else. Besides, she’s stronger than she looks, isn’t it right, pussycat?” Rumlow asked, for the first time addressing you. But you knew better than to talk, so you just remained quiet, and from the low hum coming from his mouth, you assumed it was a good decision.

“And what if that bullshit about true mates is real?”

“Oh, please, not you too. Nothing like true mates exists, Peggy, I told you. Some just smell nicer to particular individuals than others, that’s it. I don’t even know why we’re losing time talking about this. Go and do whatever you want with Steve and his estate and I’ll just do what I want with this one,” Rumlow rumbled, and the next thing you heard was the clicking of high-heels against the hard floor, leaving you alone in the room with the devil.

“Now, sweetheart, I think we should begin, hm?”

“Oh, Stevie, you don’t look good. Here, let me bring you to your bedroom so you can rest and the team and I will search for your mate in the meantime, hm?” Peggy suggested nicely, and Steve nodded, happy there was somebody who could possibly save you. But before she put her claws on his arm, Sam appeared out of nowhere and stopped her hand. She hissed like a cat and Sam gave her an are-you-fucking-kidding-me look.

“I think it would be better if you stayed down here, Peggy, as you said, you are such a valuable asset to this team that I wouldn’t want to you to waste your time by going with Steve here. I will accompany him to his bedroom so that he can get some sleep, and, meanwhile, you can work with Bucky,” Sam smirked but didn’t wait for her response as he led Steve towards the staircase and up to his bedroom. There was no fucking way in hell Sam would let Peggy be with Steve alone. And since he shared his worries with Bucky, there were two of them looking out for their best friend, which left Peggy in a tough position.

She watched Sam and Steve leave the room, and Bucky would laugh hadn’t it been such a delicate situation, because Peggy really looked like the Goddess of Revenge. That just further proved Sam’s theory about Peggy being fishy, to say the least, and Bucky was starting to question whether she didn’t have something to do with your disappearance.

Peggy saw right through them, and she smirked to herself. If they wanted to play games with her, so be it. She would get Steve alone and inject the serum in him she had been making for so long, and they would finally live happily ever after. Just like they were supposed to. All she needed was to stay close to Steve for a couple of days, get him alone enough times, and he would be all hers.

/ Next Chapter >

Tags will be in reblogs xx

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 4 years

Text

ahdflksjaklf;jsls ok buddies - I hate talking about 14x13: Lebanon, but it has relevancy in the “John Winchester is a villain and cannot and should not be redeemed” discourse as well as being a crucial piece of finale denialist lore so I Have Been Thinking About It Too Much.

As you may recall, the Occult Object of the Week - the pearl - in Lebanon is supposed to grant Dean’s “heart’s desire.” Dean and Sam are Very Sure this means expelling Michael (the Dean Winchester Must Be Saved installment of season 14) (honestly that premise always seemed a little slim to me, I was hoping for Dean’s heart’s desire to be Cas, on Dean’s car, naked, covered in bees).

Instead they summon Dad of the Year, which at first feels infuriating. However after discussion with my earworms, I Have Fixed It (and also turned it into a grenade to launch at 15x20.)

Finale denialists and John Winchester derogatorians ASSEMBLE! and let’s discuss after the cut.

I’ve written in depth about Dean’s struggles with the cycle of abuse, so I won’t go too far into it here, but if you want to revisit any of that meta this is a good place to begin. This post hinges on the same theory - that Dean’s true freedom is established in his release from that cycle - that is the logical outcome of any hero’s journey for him, and where he would finally be able to accept happiness and love. This logically would also make release from the cycle of abuse and the feelings of self-hatred Dean struggles with his “heart’s desire” for purposes of the pearl. When it comes to emotions, we also know Dean doesn’t deal with them well. He punches things instead. So odds are, Dean hasn’t really worked through these feelings.

Dean also mentions when John returns that “it was what [Dean] wanted since he was 4″ - when they lost Mary, right before John became obsessed with revenge. Season 12 Mary canonically remembers John as a “good dad,” so we can draw a line from that to the abuse really starting shortly after her death. This is also corroborated by Dean himself:

DEAN: You know when you died, it changed Dad.

(A visual of the John Mary remembers) (just my excuse to put pictures of Matt Cohen on your dash) (I shouldn’t need an excuse) (Matt Cohen hi you are on Tumblr please don’t read any of this I’m embarrassed).

So what Dean has is pre-Mary’s-death John and post-Mary’s-death John, post-Mary’s-death John being the one whose abuse created Dean’s own damaged persona. Dean thinks the fix is to stop things on the front end (he is ignoring any process-centered solution, he just wants it to never have happened, he is in denial that he has to work through this and just wants it to be erased, etc etc etc).

***also keep in mind that going back in time to change things on the front end as a “fix it” is a storyline SPN repeats regularly***

***and it always ends up being impossible to do***

Ok so for Dean, his damage/anger/brutal nature/darkness is always linked to John, and this cycle “began” for Dean once their family was torn apart by Mary’s death. So the fix is his “blood family” together. That’s his heart’s desire in Lebanon because Dean hasn’t really worked through any of his emotions, and it’s his very Dean way of fixing it - “oh if my family gets put back together I will be put back together too.”

***speaking of quick fixes, I’d like to note that any case in SPN that is referred to as a “milk run” inevitably becomes complicated and messy***

***continuing the thematics of there’s no such thing as a quick fix***

This is no different. Stopping the cycle by simply erasing it from the narrative erases anything else that happened along the way during the journey. It erases this Mary (who they know as a person by this point and not just the mom on a pedestal)

and (most importantly) it erases this Cas (the episode specifically replaces Cas with one who Doesn’t Know Dean).

We Emphasize This Of Course In The Dialogue In Case You Missed It

DEAN Cas, you know us. ALTERNATE CAS I don’t know you.

***Simply erasing the origin of Dean’s trauma erases all of Dean’s growth. It erases this family that Dean is so proud to tell John he has now. It erases everything he has already overcome despite how hard it was to achieve it.

So, John goes back. In that way, the pearl does give Dean his heart’s desire - his realization that this is not about a quick fix, it is about the journey to the good, and all you gain and become along the way (kind of similar to “Happiness isn't in the having. It's in just being. It's in just saying it" eh?). it’s the process. It’s every moment along the way. It’s the people who help him get there.

And then he starts the healing journey by taking control of his own life, by owning his feelings instead of displacing the blame, by recognizing he is NOT guided solely by the actions of his father and this cycle:

DEAN

And for the longest time, I blamed Dad. I mean, hell, I blamed Mom, too, you know? I was angry. But say we could send Dad back knowing everything. Why stop there? Why not send him even further back and let some other poor sons of bitches save the world? But here’s the problem. Who does that make us? Would we be better off? Well, maybe. But I gotta be honest – I don’t know who that Dean Winchester is.

And the episode fucking ends with Cas, the Cas Who Knows Them coming into the bunker and asking them what happened, calling each of them by name just to emphasize again That He Knows Them, because Cas knowing Dean, and Cas being Dean’s family is the cornerstone of what Dean’s heart desires.

[CAS walks in from the door at the top of the stairs. SAM, DEAN and MARY walk out from the library to see him.]

CAS Mary, Sam, Dean. What happened?

So yeah, it took 14 damn seasons but Lebanon is where Dean realizes he can be defined by more than the acts of his father. (That’s why it’s so terrifying for Dean when Chuck snatches back any control he gained in Season 15. Because for Dean, Chuck is just John Winchester Controls My Every Action all over again, except he’s God which makes it even worse.)

That’s also why the final blow to Chuck is not Dean killing him.

The last stage in the journey that begins here with Dean’s “I’m good with who I am” - [I’m still bad and dark and damaged but I’m good with it]

is Dean’s “that’s not who I am.” [the most caring man on Earth; the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know]

Thats equally why 15x18 is so brilliant, 15x19 is at least acceptable, and 15x20 simply does. not. work.

Dean Winchester’s perfect heaven cannot possibly center on the blood family. It does not have John Winchester and Mary, husband and wife, who took away his own free will. It is THIS FAMILY. The found family. Cas and Jack and Sam and the Mary that was resurrected. Dean’s entire character arc supports this journey, and to have it culminate in something that is so established in the season prior to this one as something Dean knows he no longer wants is maddening.

I’m even more mad now because I just remembered that the most prominent picture above Dying Sam’s bed was the blood family portrait from this episode; almost like they wanted us to remember this particular stupid lesson. This show is so stupid when it could have been so so so very good.

***I want to say thanks again to all of you who read my spiraling if you got this far. It’s therapeutic for me to do it, but it makes it all the better that people actually read it. Seeing you in my notes MAKES my entire day****

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chainofclovers · 3 years

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Ted Lasso 2x3 thoughts

Brendan Hunt confirmed on Twitter that the writers wrote the first three episodes of the season with the intention of releasing them on the same day, just as they dropped the first three episodes of season one on the same day. Having finally watched the first three over three different weeks, I really wish they’d been able to launch all three on the same day. I really liked the first two episodes of the season, but the third episode really puts a lot of things into context. Between the political storyline, the return of Sassy (and a bit of a level-setting conversation between Sassy, Rebecca, and Ted) and Rebecca’s navigation of her professional life as an all-in club owner and her experience reconnecting to Nora...all of that feels like we’re done setting up the season now. Exposition complete—and to the writers’ credit, all three of these episodes are far more than exposition. A lot of story has happened.

So much so that this week’s installment has categories.

Sassy and Ted and Rebecca

Hahahahahahahahahaha

No, seriously though, I love that they are mature adults about this and I also love that Ted is Uncomfortable and, to be perfectly honest, I like that Sassy’s aggressive unfilteredness becomes an opportunity for the show to venture into more sexual references and humor about characters other than Keeley and Roy. It was a lot of information!

I’ve seen a couple of people express disappointment that Ted seems weirded out by Sassy discussing Nora’s impending first period, but I didn’t get the impression that he was grossed out by periods. There is a lot going on! Nora is right outside the room with the door open and Sassy has run through a lot of very personal topics! I felt like his reaction was more about the proximity issue in specific and the personal nature of the conversation in general more than anything else.

So many thoughts about the intersection between the biscuits and this conversation that it had to go in its own post.

Nora!

I LOVE Nora. I want every episode of this show to be about her. I want this sitcom to be called Nora Collins.

I love that Nora’s a little bit sassy (pun on her mother’s nickname only lazily intended) in the way a thirteen-year-old can be, but also enthusiastic about spending time with Rebecca and genuinely interested in meeting everyone her godmother knows. Rebecca genuinely hurt Nora, but Nora can clearly see that Rebecca is all-in on their mended relationship, and that gives her the space to be a bit teasing. She knows Rebecca’s weaknesses and has a little fun (the cooking joke when Rebecca offers to make popcorn?!) but also isn’t going to manipulate her or take advantage.

The British doll company and all the riffs on American Girl dolls, OMG. So good.

Like literally everyone, I am extremely into Rebecca and Roy actually being friends and exchanging words with each other this season. Now everyone in the group of four mains have had some great conversational moments with each other this season (I count Ted and Keeley being into Sharon’s bike as a great conversational moment, OK?!), with the exception of Roy and Ted. Cannot wait for that.

During the photo op with the team, Sassy and Rebecca remark on how Nora is loving and hating having her picture taken with Sam and the rest of the players, and that is THE experience of being thirteen years old, and Kiki May does an incredible job infusing all of Nora’s moments with the right proportions of enthusiasm to cringe. Thirteen years olds are constantly cringing but still full of spirit and life, and at constantly changing ratios, and Nora is the perfect embodiment of that.

My heart melted during the email-writing scene. Rebecca’s writing the email on Nora’s computer! In the guest room where her goddaughter is staying! They’re wearing pajamas! And Rebecca’s smile is so genuinely huge and delighted when she signs it “boss ass bitch.”

Led Tasso and Jamie’s Redemption

This was so stupid and I loved it so much. I love that Ted’s angry alter ego is absurd rather than scary, kind of like a parody of how worked up some men get over sports. I wonder if Led Tasso’s appearance in some way foreshadows a more uncontrolled, genuine anger from Ted in a later episode, because this Led Tasso dude is ridiculous.

Tentative kudos to Led Tasso for being able to point out the, ahem, clit of the soccer ball even from within a fugue state.

The entire Chuck E. Cheese exchange with Sharon was so hilarious and wonderful.

When Ted has the idea to bring out Led Tasso, Nate assumes he’s going to suggest that Jamie talk to Sharon. I absolutely adore the implication that Jamie’s growth over this episode is attributable to both Led Tasso and Sharon Fieldstone. Because while some players are still unmoved by Jamie’s willingness to stand up to Led, it didn’t go unnoticed! And then I was so proud of Keeley for refusing to take on the emotional labor of listening to Jamie when she was too busy with her actual job, and I felt that Jamie’s pretty immediate willingness to see what the therapy thing was all about was extremely in line with his character. He’s always seeking out Keeley to talk, and sometimes he actually means “talking” when he asks to talk with her! Jamie feels like someone who’s standing at a wall of doors, knocking on each one, trying to see what sticks. He really lacks foundation. I’m curious to know what he and Sharon spoke about in their session, but I like that the writers left the session private. The knowledge that he’s started seeing a psychologist is valuable information in and of itself, and Jamie’s decision to act in solidarity with Sam and the other Nigerian players is the perfect evidence that he’s thinking in new ways.

Sam and Dubai Air

Toheeb Jimoh is always great, but he’s so great in this episode. It’s cool to see his demeanor, pacing, and confidence shift as he becomes more at home with the team—and it’s also lovely to see that he, unlike Jamie, very much has a strong foundation in his home country, his supportive parents, his own moral center.

I like that Sam didn’t spend a bunch of time and emotional labor on teaching Jamie why caring about other people (and the environment!) matters, because that would’ve undercut the other political messages in this episode. Sam’s leading by example and everyone can either catch up or stay out, and it’s really great.

I really like the way they handled the press conference with Ted and Sam. I like that Ted gave the floor to Sam but prefaced that with very brief (for once!) remarks of his own. And I appreciated that Ted acknowledged his position of privilege, and that the angle isn’t that bad things never happen to white dudes but rather that when bad things do happen to people like Ted, it gets attention with so much less effort than when bad things happen to people who aren’t white men. Because that’s how privilege works—it’s not a shield that prevents bad things from happening to you, but it’s a safety net that ensures people will notice and address and even pitch in to take care of your bad things, often at the expense of the people who lack that privilege.

There’s probably lots of other stuff I could talk about, like the hilariously and realistically bad usernames on Bantr and Keeley brushing her snacks off the desk and into her purse and how things between Beard and Jane are clearly very, very bad and I’m worried about Beard and how it was soooo fun and lovely to see Shannon teasing Ted again (little coffee and football rituals before work are the kinds of details I absolutely live for) and HIGGINS PRETENDING REBECCA SENT HIM A BRILLIANT AND HEROIC EMAIL (which she does for real with Nora’s help just a couple scenes later!) and how delighted I was to feel that by this episode this season has really hit its stride and feels like a fully lived-in portrayal of the energized, loving, imperfect, busy, full place that is the whole AFC Richmond community. Honestly, Higgins pretending Rebecca sent that email because he wants to make her look good in front of her granddaughter is kind of the perfect encapsulation of what this episode felt like. This is a show about a bunch of imperfect people who want each other to succeed.

Edited to add: I was delighted to find out Ashley Nicole Black was writing for the show and the writing here did the opposite of disappoint! ❤️

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #a lesbian watches ted lasso #meta by me #ted lasso 2x3

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margarethx · 3 years

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I really don’t like going into topics like that, because I honestly care more about characters than actors who play them most of the time... I don’t feel like it’s my job to defend celebrities and actors, because I don’t owe them anything and I don’t know them, so I might be wrong... But the way some of you act about the whole situation with Anthony Mackie is abhorrent and I just can’t fully ignore it. So let’s sum it up.

----- ------- -----

1) Majority of the people who criticize Anthony for his words did not learn the full context. I just know they didn’t. They didn’t click to see the entire interview and analyze what was really said. They just saw a headline with some “scandalous” statement and started ranting about it without thinking.

2) Most of the fans who are the most loud and vicious about their criticism of Anthony Mackie in this situation sound like they would hate him no matter what he said. They were just waiting for him to do something wrong or semi-wrong and lached onto it the first chance they got.

3) It’s frankly embarassing that after 6 episodes of a popular Marvel show, dozens of media appearences, and hundreds of positive/neutral/wise/funny words said in different interviews Anthony was never really trending on the Internet, but the second he says something mildly controversial you all suddenly care so much about what he has to say... Okay...

4) Acting like race has nothing to do with this situation is just stupid. If you think that the fact that he’s Black is not in any way relevant in this "drama” you’re wrong and maybe you should rethink your opinions keeping that in mind.

5) I understand the initial reaction of the fandom being frustration and hurt, but no one is forcing us to voice our opinions the second we learn about something. You can read the full article, listen to the whole interview. Look at what other people are saying and then provide your own take on the issue. I feel like way too many people just heard that there’s some drama going on and typed the first thing that came to their minds without stopping to think. As always.

6) Even if you don’t agree with everything that Anthony said claiming that his words make him homophobic is weird. His statement was vague and could be interpretend as something... ugh... “problematic” out of context, but if you actually listen to what he said you’d know what he meant. He really didn’t say: “I hate shipping Sam and Bucky, it’s gross and people who do that are awful”... Yet half the fandom acts like these are his actual words.

7) The website standing behind it is partially responsible for the backlash he got, because they framed his words in probably the worst possible way to promote the interview which I find incredibly unfair.

8) Also asking actors about shipping is not a great idea. It’s not their job to deal with fandoms who got angry about everything. And like I said: it doesn’t matter what his answer would be. Someone would hate him for it anyway. Also it’s not like Anthony’s opinion would matter to the Marvel Studios if they wanted to make Sambucky canon or not. I’m sure his view on this issue is entirely irrelevant to them. He’s not standing in your way to get some representation, come on.

9) By the way... Many of you don’t act like you care about representation if it’s not done in a very specific manner (something Mackie even spoke about in a way), so I don’t really trust that many of you actually give a shit about it, when it doesn’t fit your incredibly narrow interpretation of what should be represented... or when it doesn’t match your very specific aesthetic...

10) Some people brought it up and I was almost inclined to agree... “Platonic male friendhips are important! Just because you’re affectionate with other man doesn’t mean you’re gay” is usually a terrible argument used in fandoms by homophobes against making gay couples canon. But I feel like it’s a different thing when some random Twitter user says it and when it comes from a man who is asked over and over, and over, and over again how close exactly is he with his male co-worker that he likes in private life.

11) If you’ve seen other interviews done by Anthony Mackie (not just short clips promoting Marvel movies) you’d know that it’s not the first time he speaks about his opinions about the topic. It didn’t come out of nowhere. And I don’t think we should hold him to completely different standards just because he admitted to being more intolerant in the past, but few people are open enough to admit that and show they’re working to change. And maybe I’m biased, because I had to put actual effort into changing my worldview about some topics into a more progressive one before, but I feel like it’s important to give people time to re-learn after years of having worse opinions. Or to give them some benefit of the doubt and trust that they’re not your enemy, because they’re not always 100% perfect with their support.

12) Overall I just feel bad for him, because poor wording or not, I’m sure - judging by many of his previous statements - that he didn’t mean to say something harmful and yet everyone was ready to jump and hate him even more than they did before. At the end of the day he’s 40-something straight guy who has very limited experience with fandoms, so he (for a good reason) preferred to just avoid the topic. But he was pushed again and again to talk about it, until he finally said something that people didn’t like... Some of you were just wainting to have a weapon to use agains him... So, congratulations, now you have it.

----- ------- -----

... I’m just tired by this whole situation and disappointed in a lot of fans I previously liked. There were a few people who immediately jumped to criticize Mackie and judging by their words they didn’t really know what they were talking about. I had to change my opinion about few creators who I followed, because of their terrible behaviour after all of this and it honestly leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

And I’m not even a huge Anthony Mackie fan! As I’ve mentioned... I don’t like being too invested in actors lives, I just prefer to focus on their work and what they’ve created... with a few tiny exceptions. But seeing how the fandom reacted to his statement made me so annoyed and frustrated that it felt wrong to just be silent and pretend like nothings happening.

#sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #tfatws #anthony mackie

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curioussubjects · 4 years

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“Probably think you’re overcompensating:” Perception, Masculinity & Queer!Dean

So I’ve been wanting to write about my particular take on Dean, queerness, and masculinity because all the time I see takes, and I get into discussions, and I keep having to repeat myself. Not exactly an issue except peddling takes via hyperlink is much easier. This post is a bit of a journey, as anything I write tends to be, but the central thread here is fairly straightforward: emotional vulnerability. Most of my understanding of Dean circles around issues of emotional vulnerability and perception, which is not wholly unconnected to my reading of Cas and happiness -- that is, allowing yourself to be open and vulnerable, and accepting your worth is crucial to accurate perceptions of reality.

In the beginning, we had John Winchester: after Mary died, John “was just a shell.” He became entirely closed off and focused on one thing, and one thing only: finding YED and killing monsters. John actively suppressed his grief over Mary by immersing himself in hunting, a new found mission meant to avenge and protect. The change in John is so marked that in our encounters with younger John lead to his own disgust at the parenting Dean describes, without knowing it’s himself he is censoring. Furthermore, in the Winchester motto being “saving people, hunting things, the family business,” we can see into what drove John in his mission: his guilt in not being able to save Mary, hunting as an outlet for that guilt, the imposition of that mission onto his sons. When Mary died, John’s entire philosophy and modeling of how to be Father and Husband (and Man, really) rested on his ability to be a sword and shield. A protector, unflappable, steady, focused. Someone who should always put the mission first, with little to no distractions.

Dean, as eldest son and the natural second in command, inherited John’s mission and philosophy. While John was away, Dean was in charge of protecting the family (Sam), and was expected to that steady, unflappable protector. Someone who was in control of their vulnerability and never open to weakness. If John’s mission was to avenge Mary, Dean’s mission was to look out for Sam. Anything that caused Dean to deviate from that was a failure. It meant that Dean failed as A Father (and Husband mirror, not that he was a spouse proxy, but that John projected his own image onto Dean). Crucially, when we see Dean “fail” in the mission of looking out for Sam, they're due to Dean doing something for himself, or even doing something for Sam -- hence how he ended up at Sonny's for shoplifting. because apparently theft is wrong if it's not credit cards scams, thanks John. And in looking out for Sam, we find the first fault line in Dean being able to uphold John’s maxim of being invulnerable because to protecting Sam also meant, to Dean, to shield him from John’s abuse and expectations, it meant that Sam was nurtured, as best Dean could manage. Beyond protecting Sam, however, Dean would also inherit John’s mission should he die in the line of duty. And so Dean did. He was tasked to kill the YED and even Sam if Sam became a threat. Anything that would make Dean deviate from that single minded mission was to be purged. Or shoved so far down that the mission would not be affected.

In short, the baseline of duty Dean was operating on was: look out for Sam, look out for the Family, obey orders from the Father, carry out the Mission, avenge mom, kill monsters (noble and good, sure, but still immersed in the revenge mission). Whatever tool you use to carry on another day is acceptable, so long as it is ephemeral and utilitarian. If you need to drink, fuck, etc, in order to keep going so be it, but whatever you do must never impact the mission. College, relationships, picket fences, and dogs, are distractions. They are things that would necessarily take you from The Life. They can only ever be the rewards for completing the Mission. Paradise, if you will.

Emotional vulnerability, then, that which allows the world to thing touch you that deeply is a distraction. You have to be a shell. You fight, but you also fight because the hunter life is not for others. All in the hopes that one day the mission will be done, and there’s an end of the tunnel with peace and a normal life, which is a lie. Not a lie because hunting is antithetical to happiness, but a lie because the mode of operation created and imposed by John makes it impossible for one to ever reach happiness. Happiness needs a way in.

But what’s all this have to do with Dean being queer? Well, this has everything to do with how Dean experiences his queerness. A lot of the time I see people thinking of Dean as someone who suppresses, or, even worse, represses his sexuality when neither of those things are true (someone suppresses or represses their queerness doesn’t go around loving queer film, gushing over crushes, and making queer cultural references). Personally, I don’t think Dean represses as his go to coping mechanism (though he does repress, sometimes, like how John wasn’t a good father, actually). Dean is much more likely to suppress his feelings and his trauma: those are his to handle, and his to stow so he can Get the Job Done. But if Dean ever suppressed his bisexuality, which at some point he might have, I’d argue had much more to do unnecessary risks, than something like self-hatred.

Nevertheless, the issue when it comes to queerness, then, wouldn’t be Dean fucking men or being attracted to multiple genders. It wouldn’t wholly be an issue with masculinity either because the Masculine Values™ the Winchesters operate under a very specific to their situation, as I described above. It’s less about manly posturing, and more about being the perfect soldier (and, eventually, commanding officer). However, queerness brings with it queer & homophobia. As such, one’s sexuality could be leveraged as a weakness. It's something that can be exploited, if one allows it to hurt them. It’s also something that could draw attention to oneself, which is a bit dangerous for a hunter. So, for me, if John ever knew about Dean being bi (and with his neglect, he very well might not), his main problem would be with it being unnecessarily dangerous. Taking these issues into account, it makes sense to me that Dean would be uneasy with being perceived as queer because of it being a tactical disadvantage rather than him having an actual problem with being queer. So when we see posturing and overcompensation, when we see Dean lean particularly hard on the more overtly macho sides of his personality, it’s a mask. Incidentally, if Dean ever found himself in queer spaces he wouldn’t be so uneasy to the point of having to lean into the overcompensating mask -- which, of course, is influenced by cultural heteronormativity and all that mess.

Ultimately, Dean wants to control how he is perceived because it gives him the upper hand. He had to learn to be a chameleon to survive, and he had to develop a thick skin because to show weakness is to fail the mission, and weakness means that you die, or, worse, the one you are meant to protect dies. It’s no wonder that Dean’s character development had little to do with him accepting his queerness (which canon, refreshingly, presents as just a fact of who he is, no fuss), but learning to be emotionally vulnerable. To let love and happiness in. To be who he is completely, without fear, without guilt, without shame, and without self-doubt. That letting himself be happy isn’t a sign of weakness or leading to failure, that it isn’t a gateway for hurt. And none of that, none of it, is about some internalized hatred of his own queerness. Finally, Dean’s freedom and lesson is that the true steadfastness is self-actualization, and really, to quote Cas:

I know. I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies see you. You're destructive, and you're angry, and you're broken. You're “daddy's blunt instrument.” And you think that hate and anger, that's... That's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not. And everyone who knows you see it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love. You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world for love. That is who you are.

#dean winchester #supernatural #spn #john winchester's a+ parenting #spn meta #my writing #polol #dean is bi

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jbreenr · 4 years

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Déjà Vu –Bucky Barnes.

Summary: You and Bucky keep having those kinds of encounters and none of you know how.

Warning: poorly written smut (if you're under 18 please, don't read), unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), alcohol, a bit of swearing, i think that's it.

Word count: almost 4k.

A/N: so, this is the first imagine i post here and it also is the first one in english (not my first language) so don't be too hard on me, i tried my best. lack of vocabulary, grammatical and orthography mistakes are all my fault. corrections, feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

Inspired by Déjà Vu –Voilà.

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

You weren't sure how it happened, let alone how it all started, but here you were, legs tangled in bed sheets that were not yours, head resting on a pillow that was not yours, the air smelling like a cologne that certainly was not yours, and a strong and now partially warm metal arm wrapped around your waist.

Trying to turn to face the owner of said arm seemed to be the most difficult mission you ever had due to the buzz in your head that made you stop for a second so the room would stop spinning before your eyes.

You knew the headache was going to be bad, except you did not think this bad.

The first clear memory of last night popping in your head: you asking Sam to hand you the fifty dollars of the bet. Of course you were able to drink all those shots and stay on your feet for the rest of the party.

It had started boring as usual. Not that the music was bad or too low, but the fact that you had to attend every single party Tony hosted should be considered torture. You only wanted to go to bed, for God's sake!

The dance floor was full of people, the sofas were all occupied and the bar was not the exception; two bartenders were not enough to keep everyone happy with a drink on their hand.

Still, you managed to have one the whole time you were there and by the time you were taking your ninth shot, you started to feel a little dizzy. Maybe, it was the way you sat up too fast and turned on your heels with a specific destination: the improvised dance floor.

If you were staying, at least you'd make sure it was worth it.

Taking Sam's hand (the one that was not filling your cup with tequila again) and putting the money inside your bra, you tried to guide him to the center of the dance floor but, considering the big amount of people trying to do the same, you decided you'd be dancing somewhere near the sofas where Steve and Nat were sitting, talking.

Your dance moves were all innocent, even ridiculous; arms and hips moving to the beat of the song in a synchronized rhythm, changing your weight from foot to foot slightly to give the illusion of a real choreography, Sam doing the same in front of you.

Laughing at your own movements, you jumped turning to the left, trying to recreate La Macarena –or your version of it– when you saw him.

Dark long hair tied up in a small ponytail brushing the back of his neck, a pair of shorter locks falling to the sides of his face, framing it perfectly; black suit trousers so tight on his legs that you were sure they were going to break at any moment; light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up his elbows, making him look thicker than usual; vibrant blue eyes sparking like reflectors from where he was sitting; flesh hand playing with a glass of what seemed to be whiskey; vibranium arm with thin golden lines caressing a blonde's tight…

You snapped out of your trance only to evaporate the sweat in your body with the rush of hot anger that ran all the way from your toes to your ears.

Why were you angry? You had no idea. You only knew that it was unacceptable. He could not do that. Not in front of you.

It was until you took a wrong step back almost falling on your ass that you noticed you had stopped dancing. Sam's hand wrapped around your arm to keep you from actually falling. Steadying yourself, you cursed yourself for listening to Nat when she said that you'd look amazing in those high heels. Who would pay attention to your shoes when you were wearing a freaking black strapless dress that did little to cover your body?

The answer was looking right at you, sitting in an armchair next to that beautiful woman, who was talking about something he had lost interest moments ago when his eyes finally met your figure from a far, now traveling down your legs to lock his gaze on your heels.

Even from where you were standing you could see his jaw clenching and his hand forming a fist, the hand that was not tapping the blonde's leg. His drink, now forgotten on the table in front of him.

“You alright?” Sam's question was followed by his hand leaving your arm. You turned to him.

That's when you had the idea. Probably, the worst and best idea you had ever had.

“Yeah,” you said nodding. “We were in the middle of something, right?” The innocent look you gave him made him follow the game.

“We were, indeed.”

“Let's keep doing it, then.” The smirk on your lips, making Sam raise his right eyebrow in confusion.

And it felt as if the universe wanted it to happen, as if the Gods wanted to know what was next because just as you turned again, softly slamming your back to Sam's chest and started swinging your hips against him, the electronic music changed to a song you knew would help you with what you had planned.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?” Sam's laughter rumbled in your ear as you swayed.

“Just dance, Falcon. Have some fun.”

Raising your arms, you gave him permission to place his hands on your hips, which he did hesitant at first. But when he understood (or at least, he thought) that you were only enjoying the music, his grip on you became stronger and more confident. After all, most people around you were dancing the same way.

Opening your eyes, you tried to find the super soldier but in vain. The sofa he and his friend had been sitting on was now occupied by other people and you could only imagine one reason.

The song was coming to an end and you turned again to face Sam, who was smiling at you.

“It was a pleasure to dance with you, but right now, I need to go dust my nose.” You said in a false cordial voice and bowed with exaggeration, placing your hand in the cleavage of your dress.

“Those drinks are making their work already? Ouch!” he complained when you hit him in the shoulder. “The pleasure was mine.” He bowed back and walked to the other side of the dance floor, easily finding another partner to spend the rest of the party with.

You didn't need to go to the bathroom. Not really. That was only the excuse you gave to finally head to your room and take off that dress and heels that were killing you.

You hadn't taken three steps out of the party when you felt a hand close on your arm and drag you up the stairs.

In all honesty, if his grip wasn't that firm, you could have fallen on your knees more than once on your way to where the bedrooms were.

Only when the door was closed behind you was when you noticed you were not in your room. The bed was perfectly done and the nightstand didn't have your current reading on it. You were in Bucky's room.

Blurry memories of previous visits filled your head like flashing lights: your hands tightly clutched around the headboard, your feet slipping from the edge of the bed, your back pressed against the wall, your knees and elbows buried in the mattress. It felt like you'd been there a thousand times before.

Bucky wandered around the room like a lion inside a jail, his steps heavy against the floor and his hands trying to pull back the hair tickling his cheeks.

With a loud sigh, he finally turned and almost ran in your direction. The look in his eyes was something you've seen somewhere before.

“Wha-- what the fuck you think you were doing back there?” His question took you by surprise, even though it shouldn't have. It had been your main goal all the time.

“'Doing' what? What do you mean?” You decided that playing dumb was the best way to get on his nerves and apparently, it was working.

The super soldier bit the inside of his cheek trying to keep his composure. He was not having any of it.

“Don't try and act all innocent, as if you didn't know you were practically offering yourself to Sam with that stupid dance of yours.”

“I'm surprised you even noticed,” Taking a step ahead, you shortened the distance between you two. You knew he wouldn't find you intimidating, but at least he'd know you weren't afraid of him. “when you were too busy lifting the little skirt of that girl up her legs.”

His eyes darkened and he took a step closer, his face staying only a few inches from yours.

“'Little skirt', uh? What about this pathetic attempt of a dress?” His hands traveled from the sides of your breasts to your hips and stopped at the hem of the dress (that was too short for your liking, but you weren't going to tell him so).

“Sam seemed to like it.”

Faster than you thought was possible, he gripped the hem and drew you towards him, making your smaller form crash against him, your lips barely touching his while he leaned to be at your height.

“Do I look like I care about what he likes? Not even you care about it.” His grip on the dress had softened unconsciously. “I know all you wanted to do was to make me all bothered, except you did not think I'd fix that with someone else, someone better.”

With all your strength, you pushed him back by his chest –which only caused him to take three steps back of pure shock– and your right hand landed on his face with a SMACK!

If his eyes were dark before, now they were on fire. Anger and something else that you couldn't decipher radiated from his pupils.

“Fuck you, Barnes.” Your voice, nothing but poison.

Bucky started to shorten the distance again and you didn't know what to expect: Him yelling at you? A punch? Both? Either way, you were prepared for anything.

Or so you thought.

His metal hand took you by the waist pressing your bodies together and his flesh hand traveled to the back of your head to push your face to his in a hungry kiss.

At first, you were surprised. That was not the kind of smack you were wanting for. Not that you were complaining.

His tongue wanted to make its way inside your mouth but you wouldn't open it, so he took a handful of your hair and pulled, making you whine at the feeling and finally parting your lips just enough for him to do as he pleased.

You tried to resist, how much you wanted to but oh, if it was impossible. So you let yourself get lost in the kiss.

The familiar sensation in your lower belly and the way your legs trembled told you that you were fucked and before you knew it, you were gasping for air. Seemingly, you had forgotten how to breathe while Bucky's lips devoured yours in such a feral way.

With a quick movement, Bucky let go of your hip and hair and his hands went directly to the back of your thighs, indicating you to jump and cross your feet on his lower back, which you did gracefully despite the amount of alcohol in your system.

At no point your lips separated, not that any of your wanted them to.

Your hands intertwined in the back of his neck and pulled his hair softly making him groan in your mouth. It was not difficult to get rid of the hair tie, and once it was gone, Bucky's hair fell to the sides, brushing your face.

Bucky moved to the bed and sat on it, keeping you on his lap, straddling him. His hands moved all along your legs, just the way you imagined he did with his friendly friend back in the party and your blood boiled.

Pulling his hair again, but with more strength this time, you separated his face from yours, looking into his eyes with what he interpreted as disgust.

“Really think that Barbie is better than me?” you asked, your heavy breathing causing your breast to rise ang go down rapidly.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying the view of you asking such a thing. “You know I don't, doll. Just gotta make sure you don't forget I'm better than him.”

Having said that, the sound of a zipper opening was audible and soon the cold air of the room hit your back.

You recognized the feeling of Bucky's hands traveling from your thighs to your waist under the dress, to end up pulling it off of your body and tossing it across the room. It, falling right in the same spot they always did. Your lips, only separated when you rose your arms to take off the dress.

It was Bucky's turn to pull away, eyes glued to your bra. Its intense red color was driving him crazy, but not as much as the thong, which was far from being a proper piece of underwear, covering your drenching cunt.

With a quick movement, Bucky undid your bra, letting it fall past the bed with the fifty dollars slipping right after. And as if you didn't feel too exposed already, his hands ripped the thin sides of your remaining clothing, dragging it from behind, causing the fabric to rub against your clit roughly. You closed your eyes when a moan escaped your lips.

The sound of the fabric tearing apart bringing a memory of that night you were feeling waisted.

“Hey! Those were my favorite!” you had said right after he ripped your baby pink lace panties.

“Not anymore.”

Bucky's lips traveled from your jaw to your neck, finding that spot that had you trembling in his lap.

Deciding he was wearing too much clothes, your hands found their way from his still covered shoulders to his chest, looking for the first button, willing to unfasten it but once you realized it was going to be a more difficult task than you had expected, you decided to give him a payback for what he did a few weeks before.

Grabbing the shirt tightly, you pulled it, causing the buttons to fly out in all directions, clacking against the walls and floor.

“Are you kidding?” Bucky's mouth was no longer on you. “It was really expensive!” His eyes, telling you he wasn't lying. You almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“Not anymore.”

A knowing look took over his face. He also remembered.

“Nice one, doll. Let's see what else we can reprise from that day.”

Taking you by your ass and making you gasp, he stood up and turned to the bed, throwing you into the center of the soft mattress the second he was fully facing it. You felt small compared to him, his big frame taking off the now useless shirt obstructing the view of the rest of the room for you.

Watching him undo his belt and pushing down his pants and boxers at the same time was too much for you to witness. You closed your legs trying to relieve the sensation between them.

“No, doll. Don't do that, that's why I'm here.”

His palms massaged your ankles, both flesh and metal hands cold, taking off your heels.

His delicate touch was killing you, you wanted him to go higher, to go faster, to touch you where you needed him the most.

And it was as if he read your mind. His face lowered to rub his nose against your left leg, placing a kiss in your ankle and traveling up your thigh with his chin rubbing your skin. His facial hair tickled you but you didn't mind. You liked the feeling.

His face was at the height of your core and he knew by the way you buckled your hips that you were soaked. He didn't need to check to be sure, he could smell it.

Wet kisses and purple hickeys adorned your stomach by the time his mouth reached your breasts. One, he massaged with his metal hand, the coldness provoking goosebumps to run all over your body. The other was being attacked by his tongue and sucking lips.

When his teeth bit your nipple, your back arched and one of your legs slightly raised having minimal contact with Bucky's hard dick. The pressure of your chest against Bucky's mouth, muffled a groan coming from his throat.

With a soft pop he released your tit. “You know?” he asked, opening your legs and positioning himself between them. “As much as I'd love to take my sweet time with you, I can't wait to fuck you into oblivion.”

His tip was leaking precum already, you swore you saw his member twitch the second you bit your lower lip.

He started teasing you, rubbing his shaft from your entrance to your clit repeatedly, coating himself with your juices.

“For God's sake, Barnes, just do it!”

That was everything he needed to hear to finally enter you, stretching you out with his hardness without any warning.

A loud scream was swallowed by Bucky's lips when he leaned to kiss you. Tongues fighting for dominance in a heated battle.

His vibranium hand had yours pinned above your head, immobilizing them and keeping you from moving, from touching him. Flesh hand next to your head, preventing his full weight from crashing you.

Seconds passed until he felt your body adapting and accepting the new intruder, that's when he began to move, a slow pace at first, it felt like he wanted to make sure you were really there, too caught up in the painful pleasure he was feeling.

He separated from your face, enjoying the moment, you were just fascinated looking at his expression.

When a particular deep trust hit your g spot, the moan that left your mouth brought Bucky back to reality. His eyes opened in a snap and what you saw in them made you want to run away from that room and to stay under him forever at the same time.

Lust and hunger danced on his eyes, fire and need distilling from his pores.

The concentration look in Bucky's face gave you the second best idea of the night.

“C'mon, Barnes.” Containing a cry, you murmured. “I know you can do better.” Saying that you knew was more of an affirmation than a comment in the heat of the moment.

An arrogant smile drawn on Bucky's lips was followed by him quickening his pace. His now warm metal hand let go of yours to take control over your hips that were bucking up to meet his, accompanied with the hoarse sounds coming out of your mouth. He pinned you down with his fingers buried in your flesh, surely leaving some dark bruises to remember his excellent performance.

One of your hands flew back, trying to hold onto something for dear life while the other scratched, with black painted nails, Bucky's back. Meanwhile, he kept pounding you harder with each trust.

“You like it, baby girl? Bet Sam can't do it as good.” His words were dry, forcefully said along with one of his hands finding you where your bodies connected and pressing your clit roughly to prove a point.

It was talking all of you to find a coherent sentence to give as an answer. The way his body slammed yours, creating a delicious clapping sound, having your full attention.

“Wouldn't be so sure about that.” You almost whispered in a voice you didn't recognize as yours.

“Really?” One particular deep trust hit that sweet spot again making you arch your back and clench around him. A high pitched sound leaving your lips and a low groan leaving his. “Cause, from where I see it, it is me who's giving you the time of your life.”

He repeated the action again and again. Your breasts bounced up every time your bodies collided.

“Fuck.” Bucky's lips kissed your shoulder, his breath made you shiver and the feeling of his teeth grazing your hot skin causing a new memory to pop in your brain.

“God, you're perfect.” His hands squished your butt cheeks and moved you up and down to keep you riding him.

“Is that what you say to all the girls you get laid with?” You rolled your hips, challenging him to tell you.

“I've only said that to you, doll.” His words muffled in your neck followed by an assault of bites and dark marks.

He resumed the movement of his fingers against your clit, faster and applying more pressure this time.

“Ugh, just like that, yeeees!” A single tear of ecstasy fell from your eye, ruining the white pillowcase with the smallest stain of eyeliner.

As pleasure took over your body, you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your mouth parted and let a sinful groan fall from it when your orgasm finally hit you.

“Yes, baby girl, cum for me.”

Your clenching walls enveloped him so tight that his movements faltered for a second. He quickened the pace, riding you out of your release and spilling inside you, coating you with his seed.

An experimental trust before he pulled out of you made you cry out. Both your juices and his cum dripping in the now ruined bed.

Bucky rolled to his side and pulled you closer to him, embracing you in a hug. Your breathing, slowly returning to normal.

“Damn, we're gonna regret this in the morning.” You affirmed half asleep, resting your head on Bucky's chest.

Your head position didn't let you see Bucky's sad smile. “Yeah, we will.”

Once you turned your whole body to Bucky you couldn't hide the confused look that took over your face. You didn't remember how you got there, let alone why you were there. Why was it happening to you again?

Watching him like that, so peaceful, it almost made you feel bad for what you were about to do.

“My God, Barnes, let go of me!” you said loud enough to make him open a lazy eye trying to focus on you, the sound of your own voice increasing the pain in your head.

“What are you doing here?” His raspy voice did things to you in ways it shouldn't.

“That's an excellent question. I'd like to know the answer too.”

He sat, the sheet falling from his shoulders to where his public hair started. Immediately, you turned to the ceiling.

“Last thing I remember is you dancing that silly Friends routine with Sam and then… a smell of coconut.” That was the scent of your body wash.

You knew you were naked, except your brain didn't process what that meant until then.

“Ugh, not again.” You covered your face with your hands, trying to keep the sheets at the height of your chest with your arms to cover it as much as possible. “This can't keep happening.”

“Why not?” His question was followed by a yawning. “It is always good to wake up to your back pressed against me.”

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 4 years

Text

It’s Just a Movie: Part 6 (Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader)

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

Warnings: cursing

Word Count: 1890

You had to think for a moment about what you had just said when David asked. You went over your words, realizing what you had just told them. What you had just admitted. You knew what they were. You knew that they were vampires. But you were also fairly sure that it wouldn't make a difference. They had already planned on eating you that night, and, if anything, you had just sealed your fate. So, you didn't hold back.

"I said that you're vampires, David." You looked straight at him, clearly challenging him. Even with the tears in your eyes, you knew that you had managed to give him a cold look. You could hear the venom in your own voice, and you gaze didn't waver when he stared back. Why should it? They were going to kill you anyways. Being afraid now wasn't going to change anything. "You, Marko, Paul, Dwayne," You paused for a moment, before you decided to really throw all caution to the wind. "Max." You said the name, and you watched as something, something too quick to place, flickered across Davids face. Some of the other boys were a bit more obvious. Pauls breath had hitched at the mention of their sires name, and Marko's grin had fallen from his face completely. Instead, he hid his mouth behind his hand and seemed to be half-way towards chewing his thumb off. Dwayne frowned, and his gaze was so intense. But it wasn't a glare. The boys had been laughing before, but they weren't laughing now. Neither were you. Your eyes never left Davids, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He stood, and he was in front of you in a second. You couldn't help how you flinched back, taking the smallest of steps backwards to steady yourself. David grabbed you by the shoulders, but he didn't laugh. He didn't smile. Instead, he asked,

"How do you know all of this?" And it felt strange. To be a step ahead of David. To know something that David didn't know. He always seemed so in control, and, perhaps, that's the only reason you were still alive. In a moment, you realized this was the only way to stay alive. You were going to have to stay ahead of him and play your cards right. As bitter as you felt towards him and the others at that moment, you still had a chance. And you weren't going to throw it away. You stared at him, and said,

"Give me my phone and I'll show you."

You made a decision that you knew you wouldn't have made if they hadn't been such assholes before. You had bought and downloaded the movie for a car trip a few months before, and you set your phone up on the table across from the couch. The five of you squeezed onto the couch, the little screen less than three feet away as the opening sequence started. You sat at the far end of the couch, with Paul next to you, Dwayne in the middle, Marko besides him, and David on the other far end. You didn't know why, but you had a feeling that David didn't want to be near you at the moment. You knew too much. More than he could control. And he wouldn't know just how much you knew unless he did what you wanted. In other words, David was stuck not being the one in charge of the situation. Marko, however, seemed to be the most skeptical of the bunch. He was still calling bullshit on the whole thing, and it seemed he would be thinking that way until he saw the movie with his own eyes. He made that fairly clear by saying,

"This is all a bunch of bullshit- I'm fucking starving." He said, and you tried not to think about just what he planned on eating. Paul, without prompting, passed him a half-eaten bag of chips, and you looked over to see him grumpily snacking. Dwayne seemed completely neutral, and hadn't spoken a word since you'd revealed what you knew. He seemed to be waiting to see how things went, and you didn't fault him for that. However, Paul seemed to be the easiest to convince. Or, perhaps, he simply didn't care and was just excited to have you sit next to him. He did still think that you were hot. You weren't surprised when he had his arm around the couch behind you before the title had even shown up and you quickly told him,

"Watch the movie." When you saw him looking at you. And then the boys watched as the carousel scene started.

The camera panned up, and the boys stilled before they even saw who it was. First, his boots, then the tail end of his jacket and then- David. There he was clear as day. There was no denying it. The boys had probably expected a different beginning to the movie, to meet the main characters and their assumed victims before they saw themselves. But each of the boys watched as they appeared on the screen. David, Dwayne, Paul, and then, finally, Marko. You couldn't help but be smug as you looked at all their surprised faces.

"Holy shit." Paul said, and you couldn't help but smile. Finally, now you were getting somewhere. "I'm fucking hot." He continued, and you rolled your eyes. Of course, that would be the first thing he'd think. But, he did admit that it was him. The other boys shushed him, with Dwayne telling him to,

"Shut up." But you were too busy thinking about how you had succeeded. This had to convince them. There was no other way to go about it. They couldn't just deny what they were seeing with their very own eyes. You grinned, leaning past him to look at the other boys.

"I'm sorry, who's crazy?" You asked, and looked at Marko specifically. While you hadn't wanted to admit it at first, his comment had cut the deepest. Marko rolled his eyes. He shooed you off, but it didn't stop the feeling of triumph you felt. Dwayne and David were too busy staring at the screen, watching the scene on the carousel unfold. They watched as the surf-nazi's attempted to fight them and how the security guard broke it up. You looked over at David, seeing how he squinted his eyes. When the next scene appeared, David wore a grin as they watched the security guard be ripped up into the air. Along with his car door.

When the Emersons appeared, the boys all let out a collective groan. Apparently, none of them cared about them, and they just wanted to see their scenes. You took this as a good time to talk, and you moved in your seat so you'd be partially facing the boys.

"Convinced?" You asked them, and you watched as all of the boys tore their eyes from the screen. They were quiet for a moment, and they even paused to look at one another. Even though you were positive they couldn't be anything else, you still felt a bit nervous. Finally, after a moment, David said,

"Maybe you're not crazy." And you felt a wave of relief wash through you. Honestly, you couldn't have expected a better response from the boy. You knew not to expect an apology, at least a real one, and at least they were admitting that they had been wrong. It made you completely relax, and a large grin dawned your face. It was one of the first real smiles you had that night. Even if you'd been more relaxed at certain points of the night, you'd always had nerves at the edge of your subconscious. Always had to monitor how you acted, how you talked. Make sure that you didn't say anything that would let it slip that you weren't from this time, or this dimension. But now? You let yourself slump completely back into the couch, and let out a long, heavy sigh. You had succeeded. No ifs, ands, or buts. You went back to watching the movie, and you missed how the boys seemed to notice your sudden change.

Paul had gotten up to grab some more snacks, and everyone except David was chewing on something that wasn't a cigarette by the time the sax man came onto the screen. You couldn't help yourself. You had seen the movie and listened to the soundtrack so many times that you knew all the words, and you had to at least hum it to yourself. That lasted for about five seconds before you were singing along with him. Marko, already having decided that he didn't care very much for Michael, threw some cheesy popcorn at your phone when he blatantly stared at Star.

"Jesus, man. Creep alert." But Dwayne was quick to take the bag from him and pass it to you instead. If only for the sake of your phone. Paul dug his hand into the bag, and, around a mouthful of popcorn, he said,

"Yeah, and who is that chick anyways?" He asked, and you gave a small laugh. Mimicking her voice and tossing your hair over your shoulder you said,

"That's Star. She's the main love interest." And Paul gave a small laugh while Marko smiled. To your surprise, even Dwayne gave you a look and a small quirk of his lips. While you had been petty before, you were quickly starting to go back to- well, normal wasn't the right word. But, it was getting easier to joke with them again and to be a little less angry at them. The only one who seemed not in a joking mood was David, who was keeping his comments, surprisingly, to himself. Until, Max came onto the screen. They all let out a collective groan at the sight of their sire, and you snickered at their reaction. Though, the boys' moods quickly turned around when they saw themselves again. They watched the movie, spending most of the time making comments here or there. They decidedly didn't like the Frogs, but none of them considered them that much of a threat. You refused to tell them anything when prompted, and you almost regretted having agreed to show them the movie. Regret began to eat you up inside, and it was the main thing clouding your thoughts until Marko let out a loud,

"Ha! Star's with David!" And he leaned his head back to let out a loud cackle. Paul laughed along, and David even let a smile dawn his face when he watched how disappointed Michael became. Especially when Sam had little sympathy for his brother. Paul and Marko were quick to begin teasing the platinum blonde, and Paul even leaned over to make kissy faces at him. Completely missing the sight of the little kid, which they didn’t notice until Dwayne asked. You noticed how they seemed to enjoy the killing scene of the two surf-nazi's a little too much, and you tried not to let it make you uncomfortable when one of the boys besides you stomachs growled. It didn't take you long to guess what they really needed to eat, but none of them had made a move to eat you yet.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys david #david the lost boys #the lost boys marko #marko the lost boys #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys imagines

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

Don’t Feed The Flames - Bucky Barnes x (f)reader, Natasha x platonic (f) reader

Summary: Bucky has made you angry after a tough mission with the crew, why you ask? Apparently he thinks it’s totally fine to run inside a burning building to help you complete the mission in question.

Warning: bit of angst, mostly a good time with the team, Bucky fluff shoved in ur welcome

-reader has fire powers btw, I don’t wanna confuse anyone lol

Masterlist

The mission was difficult to say the least, successful in its own right, but tough for everyone involved. All the Avengers were needed for this clusterfuck of a mission, minus Bruce and Thor who are elsewhere in the universe, lucky them.

All the team needed to do was infiltrated one of the last highly armed Hydra bases left in existence, get rid of the artillery and boom, slither right on in. Objective? Snatch valuable intel as to where the other bases are hiding, and surprise surprise, you and Wanda had to take care of some very pissed off experimentees who were unfortunately brainwashed beyond the point of helping them recover.

Ending the night in everyone quickly evacuating the premise with the essentials while you stayed back to blow up the base to nothing more then bricks and ash. Although during this, Bucky stayed back to shoot some freelancers who tried to take you the fuck out, with what would you know it; flame throwers.

Apparently Hydra is greatly lacking in weapons and functioning brain cells, among other things. Granted, you understood Bucky’s concern for your well-being when he ran into the fire. But oh dear lord were you not happy with him one goddamn bit.

Luckily Sam was able to pluck him out before anything fell on your idiot boyfriend while you were producing mass destruction in the giant airplane storage area. In the aftermath, you came out unharmed but covered in smudge marks and burnt off cloves yet again.

Bucky? Well he came away with a pissed off girlfriend and his life to say the least. And let’s just say the long four hour ride back was a tad bit awkward, even if you were too damn exhausted to show your irritation with Bucky. The team sure as hell knew he wasn’t going to be spared of your wrath when the jet landed.

It took approximately ten seconds for your man to shuffle out of your line of sight, using Steve as a shield to hide behind while they walked out. You had been distracted when Natasha asked for something picked up, then suddenly your mind was on Bucky. A moment later you stomped out of the Quinjet in pursuit of the one and only James Buchanan Barnes as he awaited your fury.

“James!” You growl fiercely, “You are the most fucking reckless person I’ve ever fucking met and I’m literally friends with Tony!” You snap while the rest of your teammates go about their business, trying to listen yet smartly staying out of everything.

“I know.” Mutters Bucky like a kicked puppy suffering his mother’s wrath, blue eyes looking at you with regret clearly visible on his handsome face.

“You know! You know!? Then why the fuck would you just run into the flames like that!” You shout while throwing your arms into the air in frustration, “You’re not fire proof Bucky!”

“Y/N...”

“Do you have a goddamn death wish!?” You interrupt, giving him a dumbfounded look as he glances from Steve to the floor then back to you again, trying to find something or someone with enough pity to help him.

He finds none, “Well....no.” Your brows raise yet again at his short and annoyingly blunt answers to make up for his stupidly daring boldness.

“Then why-ugh, whatever never mind.” You dismiss with a wave of your hand before quickly turning on your heels to walk for the metal doors into the main part of the facility, while the others keep their distance from your heated state.

“Wait Y/N, come back I’m sorry!” Exclaims Bucky desperately while you continue to ignore your reckless man, “You’re right I shouldn’t have....ugh...come on babe....shit...” Mutters Bucky as he watches you leave him in such a heated state.

“Dude just let her cool off, oh uh well....no pun intended.” Jokes Sam with a shrug as Bucky watches you stomp away in frustration, your body almost sizzling with actual flame.

“I didn’t mean to....well...ugh, shit I guess I kind of did.” Admits Bucky with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as you slam the door shut with a loud thud, “Sometimes I forget fire can’t hurt her. I should have just let her handle the burning building herself instead of going inside when she uh, told me not to.”

Steve walks out of the Quinjet with a bag in hand to greet the two, “Y/N seemed a bit...”

“Pissed off.” Adds Sam with a light chuckle as Bucky frowns at the giant glass window.

“Yeah.” Mutters Steve awkwardly as he side eyes Bucky, “Well ugh, see you guys at dinner, I think Wanda and Vision are getting takeout from somewhere.”

“See ya Steve.”

“Bye.”

Sam and Bucky watch as Steve heads for the metal doors, soon he’s gone and the two are the only Avengers left in the giant parking garage of sorts.

“She’s going to hate me for the rest of the day I know it.” Sadly mutters Bucky, already missing your beautiful face no matter what state your in.

“I wouldn’t say it’s hate.”

“She’s going to be very disappointed in me then.”

“Yeah probably.”

Bucky gives him an offended look, “You’re supposed to say something uplifting or positive.”

“Man don’t look at me for relationship advice. This is Y/N we’re talking about, just give her a couple hours she’ll simmer down.” Inquirers Sam with a friendly pat on the back before he starts walking away for the door, as casually and unbothered as ever.

Bucky keeps silent for a moment while his mind swims with what to do next, suddenly he looks up at his retreating friend, “Hey Sam!” Shouts Bucky just as Sam opens up the door, causing him to stop and give his friend a quizzical look.

“What?!”

“Fuck you!”

Sam immediately snorts, “You brought this upon yourself brother!” And with that he shuts the door leaving Bucky alone and full of regret for putting himself in danger today when you specifically told him you could handle yourself.

Why is caring for someone so hard, wonders Bucky.

——

After taking a greatly needed shower and putting on a fresh new pair of comfortable clothing for the evening, you slipped past your friends rooms and away from where Bucky may be hiding.

Until at last you made it to Natasha’s door without being caught by anyone in the hallway and stopped for a needless conversation. Soon enough you slip into Nat’s room and saunter around for a bit as you wait for her to end her shower.

“Oh shit!” Gasps Natasha as soon as she opens the door and notices you poking around her stuff, “Jesus Y/N how’d you get in here!?”

“I opened the door.”

“I thought I locked it?”

“You did.”

Natasha gives you a puzzled look as you wander over to her nightstand, nonchalantly minding your business while picking up her current novel as she watches you curiously, “So uh, how’s it going?” She asks cautiously, well aware of your irritation with Bucky earlier that day.

Flipping through the pages you answer her honestly, “I’m fine now.”

Natasha nods before turning around to search through her drawers for an outfit, “I figured that much, considering if you were still pissed you’d be throwing fireballs into the cement wall downstairs.” She quips with her usual smirk as you gently close the book and set it back in its rightful place.

“That is.....true.” You agree with a shrug, “I’m just sending a message at this point.”

“Oh really?” Laughs Natasha while slipping on a shirt, “Poor Bucky then.”

“Yeah well he was being an idiot tough guy so....it’s what I’m doing.” You add with a lopsided smug grin, “Serves him right for being reckless with no regard for his physical safety. I love him but at what cost?”

“Someone needs to tell Steve that.” Mutters Natasha as she pulls on some sweatpants.

You chuckle, “What? That someone needs to tell Steve they love him? Not a bad idea.”

“That too.” Points Natasha, “I seriously don’t know how he’s not dead yet.”

Your brows furrow in thought for a moment, “He’s built like a stone sentinel with a will greater then many, he fears nothing.” You deadpan, face stoic and serious.

“Just about.” Laughs Natasha as you begin to cackle right along with her, in the middle of your laughing fit does the door suddenly burst open to reveal...

“Hello ladies.” Chirps Tony with an award winning smile, usual old T-shirt on and hair a bit of a mess though somehow managing to keep his Stark charm.

“I really need to get an automatic lock on that thing.” Mutters Nat to no one in particular.

“What’s up Stark.” You add with an acknowledging tilt of your head, “You here to bother us or tell us something interesting?”

“Everything I say is interesting my dear sparky.” Quips Tony with a brow wiggle.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Right, anyways. Foods here.” Chides Tony as he sets a hand on his hip, “Unless you’re both too cool for movie night. More for us then, I’ll have Vision drop off our half eaten tacos.”

“We have tacos?” You ask with an intrigued raise of your brow, just wanting to confirm and make sure he’s not bluffing, you fucking love taco night.

“Yep.”

“How long have they been here?”

“Wanda and Vis just arrived so you’re the first two I found.” Oh, fuck yeah!

Turning your head to a smirking Natasha you smile back before bolting for the door, “Move Stark!” You snap before shoving him to the side and cackling as you and Natasha book it down the hall with Tony trying to keep up in the background. What can you say, Natasha always makes it a competition and its taco night. Sometimes you gotta play dirty.

Soon you and your assassin best friend who you tripped up before reaching the door finally skid into the Avengers giant lounging area. The room is relatively empty with the exception of Wanda and Vision who are seated at the large metal table near the kitchen where all the various paper bags of tacos are seated. And ripe for the taking.

Smelling absolutely delicious all tucked snug in their wrapping and filled with the most divine ingredients, you could just about die of happiness. With a beaming smile upon your face and the surprised expressions from your two friends you belt out loudly, “Tacos FUCK YEAH!” Before racing for the bags and getting tripped by Natasha.

Whipping your head up to watch her snatch a bag you growl half angrily, “You bitch.” While she happily smiles back down at you, taco in hand.

“What are you doing on the floor? Foods here.” She jokes as you quickly walk over to the counter with all the bags.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious now give me that.”

After about ten minutes of eating and shooting the breeze with Natasha, Wanda, Vision, and Tony; you’re ears immediately catch the sounds of thundered running down the hallway and other muffled curses from two familiar individuals.

“Fun’s arrived.” Whispers Natasha with a friendly nudge to your arm as it lays on the flat surface of the table while you absentmindedly crumple up a wrapper.

Biting your lip you anticipate the impending commotion, “Fantastic.” And this whole evening could be more enjoyable if your hundred year old boyfriend would have used some common sense.

A second later the door swings open to reveal a panting Sam before Bucky slides in after him, equally as flustered, those two idiots. As they stand there collecting their breaths, Steve casually steps into the room, walking past them and over to the bags of tacos, “Aw sweet, taco night.” He confirms excitedly, hungrily eyeing up a particular bag.

Rolling your eyes, you slouch carelessly into your expensive swivel chair before turning to Wanda who’s seated across from you, “Hey, Red Riding Hood, you’re up.” She turns her attention away from Vision and nods before giving you a sly smirk and using her power to send a balled up piece of taco wrapping straight for your head.

In one calculably swift motion do you incinerate the paper material before its able to reach your face, “Y/N you’re going to set the fire detectors off.” Laughs Tony as he crumbles up a new ball.

“Eh, we could afford a renovation.”

Tony fake scoffs, “Rude.”

“Well Y/N, I thought you did great.” Applauds Wanda with a chuckle as the three other men walk around to the far end where no one is seated, “Alright Tony you next.”

You refrain from making any eye contact with Bucky who steals a few longing glances at your smiling face, instead he follows Sam and Steve to the opposite end and watches as you quickly turn another balled up paper to ash. The sounds of your laughter and the rest of the tables almost enough to drive him insane.

Yet he refrains, Bucky knows he’s essentially in time out, reason for almost getting himself killed today; and you’re not breaking anytime soon, or so he thinks.

Ignoring the three boys hungrily attacking their poor tacos away from the main groups theatrics, Vision suddenly gains your attention, “Well I suppose I should participate with this game or fear feeling left out....uh, what is the objective? Or perhaps the name?”

“They throw wrappers at me and I set them on fire before it hits myself or the ground.” You reply while crumbling up another piece, leaving Vision to process the possible deeper meaning to your brief explanation, though there really isn’t one. It’s just for fun.

“By the way I’ve been able to get her exactly once.” Brags Tony with a shit eating grin, causing you to scoff at that memory.

“Oh fuck all the way off you flicked water into my face and then threw the paper.”

“And it was very much worth it.” He confirms as you roll your eyes at his cheating from last taco night.

The rest of your friends fill the room with snickers and some louder laughter coming from Sam down at the far end, with a raised brow you snap your head in that direction and stand, “Something funny bird boy?” You quip in a half threatening manner.

Sam’s smirk immediately drops from his face as his expression appears nonchalant, “What nooo. That was Steve.” He mutters before taking another bite out of his taco.

“Y/N that was definitely not me.”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe it was Bucky.” Jokes Sam as you shift your fiery attention over to a fearful Bucky who quickly shakes his head before smacking Sam on the arm.

“No.” You confirm with a knowing smirk, “He doesn’t have a death wish.”

“Well neither do I please have mercy.” Pleads Sam with hands raised in defeat, “I would like to finish my taco.”

You stare down at them for a brief tension filled moment before casually shrugging, “Yeah alright.” Before sitting back down again.

——

Opening up the trash can you quickly shove down three giant paper bags from dinner with a bit of effort considering how full it is. Natasha and Vision are cleaning up in various areas nearby while Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Steve, and Tony sit in the lounging area discussing if it was necessary that Dobby was killed off in the Deathly Hallows. You know, normal things you discuss with your superpowered friends.

Well Bucky is mostly just listening and stealing glances over to you every couple of minutes, really wishing you would just walk over to him and let him show you how sorry he was with the biggest hug he could possibly muster. Probably never letting you go again, though you wouldn’t mind.

Ignoring your own longing to be cuddled up next to Bucky, you instead fight with the damn trash can to fucking shut its dumb lid already. With one hand forcefully shoving down bags, paper plates, and banana peels you start to think if volunteering for clean up was even worth it.

A blue flame suddenly erupts from your palm and makes a big black hole through the paper bags and plates, your eyes go wide in surprise as you immediately retract your hand from the trash and shut the lid just as quickly.

Taking a single step back you let out a breath before turning your head to find Bucky watching your whole ordeal go down with a drink in hand, guess he must have gotten up to get some juice and stayed for your one on one brawl with the trash can. Rolling your eyes, you wave it off, “Completely under control.” You mutter as he slowly nods.

Well this is awkward.

Shifting your gaze from Bucky to your friends and back to Bucky again, he finally speaks, “Is that why the lid has smoke coming from under it?”

“What?” You wonder in puzzlement before looking back down at the trash can to find smoke indeed rising, “Oh fuck!” Ripping the lid off you’re kindly greeted with a burst of flame and smoke. Well, shit.

“Uh, Y/N?” Asks Bucky with an uncertain chuckle, “You’re positive everything is under control?” Quips your smartass boyfriend.

With more flames rising to an almost alarming level, though not quit yet, you glance at your oblivious friends before racing for the sink, “Yes! Everything is fucking fine!” Wanda skips to the side as you snatch a cup of something from the counter by the sink.

Running back you skid in your tracks and dump the clear liquid onto the flames which causes them to rise even higher and gain the attentions of everyone sitting down and relaxing, “Why is my trash can on fire?” Asks Tony as casually as ever.

“I don’t know maybe it looks better this way?!” You sass before giving the glass a double take, “The hell? What the fuck was in this!” You shout, holding up the glass while fire burns in the trash from behind you.

“Oh that had some Quinjet fuel in it, why do you ask?” Replies Tony, he’s gotta be fucking with you.

Squinting at him in bewilderment, you shake the empty glass in frustration, “Why the fuck would there be a random glass of fuel sitting in a clear unlabeled glass on the fucking sink of all places!”

“What did you think it was?”

“Oh I don’t know!? Water?!” You snap causing the fire to roar even higher at your outburst.

Looking almost like a demon princess standing there with flames rising from behind you, your fists ball up with blue flame, something that you don’t even realize is happening as you give Tony a (what the fuck are you actually stupid) face.

Sensing your obvious irritation and rising anger, Bucky comes to the rescue with a whole bowl full of actual water and promptly dumbs it onto the flames which causes the unless materials to sizzle and whine. Soon the oranges and reds are gone, leaving the contents turned to ash and nothing more then wet soot.

Distinguishing your own flames, you hang your head low, revealing a tired heavy sigh as you mumble, “Shit.” Suddenly you feel admittedly quit drained and annoyed from the events of the day, even if they weren’t all bad.

Your friends keep silent for a moment before Steve quickly stands, “Movie night anyone?” Gaining the attention of everyone in an instant; you bless the blonde for his intuitive ways of helping you out in the smallest of moments. He truly is a great friend.

“Yeah I could watch something.” Adds Sam with a shrug, “I’m thinking Deathly Hallows Part 2.”

“Yeah it’s pretty good I’ll join.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah I’m in.”

Everyone get up and begins walking for the door as you stay standing in your spot near the wet and ash covered metal trash can, everyone exiting for the home theater except for Bucky who’s back is to you while he tells Sam you’ll be there in a minute.

Folding your arms, you suddenly feel like it’s the first time you and Bucky have ever talked one on one with each other, you’re typically a pretty damn confident and fiery person to begin with, it’s just. Being mad at your favorite human in the whole entire world and then embarrassing yourself with accidentally setting the trash can on fire can take its toll.

Also not to mention the mission many hours ago was admittedly hectic and stress inducing and then, Bucky....perhaps a moment to calm down would have been smart if taken earlier. God your life moves to damn fast.

“You are so intense sometimes.”

Breaking out of your self reflective trance, your eyes quickly dart up to see Bucky who’s giving you a soft smile, “If you wanted my attention you could have just asked.”

“Very funny.” You scoff, “I was actually too busy being mad at you.”

“Ah, right.” Nods Bucky as he mirrors your defensive positioning, deciding to cross his arms and make a pouty face like yourself, “So I guess we’ll just stay here and brood then?”

“I’m trying to make a point.” You mutter, you’re not gonna crack, you’re not gonna do it.

“I’m trying to get my girlfriend to watch a movie with me.” Admits Bucky with an affectionate head tilt as you frown, “I know they’re not going to wait for us so....uh....okay let me start over.....I’m sorry for being reckless and almost dying. And I mean it too, with all of my heart. I love you Y/N.”

Although you’d like to throw his dumb reckless ass some sass and strut away leaving him guessing and begging for more, you just can’t find it in you at this point. He looks at you with those big beautiful blue eyes full of love and adoration for you and only you, how could you possibly resist them?

You know with every ounce of your soul that he means every single word, and you also know that he’s missed you since the second you yelled at him and slammed the facility door, leaving him alone and regretting his past decisions that could have potentially ended him then and there.

“Sometimes James, sometimes.” You mutter, shaking your head in disapproval before a small smirk pulls at your lips and in that moment he knows you’re his, “Come here.”

Heeding to your wonderful command that he’s been waiting to hear all day, he swiftly makes the short distance to gather your smaller body into a giant Bucky bear hug, his strong arms wrap protectively around your back as his head falls into the side of your neck as he quickly steals a small kiss.

You pull him in even tighter and fully enjoy the sensation of himself flush against you, metal arm squeezing your rip cage and long dark hair that falls into your eyes; god you love him so much.

Giving you one last little squeeze of affection, Bucky slowly pulls away and presses his head against yours, “I gotta be honest, I have no idea what this movie is about.” Reveals Bucky as he continues to holds you close.

Chuckling you press a kiss to his lips, “I’ll tell you what’s happening. Let’s go before we miss anything else.”

Nodding, he tilts your head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips one last time before letting you go, so that the two of you can begin walking for the door. Opening up the metal and glass door for you like the gentleman that he is, Bucky quickly jogs over to your side.

“So Sam told me these guys are wizards or something? Like they can teleport and fly I think?” States Bucky in question while walking in step with you.

Looking over at him you smile at how cute he’s being right now, giving him an agreeable nod, “Yeah they can do cool stuff like change form and set things on fire.”

Bucky suddenly starts laughing much to your confusion, “Y/N does that make you a wizard?”

Shoving him to the side you snort as he keeps laughing, “Shut up.” You mutter humorously as he stumbles from your friendly push.

Making quick steps to catch up with you, Bucky pulls you into his side, “Forgive me I didn’t mean it...” Snickers your adorable idiot, “I bet you’d be the best wizard, pointy hat and all.”

Shaking your head you can’t help the smirk that tugs against your better wishes, “I’m gonna set you on fire.” You jokingly threaten him with as he affectionately squeezes your side, causing you to be pressed even closer against him.

“Wizard.” Muses Bucky as he plants a kiss to your cheek as you try and push him away.

“Bucky, shut the fuck up.”

“But, I love you.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x you #fanfic

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