#where did sam learn how to strut like that?

[devilsbrokerank]

“Pardon me, madams, is there a history between us?” INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (2022—) 1x07 “The Thing Lay Still”  

[liminal-space-lesbian]

I said no gore!

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of gore, brief mentions of sex, uhhh bad writing?

Summary: (request) You're head over heels for Tara. You do everything and anything for her, despite her friends teasing. You follow her like a lost puppy, opening every door and carrying her things. You'd do anything for her, including watching a movie with a little too much gore for your tastes.

Words: 1,631

You were walking on campus with Chad and Mindy when the three of you met up with Tara. You quickly took her book bag from her and slung it over your shoulder without a second thought, causing Tara to smile at you brightly.

"Tara can carry her own bag you know, you don't have to do everything for her." Mindy says with an exasperated sigh. You frown at her, shifting the weight of Tara's bag higher up your shoulder.

"Yeah, but just because she can doesn't mean she should." You say indignantly as you step in front of Tara to open the door for her, causing Mindy to roll her eyes.

"You two are seriously so cute it's disgusting." Mindy teases with a grin as her and Chad walk through the door you're still holding. You blush, glancing at Tara who places a quick kiss on your cheek, taking your hand in hers as you walk. Your heart flutters at how warm and soft her hand is in yours. You absentmindedly rub the scar on the back of her hand with your thumb as you walk.

"Hey, don't act like you're not an absolute simp for Anika." Chad teases, playfully swatting his sisters shoulder. Mindy fake gags at him.

"Ew, did you seriously just say the word 'simp'?" She mocks, screwing her face into a sour expression. Chad rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, isn't that what the kids are saying nowadays?" He jokes and Mindy gives an exaggerated shudder.

"Never say something like that again." She complains as the four of you arrive at Sam's apartment. The group of you pile inside, and you take your shoes off at the door, carefully setting them to the side. Once Tara takes hers off you grab them and set them beside yours neatly.

"Honey I'm home!" Mindy calls, dumping her bag on the kitchen table and strutting into the living room to flop down on the couch. Sam peeks out of the kitchen where a burning smell is emanating from.

"Hi guys! Uh- I tried to cook but it didn't end well so, pizza is on the way." She says with a sheepish smile, causing Tara to chuckle.

"Sam I thought you learned your lesson after burning pasta?" She teases as she leads you over to the couch after you set down your bags near the table.

"Well I thought maybe I had learned from my mistakes but I guess not." Sam says, with a resigned sigh. She joins your group in the living room where Mindy is perusing through horror movies.

You settle on the couch , pulling Tara down to sit across your lap comfortably. She flashes you a grateful smile, kissing your forehead as she leans into you, shifting slightly until she is more comfortable. You wrap your arms around her waist, resting your hands on her hip. You notice Sam's pointed glare on your hand so you politely shift it a bit higher until she turns her piecing gaze away from you.

"Can we watch Friday the 13th?" Tara requests as Mindy continues searching. Mindy snaps her fingers and points at Tara.

"That's a good one." She says as she pulls out the dvd from the shelf and puts it in. You squirm, shooting Tara a pleading look.

"Tara can we not watch something gory?" You plead quietly, pressing your nose into her shoulder shyly. She shoots you a sympathetic look.

"It's not that bad, I promise." She comforts, gently brushing some hair out of your face. You sigh, resigned to the horror movie already.

"Okay fine. Just warn me when gory scenes are coming up, please." You ask quietly, to which Tara nods in agreement quickly.

"I will, don't worry." She reassures, placing a gentle kiss on your lips before turning her attention back to the screen where the movie is starting.

~ ~ ~

She lied.

Well, not really. Tara just has a different definition of gory than you do.

"Taraaaa." You whine, shutting your eyes and pressing your face into her neck to hide from the bloody scene on screen. Your stomach churned, your half eaten pizza slice left untouched on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry! I honestly forgot how bad this scene was." Tara apologizes, soothingly stroking your hair. Your body was stiff at the sounds of the victims screams coming from the tv.

"I have to use the bathroom." You came up with an excuse, carefully moving Tara off your lap as you stood up and slipped off down the hallway. You shut the bathroom door behind you quietly. You let out a sigh, tension melting from your body at the quiet comforting hum of the bathroom fan. A nice change to the screams from the movie.

"Y/n, can I come in?" Tara's voice quietly calls from the other side of the door, accompanied by a knock. You sigh, opening the door to be met with Tara's puppydog eyes and a pout. "I'm sorry, really. If you want we can go to my room and watch Barbie on my laptop?" She offers, a hesitant smile adorning her lips. You melted under her gaze, stepping forward to wrap your arms around her waist.

"it's okay, we can finish the movie. It's not that big of a deal, I know you love Friday the 13th." You insist, wanting nothing more than for Tara to be happy. She shoots you a scowl and presses her finger to the center of your forehead.

"No, I want you to be happy too. I don't want you to suffer through a movie just because it's something I want, I want to do something we both enjoy." She insists, searching your gaze as she gently runs her fingers along your brow and down the side of your face.

"Well you don't like Barbie." You protest, and Tara cant help but let out a chuckle, shaking her head slightly.

"Then we can watch something else. Plus I wouldn't mind having some alone time with you anyways." She insists, kissing the corner of your mouth tenderly. You melt further into her arms and relent.

"Okay. You get to pick the movie though." You say, your eyes scanning over her features. You smile slightly as you count her freckles, causing her to blush.

"Okay fine, just stop staring at me like that weirdo." She teases, gently pushing your face away with the palm of her hand. You laugh as she leads you towards her room, pausing in the livingroom to announce you two were going to bed early.

"Ew, please don't have sex you guys these walls are not as soundproof as you think." Mindy complains, scrunching up her nose in distaste. Sam's eyes narrow at her words and she shoots you a look that has you stepping slightly behind Tara in fear.

"Oh my God, you guys we're going to sleep, leave us alone." Tara complains as she rolls her eyes, dragging you behind her towards your bedroom.

"Mhm, to sleep together!" Mindy calls after you, cackling as Chad chastises her.

"Goodnight!" Tara shouts back before slamming her bedroom door shut with a sigh. "So what if we were going to have sex anyways, it's not like you're loud." Tara complains as she climbs into bed, piling up pillows for you two to lean up against. You reach over and grab her laptop, handing it to her without even being asked. She flashes a grateful smile at you in return.

"Well... I mean I'm not loud..." You trail off, looking meaningfully at Tara, who gasps at you in betrayal. She grabs a stray pillow and smacks you over the head with it, causing you to dramatically flop on the bed.

"Owww Tara you're so mean." You whine, covering your head with your hands as you writhe around in exaggerated pain. You hear Tara tut, heaving a sigh as she was surely rolling her pretty eyes.

"Okay drama queen, want to watch Legally Blonde?" She asks, pulling your hands away from your face gently. When your eyes met you grinned up at her, rolling onto your stomach and shimmying up to cuddle into her side, peering down at her laptop screen.

"Yes ma'am." You reply softly as you tuck your head under Tara's chin, wrapping your arm around her torso. You tilted your face into her collarbone and inhaled deeply, her raspberry and vanilla soap filling your senses causing you to hum contentedly.

"You're so weird." Tara chuckles as you kiss her collarbone and turn your attention back to the screen.

"What? You smell good, okay." You protest, shuffling impossibly closer to Tara as 'Perfect Day' began to play from her laptop speaker as the movie began.

"Mm whatever you say." Tara replies, a smile obvious in her voice. You settle in, falling into a peaceful silence as the movie plays. Your mind lingers on Tara however, and you can't help but feel warmth fill your chest. The fact she was willing to stop watching her favorite movie and come cuddle in bed with you instead was just too sweet. Sure it was a little thing, but it still made you feel impossibly important and loved.

"I love you." You murmur, turning to place a kiss on the column of Tara's throat. Her hand comes up to gently play with your hair as she glances down at you, her expression soft.

"I love you too." She responds, a smile curving at her lips as she leaned down to kiss you. Her lips were soft and tasted like pizza, causing you to smile into the kiss.

"Now be quiet and watch the movie." She says affectionately when she breaks the kiss, causing you to chuckle. Quieting down, you return your attention back to the laptop screen.

a/n hope this was good! because I got really off track LMAO

[zappedbyzabka]

i don’t know why but that last picture you posted makes me think of ex!pageant johnny who did beauty pageants when he was a kid/teenager (maybe because of his mom? or because of sid?) and now is super disillusioned with them and kind of doesn’t want to talk about them UNTIL he has to because (maybe) sam? gets into the idea of winning the valley pageant (probably to maybe make a statement about it and johnny kind of is into that idea too) and he starts training her for it and anyway this is my long way of saying i think daniel should witness johnny doing pageant training and lose his mind

- landslided

So, I don’t know if any of you have seen Insatiable but that is what popped up in my mind

It’s about a girl (Debby Ryan) who used to be a big girl and lost weight after surgery (I think) and becomes “hot”. Her lawyer was an ex pageant coach who shows her how to do everything.

(Spoiler) he was lifelong rivals with this one dude for in the show before it was revealed the rival had secretly been in love with him the whole time and they make out in a bathroom BUT I do not care for an AU of this because I much prefer Johnny being an ex pageant queen beauty who helps his non-blood daughter and they bond (instead of everything Patty does to her coach YIKES.)

Johnny shows her everything he can remember—including the tips he got from the beauty queens around him despite not having the opportunity to use most of said tips.

Dark lipstick makes your teeth look whiter. Double sided tape and safety pins are your best friend. Don’t forget your rollers. The higher the heel the longer the leg but the harder it is to have the perfect walk.

One foot in front of the other, good posture, delicate hands, big smile for the judges.

It’s all a performance that you have to be great at or you have no chance at winning.

He usually wore suits as what was expected of him, sometimes themed outfits depending. He would have liked to get to wear all the pretty dresses the girls wore to see if he’d win that competition too. He is, after all, extremely competitive.

He put on some high heels to be silly once when he was cozying up to the judges before the pageant began and got told it was a shame he wasn’t a girl because otherwise he would have been snatched up by a big agency with those perfect visuals.

It pissed him off that he couldn’t do everything.

The creeps that ran the pageants and the annoyance of guys at school teasing him for his forced girly hobby had him bitter and over all of it. The sashes and dainty trophies fit beautifully next to his All-Valley trophy, but had to go. (he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. It’d be like throwing away his accomplishments. They’re somewhere buried in a box.)

But when Sam brought it up, Johnny jumped to offer his help—cutting off Daniel’s pondering over where they’d find a coach.

Sure, Johnny had to explain to about 4 adults and 12 or so kids that he was in beauty pageants but it only dampened his excitement a little.

Daniel was…really interested in watching him demonstrate for Sam. Really interested—enamored.

He can’t believe Johnny knows nothing about makeup! No wonder his hair was always styled.

Poor Sam had to learn to strut in a room filled with tension between her dad and coach so thick you could cook it in the microwave

Johnny was all “Impress Daniel. Impress Daniel. Impress Daniel” in his mind and Sam rolled her eyes so many times they hurt.

Watching Sam thrive and use her beauty to her advantage was a gift for Johnny. He knows she’s had trouble with people not taking her seriously for it and it genuinely made his heart ache with understanding -he’s also had issues his looks. ‘Pretty boy’ always seemed to be a way of pushing him down.

They don’t let her karate skills go to waste. There are so many things she could do as a talent that it was hard to pick, but they settled for the ice chopping that she knew would make her father happy as a surprise. (idk if they would actually allow that, but that would never stop Johnny or her lol.)

cough cough catch Daniel smitten with the man that helped his daughter and kissing him in the dressing rooms after she wins. Anyone that makes his little girl that proud of herself is a goodie in his book. And MAYBE Johnny had been feeding Sam advice on how to get the angry blond girl so very similar to him and Sam’s ALSO kissed silly in a dressing room until Tory’s face is stained with all her makeup.

[supermarvel-fics]

Tickletober Day 8: Death Spot

fandom: supernatural

word count: 1,450

pairing: dean x reader (pre-romantic)

summary: during a game of truth or dare, dean and the others learn something interesting

A/N: reminder that I will be posting two drabbles for day 8! I had gotten two character requests and couldn't choose, so I did both.

How you got grouped in with these immature idiots to play a game of truth or dare like you were at a slumber party—you’d never know.

You’d vehemently declined the offer the first time it was brought up. Charlie had asked you the second time and even tried guilt tripping you with your favorite ice cream afterwards to ‘sweet talk’ you into it, as she put it. You smiled, but still said no. You were just too busy.

Then, Sam and Cas got in on it by trying to trick you into thinking it was a group research session to try and find new cases. That obviously didn’t work and you left the room before the first Truth question could even be asked.

The group left the idea of it alone for a week or two after that, but you knew sooner or later, they’d come on their hands and knees begging you to join their stupid little game.

You just hadn’t known it would be Dean this time, striding into the kitchen where you were drinking a beer and scrolling through possible cases. He caught your eye before he spoke—he always did. It took a lot of effort to pull your attention away from something you were fixated on, but not for Dean. Never for Dean. All he had to do was enter a room or say something in that deep, bellowing voice and you were all ears.

“What is it, Dean?” You ask, trying to sound at least mildly annoyed. You sipped on your beer without making eye contact as you heard his boots clobber closer to you.

“Look, we’ve all been in a rut these past couple weeks and the group just thinks it would help if we did some dumb bonding activity together,” Dean answered in that tone of his – the one where he tried sounding put off by whatever he was talking about, but was actually very interested. It amused you how alike you two were in that sense.

“Mhm, so the truth or dare thing?” You finally swiveled to face him this time, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, everyone thinks it will be fun or whatever.”

You saw right past this little act of his, grinning slightly as you stared at him. “Are you really trying to act as if this wasn’t your idea in the first place? Asking Charlie, Sam, AND Cas to bribe me into playing and when I said no, you had to man up and ask me yourself?”

Dean seemed visibly embarrassed by that point. He couldn’t look you in the eyes and his hand started rubbing the back of his neck, causing you to grin wider at his demise.

“Well, when you put it like that…” Dean began saying, but you cut him off.

“I’ll play.”

His body language brightened up at your agreement, and he glanced up at you to find that you were already out of your seat to join him and the others in the living room. “Really?”

You chuckled a bit and rolled your eyes. “Yes, stupid. I’ll play since you losers have been begging me for weeks.” You pushed on his shoulder and strutted past him, smirking when he started following directly behind you. You swayed your hips a bit more than usual, praying to whatever God was out there that Dean was looking right where you wanted him to.

You and Dean met the others already seated at a table with a two bowls in the center of it filled to their respective brims with slips of paper.

“Ooh! I told you he’d be able to convince her!” Charlie boasted. “You two owe me $20.” She pointed at Sam and Castiel, who looked just as surprised as you did.

“Seriously? You bet on me?” You asked incredulously, snickering. You watched as the two of them slipped Charlie a $20 and she pocketed it quickly.

“I knew Dean would be the one to get you to join. You do almost anything he asks,” She stated bluntly. Your cheeks burned red at her comment as you snapped your head towards her.

“Charlie!” You hissed through a whisper. She shrugged and smugly grinned, scooting her chair over to make more room for you. You sat down in a hurry, hoping that Dean wouldn’t think too much of the comment.

The group began the game after Charlie explained the rules to Cas who had obviously never played and thus began learning about some truly embarrassing secrets and watching a few vulgar things.

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or Dare?” Charlie turned to you, looking expectantly. You’d chosen dare the past couple of times and had been promptly laughed at for prank calling a pizza place and doing a handstand against a wall for a minute, so you decided to take a breather this round.

“Truth,” You declared. You watched as the redhead swirled her hand through the truth bowl to mix the papers around before pulling one out and reading it.

“What is your most ticklish spot?”

Without realizing it, your eyes widened and your breathing quickened, palms suddenly sweaty. “Uh… I plead the fifth.”

“No way!” Sam spoke up. “If I had to answer a question about my worst sexual experience, then you have to answer this!”

“It is only fair,” Cas added with his grumbly voice. You whimpered slightly as you toyed with your options, knowing this could only end terribly for you.

“I’ll literally answer anything else,” You pleaded with the group, but their stern faces told you that they expected you to answer.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll be forced to figure it out myself, and I’m sure that’s the last thing you’d want, sweetheart,” Dean bellowed teasingly. If your face wasn’t fire engine red, then it definitely was now.

“Whahat?” You were taken aback, coiling into yourself as much as you could with an unwilling smile tugging at your lips. From what you could see, the majority of the table had permanent smirks plastered on their faces, and you felt the need to escape. “That’s soho not fair!”

“Then you should probably answer,” Sam said. You whined, your head falling into your hands. You felt backed into a corner and you knew you had to tell them just to get them off your back about it.

But you fell silent a little too long because Dean’s chair slid back and he rounded the table to stand behind you. “Wait! Noho, no Dean, don’t!” Your protest did nothing, because in seconds flat, his hands were on your ribs and all it took was one squeeze to shout out the answer. “NOHO! FEET! IT’S MY FEET! PLEHEASE, DON’T!”

Instead of tickling you, Dean wrapped his strong arms around you to lift you out of the chair, and once you figured out his intentions, you began fighting hard for release.

“DEAN! NO! THIS WAS NOHOT PART OF THE AGREEMENT!”

“Anyone want to lend me a hand here? We’ve got a squirmer!” Dean ignored you, calling out to the group. Of course, Charlie was the first to stand and you truly got nervous when Sam joined in too. Cas stayed seated, but mostly only because he’d rather watch this scene play out.

Dean deposited you on the ground of the bunker and Charlie was instantly on your legs, sitting on them so you couldn’t pull them away. Sam grabbed ahold of your wrists so you wouldn’t be able to hit anyone with your flailing limbs.

“Dean! I’m actually begging you! It’s so bad, I can’t take it!” You yelled at him as he slipped off your slippers, exposing your socked feet. He experimentally ran one finger up your sole and you jerked violently, almost sending Charlie flying. “AHAH! DEAN!”

“Ooh, this will be fun. Just a few seconds, I’m sure you’ll be okay,” He replied, wasting no time is flitting his fingers across your feet. You knew your feet were your most ticklish spot, but you’d forgotten just how bad it was—only made worse by not being able to move.

“SHIHIHIT! I-HI HAHAHATE YOU AHALL! N-NOHOHO!” You screeched in ticklish agony as Dean tried different methods along the bottoms of your feet. He found that scratching harshly at the balls of them made you jump and twitch, but fluttering softly right above your heel made you go limp. “CAHAN’T BREATHE! DEHEHEAN! STOHOP!”

He halted at your request, Sam and Charlie moving away from you as well. You kept giggling even after he’d stopped, but attempted to stare at him menacingly. “I’m never playing these silly games ever again.”

Though, you knew it was a lie. Like Charlie had alluded to earlier—you’d do anything he asked.

[calaofnoldor]

What’s Mine

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 7,595

Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings: 18+ no actual smut but plenty of implied smut, pre-smut, and smut adjacency lol, secret dating, enemies to lovers, jealousy and possessiveness (exhibited by both sam and reader), slight obsession with sam’s big ass hands (i blame this largely on @walkerboy290​‘s glorious hand porn gif sets), and language

A/N: inspired by and written for @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ bc she’s been bugging me to write smut and using her birthday as a bargaining chip, so i hope you’re happy sai. happy (belated) birthday babe! i suppose in my subconscious need to truly honor you, this became the longest one shot i’ve ever written... that and this is now also a little birthday gesture for the brilliant and beautiful @sams-sass​​ (damn your close birthdays!) even though she never asked for smut (if you hate it, i’ll write you something else!) happy birthday to you too, darling!

also written for @superbadassnatural​‘s 333 badass followers celebration with the prompt “___ and I are together.” “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa.” and @writethelifeyouwant​‘s 300 follower fic challenge with the prompt “All the pretty girls like Samuel” (both prompts are bolded in the fic) i’m sorry i’m so late! congratulations to both of you and thanks for letting me enter your challenges!

[basically i have a lot of people to blame for this disaster 😂]

Square Filled: Secret Dating for @spnfluffbingo​ and Enemies to Lovers for @girl-next-door-writes​ Make Me Feel Bingo

MASTERLIST

The waffles on your plate are surprisingly good for a sketchy, 50’s-themed diner, but unfortunately your attention is elsewhere. In fact, the two distinctly masculine voices behind you have been obnoxiously impairing your ability to savor the buttery, syrup-doused carbs since their owners sat down in the adjoining booth. It’s the topic of their discussion that disturbs you, and nips at your conscience until you realize you can no longer take off without imparting a few words to your oblivious colleagues.

Turning your head subtly to the side, you try to catch a glimpse of the men you’re about to confront in your peripheral vision. From what you can see, they’re both rather burly, a little rough around the edges, and from what you’ve heard, recklessly cocksure. You know the type all too well. Being a lone hunter of the fairer sex for most of your life means you’ve long since learned that the best way to combat their kind is with a steadfast façade of thick skin and unwavering confidence.

So you sigh and put on your best smile before turning around, crossing your forearms along the top of the booth seat, “Listen fellas, I hate to interrupt, but I really wouldn’t bother with the bamboo dagger and Shinto priest if I were you.”

“And who the hell are you?” the one with shorter hair demands. He’s a bit stockier than his companion and has a face that looks like it was designed by Abercrombie and Fitch - well that explains the arrogance.

“I’m the person who’s about to save your asses evidently,” you respond with a smug grin, trying not to let their absurdly good looks deter your act.

Abercrombie’s partner, the Fabio wannabe, releases a quiet scoff, “And how are you gonna do that?” he questions dubiously.

“By letting you in on a little secret…” Throwing him a tight smile, you lean forward and lower your voice, “That ōkami you’re after? It’s not an ōkami, it’s a ghoul.” Sitting back, you await the outrage.

“What?! But that’s not possible, I checked the lore. And it’s obviously got a type.” Fabio’s glossy chestnut locks fall across his delicate features as he shakes his head in disbelief, and you almost snort out loud. How did this amateur expect to hunt with hair like that?

You look him over, taking in the broad shoulders and muscled arms, as well as the obvious height advantage he’s got over Abercrombie even whilst they’re both seated. To be honest, you’re surprised he’s referencing lore at all. Guys his size always assume they can either outman or outgun whatever obstacles cross their path, and they almost never take women like you seriously, despite your ample years of acquired knowledge and invaluable experience. It’s this experience that surmises a bit of antagonism here is inevitable, so you might as well get a head start.

“Yeah well maybe you should check again, big guy,” you glance down at his hands, your first mistake as their sheer size render you speechless and subsequently agitated at yourself for the momentary lapse of visceral lust, but the show must go on, “Make sure those giant, lumbering hands of yours don’t fumble over anything important or you might miss the connection to Isabelle Harding. You see it’s not ‘a type’; it’s revenge.”

“Wh- Bu- I looked through the files. I wouldn’t have missed that,” Fabio insists.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you type ‘Isabelle Harding’ and ‘1987 school bombing’ into your search bar and see what comes up?” you gesture towards the laptop on their table with a raised brow. Minutes later, both men are dumbfounded by the revelation on the screen, staring between it and you with their mouths agape.  

You chuckle silently at their faces, “Don’t worry, there’s no need to thank me. Although you rookies might wanna go home and let the more experienced hunter finish up here.” As you’re about to bid them farewell, you dip back in to add, “Oh and a word of free advice, maybe don’t discuss supernatural monsters quite so loudly in public spaces next time. It might invite unwanted attention.”

With that, you turn around and slap some cash down next to your unfinished waffles, before grabbing your jacket and strutting out the door.

Sam is left in utter confusion. The sudden animosity you had spouted his way seems completely baseless and unwarranted. Had he somehow offended you? Sam generally considers himself a highly respectful and fairly easy-going guy, not quite as hot-blooded as his brother, and thus not as likely to provoke such antipathy from a complete stranger. To make matters worse, he certainly can’t deny that something about you had registered within his subconscious as inexplicably attractive, despite the way you’d embarrassed him. In his flustered and slightly aroused state, it had been all he could do to remain awestruck in his seat and stare blatantly at your ass as you walked away.

The next time Sam sees you is only twelve hours later and no less humiliating. You’re mid-swing in the killing blow against what you had accurately predicted to be a ghoul as he and Dean tumble in. Despite the low lighting, Sam is once again stupefied by your raging beauty, augmented by the incredible skill you’re displaying in a much more physical sense this time around. Before he can drag his eyes away, there’s a collective shout of “watch out!” and suddenly you’re right in front of him. In a blur of events, you somehow manage to push Sam out of the way and successfully decapitate the unexpected second ghoul that had been sneaking up behind him, with only a slice across the arm to show for it.

“Didn’t I tell you two to go home?” You’re panting from the exertion and Sam’s gaze lands on the neckline of your shirt, skewed from the fight and revealing a good amount of cleavage. He quickly averts his eyes. What is happening? Sam can’t remember the last time anyone had evoked such a staggering reaction from him. He feels as if he’s a mere spectator in his own body.

Across from him, you press your hand against the wound and curse when it comes back covered in blood. At your groan of pain, Sam finally finds his voice again, “Shit. I’m so sorry! I don’t know how I missed that other one. I- that normally doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s what you say to all the girls, huh?” you reply offhand, still a bit out of breath.

It’s easy for Sam to dismiss your mocking given that he feels terribly guilty for being the cause of your injury. From where he’s standing, the cut looks deep. “Here, at least let me stitch it up for you. It’s too awkward a position for you to do it yourself,” he offers, holding out his ginormous hands to you like he’s waving a white flag.

“I think you’ve done enough damage for one day, haven’t you, big guy? At this point, I’d rather Abercrombie over there be the one behind the needle.”

“Who- what?” are the first words Dean speaks since the action has died down.

You turn to face the shorter guy, “Oh don’t look so surprised. You might as well be the model for a slightly older Ken doll. Are you up for it or not?”

Dean’s mouth hangs open as he tries to determine whether he should feel flattered or insulted.

“Uh- actually, I’m better at stitches than my brother,” Sam butts in.

“With those jumbo, fumbling hands? Yeah, sure you are, big guy,” you decline skeptically.

“It’s Sam,” he states through a clenched jaw.

“OK, Sam. Since I just saved your life, you mind making yourself useful and burning those bodies while your bro puts my arm back together? You know, as a ‘thank you’ perhaps?”

Sam is stunned for the third time that day. No one has ever belittled him (whilst gratuitously attacking his size) insofar without any apparent reason. It seems as though his very existence upsets you and the arbitrariness of your contempt has caused an anger to stir beneath him, but beyond that lies bewilderment and irritation. How had he managed to accomplish two such massive mistakes in front of you in the span of so short a time? Perturbed and bitter, Sam silently sets to work on the bodies.

Meanwhile, you’ve come to a surprising realization as Dean begins to cut the fabric of your flannel away from your damaged arm, the name ‘Sam’ and the words ‘my brother’ resounding in your head, “Wait a second- there’s no way… you’re not… the Winchesters, are you? Sam and… Dean?”

“The one and only, sweetheart.” He sends you a dazzling smile that is as perfect as you’d expect, but within his eyes is an underlying poignancy that you recognize as clear as day: an indication of a traumatic past and a lifetime spent plastering on tough veneers. You notice as well how gentle his touch is and how his stitches are practiced and prudent. Perhaps you had judged him too hastily.

Through an incredulous chuckle, you retort, “Well I can’t say I didn’t expect more from you, but at least this’ll get me a free round of drinks at the hunters’ pub tonight.”

Dean laughs with you before sobering at the thought of how his baby brother must be feeling, “Hey listen, take it easy on Sammy, alright? I don’t know what’s gotten into him today but he’s not usually like this. He’s actually the smart one, believe it or not.”

Scoffing, you can’t help but smile back at Dean and soon find an easy rhythm with the older Winchester, despite your awkward introduction.

From several yards away, however, Sam looks wistfully back to see you smiling lightheartedly at something Dean’s said, the two of you huddled in close proximity as his brother’s hands drift across your bare skin. Something akin to envy bubbles within his chest although he’s aware it makes no sense, so with a frown, Sam does his best to shake it off and get back to work.

But it’s not easy to forget you. And just as Sam is beginning to think he’s rid that awful day from his memory, you pop back into his life three months down the line.

“Well, if it isn’t the overgrown hunter extraordinaire Sammy Winchester.” The sarcasm that oozes from your otherwise beguiling voice has him gritting his teeth in no time.

“It’s Sam.”

“So you here to mess up my hunt again, Sam?”

Although he wishes he could have been the bigger man instead of surrendering to the resentment you roused within him, after a couple repeated hatchet burying attempts fall through, Sam just can’t resist the little game you’ve started.

Over the next few months, you and Dean form a fortuitously close bond and the older Winchester develops a habit of calling you up when faced with a troublesome hunt, and vice versa. Despite Sam’s fabricated displeasure, a show he puts on mostly for Dean (since any other emotion would seem illogical given the way you treat him), Sam is peculiarly and begrudgingly excited to see you every time. But the match never ends. In fact, Sam lets it intensify each time you work together, always astounded by how you manage to get him so worked up.

“I’m telling you, it’s a rugaru!”

“Right, because the last time we listened to you, things worked out so well,” you remark sardonically.

“The lore says-“

“Ooh, quoting the lore again now are we, Mr. Know It All?”

At this point, Sam is about as huffy and puffy as the big bad wolf and if he were a cartoon character, there’d surely be steam erupting from his ears. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about who knows more or who’s right; this is about saving those people’s lives!”

“You think I don’t know that? Was I not the one who saved your life the first time we met?”

“OK, alright, just shut up you two!” Dean finally shouts above you, “Would it kill you to just get along for two seconds?”

“No,” Sam admits.

“Probably,” you say at the same time, causing Sam to shoot you his overly perfected bitch face.

SIX MONTHS LATER

“What the fuck?!” Dean’s booming voice echoes throughout the bunker and moments later you and Sam come flying into the kitchen to answer his call, guns at the ready.

“What? What is it?” you ask while Sam scans the room.

A whimper is the only the way to describe the sound of Dean’s reply, as he points toward an unseen object on the floor. Edging toward him, you lower your gun in the direction of his finger until you discover the source of Dean’s distress.

With a sigh, you look toward Sam who is also exhaling in relief at the sight of the entity in question. The two of you share a moment of wordless conversation before simultaneously dropping your guns with a conclusive nod.

“Why does this feel like déjà vu?” Dean’s tone is still timid and appalled, and you nearly laugh at the idea of a grown-ass man looking so aghast because of a used condom.

“Because it kinda is…” you supply unhelpfully, earning yourself a small glare from the man beside you.

“Dean,” Sam begins with a deep breath, “There’s something we have to tell you… Y/N and I are together.”

The snort that escapes Dean is full-bodied and borderline psychotic, “Yeah, right, and I’m Santa!”

You wait till his snickering subsides, “No, it- it’s true.” Your voice is hesitant yet hopeful, “We’re not joking. We’ve kinda become… a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, well you know, I don’t wanna have to put a label on it or-“

“Y/N’s my girlfriend,” Sam declares with conviction as he reaches out to curl his long fingers around your waist and lasso you towards him.

“-Buuuut, that is the one I’d use if anyone asks,” you quickly affirm with a stiff pat to your boyfriend’s abdomen, wincing at the unversed attempt of PDA and missing the dimpled grin that crosses Sam’s amused features.

“Well, I don’t buy it. I don’t believe either of you.” Dean’s sturgeon face comes on strong as he shakes his head and points a challenging finger at you, “Kiss him, right now,” he dares with perked brows.

The eye roll you respond with is so dramatic your entire head moves with it. But then, without a moment of pause, you turn your body into Sam’s, reach up to grab the back of his neck and pull him down for a searing kiss. Now this is something you’re well-versed in. The reunion of your lips starts off relatively slow, but it doesn’t take long to escalate into something more fiery that involves tongue, the eager push and pull movements of your bodies, and Sam’s enormous hands cradling your head.

After a moment of shock, Dean objects, “Alright, alright, I get it! That’s enough of that!”

Unwilling to recede just yet, you linger in the kiss for a little longer, delaying your separation by nibbling down on Sam’s lower lip and tugging gently, only releasing it as you pull away torturously slow. When the two of you finally open your languid eyes, it’s to stare into each other’s dilated pupils and ponder the moment for an indiscernible minute.

“What th- I said, I get it! Now could please stop ogling each other before my lunch comes back out the wrong way?!”

But the way Sam’s smiling at you is addictive and you can’t bring yourself to look away until he forces a break by leaning in to plant a tender kiss upon your forehead before tucking you into his side as he faces his brother again.

Dean’s face is covered by his hand, “I’m gonna need a minute. I just-“ His features leap through a range of expressions as he tries to find the right words, “When the hell did this start anyway? I thought you two couldn’t stand each other?”

“Yeahhh, that was mostly an act. Although we bought it at first too,” you explain with a shrug.

“We weren’t pretending the whole time. It just kind of happened and we didn’t really know how else to act around each other by then,” Sam adds.

“Right, basically it turns out there’s a fine line between love and hate... and that line is hardcore yearning.” Your words bring a chuckle to Sam’s lips but his brother still looks out of sorts.

Shaking his head with closed eyes, Dean sighs, “Alright, can someone just explain to me exactly how this happened, because I’m still not computing here. But spare me the details and try to keep it PG-13,” he emphasizes with adamant hand gestures.

“How do you know it’s not PG-13?” you inquire with a held-back laugh.

“Ha. With the way you two were playing tonsil hockey just now, I can tell you’ve been around the bend way more than I wanna know. My little brother doesn’t kiss like that on the first date.”

It’s impossible to hold back a giggle at the memory of your ‘first date’ and the way Sam had kissed you, “OK well, that would be hard, considering the story involves a lot of sex... You wanna give it a go, big guy?” you pass the ball over to Sam with a quirked brow and lowered voice, to which he responds with narrowed eyes and pursed lips, a little warning glance that you’re well aware means ‘save it for the bedroom’ but you simply smirk up at him.  

‘Big guy’ used to be a term you called Sam in contempt, but when the feelings between you evolved and a sexual relationship developed, it became an innuendo, such that calling him ‘big guy’ in front of Dean or in public almost always results in glorious sex. In fact, sometimes you believe the nickname has held a slightly obscene connotation for you since the beginning.

Afterall, your carnal longing for him has been present from day one, although at the time you had believed it to be purely physical. Sure, you had dreams about having him in various positions in your bed, but you figured those were merely betrayals of your subconscious mind. That was until one day, a heated argument in a rare moment alone had ended up in a violent make out session, after which the two of you had just barely gotten the last of your clothes back on before Dean walked in. One look at your worked up and frenetic states alongside the disordered condition of your surroundings, and he immediately assumed you’d been fighting again (which wasn’t terribly far from the truth), chortling as he asked if you would have killed each other had he returned a bit later.

With a clearing of his throat, Sam begins to recount the tale, “Uh, well it started in that motel in South Carolina, while you were out getting food…”

“Look, all I’m saying is there is no way he’s using the hospital as a dump site! It’s just not feasible!”

With complete disregard for the peace and quiet of the other residents within this thin-walled motel, you and Sam once again find yourselves in a shouting match.

“Oh right, I forgot! You’re Sam Winchester! How could you POSSIBLY be wrong?! Mister ‘look at me, my IQ and LSAT score match my fucking height! Oh and I also happen to have the physique of an Adonis without even owning a gym membership!’” you roar bitterly, gesticulating with your hands to help better communicate your pent-up indignation.

“Right and you’re Y/N Y/L/N, so how could YOU possibly be wrong? Miss ‘look at me, I never went to college but I’m a genius AND I can kick ass! Oh and I also happen to look effortlessly stunning through it all!’” Sam suddenly seems bigger than ever as he towers over you, that panty-soaking deep voice emanating from his diaphragm and infusing itself throughout the entire room until all you can see, hear, and breathe is Sam.

The fury takes over and you don’t notice your feet taking you closer to him, “Oh yeah because you don’t make EVERYTHING you do look so unnecessarily hot and make me wanna rip your clothes off all the damn time!”

“Fuck! And you don’t always drive me crazy when we have these stupid arguments and your chest starts heaving and you look so insanely delectable I just wanna pick you up and fuck you against the closest surface!” By now, the distance between you is essentially nonexistent and your brain is no longer run by reason.

“So why don’t you then?” are your famous last words, prompting Sam to grab you wildly by the back of a thigh, lifting slightly and driving you to climb up him like a spider monkey fleeing from a grounded predator, while his other hand pushes your hair aside to gain better access to your face. Your mouths clash in a fierce battle and before you know it, Sam’s huge hands are cupping your ass as your legs wrap around his waist and you rut into him, hands flying from his shoulders to his hair. Those divine chestnut locks that you’ve always dreamed of running your fingers through. They’re somehow even softer than you imagined and the revelation, in conjunction with the way Sam’s tongue is becoming increasingly aggressive causes a fresh surge of libidinous energy to rocket through you. As a result, you give his silky strands an irresistible tug and drink in the moan he makes, the sinful sound reverberating straight down to your core as you clench around nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Sam groans as he grudgingly forces himself to pull back as much as he can, “Are you sure? Is this what you want? Cause I can’t- Y/N I won’t be able to stop myself if we keep going.” His eyes squeeze shut as if the notion of stopping or the act of keeping his lips away from yours is causing him genuine pain, and the entire gesture moves you.

“Fuck, you really are the opposite of everything I thought you would be,” you make a quick mental note to apologize later for your initially presumptuous behavior although you can’t find it within yourself to feel any remorse right now, “Yes, please Sam, fuck me. I want you so bad… I think I have since we met and I saw those gorgeous hands of yours,” you confess, biting your lip lightly.

Sam breathes out a low incredulous laugh, “What, these?” he asks, removing one of the aforementioned hands away from your butt to bring it into your line of vision.

“Yes, fuck they’re so big and beautiful and strong and-“

“Alright, I don’t need to know about your weird hand fetish!” Dean hollers abruptly, rubbing his fingers across his eyes as if he could somehow erase the image of you and his brother together out of his retinas. “OK, but that was like… four months ago. You mean you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?”

“Well at first we didn’t want to tell you because we weren’t even sure what it was ourselves,” you divulge.

“Yeah, we didn’t want to try to explain something that we didn’t understand yet,” Sam supplements, hoping his brother will understand the motive behind your secrecy.

You nod along, “But then… it got a little harder to hide.”

The apprehension behind Dean’s emerald eyes is unmistakable as he reluctantly inquires, “That’s why this felt like déjà vu?”

It’s with a grimace that you reply, hesitantly, “Remember the time you found those panties in the backseat of the Impala?”

Dean’s eyes grow comically wide and Sam ducks his head in preparation of what’s to come.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that…”

The click of her heels against the porcelain-tiled foyer irritates you as the three of you stride through her front door. You’re posing as detectives sent to question this overdressed young woman about her late husband, but the moment she lays her eyes on Sam, you reckon she’s forgotten her beloved’s damn name.

“Oh my… lord and savior. Well aren’t you a tall drink of water?” she beholds breathlessly with a seductive bite of her painted ruby lips.

You cough loudly and Dean sniggers, thinking you’re annoyed about Sam getting such commendation and attention during a serious case.

“I know this might be the grief talking, but I would climb you like a tree,” she purrs, sauntering up to Sam with an exaggerated sway of her hips. With her half-lidded doe eyes adorned with dark, fluttery lashes and low, sultry voice, you have to admit she’s quite attractive.

Grinding your teeth as your nails dig into your palms, you glower at the woman unreservedly. She, however, takes no notice, running her hands along Sam’s forearms before gripping at his bicep to lead him toward her living room. “Please, come have a seat, detective. You can ask me whatever you want.” The wink she appends is somehow the final nail in the coffin.

It’s with zero hesitation that you feign the reception of a notification on your phone before declaring, “Oh would you look at that, the uh… Sheriff needs us back at the station, Sam. He says it’s urgent.” You try to keep your tone even, thankful that you all maintained your real first names for these aliases, “Dean, you’re good to conduct this interview on your own, right?” Without waiting for an answer, you trample over to snatch Sam’s other arm and ignoring the horny widow’s gaping mouth, proceed to haul him away.

Dean sends you a strange look but relents, “Uh, yeah I guess, OK.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, your hand shifts down to lace your fingers with Sam’s, marching him towards the Impala with a staunch and mighty purpose. Even Sam’s elongated legs stumble to keep up.

“So uh… when did you give the Sheriff your number?” There’s an edge in his voice that normally disappears when it’s just the two of you.

“Wha- I didn’t. Sam, I just made all that up,” you tell him as you reach the car and open its back door. Pushing Sam inside, you climb in swiftly after him, wasting no time as you straddle his thighs and begin to undress him, only pausing when he looks up at you in adorable, puppy-like confusion.

“Wait, what? Then what are we doing?”

That’s when it finally dawns on you, “Hold on a sec, were you… jealous?” You can’t help but smile, finding it amusing that he’s stewing in his own envy after what you just witnessed.

“No, I just- He was kinda all over you this morning.”

“You mean like the way Mrs. My-Husband-Just-Died-But-I-Wanna-Climb-You-Like-a-Tree was in there?”

“Oh, that’s what this is about?” Sam perks up, the hint of a smug grin ghosting across his lips.

“She was practically holding your hand!”

“That’s what bothered you the most?” He dips his head to catch your eyes and those variegated irises burn into you with an intense, questioning gaze, alight with mischievous curiosity.

“They’re my hands to hold,” you contend with a pout, subconsciously clenching your thighs around his as you seize one of his large hands with two of your much smaller ones, “Just like you’re my tree to climb.”

Sam’s head falls back in bright laughter, “I thought you said they were ‘oversized’ and ‘ungainly’?” he teases, quoting your previous slights.

“You know I only said that cause Dean was there.”

“I’m pretty sure you called them ‘fumbly’ and ‘lumbering’ the first time we met.”

Staring at his fingers as you play with them, you shiver at the memory of how they feel all over you. “That was cause I used to think all hunters with a Y chromosome were cocky, misogynistic assholes who needed to be knocked down a peg or two.”

“But I proved you wrong, right?”

“Fuck yes you did. So, so wrong. And now you’re mine, and I don’t like seeing other people touch what’s mine,” you growl before returning to your earlier task of removing his clothes, pouncing on him when your fingers finally land on bare skin. You kiss him fiercely, swallowing his surprised grunts with glee, and as his hands start travelling from your hips up to your back, holding you tight against him, your lips move down to his pulse point, sucking, licking, and nibbling, “Mine.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ on a cracker! You goddamn rabbits!” Dean squawks in protest as he begins to pace the floor, “Have you no decency?! And in my poor Baby! While I was busy doing all the work, saving lives!”

You roll your eyes at his melodramatics and can feel the tension in Sam’s abdominal muscles as he attempts to restrain his laughter. As if Dean had never taken a break during a case for a stress-relieving quickie before, or hadn’t been at least somewhat grateful to be left alone with a beautiful woman.

His next comment confirms your point, “Although, if I remember correctly that lady was a fox.” After a brief pondering pause and an introspectively appreciative smirk, Dean’s whining resumes, “But seriously! I can’t believe you two! Here I was feeling bad for forcing you to work and live together, hoping you’d eventually learn to get along when this whole time you were shacking up like animals and casually defiling my Baby just because what? Some girl touched Sam’s hand?!”

Feeling emboldened by the catharsis of this long-overdue airing of your dirty laundry, you decide to add to Dean’s exasperation, “Yeah and in the spirit of honesty, that might’ve happened more than once.” Sam tries to hold back his snort as he gives your hip a playful cautionary squeeze while Dean’s feet come to a full stop as he turns to give you a death glare. “Hey, it’s not my fault all the pretty girls like Samuel! And I’m pretty sure we wiped her down after.”

“I don’t even-“ Dean purses his lips and quirks his head with a dynamic expression of unbearable vexation, “You better be getting me pie every day of the week for what you did.“ He takes a deep breath before circling back, “Wait, OK so you’re telling me that a used condom ended up in our kitchen because- what? You two couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to find a bed? You know what, forget I asked. I don’t wanna know. Did you at least sanitize the place after?? No, of course you didn’t, you left a fucking condom on the floor… I think I’m gonna throw up.”

But you hardly hear Dean’s rambling because you and Sam are far too wrapped up in each other, smiling as you recall the events of that morning.

Your eyes slowly drift open to find the most exalting sight in all the world: Sam Winchester’s sleeping face, blissful and serene. Lifting a hand to gingerly cup his cheek, the corners of your mouth curl up when he leans into your touch. It’s moments like this that make you wish you could wake up next to him every morning.

Only after you’ve traced his every feature and planted a soft kiss where his dimple would be if he were awake and smiling, do you carefully peel yourself from his side, slipping out of his hold as you quietly climb out of bed. Sam rolls over a bit and you freeze with bated breath, watching as his big arm extends out in your direction as if trying to reach for you in his sleep, before stilling again.

Mornings like this are rare and you want him to soak up all the restful sleep he can. Once you’re sure you haven’t woken him, you scan the room for something to cover your naked figure, until your eyes land on the flannel he’d worn the night before. Picking it up, you bring it to your nose and inhale deeply to revel in the residual scent of Sam. Another glimpse at his peaceful, sleeping form has you smiling fondly. God, you are such a goner for that man. It’s becoming hard to reserve your soft looks toward him for private moments alone.

You can barely remember how it happened, but over time, you’d come to learn that Sam is nothing like you originally imagined him to be. He’s kind-hearted and open-minded, the type of soul that can find hope and beauty in even the darkest of places, a far cry from the shallow macho man silhouette you’d expected him to fill. In fact, Sam routinely defies the expectations others have enforced upon him, proving his worth time and time again as he’s persisted through some of what must be the toughest challenges to ever face a single human. Yet through it all, his spirit remains intact, never once yielding to cynicism or resentment or apathy or even the building of walls as you and Dean have resorted to. He is truly the bravest man you know and infinitely more competent than your first fluke of a hunt with him had mistakenly suggested, both in the field and in bed.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you wrap yourself in plaid and head out the door. Dean never questions your use of Sam’s shirts because ever since Sam firmly insisted on giving you his flannel after your second encounter with them resulted in Dean cutting your own top apart, you’ve grown into a habit of borrowing Sam’s clothes. You always claim they’re more comfortable than your own and Sam’s feigned annoyance over you ‘stealing’ his belongings tides Dean right over.

Half an hour passes before Sam approaches the bunker kitchen to find you with your back towards the entrance, busy prepping breakfast in nothing but his plaid. He pauses in the doorway to stare at you for a minute, licking his lips with an irrepressible smile. For some, this may seem like a stereotypical morning after, but for a couple of hunters, it feels like a dream come true.

After finally returning to the bunker last night following the completion of a series of successful hunts, you’ve got no solid obligations and very little on your to-do lists today, although Sam’s got more than a few ideas about how to pass the time, and a couple more come to mind when you stretch up on your toes to reach for something, causing the hem of his shirt to glide up until its corner reveals just slightest hint of your incredible ass. Sam can’t suppress his little grunt of approval, which catches your attention and makes you turn your head, peering back at him over your shoulder.

You smirk at the blessed view of him standing there in nothing but the pair of thin grey sweatpants you’d bought him a month ago when you discovered the viral online phenomenon, “Hey, big guy. You just gonna stand there and gawk or do you wanna make yourself useful and grab another plate from the top shelf?”

Chuckling at your false animosity, Sam stalks toward you, “Good morning to you too.” One of his vast hands falls upon your hip as he presses the maximum possible length of his body into your back side, while his other hand reaches up over your head to snatch the plate you’d asked for.

“Good morning indeed,” you concur with a silent gasp when you feel the generous bulge in his pants.

“Oh that’s not morning, baby girl,” Sam husks into your ear, “That’s all you.” His powerful arms slink around you and his lips find their way down the side of your neck, lingering in that tender spot just behind your ear whilst you tilt your head and close your eyes, contentedly surrendering yourself to the moment. “I ever tell you how good you look in my shirts?”

Wiggling your butt back to tease him a bit, you’re pleased with the hiss it elicits. “No, but you made it very clear how bad I look in Dean’s,” you counter playfully.

The man behind you scoffs, “I didn’t say you looked bad; you could never look bad. I just… don’t like seeing you wear his clothes.”

“Oh, I know,” you turn around in his arms, “I just don’t understand how Dean doesn’t know yet. I mean, I think you’ve been very obvious.”

“And you haven’t?”

“I’m not the one who leaves hickeys in very visible places all over your body!”

Sam’s eyes glaze over in lust, an idea clearly forming in his head as he glances down at you. “Dean’s a hot-blooded guy; he needs to know you’re off-limits,” he alleges before attacking your throat with his mouth.

“So why don’t we just tell him?”

Without pausing his efforts, Sam reminds you, “Because you said you thought it was kinda hot, all the sneaking around. Mmpf, and because you said you wanted to see how long it would take him to figure it out.”

You nod while running your fingers through his silken strands and leaning back to give him more purchase, “That’s true. But in my defence, we always have this conversation when we’re doing stuff like this and I can’t think straight when your hands and mouth are on me.”

“Kinda like how I can’t think straight when you’re wearing nothing but my shirt?” His kisses travel down from your neck to your collarbone and shoulder as he slides his loosely buttoned flannel off to one side, “Fuck, you’ve got me so hard.”

Without warning, Sam seizes your waist and hoists you into the air as if gravity were an absolute joke, before plopping you down on the edge of the steel counter, his thumbs digging lightly into your ribcage.

“Sam! This is where we eat!” you protest with a laugh.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m gonna devour you here.” He dives back into your neck, continuing his work on a little pink mark that’s already beginning to form.

“Oh fuck… Wait, what if Dean walks in?” It’s through a great struggle that you manage to push him back an inch.

“He’s got a date with the Impala. He’ll be in the garage all day, trust me.” Sam’s gaze sweeps over your body suggestively, “Now are you gonna let me taste what’s mine?”

With an equally lewd survey of his extensive frame, you reply, “As long as you let me impale myself on what’s mine later.”

His eyes darken and the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only person he’s ever wanted ignites a confidence within you, so in a rather swift motion, you grasp him by the shaft through his sweatpants – the delicious groan he emits at your touch is enough to turn your pussy into a slip and slide – and pull him back towards you until the clothed length of him is resting against your folds and your noses brush, while his hands settle naturally on your thighs.

Shivering, your breath stutters and for an instant you can do nothing but bask in the closeness of him. Sam seems to enjoy it too because he closes his eyes as he rests his forehead against yours with an elated sigh. For the second time today, you marvel at his beauty, whispering a string of gasping kisses along his lower eye socket and exquisite cheekbone, simply dying to breathe him in. All of him is so immaculate and sublime. Each time the two of you reconvene, you want to savor every fucking inch of him, but there are a lot of inches, so the task often overwhelms you. Still, you must try. Locking your ankles behind him, you use your legs to pull him even further into you and the friction makes you lose your mind.

“Fuck, baby girl, you keep that up I’ll be making a mess in my pants,” Sam grunts with his lips upon your cheek.

Your breathless laughter fills the air, thinking of the stain you've undoubtedly already left on his charming grey sweatpants. Nimble as he is, Sam takes advantage of your open mouth and plunges his tongue inside. After so much preamble, the kiss is heavy and full of need. When the pressure of his lips pushes your head back, your hands fly to his wrists for the sake of your balance.

From there, they journey upward across his vascular forearms to his bulging triceps, fondling his massive shoulders before sliding along his traps and up the gorgeous length of his perfect neck, until you finally reach the treasure trove of his impeccable locks. You tangle your fingers into the lush mane and yank, gently but zealously, making Sam growl into your mouth. His voice is the hottest thing you’ve ever heard and the sounds he makes always drive you insane.

Never breaking the kiss, Sam’s colossal moose paws roam up to your back as he slowly lays you down on the counter, his member somehow still notched at your entrance and the new angle rousing a quiet moan from you. When he ultimately pulls away, you pitch forward to chase after his lips, but Sam only grants you a devilish grin and a quick peck to the corner of your mouth before moving down to your jaw and neck. While one palm kneads at your breast through his shirt, the other begins pushing and pulling at fabric to uncover more of your skin for his wandering lips.

“Sam! Augh!” you cry out as your head falls back.

“I got you, baby. I’m all yours. Gonna make you feel so good.” As if to attest his words, he rolls his hips into yours and a needy whimper escapes you. With your fingers still twisted in his hair, Sam leaves no part of you untouched as his mouth travels down your body. But upon reaching your navel, he pauses, those vivid, color-changing eyes peeping up at you to check for any signs of discomfort or objection. Finding none, his thick tongue pokes out to lick a deliriously winding path from your belly button to your exposed clit. Then, pushing down tenderly on the insides of your knees to open you up to him, Sam directs you one last look that is both hungry and reverent, “I still can’t believe this is mine.”

Dean had stopped you halfway through your recollection, but it appears that was still too much for him, “What did I do to deserve this?! I feel like I need to go bathe in holy water for a week.”

You and Sam both open your mouths to respond but Dean cuts you off vehemently, “Ba-da-da-da!” His vocalized outcry is complete with animated gestures featuring an accusing index finger. “OK, before you two tell me another traumatizing story, that’s enough of the who, what, when, where, and how… I just need to know why. I mean, is this- are you- …?”

Sensing the protective wheels turning in his head, you decide to put Dean out his misery, “I’m not just with Sam because he’s an incredible lay if that’s what you’re wondering. We can skip the fatherly ‘what are your intentions’ talk. Yes, Dean, I am in love with your little brother… although ‘little’ is not exactly the word I’d use to describe him.”

“Sammy, could you please control your woman?”

“My woman?” Sam sounds mostly amused but you’re almost certain you can hear a hint of pride in his voice.

“Yeah, I admit I’m surprised I didn’t see it until now. You two are kinda oddly perfect for each other, you know, in a weird, kinky way.”

“To be honest, we’re pretty surprised too. I mean, he doesn’t look it but this guy is kind of territorial,” you quip whilst cocking a thumb in Sam’s direction.

“I don’t need to- Wait a minute, so all those bruises you told me were from hunts?” Dean’s eyebrows soar towards his hairline.

Chewing on your lip, you confirm his hypothesis with a miniscule nod.

“Yeah well that time you saw my back,” Sam chimes in vengefully, casting you a handsome grin full of mischief as he reveals, “that wasn’t a werewolf, that was Y/N.”

With eyes as round as dinner plates, Dean frantically shuts you both down, “OK, that’s it. Torture Dean time is over. I don’t wanna hear any more about your depraved sex lives! Look, I guess I’m happy for you guys, although mostly cause I don’t have to play referee anymore, but I’m gonna need you to follow some ground rules around here. Like rule number one! No sex in public places!” he starts counting with his fingers, “Always put a sock on it when you’re busy! And most importantly, no sex in Baby!”

Your laughter follows Dean as he wearily saunters out of the kitchen, an exhausted expression on his face. Turning to your newly outed boyfriend, you petition excitedly, “Does this mean we can have shower sex now?”

“Not while I’m around!” comes Dean’s snappy answer.

In contrast, Sam gives you the same look he did on that dreamy morning, “Oh trust me baby girl, I’m gonna get you wet somehow.”

“Still within hearing distance! I think I liked it better when you guys were at each other’s throats.”

As you’re giggling, Sam leans down to whisper in your ear, “For the record, I’m in love with you too.” And just like that, you’re tempted to re-enact your previous kitchen escapades.

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @carryonmywaywardbucky​ @swiftlymoniquesblog​ @moosewinchester​ @sams-sass​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​ @writingforthelonelysoul​ @turtletaylor98​ @lyarr24​ @deanwanddamons​ @peridottea91​ @tvdspngirl314​

TEAM MOOSE: @paulaern​

if you’d like to be added (or removed) please let me know!

[anarchiststories]

𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐮𝐩.

c!awesamdude x reader

summary: sam was always at work and never even showed you emotiions, even in private. you get mad and argue with him. wordcount: 953 notes: i miss sam when he wasnt an asshole of a warden :(

masterlist

Sam was such a gentle and sweet man. He never raise a hand to you, and treated the ground you walked on like it was blessed by the gods.

He was such a gentle partner, too, especially with him being 7’4” and a hybrid of one of the scariest mobs in the land. Being with him for as long as you had been, you learned to differentiate his different hisses. Lower, more guttural hisses were intimidating and full of anger, while higher, more airy hisses were happy and living.

He would hold you as carefully as he could during the nighttime, as if the wrong touch would cause you to disappear into the night. Sam treated you as if you were tempered glass and any wronged breath would destroy your beauty. You were his beauty, and he was your beast.

Recently, though, you longed for you beast immensely. With Dream in the prison, making open-mouthed threats about using his favor with Technoblade, or jumping into the lava or bashing his skull against the obsidian walls, Sam had to stay overtime just to make sure the prisoner didn’t do what he claimed. It was draining for the both of you – for your relationship! – and it was wearing you down physically and mentally.

The front door clicked shut, sparking your attention. You sat up, calling out the only name you could logically think. “Sammy?” Silence followed, causing worry to bubble inside of you. You scrambled out of bed, peeking around every corner just as he had taught you. It was silent asides the soft pitter-patter of your cat, Azalea, who you sore was attached at Sams hip.

“Sam?”

With another cautious call, you made your way down the staircase. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest to the point where you were convinced whoever was in the house could hear it. Azaleas white face popped into your line of sight, mewling softly as she strutted away. She let out a noise that only came to be when your lover was around.

Peering around the corner, you let out a breath that you’d been holding in as you watched Sam stare at the cat he’d loved for so long as if it was a stray that came up to him, begging for food.

A frown detailed your cheeks as you walked up to him, reaching a hand out to place on his shoulder. He felt… cold. The creeper-hybrid stared at your hand with a blank face before brushing it off, removing his mask. He set it on the table before continuing to do whatever he was doing.

You frowned, trying to catch his attention and have at least a brief conversation with him. You hadn’t seen him in your home for the past few weeks, and even when you did he would ignore you or act like you weren’t his lover.

“Sam, please, talk to me. Please, I miss you so much, it’s been so long since you’ve last been home! Sit down with Azalea and I, let’s watch a movie, or read a book, or talk, or whatever! Anything! I’ll even listen to you explain how you set up the redstone, just anything!”

You cried out, arms wide and expressive as you tried to convince him to show you he still cared.

“Please, Sammy, I- I haven’t even heard you say hello to me in months! You haven’t said I love you within the past two months. Do you, Sam? Do you love me still?”

You yelled, tears beginning to race down your cheeks. Sam just stood there with an expressionless face. The only thing ht reminded you of in this moment was that of an iron golem, but even they had more emotion then Sam did. He seemed so… empty, like the Sam you’d grown to love had been ripped out and just replaced.

“Please…” You sobbed, dropping to your knees as you clenched at your chest. “Please… just say something…” Your heart ached for your lover, to hear him give you validation that he cared for you.

“I…”

Your head shot up, eyes wide and puffy. He stared down at you, shuffling backwards awkwardly. Sams ears twitched, mouth gaping open as he tried to explain himself. He stuttered, one of his hands coming through his hair as if trying to make sure that he was still himself.

“Y/n- please, let me- let me explain, please- lovebird-“

“No, you’ve had time to explain, Sam! So much time! This- this is your last chance! I’m sorry Sam, but…”

Your chest heaved, Sam now getting a chance to see how much his actions had affected you. You were tired, your eyes were drained and your skin had paled form its normal complexion. His heart hurt; he did this to you. The hybrid stared as you stood up, dusting off your knees as you sniffled. “Hey, Sam?”

He let out a noise you couldn’t distinguish or name, as if he was trying to convince you to stay with him. To stay and help him make your relationship work.

“Take care of Azalea for me.” You gave him a somber smile, one that was obviously forced but meant genuinely. “I love you, Awesamdude. Keep yourself alive – who knows, maybe one day we can make us work.”

Sam watched as you walked out of the home he’d built for the two of you. You didn’t take anything, either – no clothes, no bags, no memoirs, nothing. You just slipped on your shoes and walked out, waving goodbye to Sams loving cat.

He fell to his knees, arms dropping to his sides. The stories were true.

The beast always drives away the beauty right when time’s up.

© anarchiststories 2021. do not copy, steal, or translate my works, under any circumstances.

[blorbosondeck]

fic rec masterlist

canon divergent/finale fix its

Anamnesis

THIS! FIC! this fic lives in my head rent FREE it is so good and it makes so much sense in the narrative that the shitty finale concocted, as to why they wouldn't mention cas or anyone else and its just. so good and they write chuck in the most villainous way that i love!!!

"Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be. Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19."

Sunset Sound: Stairway to Heaven by @adhdeancas

GOD FUCKING CHRIST this is so good and sweet and im such a sucker for team ups and reunions!!! its 3:30 am rn and i just finished it and i love it SO much it made me laugh a lot and the last few chapters i had the stupidest grin just plastered to my face

The Closer the Star, the Greater the Parallax by @rocksalts​

repressed bastard dean submits to the mortifying ordeal of being known and receives the rewards of being loved but only after some miscommunication i LOVE this i read it last night and it’s a fast favorite. my interests have overlapped and i am INTO it

“When Dean sits down to watch some bullcrap Discovery Channel episode with Cas, he doesn’t expect to actually learn anything. Except, with Cas explaining, he makes an effort to connect the dots.”

Don't We All Deserve To Be Happy?

VERY sweet and a VERY good pick me up. all around feel good fic!!! 

"Post-canon fix-it, divergent from 15x19 where Jack stays and Dean doesn't die and Cas comes back and everyone is happy. Take a shot every time I'm salty about the finale."

Keep Your Love Alive

okay. okay okay okay this may be my favorite finale fix it just because of how well reasoned it is. like this feels what should have happened i love it SO much

"Dean gets to spend eternity sharing beers with Bobby on the Roadhouse porch and riding around in his Baby with Sam. He’s at peace… or he feels like he should be. But a few things nag at him: Where is Cas, and everybody else Dean had been hoping to see in Heaven? Why does he feel like he’s stuck in a loop, reliving the same memories over and over again? And who are the strangers wearing Sam’s and Bobby’s faces?"

The GoldenRod Revisions by @aethylas​

this is one of the most well written things ive ever read. the script format DID make it feel more real and honestly? this is better writing than this show deserves. the finale that could have been ♥️

“A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.“

Ascend by @wanderingcas​ 

THEE finale fix it fic!!! written by the AMAZINGLY skilled and talented @wanderingcas !!! it’s 50k of angst and hurt/comfort and pure bliss

“Something in the world is wrong.

Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.

But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?”

Things Happen (They Do, And They Do, And They Do) by THEE @sobsicles

i KNOW everyone has already recommended this and likely you’ve all already read it. but it has to go here bc REPRESSIOOOOOOOOON i LOVE this so much it is one of the most perfect things i’ve read. are you bisexual? did you have a kind of weird relationship with your best friend and not realize that how you felt about them wasn’t necessarily how other people felt about them and you were maybe a little bit in love with them but were too repressed to realize it? you’ll feel seen. maybe a little too seen

Closer (isn't close enough)

are you a sweet and sappy yet horny bastard? do you like cas exploding light bulbs? you will like this.

“the one where they finally talk about what cas said before the empty took him”

You and Your Husband

it is exTRMELY sweet!!! repression dean strikes again <3

"Five times Dean corrects someone about his relationship with Cas, and one time he realizes he doesn't need to."

Tall Grass

miscommunication and a slowburn! despite being written in 2017 and finished in 2018, it feels like a fix it. ft. plant obsessed cas <3 

Invictus

a LOVELY and short (relatively) finale fix it

“They saved the world. They're free. It's done.

Except it's not, and carrying on is the last thing any of them are thinking about.

They still have someone they need to save.”

Unchained Link

post finale- it’s a great case fic and i am compelled i want more!!!

"It's after the end of things. Life continues on while Dean is "livin it up" in heaven. But it's never that simple, is it? A freak occurrence sends Dean into another time stranded back on Earth. And he thought his hunting days were over. But, no worries. His knight in shining armor comes to the rescue. Hijinks, therefore, ensue."

fun and time unspecified

Ladies and Gentlemen, This is Love Potion No. 5

very funny and sweet! miscommunication at its finest ♥️

"Cas gets drenched with a mystery potion from the ‘love spell’ shelf and... Dean has a sneaking suspicion, angel or no— the spell may have taken effect. And Cas might be in love with Sam."

The Way We Were

Y'all. It is so good its a great mix of funny and serious- extremely fun to see dean as like a base bisexual

"Dean and Castiel pose as a couple to gain access to a gated community known as 'The Glen', a pleasant if secretive location that the boys believe might be linked to several dead bodies showing up over the years bearing signs of ritualistic sacrifice. All seems well until Dean's memory is affected from an incident during a solo exploration, leaving Dean convinced that their cover story is true. Castiel is left trying to resolve their case without taking advantage of an increasingly enthusiastic Dean"

While You Were Sleeping

this is basically just the movie but replacing sandra bullock with cas. this is my comfort movie and imo, one of the most perfect rom coms. the fic isn’t finished but i still have the tab open on my phone and i will straight up go back and re read it when i need a pick me up. 

aus/rewrites

The Harvelle Gospels: Offscript

i know everyone ever ( @jewishcharliebradbury ) has recommended this fic. and for good reason go fucking read it

“The Apocalypse is averted, the angels are in Heaven, and Jo is free from the threat of possession. Somehow it couldn't be farther from a happy ending.“

absolute riots

An Ineffably Profound Bond

i honestly would have put this in the finale fix it section! look. i know. i know you've been burned by crossover fics before. but this is Thee good omens/spn fic you want. its funny as hell and immensely satisfying. im weak for everyone working together tropes and that is this

"After Chuck sets 'The End' in motion, the remaining members of TFW make a miraculous escape. Not willing to waste any time, Castiel comes up with a plan to travel to one of the other worlds to try and get help from the angels there, but after a fight with Dean, it's the hunter who gets sent into an alternate universe,with seemingly no hope of return.

When a mysterious human with a heavenly weapon shows up in Aziraphale's shop, he and Crowley learn that their world is not the only one. Now it is up to them to decide whether or not they want to join forces with the human and help him save his world or simply find a way to send him home."

Somebody Up There Likes Me by @lafilleredige

cas is hit with a spell that turns his vessel into a woman, hijinks and sexuality crises ensue etc etc sam is a supportive and bitchy little brother and its all SO fucking funny and also. horny as hell i love it i love it i LOVE it

“’Dean doesn’t want to talk about your breasts, it’s making him uncomfortable because he hasn’t acknowledged the complex fluidity of human sexuality.’“

Stray Cat Strut

a long crack fic that IS one of the funniest things i’ve ever read and i can’t explain why. it’s so ooc but its so funny that i don’t care. if you need a laugh you gotta read this

"Sam and Cas are immediately in love with the adorable kitty they find outside the bunker door, and occupy their time planning how to convince Dean--who they believe is off sulking after a botched hunt--to let them keep their cat. Along the way, Dean learns to use a litter box and hears some confessions he maybe wasn’t supposed to hear, all while realizing just how much he loves Castiel.

Now all Dean has to do is convince Cas and Sam their new pet cat is actually him before they do something crazy--like neuter him!"

canon compliant or slight canon divergence

Give

by @doublestuffedimpala post season 7 episode 7, kind of ambiguous ending but truly a cas is happy to bleed for the winchesters fic

Punch Like Bones 

short, post 5x04 homoerotic moment that i wish we’d gotten

[carelessannie]

the five times steve gives bad dating advice, and the one time it actually works

Or, the Starker Shifter and College AU no one asked for

Link to AO3 Main pairings: Tony x Peter, (background) Steve x Bucky Word count: 5.6k Major Warnings: smut (not shifted), everyone’s a complete idiot, discussion of canine and feline mating behavior, excessive cursing Aaaaannnnnddddd I’ll tag @the-mad-starker because I said I would and I really hope you enjoy it bb

---

The door slams, startling Steve out of his afternoon nap. Peter must be home. He’s pretty sure Sam said he was gonna be out until the evening, and the stomping, slamming of cabinets, and various clanging dishware are usual signs of Peter’s afternoon fury.

Steve shakes out his coat, rolling his eyes as he stretches in the sun— his roommate is a damn idiot.

He doesn’t even bother shifting as Peter storms in the room, throwing his backpack to the ground and perching on the nearby armchair. He’s learned by now that when Peter wants to talk, Steve doesn’t need to speak. In fact, his friend probably prefers it that way.

So instead, he lets Peter brew, slamming his fingers onto the keys on his laptop, and viciously eating apple slices and… nutella. Oh. One of those days.

They only bring the nutella out on bad days.

Steve throws him a bone— metaphorically— and opens an eye, making an inquisitive noise deep in his throat.

Peter looks up, his delicate features squished together in an angry pout.

“First of all, your boyfriend’s an idiot.”

Offended, Steve bares his teeth and squints his eyes, sending Peter a menacing snarl that the smaller man waves off. His boyfriend is an idiot, but Peter has no business noticing that.

“I’m right and you know it,” Peter sniffs, turning his nose and inspecting his nails, “and his roommate is the absolute worst. And I’m not talking about Clint.”

There it is. Steve chuffs, feigning indifference. If he waits long enough, Peter will tell him more. So he lounges back, keeping one eye open, and letting the sun warm his fur. As he watches, he sees the moment Peter gives up his act. He jumps off the chair, making his way into Steve’s sunbeam, and slowly curls up next to the larger wolf.

“I’ve never met another cat so absolutely infuriating, Steve,” Peter whispers, petting through Steve’s golden fur, distractedly, “I can’t stand it. Always purring at me and calling me fucking kitten— no sir! I’m not a kitten, and it doesn’t matter how… how…”

He trails off, gripping tight onto Steve’s coat. When Steve turns to look, he realizes Peter’s tiny fangs have lengthened, poking through his rosy lips, as he runs his tongue over them absentmindedly. If he looks close enough, he can even see where Peter’s small, shifted ears are pushing through his curls.

Peter mumbles something that even Steve’s enhanced hearing can’t pick up. He nuzzles under Peter’s arm, urging him to repeat it.

“It doesn’t matter...” Peter murmurs, “... how beautiful he is, right?”

Steve’s ears perk up.

“Don’t act so surprised. Bucky told me you guys talk about it all the time. I just… I didn’t see it, okay? Not until today. Not until Tony fucking brought me coffee. I had no idea he was so sweet, Steve. I guess I always thought he was a dumb male cat shifter, like the stereotypes paint us out to be. But… he’s not. He’s so kind and funny and sexy, and oh my god, I bet his shifted cat is absolutely gorgeous.”

Steve rolls over to let Peter pet his tummy as he continues, “So naturally, I cornered Bucky to get him to spill. To tell me more about Tony, and how to date him, and… and… how you guys got together. But he said to come talk to you—” Peter crawls closer and tries to look him in the eye, “pleeeeeease, Steve? Help me?”

With a sigh, Steve sits up, shaking out his fur and letting his wolf recede, until he’s stretching out long arms and wiggling his fingers. His gym shorts are nearby, so he slips back into them, doing a customary once over to check for a full shift. Then he settles against the couch, opening his arms in an invitation for Peter to curl up on him.

Peter scoots closer, marginally, and Steve chuckles, “Want some dating advice, Pete?”

“Mhm, yes please,” Peter hums, closing the distance and leaning into Steve’s leg.

“Okay, I’ll tell you some things that worked for me, when I was courting Bucky.”

One.

Later that evening, Tony and Steve are set up in the dining room, comparing notes for their Econ class, and steadily working through their midterm project. Bucky and Peter should be back in a moment with pizza, and hopefully the four of them, plus Sam, will spend the night watching movies. It’s Friday, after all.

Steve hears the front door open and close, quiet conversation drifting down the hallway, but is surprised when just Bucky walks into the kitchen, setting down pizza and making his way over to where the two of them are seated.

Bucky leans down, planting a sweet kiss on his lips, before claiming a seat.

He opens his mouth to ask, but Tony beats him to it, not even looking up, “Where’d Pete get off to? You didn’t lose him, did you?”

Bucky just huffs, “No, you moron. He had to grab something from his room.”

Tony just shrugs, turning back to his notes. Steve spares Bucky a glance, curious about what Peter could be up to, and Bucky gives him a wink. Great.

It’s quiet as the three of them shift pages, typing gently on their laptops, and only exchanging conversation when there’s an issue with the material. Steve gets up once to grab a glass of water, and tries to look down the hallway— no sign of his roommate whatsoever.

With the smell of pizza filling the apartment, they decide not to wait any longer to eat. Steve hollers down the hall for Peter to come get some dinner, but still, his roommate is nowhere to be seen.

As he sits back down at the table, Steve can hear light footsteps coming towards them. He turns his attention back to their homework, and watches as Tony and Bucky pass out glasses, uncorking a bottle of wine.

“How fuckin’ fancy are we?” Steve wonders, giving Bucky a smirk as Tony starts to pour.

“Okay, there’s nothing wrong with a nice bottle of—” “YEEEEOOOOOWWWWWLLLL—”

Tony drops the bottle, flipping backwards out of his seat at the ungodly screech. Steve hops over into Bucky’s lap, picking his feet off the floor as his boyfriend flounders around, cursing and gasping for air.

“Holy shit, what the hell—”

“ReeeRRROOOOWWWWLLL—”

The noise continues, splitting through the air, and Steve watches Tony shift down, fangs lengthening, ears and whiskers emerging, as he drops to four legs. From where they sit on the dining room chair, neither of them can see what happens as the noise suddenly stops, a long, hissing growl taking its place.

Steve peeks under the table, and sees both cat shifters arched up, fur fluffed out in a clear challenge, teeth bared and hissing. Dammit. Peter’s cat— a yellow tabby— is slowly backing up as Tony’s cat— dark and tortoiseshell— follows him, spitting and growling, until Peter finally turns his back, relaxing his coat, and slowly retreats.

“Holy shit,” Bucky breaths, starting to laugh, “what the fuck was that.”

Steve just shakes his head in disbelief, watching Peter sprint down the hall to his room as Tony licks his paws, tail still fluffed in irritation, and eyes pinning them with a deadly glare.

The table is a mess— wine spilled across their notes, Tony’s laptop, and pizza overturned, smeared across the soaked pages. Once Tony starts shifting back, Steve slides off of Bucky’s lap and takes stock of the damage. What the fuck indeed.

He looks over at Bucky, “Can you… take care of this,” he gestures to the table, “I’m gonna go talk to Peter.”

Bucky nods, still shocked, and Steve turns to follow Peter back to his room. He stops outside, knocking gently— careful not to intrude into the shifter’s territory.

“Peter, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There’s a rumble, and then the lock clicks, letting the door swing open. Peter struts back towards his window seat, fully shifted back and wearing just a pair of black briefs, and curls up by the window.

“Uh, Pete? What happened?”

Peter sniffles, looking out the window, “You told me that you and Bucky like to show affection by making noises at each other in your wolf form. So why didn’t it work?”

“Oh my god.”

“He attacked me, Steve!” Peter whines, burying his face in his hands.

It takes everything in Steve’s power not to laugh. Poor kitten. He slowly approaches, sitting nearby and in Peter’s view, extending a hand for Peter to take if he wants.

“So… maybe that wasn’t the best advice. I swear, it’s one of the easiest ways we bond, as wolves. But not that screeching noise, Peter— more of a growl, or other small noises.”

Peter pouts, looking into his hands.

“Here,” Steve stands up, holding out his hand, “let’s go get some pizza and help clean up. You can apologize, come up with some dumb excuse, and we can find some other way to hit on Tony, okay?”

“Fine.” Peter joins him, pulling on a sweatshirt and some shorts, “Let’s hope I didn’t spill all the damn wine. We’re gonna need it.”

Two.

A few days later, all of their friends are lounging across Steve’s furniture, taking a lazy afternoon after midterms to drink some Coor’s and watch Japanese game shows. Steve’s not even sure who’s interested in this, but doesn’t really care, as he lets himself drift off to the sound of Bucky’s deep breathing, his mate settled close on his chest.

It’s rare that everyone is in the same place, especially without homework or projects taking up their time, and Steve feels a deep sense of peace as his pack is settled, warm and safe, around him.

“Stop it, Stevie, you’re givin’ me thoughts,” Bucky mumbles, pinching him in the side.

Steve just hums, smiling down at his mate, and looks over to where Peter’s laying across the floor, partially shifted, and tail flicking slightly. On the other side of the room, Tony watches with his arms crosses, eyes following the striped tail.

“Let's go for a walk.” Steve announces, lifting Bucky off and getting a grumpy noise in protest. He makes a show of stretching, and gives Peter a wink. His eyes go wide in understanding.

“Fine,” Peter pushes off the carpet, shaking himself to shift back fully, “but only if I can get ice cream.”

Bucky ends up agreeing, and muscles Tony into joining them as well. Sam and Natasha decide to stay, enjoying the silence, but demand delivery from their friends. Clint stands up as they’re leaving, and follows them out the door.

It’s a quick walk down to get ice cream, just a block away, and Steve tries to make a show of brushing up against Bucky, reminding Peter of their last conversation.

Peter saddles up next to Tony, walking side-by-side only a few steps in front of them. He glances up, batting his eyelashes, and bumps his hips into Tony’s.

Tony whips around, on instinct, and pushes Peter in the chest, sending him careening off the sidewalk and landing in a heap, right in the middle of the road. All of them freeze, looking between Tony and Peter in disbelief, as the younger boy’s eyes brim with tears.

“Oh my… Peter, oh my god,” Tony shakes himself, and sprints into the road, thankfully clear of traffic, and pulls Peter to his feet, leading him back to the sidewalk. “I don’t… I don’t even know what happened, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Peter pulls away, giving Steve a dirty look, “can we just go get ice cream, please?”

Tony nods, sticking close to Peter as they walk away, and Steve can hear him promise, “I’ll buy yours, really, I’m so sorry.”

When they’re out of earshot, Clint ambling along after them with a shrug, Bucky turns to him and smirks, “What was that, Stevie?”

“I… I told him about the rubbing thing we do. You know… when we walk together?”

Bucky laughs all the way to the ice cream parlor.

Three.

It’s a week or so later when they have Tony and Bucky over for another movie night. Peter was mortified, and furious, about his latest attempt, but Steve can tell he’s determined to make a move tonight.

And Steve thinks this one will work, too. He’s not sure, at this point, if he should still be giving Peter advice, but he’s seen cat shifter mates do this, so he’s pretty sure it’s gonna work.

Bucky just smacks him in the head, annoyed that Steve wants to meddle.

The four of them are watching the Hobbit trilogy, per Tony’s request, and have piled blankets and pillows on the floor to lounge on. Steve takes the leads and shifts down, kicking off his clothes, shaking out his fur, and stretching out in his wolf form on the floor. He feels Bucky join him, the familiar warmth of his mate comforting against his side. They both look expectantly at their friends, hoping they take the hint.

Peter squints at them, irritated, but shifts down anyway, pushing out of his clothes and settling against Steve’s side, purring when the giant wolf starts to groom him, licking long strokes down his back.

Steve can see the adoration on Tony’s face. He’s completely captivated by the sweet kitten, and he shifts, stretching out and pacing closer to the three of them. Steve can’t help but wag his tail, bumping up against Bucky and wiggling closer to get a lick on Tony’s face.

Tony yelps, bouncing away, and pretends to clean himself. Peter just watches on, intently, as Tony takes his time to walk back over, carefully avoiding the wolves. His eyes are wide and unblinking. Tony curls up nearby, and Peter takes his chance, slinking closer, and reaching out to lick Tony’s cheek.

Tony shifts, moving out of Peter’s reach. Peter crawls closer and tries again, but Tony pulls away. One more try, and Tony stands, jumping up onto the couch and out of reach.

Peter just mewls, soft and sad, before tucking himself back underneath Steve’s front leg. Bucky growls, low in his chest, and Steve can tell it’s aimed at Tony. Dumb cat.

They stay shifted for the better part of an hour, grooming and cuddling together, until Tony finally comes back down from his perch. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see him approach, slowly, and try to get near Peter. Bucky growls again, not even opening his eyes, and the tortoiseshell cat scrambles away.

So much for that.

Four.

Spring break— fucking finally.

Classes have been hard this semester, and all of them are feeling it. Steve’s thankful that Tony’s parents have a place in the woods for them to escape to, because he’s itching to shift, let loose, and run away with his mate. Hopefully for the whole week.

Somehow, Steve got stuck driving their car, packing Bucky in the passenger seat, Sam and Peter in the middle two, and Clint, Nat and Tony in the backseat. He’s not sure how they make it there alive, with Bucky’s Cool Vibes playlist, Sam and Tony’s backseat commentary, and the thick mix of pheromones swirling through the air.

“What is that, Buck?” he murmurs in a low tone, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand over the center console.

“Hm?” Bucky looks over, blinking lazily.

“The… tension. The smell. What is it?”

“Oh, uh—” Bucky takes a moment, scenting the air and grimacing, “— yeah, that’s rut.”

Steve almost slams on the breaks.

“Rut? Like cat rut?”

Bucky just nods, making a point to roll down his window, “Yeah, Stevie. It’s springtime. We’ve got two, male cat shifters in the car. The rest of us ain’t gonna feel nothin’, but they’re definitely feelin’ it.”

He turns around and glances behind him, smiling at the sight of both cat shifters arguing and flirting behind them. Sam looks horrified.

Steve just rolls his eyes, “I’m tired of their bullshit. Hope they spend some time together this week, ya know?”

“Hope they spend more than time,” Bucky laughs, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze in return.

In the rearview, Steve can see Tony, fully turned around in his seat, gesturing wildly as Peter shakes his head, the two of them clearly caught in a deep discussion. When he looks closer, he sees the way Peter flutters his lashes, how Tony rubs up against the seat and the wall of the van.

Idiots.

Steve focuses back on the road, sighing and trying to enjoy how warm Bucky is next to him, how settled he is with his mate nearby.

Less than an hour later, and with every window rolled down, Steve parks the van outside of the cabin. If anyone would call it that. Three stories tall, the cabin looms over the driveway. Dark, aged wood is contrasted with sleek and modern architecture, blending back into the treeline and standing out of it at the same time. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.

As they carry their bags into the cabin, Steve catches sight of the lake in the backyard. Apparently Bucky and Clint see it as well, because all three of them are dropping their stuff, stripping out of their clothes, and racing to the water.

Steve shifts mid-stride, barking in joy as his pack follows him into the lake. Around the cabin, down the hill, off the dock— he’s first. First! And Bucky follows after him, their splashes large and in sync.

Clint ambles, albeit slower in his shifted golden retriever, and flops gracelessly in after them. The water is heavenly, and the three of them swim and play, bounding through the water and jumping off the pier.

That is, until their friends join them.

It seems as though Tony let the others into the house, put away their bags, packed a cooler, and found a few beach chairs and towels. The four of them set up a row of chairs and open an umbrella above them, settling down in skimpy swimwear to enjoy the afternoon sun.

Clint barks up at them, no doubt encouraging Nat and Sam to shift down and join them in the water.

“You guys are idiots,” Sam yells back, popping the tab on his drink, “the beer’s up here!”

Steve treads water, huffing a bit in amusement as he watches his pack— which is how he catches Tony moving closer to Peter. Tony passes him a beer, which Peter takes with a smirk and quick comment that makes Tony laugh.

Gag.

And he almost misses it— he goes to turn away, and sees Tony dart across, pressing a swift kiss to Peter’s blushing cheek. Peter gasps, meeting Tony’s eyes in shock, before grabbing his shoulders, leaning closer, and—

“Ow!”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, Tony—”

“You bit me!”

Steve swims over to the ladder, shifting down as he goes, and grabs a towel as he climbs up to investigate. Both men are standing now, blushing and holding their faces— Peter in shame, and Tony in mock horror. So dramatic.

“— how could you think that was what I wanted?”

“I didn’t! I just… I asked Steve, and he said—”

“Woah woah woah,” Steve cuts in, hands up in surrender, “I never said to bite him.”

Peter covers his face again with a groan, flopping down in his seat and throwing a towel over his face.

Tony looks down at him, bewildered, and back up at Steve, shrugging. “What did I do?” he mouths, lips turning down into a sad, sad pout.

Steve doesn’t even know what to say.

“Let’s go start the grill,” Sam suggests— thank god for Sam, and grabs Steve and Tony’s shoulders to lead them away.

A few minutes later, working over the grill together, Tony peers up at Steve, giving him a pointed look. Steve just sighs, again.

“Canines do this thing— instead of kisses on the cheek, when we’re shifted, we like to nibble on each other’s faces. It’s the same thing,” he pauses, taking in the disbelief written across Tony’s expression, “... for canines.”

“So he was… trying to kiss me back?”

Sam huffs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “More than that, Tones.”

Tony sits down, hard, in light of this revelation.

Five.

Bucky corners him, later in the evening, and it’s not for a sexy reason.

“You’ve gotta stop meddling in their shit, Stevie,” he hisses, pinning Steve to the wall.

Steve looks down to where their bodies are pressed together and groans, “Buck, this is a serious conversation, but you gotta let me up, pal.” Bucky’s eyes go wide and he grimaces, letting Steve up.

The two of them take a deep breath before Steve continues, “I’ve got a plan.”

“No.”

“It’s a good one.”

“Absolutely not.”

“We should force them to sleep together.”

“...”

“I mean. Not like… Buck, not like that. I mean, like, den together, like how we did when we were bonding for the first time.”

Bucky crosses his arms, giving Steve a less than impressed look.

“So you think that would work? How would you even pull that off?”

“I told you, I have a plan.”

---

Steve and Bucky corner Tony, later, and tell him their plan. Steve explains how he’s spent almost a month trying to help Peter court Tony, and Tony, for the most part, looks absolutely baffled.

“Yeah, I didn’t get that.”

Bucky covers his laugh with a hand, turning away so Steve can’t see him. Idiot.

They try to convince Tony to go along with their plan— sneaking into Peter’s room, fully shifted, and curling up next to him.

“It’s not gonna work, Steve. Felines are territorial—”

“— so are canines—”

“— and he’s not gonna want me in his space uninvited!”

“— but it’s not his space! It’s yours, it’s literally your territory,” Steve insists, “and it’ll show him that you want more, Tony.”

Tony just sighs, looking off into the fireplace, roaring with life. Warm and inviting. Steve aches to get out of here, but he’s committed to getting his friends together first.

“Fine,” Tony concedes, rising to his feet and starting to shift. He points at Steve as he shrinks down, “but I’m blaming you when thisss goesss to shhit.”

Fully shifted, Tony stalks across the living room, disappearing up the stairs to the guest bedrooms. Steve pulls Bucky close, both of them nuzzling close and enjoying their shared scent, shared warmth. They hear a door shut. Silence. Bucky turns to dot a light kiss on Steve’s jaw, and Steve returns it with a teasing growl.

“When this is over,” he rumbles, “we’re shifting for days, baby.”

Bucky sighs and wiggles closer, “Can’t wait, Stevie. Been itchin’ for it. Needin’—”

BANG, CRASH!

MrrrOWWWWWWWW

“Not again,” Bucky groans, hiding his face in Steve’s chest.

Tony, still fully shifted, tears through the living room, tail fluffed out and fur raised along his back. He darts under their couch, breathing hard and hiding, as Peter stomps down the stairs. He’s half shifted— fangs and ears and paws and tail all displaying aggression and annoyance.

“I really like you Tony,” he hisses, crossing his arms and standing so that Tony can see him from under the couch, “but that was a real dick move. Sometimes I feel like you hate me, and want me to hate you. Don’t try to talk to me, Tony. I don’t wanna see you until the morning.”

Peter stalks away, leaving Tony under the couch. Bucky tugs on Steve’s sleeve, “We really shouldn’t be here when Tony shifts back.”

Steve spares a glance under the couch, watching Tony clean his paws and glare back at them, and nods. The two of them beat a quick retreat, heading for the kitchen to pack some snacks for their time in the forest. Tony said the deer in this area are free to hunt, but sometimes they like fruits and pastries for breakfast. It’s a whole thing.

Before they run off into the woods, Steve stops, looking back to where Tony, still shifted, is sulking under the furniture.

“You should do it.”

Both Tony and Bucky look at him in shock, the latter already protesting.

“No, no— you don’t have to take my advice, Tony. I know I’ve screwed a bunch up already. I’m just saying, you should talk to him tonight, show him that you care. Follow your instincts— because they’re obviously different than ours. We know…” he glances over at Bucky, who nods, “we know you love him, Tony. Go fight for him.”

Tony just turns around, showing his back.

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, “Let’s go, Stevie.”

One.

Tony watches them retreat out the backdoor, letting it close with a soft click! He slinks out from under the couch and sits by the fire, thinking about what Steve said.

Follow your instincts.

He thinks about the kiss earlier. How pretty Peter’s blush had been, how much he wanted to rub up against Peter’s cheek and mark him, claim him. He wishes they got to run together, fight and wrestle away their pent up energy. He knows both of them are rutting, he just thought… he really thought…

It doesn’t matter now. He closes his eyes, lets his ears twitch in thought, as he focuses on his instincts. He lets the rage and the desire and the animal need wash over him, and all he can think, all he can feel, is chase.

Chase. Catch.

Chase. Catch.

He doesn’t even register getting up, prowling up the stairs, moving down the hallway.

Chase. Catch.

Chase. Catch.

The door to Peter’s room is open.

Chase. Catch.

He creeps inside, taking a peek over to the bed.

Mate.

Peter turns his head, making eye contact.

Run.

Tony leaps into the air, sprinting out the door— Peter hot on his tail. He flies down the stairs and slides around the corner, slamming into the trash can. Dammit. Why is that always there? As he growls at the metal can, Peter catches up to him, tackling him to the ground with a loud shriek.

They wrestle, growling and biting, until Peter breaks free with a hiss, bouncing on the pads of his feet to assert dominance. Oh no. Not in Tony’s house. Tony spits, rising up on his toes, until Peter freezes— both of them growling, low and angry.

Peter takes off. Spinning on his feet, the yellow tabby slams, hard, into the wall— fuck, he’s so strong— and bounces off lightning fast, out the door and into the front yard. Tony runs after him, dodging bushes and trees to follow Peter’s agile trail, secretly admiring his speed and the cleverness of his path. Beautiful.

He follows Peter all the way up a tree, forcing him out on a limb. Tony arches his back, sending a signal of dominance across to Peter, but Peter refuses to back down. He meets Tony’s gaze, raises his haunches, and spits back. Holy shit.

Tony leaps, tackling Peter off the branch, and sends both of them tumbling into the grass. In a flurry of nails and teeth and yowling, they fight for dominance, pinning and repinning until they come to a stop, teeth mutually clenched in the other’s scruff, and completely tangled together.

They’re breathing hard. Tony can feel it on his neck, and realizes both of their penises have unsheathed, rubbing together and catching on the barbs. It’s a crazy sensation— ramping up both of their rut pheromones.

As they lay there together— intertwined in the dark of the spring night— Tony feels himself start to shift back. He closes his eyes, gripping tight to Peter’s neck, his bare skin, as he flexes his fingers. He feels Peter shifting in his arms, and they hold on tight, neither willing to give up their prize.

“Mine,” Tony growls, unlatching his jaw as he feels Peter do the same.

His friend, his new mate, smiles— his gorgeous, bruised lips pulling back to reveal delicate and deadly fangs, “Mine,” he agrees, leaning forward hesitantly.

Tony closes the gap, rubbing their cheeks together and earning a satisfied purr from deep in Peter’s chest. He rolls them until he’s on top, and takes a few moments to kiss and lick around Peter’s chest, his tummy, his neck.

He grins mischievously before biting down on a pale pink nipple, earning him a gutted moan in response. Peter’s definitely hard against Tony’s thigh, but he’s been waiting way too long for this to rush it. Damn if he isn’t gonna take his time tonight.

“Mine,” he growls again, fiercer, and drags his nails up Peter’s hips, down his back. He drowns in the small gasps and moans he’s able to coax from his mate, marveling in the way his pale skin glows in the moonlight.

Peter paws at his back, spreads his legs wide, and grinds up against Tony’s erection, desperate for his touch. Every Mine is echoed between them, sung like a mating call for all to hear in the thick, springtime haze. They dance together, flipping time and time again for dominance— although, this time gentle. Caring and full of playful adoration.

When Tony finally takes them in hand, Peter throws his head back, yowling into the open air— “Tony! Tony, fuck fuck, touch me, goddammit, please touch me,” and Tony bends to his wishes, stroking their cocks together, long and firm.

He loves how Peter feels next to him, a tiny bit smaller, but the perfect size to compliment Tony’s own length. Tony spits down into his hand, slicking the way, and thrusts forward, urging Peter to follow his lead as they fuck into his grip.

“C’mon Pete, c’mon love— fuck me, baby, please.”

“Yeah, oh Tony, please. Need more, Tony,” Peter begs turning his wickedly innocent doe eyes on Tony in desperation.

Tony grips tighter, thrusts harder, and returns Peter’s molten gaze. What can he… oh.

He throws himself forward, bracing with one hand above Peter’s head, and seals their lips together. Peter gasps, stuttering his hips, and Tony can feel the warmth spilling over his palm, coating both of their cocks. He strokes Peter through it, kissing him deeply, thoroughly, until his mate starts to whine in discomfort.

Tony pulls away, feeling his orgasm pooling deep in his belly, and crawls up closer on Peter’s chest. His eyes are half-lidded, lips swollen and hair matted and messy— and Tony’s never seen anything more gorgeous.

“Please,” he pants, speeding up the stroke on his cock, “Pete, please let me, let me come on you, please. Mine. Mine, Peter. Let me mark you, please.”

“Yes, yes—“ Peter moans, reaching up to cup Tony’s balls, “mine, give it to me, Tony— it’s mine.”

At his words, Tony lets out a breath, crumpling forward as his release drains him, throwing him over the edge and right into Peter’s waiting arms. He watches as hot stripes of cum paint Peter’s chest, drip down his chin, and even land in his mouth. It’s too much to see his mate, covered in him, licking it off his fingers— so he falls to the ground, exhausted and spent.

A moment later he’s grabbing for Peter, humming in pleasure as his mate saddles close, burying his face in Tony’s neck.

And then Peter giggles. A soft, barely there laugh that tickles the side of Tony’s throat.

“What?” Tony rasps, looking down at Peter in amusement.

Peter keeps laughing, sitting up fully to bury his face in his hands and get out full, gasping belly laughs. He holds onto Tony as he wipes away tears, and Tony just chuckles, happy to see his mate so joyful.

When Peter settles down, he sighs, giving Tony a lopsided smile, “I can’t believe what just happened,” Tony shakes his head, returning the smile, as Peter continues, “I’ve been taking dating advice from a fucking wolf for a month— when all we had to do was,” he gestures wildly, “whatever this was,”

Tony laughs, he gets it now, “Well, it was kinda inconvenient that every suggestion they had was actually a severe act of aggression between male felines.”

“Oh my god,” Peter giggles again, “what the hell were you even trying to do tonight? When I found you in my bed?”

Tony blushes, looking away, and mumbles, “Steve and Bucky thought if we slept next to each other—“

“— but that’s a breach of territory for unmated felines!”

“— that’s what I said! Somehow they convinced me otherwise, and… well…”

Tony trails off, letting his words fade to a comfortable silence. Peter snuggles closer, letting Tony wrap and arm around him. It’s chilly outside, but until they go and lay by the fire, both of them are content to find warmth in each other.

“I’m glad you came to find me,” Peter whispers, dotting a kiss onto Tony’s collarbone.

“I’m glad I did, too,” Tony nuzzles into his curls, inhaling the new scent of mate and home that he’s come to associate with Peter, “and you know what? In the end, that idiot’s dating advice ended up bringing me to you.”

“We don’t have to tell him that do we?”

Tony shakes his head, “No. No we don’t.”

Bonus:

Clint and Sam and Nat stare at each other in horror, refusing to acknowledge what they just heard going on inside and outside of the house.

“Do you think the coast is clear?”

“Can’t be certain. It’s way too quiet out there.”

“They’re both in rut, it could be days.”

“Maybe we should go find Steve and Bucky, they’d know what to do.”

“If I know them at all, and I think I do, those two are gonna be knotted up for the next few days. I don’t wanna witness that.”

The three of them are silent, listening for any movement or sign that their newly mated friends are alive.

“I vote we shift down and doggy pile.”

“Yes, okay.”

“Fine.”

“And in the morning, we can talk about feline mating patterns.”

“... and boundaries.”

[quietmyfearswith]

bratty little ; preferences

warnings — GASLIGHTING, DDLG, swearing, mentions of punishment, spanking, choking, vibrator, threats of abandoning someone, swear words, allusions to smut

characters — dark!andy barber, dark!steve rogers, dark!ransom drysdale, dark!bucky barnes, dark!lance tucker,  dark!clark kent, dark!syverson, dark!august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH DARK THEMES WITH DDLG DYNAMICS,, do not interact if youre not 18+,, i know the visual for bucky’s preference is for like when you go potty but imagine it on a dining chair okay?? ok.. lmk what you think!

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space | fussy | happy hoelidays | cartoons | obssessed | little rules | innocent little

masterlist

“Dada!” Y/N shrieked out loud from where she was seated on the living room floor while she played with her toys, the sounds coming from the television were quieter in comparison to the wail she let out. When her screaming failed to get a reaction from the lawyer — Andy knew that he gave her everything she needed so there was no possible thing that she could possibly need at the moment —  whose eyes were only focused on either his laptop screen or on the paperworks for the case he was assigned to. She then held her stuffie in her hand then threw it at the busy man; upon seeing the stuffed animal land on his workspace he turned to her with a deep frown on his face, “Petal, don’t throw your stuffies at me; unless you want me to throw them away in the garbage?” She was about to speak but when he raised an eyebrow  at her, “Are you that ungrateful for everything that dada gives you?” With that, she then brought her attention back to the show.

“That’s what I thought,” Andy mumbled as his eyes focused once again on scanning the computer. But his focus was short-lived as another stuffie hit his forehead — and that was the final straw. Pushing himself off from the table he walked over to where his usually obedient girl was and kneeled down to level with her, “I said to behave, petal — and I asked nicely right?” Seeing the veins become even more prominent on his neck turned her on and it was even made apparent when she shyly looked down on the floor as she told him, “I just wanted you to pay attention to me, dada.” Her statement had him amused as smirked at her while filthy thoughts ran around his head, “Well you not only got my attention,” She flashed a hopeful grin at him before it was replaced with a horrified look when he added, “You have a punishment waiting for you.”

“Daddy! I told you to come play with me,” She whined as she stomped her foot and crossed her arms. Fastening the screw on his bike, August could only huff in annoyance as he heard his little one whine, “And I told you to wait a while, little one. Didn’t daddy teach you to be patient?” This just angered Y/N even more — she was excited that he was home following a month-long mission wherein he was sent somewhere in Europe and wanted nothing more than to make up for lost time. While the Hammer did want to spend time with her, he just wanted to fix something in his bike since he has been putting that off for a while now. “If you don’t want to play with me, I’m gonna go play with myself!” She huffed out as she strutted out of the garage and into the inside of their home. Confused with her statement, he didn’t know if she meant that in a little way or in a big girl way; either way it had him fed up with her attitude. Dropping the tools on the floor as it made a loud noise, he then washed his hands with the sink before making his way inside to search for her.

“Where are you, little one?” He called out; and almost instantly she replied to him, “In the playroom!” Leave it to her to still be extremely needy for his presence despite being a rascal. Entering the bedroom that was transformed as her playroom, he kneeled behind her as his lips grazed the shell of her ear while one hand trailed over the front of her neck, “Did little one not learn her lesson?” Feeling his breath tickle her skin made her halt her movements as she was playing with the tea set he had gifted her when he returned from Paris after a two-month deployment. “I just wanted daddy to spend time with me,” She nervously gulped down, “Missed you too much.” He knew she had good intentions, but that didn’t excuse her behaviour; and he made it clear by tightening his grip on her neck by pushing his fingers down on the sides of her neck as he whispered, “I missed you too but you don’t see me getting all whiny now do you?” The iron grip he had on her neck allowed minimal movement as she shook her head no as she got even more ansty at that thought of what might follow. “Here I was ready to reward you — I've been watching the camera footage of you and noticed how you obeyed all of daddy’s rules.”

“Tătic, I wanna go out in the park!” Y/N whined as Bucky was hauling her over his left shoulder, into their shared living quarters. Using his metal hand, he swatted her bum softly as he scolded her, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough playtime today? It’s about time you spent some time with your daddy, sweetie.” When placing her back on her feet, she turned around to head for the door; the super soldier’s strength allowed him to prevent her sprinting figure from leaving him. “I’m gonna give you one last time to behave and stop wanting to go to the park, sweetheart,” He sternly scolded her, but she only persisted harder as her smaller hands hit against his chest as she wailed out, “Wanna go to the park! Wanna go out and play, tătic!” Continuously repeating those two sentences, Bucky has had enough of her whining state as he carried her once more and placed her on the dining chair she dreaded the most.

“Wanna be a fucking brat?” He muttered under his breath as he strapped the belt just right under her breasts before joining the lock on her thighs — effectively restricting her movement and there was no way for her to break free from it since there was a padlock to both belts, “Then I’ll treat you like a fucking brat.” Y/N was now full on sobbing as she sat on the chair and looked at the Avenger with a pout, “Just wanna play more with Peter and Wanda and Steve!” She managed to get out in between hiccups; Bucky levelled his face with her with a mocking pout of his own, “Is that what you want, sweetheart?” She nodded her head desperately as trashed around the restraints, wanting to rip it off of her. “But little sweeties like you don’t get to decide for themselves. That’s why you have your tătic, remember?” Deep down inside her, she knew he was right; so she remained silent as tears continued to race down her cheeks. Bucky used his flesh hand to wipe her face off as he kissed her forehead lovingly, “And I think it’s about time you ate some snacks hm? How about some of those cookies we baked?”

“Doll? You called for me?” Steve peered his head from the door of her playroom; he was currently going over the file Sam sent over to him when his little doll shrieked out loud for him, and he rushed over to the next door as he thought that something bad had happened to her. Low and behold there she was smiling widely as she was sitting on the floor while playing with her train and car set, “Hi, sir.” Puzzled with her behaviour he knelt down to level with her as he pressed the back of his palms to her forehead and neck — checking her temperature as he asked, “Are you alright, doll? Are you sick? Why did you call me?” Sheepishly grinning at him, she shrugged her shoulders, “Nothing, sir. Just wanted to see how you were.” Thinking that she was concerned with his well-being, he cooed as he kissed her forehead, “‘M doing good, doll. Just need to work for a bit before we spend some time together okay?”

“Yes, sir,” She saluted, making Steve laugh as he exited the room and headed back to his office. A few minutes into reading the file, he once again heard her yell out for him, “Sir! Come over here!” He went back to her playroom, “What’s wrong, doll?” He didn’t see anything wrong or out of place since the last time he was in here — she was still sitting on the floor as she was playing with her toys. Peering up at him as she batted her lashes, “Missed you, sir.” The former Avenger had to sigh out loud before answering her, “You know I have to work right? I need to finish my work before being with you?” This upset her as she threw the toys she was playing with on the floor as she crossed her arms, “I don’t want you to work! I wanna be with my sir!” It was adorable to see her in such a needy state for him; but that didn’t excuse her  for disrupting his work and for flinging her toys on the floor. Walking over to where she was, he carried her with him to his office, “Okay doll, you get to sit on sir’s lap as he works — does that sound good?” Nodding her head up and down against his broad chest, she squealed excitedly and hugged his torso; her cheerful reaction however, was short-lived as she quickly whined out in complaint when he said, “Though I will have to punish you for disturbing me and for throwing your toys, doll. You get no cummies for a week and some spanks later, okay?”

“Can we go now, Captain?” Y/N asked as she batted eyelashes sweetly at her boyfriend as she had her arm hooked tenderly around his muscular one. Leaning over to whisper in her ear, his beard tickled her skin a bit as he answered, “You know we can’t just go yet, baby girl.” It had only been a half hour after he had been given a medal for his service during his time in the army and now they were currently eating their meal as Sy chatted with one of his former superiors. Since she didn’t know anyone else, she let her eyes wander around the venue as she currently wasn’t conversing with anyone. Wanting to relieve her dry throat, she drank a bit of the water and noticed how Sy’s superior excused himself to go to the bathroom; wanting to take advantage, she then traced the newly added medal on his uniform, “So shiny, Captain.” Her small, fascinated voice caught his attention and he kissed her forehead, “Like it, baby girl?” In an instant, her mood changed as she bluntly confessed, “Not really; just wanna go home now. That’s what I like! Wanna play with my shiny toys,” She whined, referring to the iPad he ordered her to leave at home since she wasn’t allowed to use it for this event.

“If you continue to act like this then I might just ban you from using your shiny toy for a month,” Sy exhaled angrily as he gripped her thigh through her dress tightly, leaving his handprint on her skin. Shocked with his sudden display of aggressiveness — especially since they were in public — she nodded but still managed to whimper, “Don’t wanna be here anymore, Cap’n. Wanna go home now.” Seeing how restless she was being, he decided to play around with it as smirked at her after setting the vibrator that was nested in her pussy to at the highest setting, “Well if you stay still for the rest of the hour, we’re gonna go home and I’m gonna reward you for your great behaviour.” Looking down on her phone, she gasped out loud when she read the time as 9:01 pm and whimpered as she realized the long hour ahead of her.

“Time for bed, little angel!” Lance declared after dressing his baby up in her onesie. Despite having just taken a bath, she sprinted off from the bathroom and onto her playroom; the gymnast was surprised when his girl left him alone while he had his back turned away from her as he was keeping the lotion and brush he had used on her. “What the? Angel, where are you?” Walking out of their shared bedroom, he opened the door to her playroom and yet she wasn’t there. Hearing the soft chatter coming from the television, he then went to the living room where he spotted her best girl watching her favorite cartoon. “Didn’t I tell you it was time to go to bed, angel?”

“Don’t wanna go to bed, papa,” Y/N calmly said as she snuggled into the couch even more. Taking a seat beside her, he placed her in his lap; she was instantly squirming away from his lap for she knew that he was gonna put a stop to her watching. “Wanna watch, papa! Don't’ wanna sleep!” Lance swiftly smacked her bum, hoping to calm her down, but it just made her wiggle away even more from the gold medallist. “Not going to sleep, papa,” She sassed as she pouted while her eyes were glued to the screen. Feeling his patience wear thin due to how she was being , he grabbed her by the cheeks, making her look down on his fierce, angered features, “This isn’t my angel whom I’m talking to. I think this is someone else’s little brat,” He observed as his thumb ran across her lips, “Might have to ask around for who owns this little brat so they can go back to their respectful caregiver.” Terrified at the thought of being away from him, Y/N launched herself to curl on Lance’s lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “I’m your good angel, papa! I promise! I’m gonna go for bedtime now,” She was spitting out the words in a rush. Smirking, he turned the television off as he carried his angel to their shared bedroom; kissing her forehead, he rubbed her back to calm down her sobbing figure, “There’s my angel! I knew she would never leave me alone.”

“Princess, what’s wrong?” Ransom had been waiting for her to come out of the bathroom since they were headed to Harlan’s for dinner with his family. Hearing no coherent response from her, he went inside and saw how she was sitting in her vanity, wearing the dress he told her to wear, “You look ready to me, princess. Let’s go.” She turned to face him and instead of giddily standing up and latching her arm with his, she just sat there and told him, “I’m not going with king.” Smirking since the spoiled Drysdale thought that she was bluffing, he sarcastically asked, “And why is that?” With a pointed look and firm tone she answered, “‘Cause I don’t want to! Wanna be a princess in here!” Upon realizing how her little persona was clouding her mind, Ransom wanted to ease her worries. Kneeling in front of her, he grabbed both her hands, kissed the back of both palms as he looked her straight in the eyes and promised her, “You still can be my little princess when we’re having the dinner; you don’t have to be a big girl when we’re over there.”

“But won’t they think I’m weird?” His statement just caused her to stress even more despite being in her comfort space. “Don’t wanna go at all, king. Just staying here, and in this pretty dress.” This just irked Ransom even more as he thought he was giving her solutions to her dilemmas, but clearly it just didn’t solve anything at all. She continued to whine about how his family would think even poorly of her when he decided he just had enough; he grabbed both her arms and guided her to her feet, dragging her to his car. Catching his drift, she panicked a bit, “I don’t have any shoes on, king!” Opening the passenger door, he shoved her to sit down, buckling her seatbelt as he spoke, “Well too bad, princess. Maybe if you weren’t too whiny you would have shoes on your cute feet.” As he began to drive to his grandfather’s mansion, she was letting out huffs of annoyance and threatened her, “If you keep pouting and whining you won’t get any new clothes for a month,” And that shut her up real quick as she remained silent for the rest of the drive.

“Okay honey, here you go,” Clark sing-songed as he presented you with a plate of pancakes with strawberries around it to mimic hair whereas the chocolate placed on the flapjack was formed into a smiley face, “Bon appétit, honey.” It was her favorite breakfast, and yet it didn’t lighten up her mood or even get her to smile; with a pout, she crossed her arms after pushing the plate away from her. “Use your words, honey,” He reminded in a stern yet gentle tone. Despite his warning, she wasn’t threatened or scared as she continued to wordlessly pout and push the plate even further away from her unti; the plate hit the hero’s forearm that was on the counter. Exhaling angrily, he warned her one last time, “Unless you want a punishment I suggest you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Mad at bubba,” She finally spoke out quickly as she finally looked at him with a fierce look on her face; but it didn’t faze Clark for he thought that it was a really adorable look and it reminded him of an angry baby bear. “Why are you mad at me, honey?” She debated internally whether or not she should tell him about it before ultimately deciding to continue being bratty and leave him unanswered. The Kryptonian scoffed as he watched her saunter over to the couch and turn on the television; with purposeful strides, he walked on over to where she was, he sat beside her as he yanked her arm to get her to look at him while he stared at her with dark eyes and spoke huskily, “Cut that attitude out honey or I will have to spank you until you forget about why you were being such a fucking brat.” It wasn’t just his threat that had her trembling in fear but it was also the way he held onto her rigidly, letting her know that he wasn’t in the mood to play games with her. After nervously nodding her head, Clark calmed down a bit as he cleared his throat, “Good, now tell me why are you acting this way, honey.”

[alirhi]

...goddess help me...

This fucking episode. *deep breath* This... This episode is where I'm expecting to get some serious hate. Let me just get this out of the way right up front:

I. Hate. Zemo.

I do not find him sympathetic, or funny, or charming. I find him creepy and annoying. I did not like him in CA:CW and I do not like him in TFATWS. If you are pro-Zemo, you are not going to like my version of this show from here on out. Just find something else to read and don't bother me about it. You've got the actual canon, so go enjoy that.

Got it? Good. Now, on to the main event!

Episode 3: The Power Broker

First of all, Sam doesn't let Bucky walk in there alone. No matter Bucky's (flimsy and nonsensical) argument, Sam's like "hell no. I go in with you, or you don't go in." The main reason for this isn't to keep Bucky from breaking Zemo out of prison (with decent writing, he would never do that) - it's so that Sam witnesses Zemo taunting Bucky with/about the trigger words. because Zemo is a piece of shit.

Since he doesn't know the full story, Sam is confused, but he files this interaction away to ask Bucky about later. He's listening to Zemo acknowledging that Bucky was "not conscious for most of [his] imprisonment" (which, yes, clearly refers to the time he spent frozen, but can also mean while he was under their control as TWS/"The Asset" - also, key word: imprisonment) and when he calls Bucky a means to an end, Sam scowls, looking ready to go off on him, but he waits. They've got more important issues.

Neither of them entertains the thought of breaking Zemo out for even a nanosecond. He does that shit himself. And literally the only reason I'm sticking with him getting out at all is because I want to address some truly egregious moments linked directly to him in the show. Zemo makes them think he's setting them on the trail when really he's just sending them to his motor pool. Bucky and Sam are confused until they see Zemo in his stolen guard uniform, then they're both angry and want to ship him right back to prison, but he strikes a deal with them: "My help for my temporary freedom. Creating super soldiers cannot be allowed to continue; let me finish my work, and then do with me as you will." He has no intention of going quietly back to prison, obviously, and they're not stupid enough to believe otherwise, but they believe they can keep him on a short leash, so they agree for now. Anything to bring down the Flag Smashers and whoever created them.

After the title, we cut to Raynor on the phone in her office. She's agitated, fiddling with things on her desk. "No, sir," she's practically growling, "it was disrupted. - Walker did! - It's not my fault your new attack dog got off-leash!" She pauses, huffs, and says more calmly, "No. Of course not. I'm sorry. - Well, I don't see how, with the new Cap strutting around barking orders! - What am I supposed to do? Tell Captain America in front of a dozen witnesses that he can't have his predecessor's favorite pet because we're not done reprogramming him? I didn't see that going over too well. I made a call. - No. No, no, no, we can still use him. The work's not finished, but he still trusts me. He'll be back." A pause as she listens. Angry again, she snaps, "What do you want me to do, shove a tracker up his ass? He'll be back, and we'll pick right back up where we left off! - Don't worry, sir, the Asset will be fully compliant and ready to use soon. I'll make sure of it. - Yes, sir. You, too." She hangs up and tosses her phone on the couch, grumbling, "Dick."

Cut back to Sam, Bucky, and Zemo getting going on their trip to Madripoor. On the plane, Sam wants to talk to Bucky about what he's learned so far, but doesn't want to bring it up in front of Zemo... until the notebook incident reminds him that Zemo already knows more about Bucky than he does.

After Zemo's line about the list, Sam angrily corrects him: "You mean people HYDRA used The Winter Soldier to hurt." When Zemo shrugs and his response is basically along the lines of "what's the difference" Sam is like "oh hell no."

"Those words you were reciting at him," he reminds Zemo, "what were they, Russian? They clearly meant something. They were supposed to do something. What are they?" "Sam, let it go," Bucky pleads, unable to look at either of them. "It's nothing." "You wanna drown in your guilt, that's fine," Sam snaps, "but make sure it's for the right reasons." He turns back to Zemo, who's smiling at this exchange because he's a monster and thinks Bucky's suffering is fucking funny. "I asked you a question, Zemo. What did those words do?" "They activate the Winter Soldier programming," Bucky grudgingly admits. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's sure as hell not going to let Zemo speak for him. "Or, they did, before the Wakandans got all that shit out of my head." "It's a shame," Zemo says with a smirk. "Imagine the possibilities that come with perfect obedience." "I think you mean 'slavery'," Sam growls, "and I think you're in the wrong crowd to be looking so pleased about it. Remember that we can send your ass back to prison any time." "Of course," Zemo agrees, but with an arrogant smile that shows he doesn't believe for a second that these two have any real power over him. Still, he bides his time and sits back quietly, watching Bucky fidget with the notebook. Sam turns back to Bucky, seeing his discomfort; he won't let the topic go, though, not yet. He just softens his tone. "So, they 'activated the Winter Soldier'? What exactly does that mean?" Bucky shrugs, still not looking up. "Pretty much what he said - perfect obedience. What little consciousness they left me between cryo and the chair was squashed down, locked away. And I did whatever I was told, exactly the way they told me to." It finally clicks. He'd had his suspicions before, of course, but now Sam gets it. Visibly horrified, he stares at this quiet, broken man, and finally sees the truth of what he'd been through for 70 years: "They stripped away your autonomy. Shit, Bucky, they didn't even let you be a person. That's..." He swallows, looking like he'll be sick any minute. "That's awful, man. I'm so sorry." When Bucky tries to shrug it off and downplay it again, Sam gets angry. "Look at me!" He waits; it takes a few seconds, but Bucky reluctantly looks up and is surprised to see just how upset Sam is on his behalf. "It wasn't your fault. None of it. When Steve said you didn't have a choice, I had no idea... You really, truly had no choice; not even the ability to choose. That's horrifying." "I doubt it would make much difference to the people he's killed," Zemo points out snidely. "Or their families. Let's ask Tony Stark, shall we?" "You shut the hell up," Sam growls. He watches Bucky flinch and make that face - the face he's starting to really fucking hate - that says he agrees with Zemo. Bucky still can't see things the way Sam does; he still feels the guilt and shame, and even when he himself pointed out his lack of agency under HYDRA, it didn't click for him that Sam is right, not Zemo.

It's too much, too soon. Sam sees that and decides to change the subject, to give Bucky some time to process. He nods at the notebook, and they have their little Marvin Gaye debate, where Sam is over the top about it on purpose, because Bucky needs the distraction.

Of course, Zemo ruins it by opening his big mouth again and reminding Bucky of more trauma: his time fighting in WWII. That's why Sam latches onto the bit about Madripoor; to keep the focus not only on the task at hand, but off of Bucky's past that he clearly still can't cope with.

"James... You will have to become someone you claim is gone." Sam is officially ready to throw Zemo out a window. 😂 The only reason he doesn't jump to Bucky's defense again and basically tell Zemo to fuck himself (in a PG-13 way 🙄) is because Bucky's, as Sam pointed out in ep2, a grown-ass man, and because he's just learned how few decisions this poor man has been able to make in his life. Sam doesn't want to come across as another "handler," deciding everything for him, even if he does think this plan is stupid and needlessly cruel.

At the bar, when asked if he wants "the usual", Sam just casually waves the bartender off like "nah". Zemo already said they had business to attend to, so it's not like anyone would be suspicious that now's probably not a good time to be doing weird shots lol. (wtf even was that? I'm not sure I want to know, but...what part of the snake did he drop into that drink?)

Sam's not an idiot (I'm really so sick of this trend of turning intelligent characters into morons because the writers can't think of any other way to move their plot along) so his cell phone has been off this whole time. No sudden call from Sarah to put them all in danger. There was really no point to that, anyway; Sharon likely would have killed Selby for talking about Nagle with or without the excuse of "saving" Sam and Bucky. I mean, it's not like they know who fired that shot, ever.

"They cleared the Bionic Staring Machine," Sam still jokes, but he follows it with, "and they think he's a mass-murderer." "They think?" Sharon stares at him incredulously. "Didn't he kill pretty much everyone he's ever met?" "Wow." Sam glances back at Bucky. "She really is awful now." To Sharon, he adds, "You met Steve; do you really think he'd have defied 117 countries to protect someone evil?" "He did it for Bucky," she points out. "Let's face it - Bucky could blow up half the planet, and Steve's loyal-to-a-fault ass would still take a bullet for him." "You know I'm sitting right here, right? I can hear you." "Look, I don't think you're evil, Bucky," Sharon assures him. "But I know you killed a lot of people for HYDRA." "I'm not denying it." "He didn't have a choice," Sam snaps, glaring at them both. "But we're not getting into that right now. My point is, the government's afraid of Bucky, and they still pardoned him. All you did was steal something. I'm sure they can be persuaded to see reason." "The day the US government sees reason," Sharon quips, rolling her eyes, "is the day I sprout real wings and fly off into the sunset." "Careful, Icarus," Bucky mocks with a smirk, "the sun and brand new wings don't exactly go together." Then he shrugs and glances at Sam. "But she's not wrong."

At the party that night, it takes a few minutes (grumpy old man Bucky's not sure how to feel about the music lol) but a peek of pre-war Bucky comes out to play: they were told to "blend in", so he dances. At first he's just bobbing around alone looking stoic and out of place, but soon he's smiling and dancing between two attractive people - one male, one female. Sam is surprised, but before he can tease him for it, Sharon comes to get them all. Even she's a little "wait what?" at Bucky having a little fun lol. (recovery is not linear, guys. trauma doesn't mean "perpetually miserable, no fun, doesn't even know how to smile." in my TFATWS, Bucky gets his lighter moments; real ones, not humor at his expense)

When they find Nagle, Bucky's the one who notices and opens the secret door, while Sam keeps an eye on Zemo. Bucky catches Zemo trying to grab that gun; closes the drawer on his hand before opening it and taking the gun away. "Nice try." Nagle tries to get away while there's only one person watching him, but Sam catches him and forces him back into his seat. With a bruising grip on the back of Zemo's neck, Bucky drags him back over to where he and Sam can both keep an eye on him. Nagle is killed in the shootout as they're trying to escape; Zemo still runs off, blows shit up, and comes back with the stolen car so he's not totally useless.

I had no problem with Zemo being the one to kill Nagle; Nagle was the worst and def had to die, and Zemo has never had an issue killing anyone. Where I took issue with this scene was Bucky and Sam being dumb enough to let Zemo wander and get his hands on a gun. Nope. Not happening.

Anyway, shootout! Explosions! Funny banter! The seat thing, which is my favorite nod to CW ever lol... And then the conversation on the plane...

"You okay?" "Yeah." Sam sighs. "Just thinking." "About how to get Sharon that pardon you dangled in front of her?" He shakes his head. "About how Nagle referred to 'The Winter Soldier Program" like it was some kind of after school club; like you weren't standing right there. And 'the American test subject' like... Like Isaiah wasn't even a real person." He turns to face Bucky, looking angry and weary. "Makes me wonder how many times... How many times are we gonna run around in the same circles before people learn? And how many people need to get crushed underfoot in the meantime?" "Did you really just equate me with Isaiah?" Bucky frowns, not sure how to react to that. "That man is a hero." Sam opens his mouth to say something, but his phone goes off and Zemo approaches at the same time, effectively cutting off their conversation.

When they get to Riga and Zemo tries to guilt trip them over Sokovia, Bucky deadpan reminds him, "Neither of us were involved in that fight." "I doubt you'd have been much help if you were." He shrugs. "Probably not. But I like to save my guilt for events I was actually present for. It's a thing." Zemo laughs. "Fair enough."

Bucky goes on his walk, and meets up with Ayo.

[sylvie-writes]

A Father’s Love

pairing: steve rogers x reader ft. sarah rogers

requests:Hey, can I ask for a Steve Sarah fic where baby Sarah is injured or unwell and Steve is more distressed than the reader and cries holding Sarah and she assures him that she is fine and brave girl -anon  2. hi i love your writing!! i have a request for a headcanon or oneshot: i watched ww84 (which was not that good of a movie oof) but there was a romantic fireworks scene and it made me think of celebrating 4th of july with steve rogers on his birthday and just like, cuddling up next to him on a picnic blanket while watching him watch the fireworks and oh it just makes me so SOFT- anon

word count: 1,750

author’s note: pardon any mistakes! sorry for combining the requests, hope y'all still like it!

gif below was found on google

Never before in your life had you ever experienced such fear. Although the warm sun streamed down in rays, creating a happy scene, you were somewhere else. A place where nothing else mattered except for your daughter. Nerves, anticipation, and dread flooded your veins. Any parent would feel this way, especially under these circumstances. A majority of the time, you wouldn’t consider yourself a “helicopter parent,” even though Bucky and Sam would say otherwise. Now, was an exception because your four year old daughter was learning to roller skate in the cul-de-sac where her grandparents currently reside. Her little hand was interlaced with her father’s and the 6’2 man crouched down to be a bit shorter. He was anything but an expert in this field and that made you even more nervous as he’d occasionally slip. Before you could say anything to him, he’d just put a hand out, signaling that everything was okay, and you’d be left to bite down on your lip, silently channeling your fear. 

From the looks of it, one would think you weren’t trusting of your husband and while that wasn’t the whole truth, you just knew he wasn’t the most...graceful and elegant human on planet earth. Rather he was the type of guy to fall and literally laugh it off. That was fine for him, but if your daughter fell on this rocky pavement, well, you’d both have another coming. Or at least that’s what you had assumed. 

Sarah’s giggles echoed and you could hear your parents’ shouts of encouragement from the house. You were standing on the end of the driveway, eyes glued to the giant man and the tiny girl, happily skating around. After a few minutes, Sarah finally found her footing, so to say, and was actually skating without Steve’s support.

Finally, you dropped your shoulders and let out a sigh of relief at the two enjoying themselves. It was all going fine until Sarah was turning, like she had done so many times before, but this time happened to catch a rock under a wheel on her right skate.

 In your mind, it all happened in slow motion, making your feet stay grounded, yet your conscience was “running” to her. Steve’s face looked absolutely mortified and he dropped to his knees, ignoring the pain from the harsh contact, he immediately scooped up the girl. 

For a moment, her lip quivered and Steve continued to soothingly stroke her hair, gazing into her watering eyes. Just when you thought the dam would break, Sarah swallowed her sobs, shook it all off, and stood from her father’s lap. She even held out a hand to help him up and he looked very shocked. Even more shocked than when you told him you were going into labor, which was quite the experience, one you preferred to not re-live. 

Eventually, you joined the two and up close you could see that Steve had a single tear running down his face. You knew his worst fear was failing his daughter, he had told you so many years ago. Sarah noticed Steve’s sorrow and she got down once more to sit back on her heels. With gentle movement, Sarah wrapped her arms around the man’s broad shoulders and pulled him into the most lovable hug you’ve seen in ages. 

“It’s okay, Daddy. Please don’t cry! See I’m just as brave as you!” 

Your daughter then laid her head on his shoulder, the two of them in their own little world as usual. You hated to break them up, but they were currently sitting in the middle of the road and you’d rather not get hit by a car. Softly, you tapped Steve’s shoulder and he slowly rose up, Sarah in his arms and tired from the scare as well. The three of you made your way back up the driveway and into the house where your mother met you with the same nervous look you had once wore. Once a nurse, always a nurse, for she had a first aid kit in hand. You quickly reassured her and followed Steve back to your rooms. 

Summer in New York City wasn’t that much enjoyable, so ever since Sarah had been born, you and Steve come in July to stay at your parents house. Today was Fourth of July and you helped your parents with their annual barbeque. That went well and then the whole roller skating incident happened and now here you were. It was 3 in the afternoon and since it was Steve’s birthday, you had some surprise plans for him later. He was unaware and had assumed you had forgotten his birthday, which you had not. 

An hour later, you found Sarah in the pool with your parents while Steve sat on one of the lounge chairs, only khaki swim trunks on. You could tell he’d been out of the pool for a while as his hair was starting to look a bit fluffy. Steve’s eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and in his lap you could see a sketch that he was tediously working on. Your daughter was too busy playing pool volleyball with her grandparents, that the three were yet to notice your presence. Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you strutted over to Steve and sat on the edge of his seat where you gently tapped his leg to gain his attention. 

“Whatcha working on, Grant?”

Steve peered up at you, his smile possibly even brighter than the sun that reflected on you both. He silently passed off the sketchbook to you. The sketch depicted the scene happening before your eyes, your parents bonding with Sarah, all of them wearing large grins and laughter. It was the kind of picture that could lift someone's mood in an instant, all because Steve was the best at portraying emotions in his artwork. 

“So, birthday boy, I have some plans for you… that is if you are still up to it.” You motioned to his current laid back state and Steve looked down at himself to see what you meant. He was curious as to what you had planned, having told you not to plan anything for his birthday. 

“Oh honey, I told you not to do anything.” Steve looked at you disapprovingly, his sunglasses now pulled down so you could feel the full effect of his “glaring.” 

“It’s not everyday that a wife gets to celebrate her husband’s...” Pausing, you did some quick mental math (that may have not been accurate) and came to an answer, “102nd birthday!” 

At that, Steve lurched forward and pulled you onto his lap, placing a kiss on your temple as his arms tightly wrapped around your waist. 

“You spoil me too much, doll.” A simple hum was your only reply and you leaned back into his embrace. 

----

About an hour later, both you and Steve got quick showers and tidied up a bit. The only thing Steve had heard about where you were taking him, was that it wasn’t too fancy as you told him to dress casual. As Steve got ready, you asked Sarah if she wanted to come along, but instead she decided to stay back and make some cookies with your mom. 

The two of you then met at the front door where you kissed Sarah goodbye and headed off to the car. Just as Steve was about to get in the driver’s seat, you stole the keys from his grasp and gave him a small “tsk tsk” causing the man to laugh. Earlier, while Steve had gotten dressed, you had been able to sneak out and put a prepared picnic basket in the trunk of the car along with a large blanket. For Steve’s birthday, you were taking him to see fireworks at a nearby park. You knew how much of a sucker he was for fireworks and a good, old fashioned, park picnic. 

As you pulled into the entrance of the park and globs of people sat out on the field, Steve’s eyes started to sparkle with excitement and you couldn't help but grin at him. 

“Babe, is this what I think it is?”

You put the car in park and turned in your seat to fully face Steve, “If you’re thinking fireworks and a picnic, then you’re right. I’m sorry it’s not a lot, but I know how much you-” 

Before you could finish your unnecessary apology, Steve sweetly grabbed your face and pulled you in for an enchanting kiss. 

“It’s perfect, (y/n).” 

Steve’s face softened into a loving look and his azure eyes looked the slightest bit shiny in the moonlight. 

You parted away from the man and exited the car, heading to the trunk where Steve met you. He helped carry the picnic basket despite your pleas for him to not do so. 

The park wasn't too crowded, but there were just enough people for you and Steve to have to search around for a good ten minutes. Eventually you spotted this place under a tree that wasn’t too surrounded and had a perfect view of where the fireworks would be. 

Swiftly, you laid out the plaid picnic blanket and Steve then set down the picnic basket that was filled with the components of your dinner. You began to set out the prepared food, even bringing out a candle, albeit fake, that provided some romantic and not overwhelming lighting.

Since you both had arrived twenty minutes before the show started, it allowed for you and Steve to enjoy the dinner peacefully. You had even packed some desserts but those would be for during the show as a little something to snack on.

Just as the show started, you had finished packing away the last of the Tupperware containers and now settled in between Steve's legs, his chest providing use as a pillow. The man delicately rested his chin on your shoulder and in return, you lovingly rubbed his forearms that laid in your lap.

“Thank you for the best birthday, my love. You’ve given me so much over these past few years and I swear I don’t know what I’d be without you.” 

It was a whisper in your ear, but you still heard it over the loud crackling of the fireworks. 

With a warm smile and quiet giggle, you brought his hand to your lips and placed a kiss on the back of his hand.

“Only you could pull off such a cheesy line, Rogers.” 

[gamergirl929]

The NEW #1 Goalkeeper In The World (Hope Solo x Reader)

Anonymous Request: Could you do a hope solo one? Like where the reader is the number 1 goalkeeper in the USWNT while Hope is the new trainer and they flirt or something like that?

Hope smirks, watching as you knock a ball effortlessly out of goal before again catching it when it was fired back at you the woman nodding.  

You wipe your sweat covered face with your shirt, Hope’s blue orbs dropping to the sweat covered muscles on your torso.  

She turns away with an arched brow, clearing her throat when you’re close enough to her to hear.  

“You did good.” She shrugs and you turn to her, smiling softly. “But I could’ve done it better.” She winks and you chuckle.  

The banter between the two of you was playful, being the new #1 goalkeeper in the world, Hope had to challenge you as much as she could, always telling you how she could’ve done it better.  

“Well, Ms. Solo, maybe you’ll have to show me how it’s done?” You smirk and her brows arch, her lips splitting in a grin.  

“Oh, I can show you something...”  

You laugh, your cheeks pink from more than the exertion of practice as you take a swig of your water.  

“Always willing to learn.” You wink and Hope licks her lips.  

“Always willing to teach.”  

                                                        ***

Hope couldn’t keep her eyes off of you as you stretched, your muscle on full display, the retired goalkeeper would deny it if asked, but you incredibly distracted her, her blue orbs always drifting to you on field.

“Distracted?” Julie teases when she sees Hope’s eyes on you, the ex-goalie clearing her throat.  

“Not at all.” She shrugs looking at her clipboard and the blonde winks.  

“Sureeeeeeee.”  

Hope rolls her eyes, watching the blonde go with a glare before her eyes again drift to where you were, the woman frowning when she realizes you’re no longer there.  

“Looking for me?”  

Hope’s eyes widen when she turns to you, a smirk spreading across her face.  

“Just making sure you’re doing the right stretches is all... Wouldn’t want the #1 goalkeeper in the world going soft.”  

You roll your eyes, moving to stand in front of her, noting the way her eyes rake down your front.  

“As you can tell, since you’re shamelessly ogling me... I’m doing the right stretches.” You wink, Hope grinning as you turn around, strutting away.  

Hope watches you go, her blue orbs watch the muscles in your calves flex.  

“Not distracted my ass.” Julie snorts on her way by and Hope’s eyes narrow.  

“Shouldn’t you be practicing?”  

“Shouldn’t you be doing trainer things?” She teases and Hope grumbles.  

“Get out of here Ertz.”  

                                                        ***

You were pissed, jerking your gloves off of your sweaty hands.

The ref was entirely biased, not calling fouls and even going as far as to foul Alex in the box when she was nowhere near the Swedish player who went down.  

You’d blocked the PK with ease, but the fact you had to do it because of the ref’s biased had pissed you off.  

Hope’s eyes widen when she sees you send a glare to the ref much like her own that she was sending her.  

“Fucking bullshit.” You snarl on your way by, Hope’s eyes widening when the ref turns to you, the woman calling your name, before you can turn around, Hope is at your side, a hand on your back.  

“Pretend like you didn’t hear her.” She mumbles and you nod, muscle in your jaw jumping.  

“I know you’re pissed. I’m pissed. Vlatko’s pissed. Everyone is pissed.” She mumbles, guiding you forward, the ref still calling your name.  

“If she yells my name again I’m going to jail.” You snarl, the ref again calling your name.  

Your Y/E/C orbs lock with Hope’s blue orbs and she shakes her head.  

“No.”  

You growl, but begrudgingly make your way to the locker room, Hope basically guiding you back there so you don’t turn around and snap the ref in half.  

The second the locker room opens your back-line moves to their feet, but you hold a hand up, shaking your head.  

“It’s not you guys, it’s the ref.” You growl angrily, flopping down in a nearby chair. “That PK was utter bullshit, and I’m pretty sure I’m getting a yellow card next half.” You mumble under your breath and Vlatko’s brows furrow.  

“For what?”  

“I said fucking bullshit, to myself, but the ref was trying to stop me from coming in the locker room.” You roll your eyes.  

“Listen, I know you’re all incredibly angry, but the best thing we can do is take it to Sweden in the second half.” Vlatko says and the team nods, Hope giving you a pat on the back before she moves to stand beside him.  

                                                        ***

The second you step out of the locker room and onto the field the ref is on you.  

“I don’t appreciate you speaking to me like you did.”  

You swallow hard, willing to God to keep you from strangling a bitch.  

“Listen, for one I wasn’t saying it to you, for two-

The ref retrieves a yellow card and your eyes widen, a grin spreading across your face.  

“You have GOT to be kidding me.” You throw your head back with a groan, Vlatko and Hope immediately on either side of you.  

“And may I ask what the yellow card is for exactly?” Hope asks, sending the ref a glare and she turns away.  

“Profanity.”  

You put your gloved hands together, looking up at the sky.  

“God, forgive me for what I’m about to do...”  

Just as the words leave your mouth, Hope grabs you, as does Vlatko, the two dragging you to the bench, your teammates watching with wide eyes.  

“No Y/N, make her pay by demolishing the team she thinks so highly of...” Vlatko pats your back and you take a deep breath, glancing at Hope who nods.  

“Embarrass her.”  

You glance at the ref, who looks your way, her eyes narrowed as a grin spreads across your face.  

“Oh, I’m going to do more than that.”  

                                                        ***

Embarrass her you did, swaggering passed the ref after a shutout game, a single goal hadn’t got passed you, but a few balls ended up in the back of the net on the other end.  

You can’t help yourself, biting your tongue between your teeth as you send the ref a wink the woman sending you a deadly glare.  

“She’s nearly just as cocky as you.”  

Hope turns to Tobin, rolling her eyes at the forward’s grin.  

"Eh, it takes a lot to be THAT cocky.” Alex giggles as she stands beside the two, watching with a grin as Sonnett goes to shake your hand, you jerk it back, pretending to slick your hair back.  

Hope can’t hold back a chuckle as she, Lindsey and the other team’s children practically dog pile on you, though still, even with so many bodies on you, you don’t flinch, even when Sam climbs onto your back.  

Hope’s smile softens at the grin on your face, the girls all grunting and groaning as you, somehow, manage to move, even with the girls hanging off of you.  

Tobin’s eyes narrow as they dart from Hope, to you and back.  

“Ms. Solo are you crushing on our #1 goalkeeper?” Tobin teases, earning a glare that would scare a starving bear off, but of course, it doesn’t deter Tobin Heath.  

“I do not have a crush on her.” She growls, a loud snort sounding from someone nearby.  

“Yeah, right.” Julie rolls her eyes on her way by and Hope snarls.  

“I don’t.” She mumbles under her breath, but one look across field, at your massive smile her heart skips a beat.  

Hope sighs.  

“Fuck.”

                                                        ***

You’d noticed after that, that Hope had put a significant amount of distance between the two of you, the playful banter and teasing between the two completely stopping, much to your consternation.  

Hope’s eyes catch yours and your mouth drops open, ready to talk to the woman for the first time in weeks, but before you can she abruptly turns away.  

You huff, head hanging in sadness as you move back towards goal.  

“What’s wrong?”  

You turn to Julie Ertz with a small frown.  

“Hope won’t talk to me...” You swallow hard, taking a seat on the turf, Julie taking a seat beside you.  

Julie’s blue orbs narrow as she looks across field, catching Hope’s blue orbs on her.  

“Did something happen?” She asks and you shrug, fiddling with a blade of grass. 

“Not that I’m aware of.” You shrug, swallowing hard.  

Julie grimaces, her blue orbs locked with Hope’s.  

“How long has this been going on?” She asks and you fidget nervously with the straps of your gloves.  

“A couple weeks.”  

Julie hums, still glaring at her old friend.  

“I’m sure things will get back to how they were.” Julie grins and you shrug.  

“I hope you’re right.”  

                                                        ***  

Hope can’t help but scowl when she sees Lucy Bronze make a beeline towards you, a massive grin on the woman’s face as she throws her arms around you.  

Hope scowl furthers when you lift the woman in the air, giving her a spin.  

The two of you had been overseas for a while and needless to say, you’d gotten rather close.  

Hope watches intently, her arms crossed across her chest as Lucy jumps up, pressing a kiss to your cheek, at least where she can reach and you throw your head back with a laugh.

The former goalie’s eyes widen when you point from Lucy to you, the two of you pulling your jerseys over your head, swapping them and slipping them on, your jersey a bit bigger on Lucy.  

Hope swallows hard as you slip an arm around Lucy, the two of you walking around field, talking to USWNT plays and England players alike.  

Hope didn’t realize though that she wasn't the ONLY one watching the interaction between you and Lucy Bronze, the media was watching as well.  

                                                        ***

You weren’t even off the field before pictures began to surface, and by the time you hit the hotel, fans and the media were in a frenzy, everyone questioning the relationship between you and Lucy Bronze.  

“You have to admit, you two look cute together.” Emily gives you a nudge and you scoff, shaking your head as you follow your teammates into the hotel.  

“Oh, trust me, I’ve definitely noticed and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it...” You wink, the defender snickering.  

“Ohhhh, are the rumors true!?” Kelley teases and you roll you eyes, smacking her shoulder.  

“No, we’re just friends.”  

“You’re just friends for nowwwwwwwwwww.” Megan pats your back and your cheeks flush.  

“Shut up.”  

Meanwhile, at the back of the group, Hope is walking between Julie and Tobin, the two sharing a glance.  

“She won’t wait forever.” Tobin says as she leans towards the angry goalkeeper, the woman sending her a glare.  

“And you aren’t talking to her anymore, why?” Julie asks and Hope growls.  

“I know she won’t just back off.”

She moves a little further ahead, just catching the conversation between you and Emily.  

“You have to admit, you two look cute together.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve definitely noticed and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it...”

Hope’s stomach twisted in jealousy, and regret.  

Maybe she was too late?  

                                                        ***

You weren’t going to lie, you missed Hope Solo.  

You missed the playful banter between the two of you, you missed the way her eyes would sparkle when the two of you talked, and the cocky smirk on her face. 

“You look a little lost.”  

You glance up, clearing your throat remembering you were in the locker room talking before the game, your eyes just happened to drift to Hope and your thoughts took over.  

You clear your throat again, smiling at Tobin.  

“Just spaced out.” You shrug and the forward hums, glancing at Hope who you’d been staring at before you spaced out.  

“Happens to the best of us.”  

Hope’s eyes dart from Tobin, to you and back, the woman frowning at the crestfallen look on your face.  

It had been nearly two months since the two of you talked and you were off you game, missing shots on goal that you would NEVER miss.  

Tactic talks for the game end and you move to your feet, rubbing the back of your neck and taking a deep breath.

Canada had always been a formidable foe, and you worried that you would again mess up like you had the following game against Japan, missing an easily blockable goal.  

The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you turn around, your eyes widening when you see the USWNT former #1 goalkeeper standing before you, wearing a small smile.  

“Good luck today, I hope you impress me.” She smirks and your eyes widen. You biting your bottom lip to stave a grin, your cheeks flushing.  

“Oh, I will.”  

                                                        ***

And impress her you did, you were on fire, blocking ball after ball, blocking shots most would never be able to, but you were the #1 goalkeeper after all.  

The game had ended in a shut out for you, the score 3-0 with USWNT the overall winners.  

Something so simple as Hope speaking to you rejuvenated you in a way you didn’t think was possible, but with that rejuvenation came the feelings you’d been suppressing.  

You thought of the former goalie as more than just a trainer, more than just a friend, you were falling for the woman and falling hard.  

“Excuse me Y/N, may we get a word?”  

You turn to a grinning reporter, the camera man behind you giving you an equally toothy grin.  

“Of course.”  

“First off congrats on an amazing performance, you blocked goals I thought myself were unblockable.” She beams and you smile.  

“Thank you so much.”  

“I’m sure you’ve seen the fans reaction to your performance in the Japan game, but with a shutout game against one of the USNWT biggest rivals, what do you say to your doubters?”  

You hum, smiling when you feel a pat on the back.  

“Honestly, I’d say everyone has off days, I was off my game then, we all have days like that, but I’d like to think that’s past me.”  

“I’d be remissed to not ask about certain photos surfacing of you and Lucy Bronze, England’s WNT’s defender... What’s going on there?”  

You open your mouth to respond, but are cut off when someone moves to stand beside you, that someone being Hope Solo.  

“Do you have any RELEVANT questions about the game?” She asks fiercely and your eyes widen, darting to the reporter who swallows hard.  

“I ummm...”  

“Well then this interview is over.” Hope sneers, glancing at you before taking her leave.  

You watch her go in utter confusion, mouth agape and eyes wide before you turn to the reporter.  

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what that was about, but I’m going to find out.”  

                                                        ***

“What the hell was that? That wasn’t necessary.” You yell as you chase after the woman who’d tried to disappear within the arena’s backrooms.  

“First off, I don’t need you telling me what’s necessary, and secondly are you not tired of getting questioned about Bronze?” She asks, arms crossed across her chest. “Unless you actually ARE into her.”  

Your eyes narrow.  

“I mean she is cute.” You shrug, noting the spark of something in Hope’s blue orbs.  

“Well, then maybe you should talk to her about that.” She rolls her eyes, turning away but you grab her wrist, stopping her before she can take even take a step. 

“Are you jealous?” You ask, surprised the words left your mouth and Hope turns towards you abruptly.  

“Why the hell would I be jealous?” She snarls. “Jealous of what? Of who?”  

You glance around, pulling the woman, who puts up no fight into a nearby room so your conversation doesn’t have any prying eyes.  

"What’s the problem? You may have been ignoring me, but I’ve never seen you act like... That.” You motion to the door and Hope growls.  

“There is no problem, I’m sick of hearing about Lucy Bronze! Lucy Bronze this, Lucy Bronze that.” She throws her arms up in the air and your eyes widen.  

A familiar spark in Hope’s blue orbs make your Y/E/C orbs widen further.  

“Are you jealous?”  

Hope turns to you with a loud laugh.  

“Jealous of what? Of you?!” She snickers. “Why would I be jealous of you?” She asks and you smirk.  

“I didn’t say you were jealous of me...” Your eyes dart around her face. “I meant jealous of Lucy.” Your smirk widens and she laughs even louder, a humorless laugh.  

“There is no way I’m jealous of Lucy Bronze!”  

“Really? Because you seem pretty jealous to me.”  

“Who would be jealous when you’re just a cocky ass...”  

You scoff.  

“Oh, I’m the cocky one, what about you?”  

“What about me!?” Hope growls and your lip curls in a snarl as you move closer.

“You’re self-centered!”

Hope pokes your chest.  

“And you’re arrogant.”  

“Condescending.” You spit back and Hope snarls.  

“ANNOYING!”  

The door abruptly swings open, Alex’s blue orbs wide as they dart from you, to Hope and back.  

“I heard yell- I'll just go now.” She clears her throat, going to shut the door behind her.

You turn to Hope, the veteran goalie snarling before she shoves past Alex and moves out of the room, leaving you behind.  

“What the hell just happened?” Alex asks and you shrug.  

“I have no idea.”  

                                                        ***

You bury your face in your gloved hands, taking a deep breath.  

The whistle signaling half time had already begun, but you still haven’t moved.  

The game had been absolutely brutal, so much so that the USWNT were down 0-3 against Brazil, which was mostly your fault, you knew it was your fault and STILL you were missing shots on goal.  

“Hey, come on.”  

You glance up the former #1 goalkeeper in the world holding her hand out to you, a hand that you reluctantly take.  

Hope slips an arm around you as the two of you make your way across the field. 

“You’re getting inside your head too much.” She whispers and you shake your head.  

“It’s my fault we’re losing.”  

Hope huffs.  

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, it’s not just you making mistakes, this isn’t all on you Y/N, get out of your head and focus on the game, I know you can do it, you’re not the #1 goalkeeper in the world for nothing. You’re the most talented goalkeeper in the world and I am so proud to have you on our team, to be your trainer.”  

You stop, your eyes glazing over as you stare into Hope’s blue orbs.  

“Do you...” You swallow hard, glancing down at your feet. “Do you mean that?” You ask, voice below a whisper and she nods, grinning.  

“Of course, I do.”  

                                                        ***

The second you get back in goal you nod to yourself, glancing around the stadium.  

Slowly, your eyes drift to Hope, the woman giving you a nod and a smile.  

“Let’s fucking do this.” You jump up and down, smacking both of the goalposts. “Let’s FUCKING do this.” You say under your breath, Hope grinning as you jump up and slap the top of the goalpost.  

“LET’S GO.”  

                                                        ***

You flop onto the ground as the final whistle blows, this time though it’s not out of dismay, it’s out of relief.  

The second half the USWNT came back from out of nowhere, scoring 5 goals, 2 courtesy of Christen Press’s boot.  

You hadn’t missed a single shot on goal after getting back between the goal posts having been rejuvenated by Hope’s pep talk.  

“Hope.” You mumble under your breath before leaping to your feet and running off field, towards the former goalie with a massive grin.  

“I couldn’t have done with without you.” You shake your head, cheeks flushed, your face covered in sweat.  

Hope shakes her head, taking a step towards you, the last thing you see is an eye roll before the woman leans in, pressing her lips against yours.  

You inhale sharply, the air leaving your lungs as the woman’s lips meet yours. Hope smiles the second your lips start moving, the woman’s arms wrapped around your neck as she pulls you close.  

The two of you eventually part, neither going far as Hope rests her forehead against yours.  

“Yes, you could’ve done it without me Y/N.” She whispers and you grin.  

“I knew you were jealous.” You tease, Hope again rolling her eyes.  

“Shut up.”  

[kikilefangirl]

Owed Part 2

Steve Rogers x reader

(Word Count: 2689)

(Gif not mine, but I love it)

The view from your penthouse was everything you could ask for after a long night.

“I want you and the team waiting for me in Paris by next week. You know the drill.” You said, picking up one file in particular.

You ignored Mo’s groan and whatever it was she was trying to explain. You grimaced at the photo staring back at you.

Alexander Pierce. He was long dead, but some of his associates had yet to be uncovered. The name of one in particular caught you off guard. Avon. Presumed dead, body never recovered.

The images of his face hovering over you, forcing you to use your powers bombarded your senses. You crumpled the paper out of instinct. He was too slippery to be dead, and you were going to make sure he really was.

“I have another job that requires my attention. Solo.” You told her.

Mo nodded at your seriousness and pulled out a pair of pearl earrings. You marveled at their simple beauty. After living a life filled with ugly things, you had earned each and every luxury.

“Recording device made in your style, boss. Leverage, if need be.” Mo explained. You immediately put them on and smirked.

“Thanks, Mo. Now tell me how distro went.” You sat across from her, taking time to compare notes and make sure all the money was delivered to all the right people.

You took ten percent. Your team got five per person. And the rest, went to your people. Stacks of money left on project window sills, in a fifth grader’s backpack during the afterschool rush, left in a college kid’s dorm room. The money was scattered across the city, securely in the hands of struggling black families who certainly weren’t getting help from anyone else.

You nodded, impressed with the good team you had and their dedication to your cause. It was exactly why you couldn’t let them get involved in your personal agenda.

“Lock up for me. See you, Mo.”

You grabbed your purse from the counter and headed out the door.

…

It had been one of those restless nights Steve was becoming more and more familiar with.

He and Sam stayed up all night trying to get Bucky to remember you. Anything about you, actually. Confirmation that your name was really Y/N, more clarity on your powers. Steve did not appreciate the interruption that was Tony Stark busting into the room.

“Heard you had a special night, Boy Scout. Too bad you couldn’t get laid in the process. Anyway, the bombshell you ran into stole thirty million dollars up under your noses.” Tony announced.

So that’s what you were buying time for. A robbery. Steve placed his hands on his hips in frustration.

“Anything useful, Stark?” Steve asked begrudgingly.

He was going through a dozen or more screens, his mind going a mile a minute. Tony hadn’t even acknowledged Sam or Bucky and probably wasn’t going to. His attention was solely on whatever information he was fixated on.

“Got her. She looked directly at the camera on fifteenth.” Tony said in an annoyed voice. He blew up the photo, and it was definitely you. You were dressed more casually than last night, but the way you held your chin, the slight part in your lips, everything was the same.

Steve couldn’t help the small smile that found its way on his face. You weren’t hiding from him or anyone. Bold, if nothing else.

“Find out if there are any Hydra members that were never caught and cross reference with her file. If it matches, she’s going after them.” Steve said.

Bucky had a lost look in his eyes, something Steve had learned was his knee jerk reaction to anything Hydra. His friend had lost so much to those people, and he could only imagine what Hydra took from you.

“What’s our next play, Cap?” Sam asked. Steve reached for his shield.

“Suit up. And don’t let her get a beat on you.”

…

Access to Avon’s office wasn’t hard.

You slipped into the building afternoon rush, right off the street. Using the security officers to bypass each checkpoint, making it into his private office wasn’t hard, either.

You kept your head held high as you opened the door, making sure to have each guard flank you. Avon was sitting at his desk going through papers when you strut into the room.

“Six eight three.” He said, his panic never outweighing fascination. You sat down in the chair across from him, never once breaking eye contact on the way down.

“Hi, doc. You didn’t forget about my promise, did you?” You asked.

He was much older than before. His salt and pepper hair had gone gray and he shaved off his mustache. For all intents and purposes, Avon looked like a normal old man. His unassuming appearance hid the evil he had committed in his life from plain view.

But you knew as soon the good doctor laid eyes on you, he hadn’t changed at all. The same lingering gaze still made your skin crawl.

You spurred into action. In an instant, you had Avon under your spell, guiding him towards you.

“The roof. Move.” You prodded.

As he trudged on completely at your mercy, and you knew he’d be dead by nightfall. It was the only ending you could accept. The ghost of his needles and his gloves fingers pressing into your skin over and over again...

And the memories always stayed.

You clenched your jaw as all the anger and hurt tried to bubble up to the surface. You couldn’t even lose your cool to a dead man walking. He needed to die with the image of the woman you had become in his mind, not the little girl who cried until she had no tears left.

Your little group calmly made it up to the roof. It was bare for the most part. Cold. Gravelly, too. You flinched as the strain of occupying so many minds grew the longer you held it.

“Please. Please, six eught three.” Avon cried. Bastard couldn’t even call you by your name, even if he knew it. Just an experiment number.

You reared back and decked him square in the face. Blood dripped from his nose as he stumbled back. You could see the wild eyes of a mad scientist, admiring his handiwork.

You snarled and tagged him again, forcing him to the ground. He whimpered as you squatted down next to him, knife in hand.

You were about to kill him yourself, but a wicked thought came to mind.

“You worked so hard to make me, doc, it’s only right you offer me the same courtesy.” You whispered devilishly.

As you rose to your feet, so did Avon. He trembled all over, but he had no retort, no defense, no excuse. Avon made you to his standards; he knew exactly what you were capable of and how efficient you were in the field.

You offered him the knife and he took it with shaky hands. He would die by his hands, the same hands responsible for the death of hundreds. A familiar feeling stirred within you, your powers intensifying.

Avon’s eyes glazed over with purple for a second, before returning to their usual brown. His death would dox you from the country for years to come, and if it rid him from the world, then so be it.

“Y/N! I know what they did!”

Steve.

He’d seen your little message, because he and Bucky were running full speed a rooftop away. Their powerful bodies absorbed the impact and kept them moving, with Steve pulling slightly ahead of Bucky. There had to be more.

A glimpse of movement above you alerted you to Sam. When you met him in person, he seemed normal enough, but maybe he was enhanced. That left you to deal with three bogeys alone.

Good thing you were good at improvising.

“I know what he did.” Steve said in between ragged breaths.

He had just landed on the other end of your rooftop with Bucky just a few yards away from him. The two men had their whole get ups on, minus the helmet. His blonde hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and his chest heaved from the effort.

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t. You just stared out at Steve without releasing your hold on Avon. If he knew about the doctor, he had to know what Hydra trained you for. Violence and death was always going to be your path, at least with Avon you’d get a say about who, where, or when.

“You should’ve stayed in your tower, this doesn’t involve you.” You warned. Steve was supposed to be a story you told about the time you met Captain America, and now he was in front of you again.

Where your last meeting was fun and playful, it wasn’t just business anymore. A hardness that came from years of waiting for the chance to end your torturer once and for all outweighed any new feelings you might have had.

“You tried, Steve,” You added, just loud enough for him to hear.

Steve shook his head and a hard determination settled in his face.

“We’re not done yet,” He said. Your hair blew from the wind behind you, and your eyes glowed purple. With a wave of your hand, Avon stabbed himself in the gut.

With a strangled cry, the scientist dropped to his knees.

At the same time, you let go of the security guards and they clambered for the exit. Taking advantage of their spectacle, your powers seized on Bucky. Beads of sweat trickled down your face from the effort of Bucky’s mind alone.

The man stilled for a split second as his eyes turned purple. In the next breath he was tackling Steve, seeing his friend as Alexander Pierce.

You picked him because was probably one of the few people who could hold Steve back until the task was complete. It made tactical sense, and you had to make your little tricks last.

The irony and guilt of controlling a man who had lived a long life under the thumb of others with no free will, wasn’t lost on you. It had to be done.

Avon’s cries became louder and his blood was everywhere, the strong sickly smell burned your nostrils. You stared at the dying man without an ounce of regret.

Just before you commanded a second strike, Bucky had pinned Steve to the ground and you let go of your hold on him. Avon would be dead soon enough and it wouldn’t take long for Steve to go after you once freed.

Avon opened his mouth in a silent cry, his teeth bloodstained as he tried to stay alive. You hovered over him and spat.

“Hail Hydra,” You snarled. His gurgles were the tell tale sign he was fading fast, choking on his own blood. You wondered how many black girls Avon had deemed failed experiments until he succeeded with you.

As you began to make your escape, a shot rang out.

Avon’s body fell backwards as the bullet pierced his skull. Even though your heart raced and you couldn’t hear much of anything, looked up and it clicked immediately.

Bucky was standing with his gun still pointing at Avon. The lone shell casing laid at his feet. Everything went into an uneasy silence with each person waiting to fall off the edge.

Steve flung his shield your way, and it caught you in the shoulder. You fell backwards, and black spots interrupted your vision. For a moment you laid there in a daze.

Steve hovered over you, flipping you on your stomach, holding your hands behind your back. You struggled against him, to no avail. Taking a deep breath, you surveyed your surroundings.

“It didn’t have to go like this,” Steve said wistfully. You stilled, and only the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional gravel crunching under your weight.

Bucky was behind you somewhere, and you were eye level with Avon’s body. It sent an involuntary chill down your spine.

Sam had been circling the skies above the chaos, and he would be your way out. It was over once he landed in your line of sight.

You made Bucky the target. Sam made a beeline for the brunette with a twisted face. You bucked up at Steve, who wasn’t easily moved, but he didn’t need to be. The second he looked down, you had him under your grasp.

But once the super soldier lifted you to your feet, you let him go, indulging for one last time. No powers.

You leaned into Steve and crashed your lips onto his. In response, he gripped your waist, and held one of your hands in his. You snaked your other one up to the nape of his neck, nudging him even closer to you, if that was possible.

For at least one moment in time, the two of you were utterly and completely lost in each other.

You slowly pulled away from him, the fantasy disintegrating before your eyes and his. Phantom heat from his lips still warmed your own as Steve’s conflicted gaze stared down at you.

You blinked and quickly regained control, this time showing Steve his first love. It was a dark haired woman with bold red lipstick. She seemed strong and daring.

You regained your focus.

Luckily, Bucky hadn’t gotten to Sam yet. You broke out in an all out run, drawing him nearer. He believed he was holding Steve up instead of you, and that he was taking him to their tower. In reality, he was flying you to a drop off point at the docks. The strain of Steve’s mind and Sam’s was taking a toll. You ran faster.

In seconds he dove down towards you, taking you up in the air with him. Steve was out of range after the first block. But Bucky’s haunted gaze was stamped into your brain, even as his figure disappeared on the horizon.

The weight that he had helped you kill Avon was something you two would share forever, just like that cell. You gulped and wondered what he would tell Steve about you.

The wind whipped everywhere as you soared through the air. It was a welcome noise to black out the silence.

When you landed, you took the opportunity to make Sam sleep. When he awoke in an empty shipping container he was sure to have a headache, but he’d be fine more or less.

You stumbled to the guard, whose eyes widened at your haggard appearance. Your shirt was full of dirt stains, you had Avon’s blood on your jeans—your saving grace was the fact that you made it in time.

“There must be a mistake, this ship travels during the night shift.” He said.

You pushed a stray strand of hair out of your face and smiled.

“I’m sorry, I’m looking for the one that leaves at dawn. To see the sunrise.” You replied.

Titan and his games. You clicked your tongue, antsy at being out in the open for so long.

The guard guided you up the port, to a massive ship. As you boarded, the man led you to a room deep in the heart of the vessel.

As soon as the door opened, you smiled at the older man in a Captain’s uniform.

“You smell like shit.” He told you, motioning towards the decadent bathroom. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“You’re a lifesaver, T.” You said. All of your things were waiting for you in the bedroom. The guard had disappeared.

Titan walked past you, and out the door without another word. You thanked your lucky stars you had friends and favors to collect all around the world.

Finally alone and safe, you shrugged your shoulders and stripped everything off. A hot bath was waiting for you. The water swayed softly as you got in and the boat left the port.

You closed your eyes and let your muscles relax in the heat.

“Paris.”

[glimmerofawesome]

https://twitter.com/KatieWhyatt/status/1386214562974814209?s=19

Great article.  It’s a good summary of Fran’s story of how she ended up at Chelsea

Article below for anyone who doesn’t have access

The inside story of Fran Kirby’s move to Chelsea

Fran Kirby had been on Emma Hayes’ radar for years before arriving at Chelsea aged 22 in July 2015.

As Arsenal’s academy director, Hayes had seen a teenage Kirby strut her stuff for Reading more times than she’d care to count. Yet the chase would be ignited by one moment several years on, when Kirby, by then in Reading’s first team, came up against World Cup winner Yukari Kinga.

“She pirouetted on the ball against Kinga and blew past her,” Hayes recalls. “I thought, ‘Well — that’s unbelievable. She’s so dynamic’. I really wanted somebody to bring that type of play to our team, and Chelsea and Fran Kirby are a perfect match. She’s been instrumental in the history we have created here.”

Kirby is now Women’s Super League Player of the Year in waiting and potentially three games away from earning her first Champions League winner’s medal. She should finish this season — which may yet end in a quadruple — with a clutch of personal awards, and it is not an exaggeration to say she is among the frontrunners for the next Women’s Ballon d’Or.

Few players on the planet, other than the one with whom she has formed such a dangerous Chelsea partnership in Sam Kerr, have been able to rival Kirby’s inimitable artistry and verve over the past several months. The ease with which she and Kerr have dismantled WSL defences for sport has propelled their club to dizzying new levels.

This is the inside story of how Chelsea signed her.

Kirby’s stock had been rising for years before Chelsea finally made their move.

Her time at Reading had spawned hefty goal haul after hefty goal haul: 32 in 21 games in 2012-13, then 24 in 16 in a higher division the following season, then 11 in five in 2015. That season included all Reading’s goals in a 4-2 away win over Yeovil and five in a 7-0 swatting of London Bees.

Such prolific numbers caught England’s attention. In June 2014, Kirby became the first WSL 2 — now the Championship — player to be called up to the senior side, coming in for World Cup qualifiers against Belarus and Ukraine. She marked her debut, against Sweden two months later, with the classic debut goal.

“She’d come into the squad and people would be like, ‘Oh, she’s she’s got to be in the WSL at some point — she’s too good’,” recalls Karen Carney, Kirby’s former England and Chelsea team-mate. Two years later, Kirby represented England at the SheBelieves Cup, where Carney was approached by Carli Lloyd, the World Cup winner with whom she had played at Chicago Red Stars. “After the game, she came up to me and said, ‘Who?! Who is that kid?!’ I said, ‘It’s Fran. She’s decent. Keep an eye on her. She’s got a future’. It was just her agility that really caught me: her ability to shift from left to right just effortlessly.”

In May 2015, Kirby was named in the squad for that summer’s World Cup in Canada. England’s first goal in their 2-1 win over Mexico made her the country’s youngest World Cup goalscorer at 21.

The subsequent media frenzy saw the whole world learn Kirby’s story and she was expected to be the tournament’s breakout star.

However, they did not know of the negotiations taking place behind the scenes or the fact that Kirby was balancing her maiden World Cup — a campaign followed by more than 750 million television viewers — with a move to one of the biggest clubs in the world, and had been even before she boarded the plane.

“The atmosphere was pretty was pretty electric leading up to leading up to the World Cup,” remembers John Sorzano, who was Kirby’s agent at the time. “The interest had been there ahead of the World Cup, ahead of the announcements. It (had been) rising, bubbling under. She had interest from Arsenal, offers from Manchester City. They were willing to pay a lot more.”

In the same week Raheem Sterling moved from Liverpool to Manchester City to become the then-most expensive English footballer, Reading announced that her transfer was a British record in the women’s game — a claim Chelsea denied — with the BBC anticipating Kirby could have fetched anything in the region of £40,000-£60,000.

“The fee ended up being closer to £70,000,” says Sorzano. “What makes her transfer really, really interesting is that I remember clubs like City and Arsenal were prepared to go to £150,000-£200,000 for the player. It was different because my experience had been traditionally in the men’s game. To then to see that transition, where the women were being valued at that point — it was pretty awesome.”

Kelly Chambers jolted when news of Chelsea’s offer reached her. As manager of Reading, then a part-time side in the second tier, Chambers had never before overseen a transfer involving a fee.

“At the time, I didn’t even know she had an agent,” Chambers says. “It must have all happened so quickly for her. It was her first-ever England tournament, so she probably had so much going on in her head. It was a shock to us because it came out of the blue for me. I actually ended up getting in our academy manager, Lee Herron, to support me with the process, because he would have dealt with different stuff on the boys’ side of the game and he was involved in the first team here and there. He would have understood the negotiations and the talk that goes on in the men’s game, and with the agent.”

Kirby was Reading’s only full-time player, training with the club’s under-15s boys. Reading did not play in the top flight until the following season. Another year with the academy was all they could offer her, with Kirby continuing to supplement her football career with girls’ coaching sessions for Reading’s Community Foundation. She had been with Reading since the age of eight, enjoying not just success on the football pitch but enduring the well-documented personal battles that ensued following the death of her mother when Kirby was 14 and her subsequent hiatus from football to conserve her mental health.

“For her, it was almost like it was an opportunity where, if she didn’t take it now, would it still be available if we didn’t get promoted?” Chambers explains. “If anything, she wanted a change. She had been with us for so long, and (had) a lot of history in terms of her football, family and everything else. It was probably more for her to just have something completely different in her life that would challenge her differently.

“We did want to keep her and we did put up a bit of a fight, but we were very understanding of what was on offer for her and what we could offer. She could fulfil her dreams of being a professional footballer and it allowed us to build the club a little bit more that season.”

Amid the interest from Manchester City and Arsenal, Kirby plumped for Chelsea. Infrastructurally, there was little to separate the three: all were among the richest and best-equipped women’s teams in the country. Arsenal had the history, built on more than a decade of historical dominance. City had new money, ambitions and a training base worth more than £200 million. Chelsea had never won a major trophy — but they had the deal-breaker.

“We thought she’d be in much better hands with Emma Hayes,” says Sorzano. “She was the catalyst for all of it and still is for many players now. For personalities, she’s infectious. She just gets into you. Her ambition, attention to detail and the discipline she demands — you want to play for her.”

But it meant that Kirby would be entering negotiations with the latter stages of the World Cup looming.

The biggest move of Kirby’s life, and the most significant for an English player since Manchester City hoovered up the likes of Steph Houghton and Toni Duggan in 2013, was running concurrently with the most intense matches of her career. Knowing this coloured Sorzano’s negotiations, with the deal not signed until after the tournament but finalised while Kirby was more than 3,000 miles away in Canada.

“In most negotiations, what you really try to do, especially with a young player, is keep them away from the stress of it,” Sorzano says. “Fran just let go and said, ‘Let me know when it’s all done and what it is’. We explained to her what the process would entail and that, in the end, there would be transparency and she would know what occurred.

“We were obviously transparent, explaining to her what her personal terms were, what the clauses were and all the intricacies of her contract. For the negotiation itself, and feeding back day-to-day updates, we wouldn’t do that because that would just destabilize a player. Especially with the massive pressure of being included in the World Cup squad like that, at that age: all that exposure and all the talk of ‘Mini Messi’.”

That had been England manager Mark Sampson’s nickname for her and he giddily revealed it to the world in his post-match interviews following Kirby’s opening goal in that first group-stage win. She admitted years later that she found it burdensome: it was only reading an interview with her England team-mate Duggan, who lamented that Kirby was never allowed to be just Fran Kirby, that allowed her to see it for what it was.

“It was unfortunate that they branded her Mini Messi,” says Sorzano. “She’s Fran Kirby, and she’s amazing. (With) all that stuff, I think it was important to shield her from the day-to-day hassle of, ‘They’re not accepting this, and the club has spoken’. Really, players don’t need to get involved in that, and neither does the agent. Once the club started speaking, we were just bystanders, rather than inundating her with information that would essentially stress her out.”

Kirby’s move was announced on July 8, joining Chelsea on a three and a half year deal. She went on to her become the PFA Women’s Players’ Player of the Year and the Football Writers’ Association Women’s Footballer of the Year in April 2018. There have followed four league titles, two FA Cups, a League Cup and a Community Shield (she did not play in Chelsea’s League Cup win last year). Last December, she became Chelsea Women’s record goalscorer.

“It gives you hope that you’ve got someone that can dig you out of a hole, at any point and any time,” says Carney, recalling the four seasons she spent playing alongside Kirby before retiring and moving into a punditry career for BT Sport and the BBC. “That’s a sign of a big player. Even as the game’s going really fast or really frantic, when you give them the ball, or you watch them when you’re on the same pitch, it’s like slow-mo. Everything slows down and it’s just implicit trust: you give them the ball and you just know that they can make something happen.”

It does not always pay to make comparisons between men’s and women’s football but one cannot help but feel, to paraphrase Bill Shankly, that Kirby was made for Chelsea and Chelsea for her; even more so, perhaps, given her circuitous route to get there.

Kirby dropped out of the England system at under-17 level. She did not represent her country again until the under-23s. Her club career reads as a run of relentless successes but there have been umpteen injuries in there too: in 2018 alone, her ankle, a hamstring and a knee all betrayed her.

Worse still was to come the following season, with the diagnosis of pericarditis, a heart infection, that ruled her out for more than six months from November 2019. She collapsed at the home she shared with team-mates Bethany England and Maren Mjelde. Cardiologists told her she might never play again, while Hayes reassured her two-time Ballon d’Or nominee Kerr had been signed to play alongside her, despite England having been voted WSL Player of the Year and the PFA Women’s Players’ Player of the Year.

Despite the huge setback, Kirby was not finished.

“This season is probably, for me, her proudest achievement,” Hayes says. “To recover, after what she went through, and to produce even better performances… You have to have unbelievable character to do that.”

Bayern Munich will be the latest opponents tasked with stopping a side containing Kirby and Kerr, in the best form of their careers, plus the world’s most expensive women’s player in Pernille Harder from scoring in the first leg of a Champions League semi-final today (Sunday). To do so would be a first — no one has kept a clean sheet against Chelsea all season — but it is a stake fitting for a competition that will crown new champions this year. For Kirby and Kerr to see their unfaltering excellence rewarded would be equally so.

“Sam will stretch the play; if she doesn’t, there are no spaces for Fran or Pernille,” says Carney. “If someone gets tight to Harder, the space is there for somebody else. When Sam Kerr does that movement in behind, Fran gets that free space to roam and do what she does best. It’s just fluid. The way Emma trains a team is just repetition, repetition, repetition, but there’s definitely a relationship that isn’t actually trainable between Sam and Fran. That’s very rare.

“When she first came onto the scene, Fran was an out-and-out No 9 and I still argue that is her best position. She would sit in between and just spin and run in behind. But she’s evolved, become more of a No 10. She can play off the flanks a little bit more and I still think she can keep improving. She’s in third gear and there’s much more to come, but it’s about not putting pressure on her. When she’s smiling and happy, she’ll go into fourth gear and fifth gear. It’s a process, but she’s improving all the time.

“She’s been through a rough period and has come through it. A lot of people have had to be patient, wait for her star to shine and give her a little bit of respite to recover and be in a happy place. She’s there. She’s a great soul. It’s such a joy to watch her and see her be happy and healthy. That’s the most important thing.”

[unmaskedagain]

Marinette: Iron Man’s Minion

Marinette: Tony’s Stark new Minion.

I have this random story idea of Marinette meeting Tony Stark. It creates fun dynamic with the avengers who begin to questions just how many children Tony has. This story might not go anywhere apart from a few headcannons so be warned.

Most people meet Tony Stark at the Stark Expo. Some are unfortunate enough to meet Tony when he’s rescuing them in the Iron Man suit.

However, when Stark Industries decide that after the events of Slovakia, thankfully Loki had been there to stop the worst of Ultron’s plan thus saving nearly everyone’s life, a little good press wouldn’t hurt.

Stark Industries quietly announced a competition to young inventors of the world: whoever designs the best new Iron Man suit wins a replica Iron man. When one little French girl wins, however it’s the stuff of her dreams.

Or at least Marinette thought so at first.

When the Parisian hero learned of the competition, she decided to pull out her old sketches of the iron man suit. She had always admired the sleekness of it but thousands ideas always hit her on how it could improve appearance wise. Marinette decided to submit her favorite design, never think it was ever a possibility that she’d win.

In fact Marinette was so sure she’d lose, that she didn’t pay attention when the winner was announced. She didn’t find out until her phone rang and Pepper Potts was on the other side of the videotime.

Tony Stark loved her suit design and instead of a shoddy helmet, the real prize was for the Winner to come to New York, meet the avengers, and work with The Tony Stark for the entire summer as an intern.

Marinette had never screamed so loud in her life. Her parents were thrilled at the idea of Marinette getting away from the dangers of all the Akumas and the drama of her class.

Honestly, Marinette thought it was her lucky break. She hadn’t made a single plan for the summer. All of her so called friends had taken to giving her the cold shoulder thanks to Lila and her lies. Marinette hadn’t even been invited to the class’s annual end of the year party. Whenever she tried to make plans with them. They were always too busy or just plain ignored her but then they go right ahead and make plans in front of her.

Marinette had been in tears by the end of term.

She tried to tell Alya she was leaving to New York but was met with contempt. Alya and Marinette’s friendship was non-existent at that point. And whatever childhood friendship she once had with Nino, died with it. Right or wrong, he always took the side of his girlfriend.

Kim trailed behind Lila like a lost puppy, further cementing he had terrible taste in women.

The most interaction Marinette had with Alix was when the pink-haired girl when out of her way to trip Marinette.

Rose said quietly whispered to Marinette that she didn’t want to cause problems with her other friends so they couldn’t talk much anymore. Juleka follow suit.

Adrien watched it all with a passive expression on his face like he didn’t know the truth. It was then that Marinette realized the boy didn’t care what the truth was as long as he didn’t have to deal with conflict.

As far as Marinette was concerned she didn’t have a single friend left in class. Just like Lila threatened. The only good thing that came from it was that Marinette that she wouldn’t care what people thought. Marinette decided to always say whats on her mind no matter what.

           Jagged said it made her very sassy, and so very ROCK AND ROLL.

Marinette arrived at Stark Tower three days after school ended. She had jumped twenty feet when she stepped into the elevator and a voice greeted her.

“Hello Miss Dupain-Cheng,” A voice said.

“Uh, bonjour?” Marinette said. “Please call me Marinette. And you are, sir?”

“I am Jarvis.”

           Marinette nodded. She had heard about the AI that help run Tony Stark’s world. “How are you doing today, Jarvis?” She asked it.

           There was a moment of silence. Most people, a part of his creator, had never asked Jarvis how he was.

“Less chaotic than usual,” Jarvis said with a dry amused tone that left Marinette wondering if A.I could be amused.

           Marinette straightened up and her blue eyes narrowed, “You are not being worked too hard, right? You get time to yourself?”

           Jarvis assured her that he did and that he liked his job. They went onto have a pleasant conversation about their most exciting experiences and Marinette’s future dreams.

Marinette didn’t know that currently Tony was watching the interaction from his workshop with a grin on her face. He had wanted to know just who he’d be working with. So far, Frenchy looked like a keeper.

When the elevator doors opened, Marinette followed Jarvis’s instructions on where to go. And that she was to wait in the living room until Tony came for her. It was then she discovered something about the A.I.

“You’re a bit of a jerk, Jarvis,” Marinette whispered when she walked into the living room where nearly all of the Avengers were hanging out and watching… Spongebob?

           Unfortunately, Tony had been drinking coffee at the time and ended up doing a spit take all over dummy.

           It took all of two second for the avengers to notice the fourteen-year-old girl standing there.

           The bluenette’s face turned bright red. It took everything in her not to start screaming and jumping up and down.

“Oh god, cap” Clint said, “One of your fangirls

“Fangirl? Oh please,” Marinette scoffed. “Have you seen the disaster of a costume he wears into battle? Not in this lifetime!”

           Unfortunately, again, for Tony and Dummy, Tony had taken another drink from his coffee at the moment.

“She’s trying to kill me,” Tony coughed. “Worth it.” He said with his eyes still glued the screen.

           The avengers just stared for a moment. Steve Rogers blinked hard, “What?”

“No offense,” Marinette quickly said. “I’m just really into fashion. And I cannot and will not be seen as fan of man who dresses like America’s drunk prom date.”

           Clint fell off the couch laughing.

“She’s not wrong,” Natasha shrugged as she eyed the girl with a smirk.

           Steve cast the spider a look, and turned frown to Marinette, “I wore that uniform to war.”

“Like World War 2 wasn’t tragic enough,” Marinette said dryly.

“Jarvis!” Tony yelled as he ran from the workshop still trying to watch his new favorite. “Get me some adoption papers.”

“Sir, she has parents,” Jarvis tried to reason.

“Didn’t anyone teach ya to respect your elders? A voice said behind her.

           Unfortunately for the newcomer, Marinette flight or fight instincts had been firmly in fight mode for quite some time. As she quickly spun around and kicked the guy in the face. And that was how Marinette met the Winter Soldier. She broke his nose.

           Bucky crashed into the wall with a force that left his head spinning.

“Peter always wanted a sibling,” Tony told Jarvis with a joyful look.

“And May Parker still hasn’t given you permission to adopt him either.”

“Sorry!” Marinette yelled frantically as she moved to help the man. “I didn’t mean to, I promise. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

“Besides your dignity back,” Sam added with the biggest grin on his face. “Because that’s gone, man. Like forever.”

           Marinette shot him a glare, and turned her the disheveled man. She noticed the bloody nose and her panic increased tenfold. “Oh god. Oh god.” She pulled a cloth napkin from her purse and held it up to Bucky’s face. She looked around the room, hysterically, and spotted Bruce Banner, “Dr. Banner, help please.”

“I’m not that type of doctor,” Banner quickly said.

           Marinette narrowed her eyes at him, “Today you are.”

           Bruce blinked. He felt the big guy rumble in amusement. He quickly got up to help.

“I’m fine,” Bucky said as he tried to wave her off and move towards the others. “Nice kick by the way.”

“You,” She pointed at Bucky. “Be quiet. You hit your head and might have a concussion.”

           Bruce instructed Marinette to remove the napkin as he examine his patient.

“Tis merely a flesh wound,” Thor boomed as he strutted over to look. “Nothing to worry about.” He moved to place his hand on the girl’s shoulder but before he could…

“Touch me and I will break that hand,” The girl suddenly said, her back to the blond god.

           Thor’s hand froze in midair. Marinette turned and looked at him. “Go sit back on the couch.” She ordered in such a way that Thor was reminded of his longtime friend Sif.

“I-” Thor started but was cut off.

“Now!”

           Thor flinched back. The blue eyes watched him sternly as he slowly went back to the couch like a puppy with his tail between his legs. Far from the scary small girl.

“Pepper would love her!”

“Yes, but she’d be furious about a kidnapping.”

“How is he, Dr. Banner?” Marinette asked.

           Banner decided right then shrugging would get him killed. “He’s fine. It’s just small break. He’ll be fine in an hour.” He got a skeptical look. “Super soldier, he heals fast.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Marinette said brightly.

“Come on,” Marinette told Bucky soothingly. “Let get you on the couch.”

           Bucky just let himself be led with a sigh. Why did the small, tiny ones always give him the most trouble?

           The other avengers moved out of their way.

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked again when sat the wounded man on the couch. “Do you need anything? Do you want the remote control? I can get you the remote control.”

           Said current owner of the remote control, Scott, looked up like a deer in the headlights. He froze when the French girl’s blue eyes found him and they narrowed in challenge. Scott barely noticed Sam slowly inch himself away from his teammate.

“Asshole,” Scott hissed to Falcon.

“What did you just say?” Marinette raised an eyebrow.

“I said: Here’s the remote,” He tossed it prized possession the Winter Solider who had a smirk on his face. He knew just how hard it was to maintain control of the TV in a home of superheroes.

           Marinette caught it in midair. She passed it to Bucky.

“Thanks!” Bucky smirked at Scott as he said it. “I’m good now. I swear.”

           Marinette nodded contently.

“Ahh Marinette,” Tony said as he entered the room. The smug expression on his face and in his tone didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the avengers. “Sorry I’m late. Come on, I’ll show you where we’ll be working.”

           Marinette grinned and ran over to the Tony Stark.

“Wait, who are you, tiny vicious girl?” Clint suddenly yelled.

“My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She introduced herself brightly, looking very much like the sweet school girl they originally thought she was.

“My new intern,” Tony smirked. Then within seconds the genius pulled Marinette out of the room and disappeared from sight as Jarvis slammed the doors behind them

           Natasha hummed, “Tony always managed find the most interesting kids. First the spiderling and now…”

“The Devil,” Sam finished. “I have older sisters. Fear the wrath of a teenager girl.”

“She’s here all summer,” Steve remember feeling oddly self-conscious.

           Bucky chuckled and propped his feet of the coffee table, “Aww, don’t worry punk, I won’t let the mean powderpuff bully you.”

“So Dominator,” Tony said as the stepped into the elevator. “You really know how to make an entrance. I like that in a minion.”

“Minion?” Marinette squeaked. “Mr. Stark?”

           What exactly had she signed up for?

           The elevator doors opened. “Call me Tony,” He said spread his arms wide as he showed of the workshop. “So this is where the magic happens.”

           For the next few hours, Marinette toured the workshop and the tower. Tony really did love the suit she had drawn but had been a bit dismayed that Marinette didn’t have too much experience in the science. Marinette was a quick learned though, and Tony was impressed about how quickly she picked up information.

Happy, the driver who had picked Marinette up from the airport and who grumbled about always being stuck with teenagers, had brought up her bags as he had said he would and left it in her room.

Marinette didn’t run into any of the other avengers again until the next day. She got up bright and early, the sun still rising, as she was still used to waking up and helping her baker parents. Plus jetlag.

With Jarvis help, she easily found the kitchen. To her dismay, the fridge was full of junk food, take out boxes, and protein shakes. And coffee. Lots of clearly expensive coffee.

She sighed and got to baking. There was plenty of ingredients to work with as the kitchen was well stocked up unused. Within the next few hours, the kitchen and thus the entire tower was filled with the sweets smells usually only found in the bakery.

Marinette had made chocolate croissants, a variety of muffins, Berries and Cream Cheese Breakfast Pastries that her father swore by, and spinach, bacon, mushroom, and cheese quiches. She even made a pot of coffee. All spread out on the dining room table before eight am.

The first to make their way up to see what smelled so good was Natasha.

“Good morning,” Natasha said. “Been busy?”

“Morning,” Marinette beamed. “Daughter of bakers. Hungry?”

           Bucky came next. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he had on dark sweatpants. He look half asleep as He grunted a hello as he sat down to eat.

           A lovely girl named Wanda and a man Vision, who was apparently Jarvis’ son, came up next. Marinette hadn’t met either of them yesterday but they had heard of her.

           The next person to show was Clint but he took one look at Marinette and made a hasty retreat.

“Baby!” Natasha and with a grumble, Clint came back into the room.

“Hawkeye, right?” Marinette asked.

           Clint eyed her. “Yes,” he answered as he sat down next to the Black Widow. “And if you kill me, Nat will avenge me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“What!” He cried. “I’m your best friend.”

           The redhead looked at him and then at the berry, cream cheese goodness in her hands, then at Marinette. She looked back at Clint, “You’ve been replaced.” When he went to protest some more, Natasha shoved a chocolate scone in his mouth.

           His green eyes widened as the flavor exploded. He looked at the scone, then at Marinette, then at all the food on the table. Clint nodded solemnly, “I understand.” And made himself a plate.

           Marinette giggled at the antics.

           Tony entered the room, hair on ends, greasy t-shirt on and blinked hard at the feast at the table.

“I made breakfast,” Marinette handed him a cup of coffee cheerfully when he sat down. “Sweet and savory. I didn’t know what everyone liked.”

           He nodded tiredly but perked up as soon as he took a bite of spinach bacon quiche. He swallowed it quickly, “Jarvis?” Tony called.

“You cannot adopt her, sir.”

           Thor was next and thanked Marinette loudly for the splendid feast. Scott, Sam, and Bruce arrived next.

           Steve came next, apparently just having finished up a run.

           The two stared at each other, like a pair of cowboys doing a standoff.

“Listen… about what I said yesterday,” Marinette started. “I, one hundred percent meant it. Your fashion sense is appalling. But please consider this a peace offering.”

“My style was very popular in the forties!” Steve defended.

           Bucky snorted, “Liar.”

           That sounded off around of laughter.

           Marinette spent the next few weeks help Tony design his new suit, got trained with Natasha, Bucky and Steve, and went frequently to Stark Industries with Pepper Potts. (Though Steve had quite liked it when Marinette point at Pepper and said, “See that’s fashion. Gold standard right there. You, no.”

           She met Peter Parker not long after she arrived. He was a nice boy with glasses that reminded her a bit of herself. Tony had guardianship of Peter while his aunt was overseas on business.

“Minion three,” He greeted her. Peter sat down across from her work table and started on his own project.

“Four?” She asked, with a chuckle. “And you are?”

           Peter grinned, “Minion two.” He shrugged. “Riri’s three. Harley’s one. And is the union leader. They’ll be here tonight.”

           Marinette laid down her screwdriver, “There’s a union.”

“No there’s not!” Tony yelled.

           Peter leaned over the table and whispered, “We revolt at dawn.”

“God dammit, Peter!”

           Marinette cackled.

           It wasn’t long before the paparazzi got wind of Marinette. Then suddenly the magazines were filled with Marinette: Stark’s secret FOURTH love child. Marinette literally fell down laughing when War Machine stomped in the workshop and three a magazine at Tony’s head. “Another one, Tony? Didn’t even tell me!”

She was photographed frequently as whenever she left the company an overprotective avenger was sure to join her. She was teen vogue’s best dressed list. In tiger beat’s, things Marinette just can’t live without.

           That was when her phone started ringing and texts started pouring in from Paris. Unfortunately, for her ex friends, Marinette had promised that for the rest of summer the only people from France she’d talk to were her parents. And Marinette keeps her promises.

           So she never bother to look at the texts. The only time she interacted was when she had to use the horse miraculous to portal to home to stop an Akuma. Which was hard to hide from a group of nosy superheroes.

           Everything was going fine until the Kwami was let out of the bag in the middle of a family/team dinner.

           Loki poofed in one day, walked straight up to Marinette, and demanded to speak with Plagg.

“The Kwami of Destruction owes me money,” Loki said easily.

           Said Kwami flew out from where he was hiding, “Do not! You cheated.”

           And that was that.

           Marinette had no choice but to transform into Ladybug.

           To which Happy groaned, “Another teen bug themed hero,” He glared at Tony. “You did this on purpose.”

           None of the avengers had been happy about a teen superhero battle a terrorist on her own. Peter, Spiderman, just high-fived her.

[mrsbarnes107]

Secret of the Widow

-part six-

Summary: Post Endgame time period. The team is healing, trying to navigate this new normal they’ve found themselves in when Bucky and Sam bring home a stray with an attitude and a secret. Will the broken team take her in? Or is it too much to bare?

Warnings: language, *eventual* violence and smut, death, fluff, angst

Pairings: Bucky x OC

Disclaimer: this is posted to Wattpad as well and it WILL HAVE PLOT. I’m a Bucky hoe so there will be smut and romancy stuff but this is a series, so plot plot plot.

Forty-five minutes later I walk out of my still steaming bathroom. I wish I could thank Tony for the never ending hot water and place to live, it's a nice change in routine.

I wish I could thank him for a lot of things.

I give myself a little shake. No sappy moments, not right now.

With a lighter step, I throw on some baggy sweatpants and a tank top, leaving my hair to air dry. I'm pretty sure a good first impression was thrown out the window already anyways.

With a final nod in the mirror, I leave the sanctuary of my room and give myself to the wolves.

As I enter the kitchen, the smell of cheeseburgers and salty fries hits me. I'm almost certain I let out a tiny moan, but I'm going to deny it if asked.

"Hey Ali, grab some food and come sit by me sweetie." Wanda yelled from the table, not even glancing at me, unlike the rest of the group.

Banner still seems reserved, like he doesn't know how he's suppose to respond to the news of my existence. Clint on the other hand looks like he has something to talk about, sad curiosity all over his features.

Having not eaten in the last two days, I'm positive I could inhale more of these beautiful beef buns than even Barnes can, who is currently sitting with three burger on his plate and a mountain of fries. Okay well maybe not him, but Wilson for sure. The mans pretty scrawny.

After getting my food, I plop down in the seat between Wanda and Bucky, immediately tearing into my food. Etiquette be damned.

"So where's Petey? He and I have some unfinished business." I'm pretty sure I just heard Barnes try to cover a small chuckle with a cough. I should probably not talk with my mouth full, at least not during my first ever meal with the team.... whoops.

"He's attending MIT, following Tony's footsteps apparently, so he went off somewhere to study his big book of boring." Wilson didn't even bat an eye while answering.

The room settled in silence for a few minutes. It was not a comfortable one at all.

With a loud sigh I set my wonderful, heavenly, beautiful burger down. "Okay. Spit it out. This silence is strangling me and I'm trying to enjoy this God sent meal in peace."

Sam chuckled quietly, wiping his mouth free from the mustard smeared everywhere. "Okay tiny Tony calm down."

That's the second time today I've been compared to Tony. Each time my heart breaks a little. It's nice though, having a part of him so apparent in me that they see it despite meeting me less than five hours ago.

"So you and Stark were close, obviously, Nat is your mom, still weird, and you know Barnes pretty well by the looks of it."

I pop a few fries in my mouth before answering. Mmm fried potatoes doused in salt is a glorious creation. "All of that is very true baby bird."

Barnes hides a smile as Sam glares very unthreateningly across the table at me. My fry hits him right in the nose.

This time Clint joins Bucky in choking down a laugh.

"So how well do you know Barnes here hm? You were eighteen when you met? I wonder-"

Bucky tensed up, jaw ticking away. Wanda just pursed her lips and kept quiet.

I set my hand on his metal arm. "Stand down Sarge, birdys just trying to wind you up." Bucky relaxes, nerves still on edge and eyes throwing daggers at the bird man.

I look to Sam with a raised brow. "I'm a lady Samuel, we don't kiss and tell. Did you have anything productive to ask before you got all pissy?"

He sighed in annoyance, eyes showing slight amusement. "I still want to know how you got those cuffs on us, they have no key or biometric identification. Did you see me enter the code?"

I let out a soft laugh and turned to Wanda. "You should've seen their faces, it was a beautiful sight." With a glance back at Sam I shove another bite of my burger into my mouth, talking around the food. "I worked with Stark for years dude. I have access to, and can override, anything in this building. He gave me full clearance before I could drive."

"But he never let you up here? Even when we were out on a mission?" This time it was Banner who spoke up.

With a small smile I shrugged. "We didn't want to chance me running into any of you, especially after Petey joined. He worked in the lab with me a bit and it made Tony a little wary. Plus Nat worried about Sarge here seeing me."

Buckys head snapped to me, not expecting to be brought into the conversation. "She knew I had no memories though, why would meeting me worry her enough to ban you from the upper levels?"

Our eyes locked for a few seconds before I turned away, glancing at him as I breeze past the question. "Conversation for another time Buck.... so who made dinner? Well complements to the chef Clint, this is some juicy meat."

•••

Dinner continued with light laughter, and small talk. The group introducing themselves and trying to welcome me into the tight knit squad. The atmosphere was kind, but I could see the change caused by the loss of their friends. A year later and the wounds are still barely even scar tissue.

I remember the times I'd be working in the lab and get bored, eventually deciding that the Avengers would be my own little reality show to pass the time. They use to be so care free, at least as much as they could be, laughter filling the halls and pranks pulled on one another. Now it's random bursts of joy until the silence relapses for a bit.

Maybe I can do some good here. At least bring a little more light into the tower, make the darkness fade a little.

Wanda and I decided to have a movie night in the living room while the guys did whatever guys do. She chose some romcom, which we inevitably verbally assaulted as the cheesy plot continued.

"So, Ali, besides Fury is there anyone else in your life?"

"Nah, there's been a few dates, but having to lie about who you are makes things difficult. Although, so does my choice in work and the fact that I'm very rarely interested in anyone enough to put in the effort." I gave her a shrug and just rolled my eyes, keeping the conversation light.

"I'm curious on the team dynamic. Tony and Steve were like the divorced parents that told everyone what to do, is it just a 'go with the flow' situation now?"

Thankfully this made her chuckle. "Apparently this family of ours can't function without parents that hate each other. Bucky and Sam are the exact same way, they've taken the mantle up themselves. But honestly we're still learning our strengths and how we fit without the old pieces."

I gave her a nod, forehead creased while I tried to picture the teams strengths and weaknesses cohesively fitting together.

It wasn't until midnight when we decided to get some sleep, setting plans to go shopping after lunch the next day.

The bed was more comfortable than anything I've ever had the absolute pleasure of laying upon, but I still couldn't pass the hell out.

I just grunted in very extreme annoyance, despite this being a normal occurrence, and rolled out of bed.

After a quick stop to the kitchen to make some tea, I made my way to Tony's lab.

It looked just as it did the last time I was here, seven years ago Thanos time I suppose.

Walking around the large space, knowing that Tony won't be strutting in yelling about his genius breakthrough after his twelfth coffee of the morning, or having him standing over my shoulder as he teaches me the new mechanics of his suit, well it's surreal.

The room doesn't even feel like him anymore. This lab was once a place that brought me a sense of comfort and home, a place where his laugh encompassed the very life of the room, where his sarcasm bounced of the walls in never ending jabs. Now it is just cold and empty. The joy it once held long gone.

I sit in the floor, leaned against his work table. Now realizing that tears are running down my cheeks, a quiet remembrance to a man I cared for like a father.

I don't bother to wipe the tears away, it'd feel like denying him this moment, I just sigh and rest my head against his chair. "Oh Tony, you self sacrificing idiot.. I miss you. So much. I can't believe you left me alone with Nicky, that was just cruel you know. You both did."

With a shiver I set the empty mug beside me, bringing my legs up to curl my arms around.

"Why did you always have to be so hell bent on sacrificing yourself? Everytime this world called, it was always YOU risking it all, YOU flying into a space portal, YOU getting so much hate and blame from the team, even SHIELD, all the time. I just-" a chocked sob surprises me as I realize this is the first time I've talked to him, really talked, in six years.

"You had everything T, a wife, a baby, me and Petey. And they asked you to give it all up, yet this world barely gives you the recognition you deserve. Steve walks out and just leaves, after so much death, so much that needs cleaned up, he makes the most selfish decision i have ever seen, and yet is grieved more than you are. He walked out on his best friend, left the team already broken, and had the audacity to think he was owed that selfishness. A man who gave up everything and asked for nothing in return, overshadowed by the man who had nothing and was handed everything." I let out an angry little chuckle.

"This world is so backwards and cruel. Now I'm left in it alone. What am I suppose to do T? This place, these people, there's no light here anymore. And I just- it's just- it's so hard Tony. My parents are gone and I'm alone and I miss you so much. Being here breaks my heart. Every second I'm within these walls, knowing I'll never hear your laugh, your encouragement or sassy remarks, never walk in to AC/DC blasting while your passed out at your table. Every second I'm here hurts T. I just- I miss you so much dad and I'll never get to tell you how much I love you."

If I hadn't had my eyes closed, or been in the middle of an impressive mental breakdown, I might have heard the footsteps approaching long ago. But my tears brought sleep to me quickly and everything went black.