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rafeysbafey · 7 months

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✮ 9. bed sharing — ethan landry MDNI

summary. sharing a bed with ethan turns into something more

warnings. dick!ethan (he gets better ^o^), enemies to lovers type beat, smut, language, riding

word count. 1.1k

a/n. def got carried away, so i think i rushed at the end oops lol. also this is going to be put on my regular masterlist as well as my kinktober list because it’s so damn long lmao

“what do you mean i have to share a room with ethan?!” you asked, completely flabbergasted at this sudden information.

anika and mindy had only booked three rooms when the group decided to go on a trip together. sam and tara sharing the second room while you and ethan share the other.

chad was sick the day before everyone was supposed to leave so mindy just decided to cram you and ethan together.

“im sorry, babe,” she said, frown on her face as she tried spewing out ideas to make it better.

“he’s going to hate this,” you pointed out, looking past her to see where he was, “he’s going to hate me.”

“well, more than he already does,” you added under your breath.

you and ethan had a…rocky relationship, to put it nicely.

he absolutely hated you. with the mean side comments and the not so subtle shoves he would give you when in passing.

it hurt because you actually liked ethan, when joining the group you actually found him cute.

you would see the way he conversed with others, the nerdy, kind ethan he would be in front of the group.

but with you it was different, for whatever godforsaken reason.

“ethan’s not going to hate you,” anika chimed in, giving you a look filled with pity as you sighed in annoyance.

“ethan’s not going to hate who?” a voice asked from around the corner, the devil himself making his way round before stopping a few feet away from you guys.

his eyes immediately fell on you, a sour look taking over his face as he narrowed his brows at you.

not being able to hold his gaze, you looked at the ground with a huff.

“there was a mix up apparently,” you mumbled, looking at your feet as you forced out the next words.

“we’re sharing a room.”

his mouth went agap and a certain glint flashed in his eyes, but you weren’t aware since you were looking down.

“no way, id rather rip my hair out one by one than share a room with her.”

“first off, fuck you,” you spat, your head shooting up as you glared at him, “second, i told you,” you turned towards the girls.

“guys give it one night! then we’ll figure something out. right now it’s late,” mindy sighed, giving attention to how late it had already gotten.

“sam and tara already went up, let’s go.”

the room was small and…cozy, to put it nicely.

and to make things worse, there was only one bed.

“im taking the bed,” ethan announced, tossing his suitcase on the mattress before kicking off his shoes.

“where am i supposed to sleep?!” you asked, watching as he narrowed his eyes toward you with a chuckle.

“on the floor? outside? i couldn’t care less.”

“dick,” you muttered.

“what did you say, brat?”

“just forget it,” you scoffed, shoving past him and heading into the bathroom.

after brushing your teeth and taking off your makeup, you changed into your pajamas and left the bathroom.

the lights were already off, the soft glow from the moon outside shining through the room.

you could see ethan sprawled out on the bed, resting comfortably on the cushioned mattress.

walking over to him, you shoved his side, almost pushing him off as he sat up abruptly.

“what?” he hissed, shooting you a dirty look as you rolled your eyes.

“at least give me a pillow.”

“so fucking needy,” he mumbled before grabbing an extra one and tossing it towards you.

you didn't know how long you were awake for, tossing and turning, your body aching from the roughness of the floor.

"god, could you stop being so loud?" ethan's sudden voice boomed through the silence.

"says the one who has the bed," you spat back.

before you could process what was happening next, you felt two strong arms snake around your waist and hoisting you up on the bed.

"there," he mumbled, "now stop complaining."

it was a tight fit, the bed was so small it was probably a twin.

you could feel your back pressed against ethan's chest, his hands uncomfortably resting by his sides because if not there, they would have to rest on your hips.

"y'know how angry you make me?" he suddenly whispered, voice so quiet you almost missed it.

"what?" you asked, afraid of what he'd say next.

"how angry you make me," he repeats before adding, "how stuck up you act and think you're better than everyone else."

you furrowed your brows together as you forced yourself to flip over, eyes squinting in the dark to try and read his expression.

"how do i act stuck up? i've done nothing to you," you defend, confusion laced in your voice.

"that's the point. you've never given me a chance."

flabbergasted, you scoff in annoyance, "because you're so mean to me!"

it was silent for a second, the air thick and quiet as ethan tried mustering up words.

"so if i wasn't—wasn't mean, i would have a chance?"

"a chance with me? ethan what are you talking about," you were genuinely confused.

ethan was always mean to you, making remarks about what you wore or how you did your hair, shoving past you when needing to get something, and most importantly sending jabs about how 'ugly' you were.

"i'm in love with you, god damnit."

before you could ask why, why he was in love with you if his actions and words spoke different, you felt his lips clash into yours.

you didn’t know how to react, being completely off guard as he quickly pulled away.

“fuck- im sorry, i-i should have asked i-”

you didn’t let him finish as you leaned back in, kissing him this time gently as he melted into your touch.

you rolled on top of him, straddling his waist as you intertwined your hands together, squeezing ever so slightly.

“you’re so hot,” ethan rasped out, one hand leaving yours to cup your waist as you slowly started to move against him, grinding down on his hardening cock.

“fuck, y/n.”

“want me to ride you?” you asked, innocence laced in your voice as you batted your eyelashes down at him, the moonlight hitting your face perfectly.

ethan could have came in his pants right there, the boy quickly nodding as you lifted yourself up to pull down his sweatpants, his boxers following after.

his cock slapped against his lower abdomen as he let out a sigh of relief, his tip an angry red as you stared in astonishment.

he was big.

“so pretty,” you mumbled, leaning down to kiss his tip as he hissed ever so slightly at the feeling, your pillowy lips sending vibrations through his body.

you quickly took off your pj shorts before doing the same with your underwear, tossing them somewhere random in the room without a care.

leaning down to connect your lips with his, you allowed yourself to sink onto his length, a small cry falling from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut.

‘fuck this hurts.’ you thought to yourself, the feeling of ethan’s hand cupping the side of your face causing a warm feeling to go down your spine.

“doing so good f’me,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your cheek softly as you leaned into his touch.

after what felt like forever, you started to move, the both of you sighing in relief at the friction you two were making.

“just like that, fuck-“ he groaned, head falling back against the pillow as he held both sides of your hips with his hands, helping you bounce on top of him.

“so good, eth” you cried, “so so good.”

you felt your legs tremble as you tried your best to be consistent, ethan noticing as he took hold of the small of your back and leaned you into him.

you rested against his chest, hand wrapped around his torso as he started fucking up into you, small moans leaving your mouth.

“you’re so pretty, you sound so pretty,” he groaned, his hand still on the small of your back as the other cupped the back of your head, “so so pretty. all for me.”

“all for you,” you rambled, nodding in agreement as you felt the familiar pit in your stomach form.

“bout to cum, please let me cum,” you begged, snuggling your face deeper into his neck as he cooed you softly.

“don’t need to beg, baby.”

with that, you let yourself release on him, your body stiffening before falling back into him, jolts traveling through your thighs.

ethan followed quickly after, groaning lowly in your ear as he held your hips still, allowing him to dump himself in your used hole.

“so perfect, fuck,” he moaned before letting out a sigh, his hand now stroking the back of your head.

using all the strength you had left, you pushed yourself up to face him, a tired look on your face as you gave him a small smile.

“still hate me?” you mumbled, slightly teasing him but not really. you did believe he hated you, maybe not right at this moment, but things could be different in the morning.

“never hated you,” he whispered, frown on his lips as he pushed the lose strands of hair away from your face.

“im a jerk,” he added.

“a cute jerk,” you giggled softly, causing him to smile just a little—knowing you weren’t being as serious as he thought you would.

“but really, it hurts when you treat me the way you do.”

“i know, and im sorry for everything,” he said, pure sadness in his voice as he leaned into you, forehead meeting yours.

“i think i love you.”

“id hope so,” you snorted, pecking his lips softly before adding, “i mean your dick is in me.”

“can’t you be serious?” he joked.

“fine, i love you too.”

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kazbiter · 2 months

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years on the internet had me believing supernatural was a silly haha joke show I blame u all for what I just went through in that season one finale HELLO WHAT?????? being shown the whole season what sam means to dean (everything, literally every single thing) in such an all consuming way that you never think to question what dean means to sam and then right at the last minute they say oh we're going to show you!!!! and boom scene where sam has to choose, he can only listen to dean or listen to "john", not both, and he picks his brother and stands behind him at his shoulder. boom scene where sam gets the chance to kill the demon, the one thing he wants above all else, if only he will shoot his father. and you know that he could and would do it, that it's a sacrifice he would be willing to make and he knows that john would be willing to make, because he just spent the whole episode arguing to dean exactly that, that the death of the demon is worth any sacrifice, even his own life or his fathers. but then he hesitates and you think maybe he can't now that push is coming to shove??? and then again he must choose as his father demands he takes the shot and dean BEGS him not to kill their father (insane watch of a scene btw insane insane insane) AND THEN..... AND THIS IS THE PART THAT REALLY DID ME IN.... BOOM scene where john reminds us that no actually had it been up to just sam he absolutely WOULD have been able to pull the trigger because he thinks just like john, that killing the demon is the most important thing. AND THEN WE FLASHCUT TO DEAN!!!! IN THE REARVIEW!!!!!! WHERE SAM LOOKS AT HIM AND SAYS NOT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING!!!! IMPLYING THAT THE ONLY REASON HE DIDN'T WASTE THE DEMON ISN'T AT ALL BECAUSE HE COULDNT KILL HIS DAD BUT BECAUSE HE COULDNT HURT DEAN IN THAT WAY. DO U HEAR WHAT IM SAYING HE COULD HAVE KILLED!!!!!! HIS FATHER!!!! BUT HE COULDN'T TAKE SAID FATHER FROM HIS BROTHER!!!! HIS DESIRE FOR VENGEANCE DOES NOT KNOW A SINGLE LIMIT OTHER THAN THE SAKE OF HIS BROTHER LIKEEEEEE????? TF DID YALL MEAN THE HAHA FUNNY SHOW THERE IS NOTHING HAHA FUNNY ABT THIS

#u guys im going FERALLLLLL ABOUT THIS LIKE #also Helena this is 4 u <33333 #i don't even think I articulated myself or the points I'm trying to make here that well really bc I just feel THAT MUCH about it like #THERE R SO MANY ELEMENTS TO IT LIKE #this is the best I could do for the time being I just had to get it out #supernatural #supernatural season 1

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minalblood · 8 months

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Been a looong while but I'm back with a new episode commentary. 1x09 here we go!

The instant recall to finale of spn s 1 is just as delicious and jarring this time around. Find it very very interesting that it's the vampires that mimic the Winchesters here and do so in order to learn their fate and fulfil it. I'd definitely call this a dark mirror to begin with.

I also adore these vamps, they're sooo fun looking.

John and Mary really came out of that near death experience losing no time in getting together.

The appreciation of Dean being paralleled to the appreciation of Baby is just... sooo funny considering the sheer amount of connections there.

Soo Kyle is instantly suspish here. Not even hiding it, damn. You can tell the shift in personality just based off his demeanor. I also think the little hand gesture he does as he walk away is interesting, it's almost like he's saying "im washing my hands off this bullshit". It subble enough that you could think it's jealousy.

The little hints at Lata and John friendship! My beloved!. Also Lata is suuuch a gossip I love her!

I once more am asking John Winchester to stop trying to be subtle, it aint his strong suit. But alternatively, I sorta get it? Like I can understand why it would be confusing if u don't get where Mary is coming from, since she has no problem letting strangers (and exs) on the street see them together, but not their close friends? But I also completely get Mary as well, she's actually lived as a hunter her whole life which means bagage already, then the fact that their relationship is new and fragile. Plus both her parents and his haven't had the easiest time with relationships. Cautious makes sense.

Ah yes, "fate is what u make it". Dean hearing it from John who heard it from Millie. All of them have their very personal reasons for that saying to apply, but also... Dean saying he didn't expect where things got when he "pushed that first domino" reminds me of Cas and him talking after the 1st Apocalypse that wasn't and about how free will sometimes means things aren't really gonna go the way you like them.to or expect them to (peace or freedom?). It's sorta funny then (read:ironic) that in both John's life (SPN!John) and Dean and Cas after Swan Song the outcome was actually quite tragic over all, John's life literally going out in flames with the rest of it being a living nightmare and in Dean and Cas' case Sam is dead and Heaven is starting a Civil War. This episode then does something really nice in subverting that expectation by setting up the tragedy (John is to die, can't change that) and allowing him to survive and not just that but ending it with him getting exactly what he'd wanted here in the beginning of the episode, getting to freely be with Mary.

I adore how Carlos calms down the driver, showing once again the full range of their skill as hunter and empathy as person. Love them so so much!

Couldn't get a hold of John, says Mary, being more suspicious then if she and John had shown up together... I find that hilarious!

Also also, love that this clarified that fangs are still teeth aka u can identify people (vampires here) based on them. I love love love that!

Uuuù Betty is suspish about Mary.

God! Dean had to have loved the vampire robbers. Vobbers? Rompires? Vambbers?

Oh noooo John! Don't be ur children! Don't just pick up random amulets like a moron! (At least we know who they got it from?)

Carlos is almost just as bad, my God! You see ur friend drop it like it hot and you just bend to.pick it urself?! Ah, Carlos, the range you got babe.

John dying by vamps begins my headache of the night because it is 1000% a callback to Dean's death in 15x20. And I wish that wasnt the case.

Ok let's talk Ursitoare (Uhr- see-too-ah-reh) a sec. So this is Romanian myth. To give an overview of it, the myth largely relates to the Ursitoare (or Fates you could say) blessing or cursing a new born after they've been born. Usually the legend states that the mother or midwife would have to leave out gifts (generally food like bread or water or salt etc) to basically appease them and make sure the baby gets a good destiny foretold. It's also states that those who eavesdrop on them as they tell the childs destiny shall die. They are also said to be quick to anger if spurned. Another interesting think tho about the myth is that (while there can sometimes be 7 or 9) the 3 ursitoare are generally known as Ursitoarea, Soarta si Moartea (aka the One who Wishes your fortune, Fate and Death) again the Greak Fates work very well and there's def overlap between the myths here. But importantly, Ursitoarea is the oldest and Death the Youngest (or othewise simply stated as the 3rd).

Now based on this we have a few things to keep in mind, mainly our vampires. They esentially eavesdrop on John's fate here and get exactly what the legend states - killed. In other news, the Ursitoare are very much neutral beings generally. They can be plied with offerings sure, but overall they just spin the thread as it goes. Its only ever an active role when wishing the newborns destiny. Now John's our newborn here, new to hunting at least, reborn once already after the war and a second time after confrunting everything he has since hunting became his life. More importantly, in some versions of the myth, the ursitoare give either the mother or the midwife dreams the night after the baby is born that need to be carefully interpreted afterwards - exactly what the Gem does here.

To wrap this part up a bit, I am.endlessly happy about the way they tackled this myth. SPN had sadly a bad bad record with Romanian mythology and lore - 1st with the witches in s7 which I'd argue was ... 'inspired' by rromani mythology rather than Romanian which is its own culture and as such its own racist connotation to that whole mess. And 2nd with the Imaginary Friends in s 11 aka Zanna .... which has absolutely nothing to do with Romanian mythology beyond slapping a horrendous mispronunciation of Zână onto a piece of lore that doesnt exist in Romanian mythos - we don't have any imaginary friend stuff, its literally all imported from the US. So this lore here? This is fucking aces! It actually makes sense, is actually a Romanian myth that is still being invoked nowadays - especially in the countryside as tradition of baptising/birth and it works very well in the context of the episode. Now, it would've been perfect if they didnt add that shh sound in Ursitoare making ir Urshitoare... Like its funny a bit cuz I constantly think of bears (urşi - ursh is plural for bear in Romanian) but its ok since its just that. I can live with a minor mispronunciation. I will say the Gem itself is fully made up tho for TW.

To answer Carlos tho, the Ursitoare themselves tell u 2 things: the future and also a future they are willing to bless or curse you with. It's essentially both. They show u the future, ur life as it's meant to be exactly, no deviation, but only in pieces or really a piece as a dream and, importantly the sorta end result of ur life which they wish upon u as newborn. How u get to that wish is up to you. The Gem.appears to have merged these two.

I also love love love the show of community that hunters have, that a hunters network is important to getting the job done. It makes me strangle SPN!John worse because he actively isolated himself aaand his kids. Ffs!

Awwwweee I like Betty! I mean shes a cop soo... not great but shes nice and cares so much and is worried :((

Millie does a good job here I think. She's not dismissive of Bettys concerns, but shes also careful to dispel them if possible. She shows once more how good she is at manipulating people, tho admitedly this time it isnt anything malicious or even generally negative.

I also gotta say that Betty (and id say John by extension) is very naive to think that war could in any way shape or form help with the issues John had had. Like he had trauma from his fathers abandonment and his mothers general treatment afterwards, had trauma from the disfunctional relationship the two had before Henry died/left, which all was underscored by deep-seated guilt that he let out as rage. Like all war would do is make it far far worse. It shows just how young Betty is truly and how she really hasn't lived through too much yet. And i said John too because Im fairly sure he also thought going to war would help in a similar manner.

I also headcanon that Betty was very inspired by Millie... but thats just me.

Carlos continues to be a dumb dumb about Anton... unsurprising, but omg.

I forgot the stone was carved from the Ursitoare's ribs... is it just me who though of the birth of Eve here??? Also yes, Il Soarta is def Italian I realize now. Do i question why an Italian cult was obsessed with Romanian myth.. absolutely not.

Im think that the 'most times not'part of what destiny the Gem shows u is due to essentially the stone acting as ... well... an eavesdropper. Literally. It was given to specific people to use by the Ursitoare as recompense for their worship - so good fate; but then as time went on it became a useful artifact for the benefit of Il Soarta so it became a way to eavesdrop on destiny so said destiny changed in them because that worship became.in name only. As mentioned, the Ursitoare arent patient and dont take well to being spurned or used in this case.

God the drip on the vamps, love them so much!

I would also argue that fate ultimately doesn't care about anyone if the whole universe is in jeopardy and uve a bigger destiny like John Winchester does.

I agree with Mary calling Millie here. Especially since she actually.knows what it's like to just ... lose someone like that. John does too, but he's also the one in the middle of it.

Ironic that Mary says "even if i have to kill every vampire in the tri-state area " ... a version of her actually does do that... for her kids. And simultaneously, its ironic also that another version of John will tell their kids that vampires are extinct (which could get them killed fyi).

Millie and Dean would be horrible together... all theyd do is work in the garage and shittalk research... and I kind love that for them.

I also like that Millie does in fact tell John bout Betty and also basically tells him.to not bullshit a bullshitter. This convo between Millie and John might be the 1st truly empathetic one we've had for them. Like yes, John's defenses go up instantly and he immediately assumes that Millie agrees with Betty and is judging him, but Millie, this time, doesnt do that. She just wants to check-in on how he's doing. And does so softly. And believes him more importantly.

And of course, back to the tried and true Winchester feelings avoidance after we've just had a helluva emotionally vulnerable talk.

I live for Carlos being disappointed in the vamps housing choices. I too would judge that. (So would Dean tbh)

Aaaaand Carlos once more gives us the biggest puzzle piece to where the vamps are.

While Lata is once more absolutely delighted by the magic lockpick like the wonderful nerd she is.

Millie to John "Dont do what u always do, not today" --> leads him directly to the room hes gonna die in. Irony at its finest.

A lot of irony in this episode, i realize now...

God I adore Carlos v vampires fight scene, its soo good. And its followed by the equally as fantastic Mary v vampires. Ahhh, I love them all so much.

Ppl really shouldn't fuck with Mary Campbell when shes pissed and worried.

I will miss the vamps tho... i really liked them :(

Ah yes, Winchester ingenuity at its finest... 🙈

I like what this ep says about how dead mans blood works? It implies that vampires literally drain the life force through the blood because the dead mans blood only came into effect once John did actually die - a few moments after he got bit thus implying a certain supernatural link between the blood just ingested and John's lifeforce. I vibe with that.

Ah yes... the full context - still drives me.mad. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN ROBBIE?! Especially with all the parallels TW has to SPN.

I appreciate the CPR not stopping until only after they think he really did die for good. U DONT stop CRP for dramatic pause ( advice to othee shows/movies or in ro aviz amatorilor)

Antoooooonnnnnn!

Anton and Carlos!!! 💓💓💓 yay!

And they're using their words! They're communicating guys 😭 im so proud

Damn... Mary and John are being cute too 🥲

Dun dun dun!

Betty and Kyle and Kyle is Akrida! 😱

Sorry, i dont got anything revealing or deep to say about the ending here 🤣🤣🤣 its all plot and relationships.

Aand so we reach the end of another episode, 4 more to go!

I will say time and distance made this episode easier to watch for me. 15x20 had fucked me up before and made it very hard to watch without refering back to it. It has several parallels to Dean and dying specifically. The main one ofc being death adjacent to vampires. But it also has John killing himself for the sake of the hunt which sadly doesn't bode well either because it reminds me of a really bad couple of weeks back in 2017 when i had the realization that Dean has literally been shown as suicidal every single season (and i can name the ep, its so clear) and then Advanced Thanatology hit the Tv screens on nov 9th 2017... not a fun realization and def not a fun series of events afterwards. Sorry to bring this up here, but well... its relevant sadly.

Thankfully tho, this episode works well to deconstruct that and to subvert the spn finale by allowing John to live and to fully embrace his realtionship with Mary.

In other news, next ep will anger me a bit... for.multiple reason, some having already been discussed by people better equiped to talk about it then me. But rest assured, ive shit to say outside of that too, so see y'all for ep 10. Im aiming to have that up by the end of the week.

And thanks to @noybusiness and @shallowseeker for encouranging me to continue this.

#spn #spnwin #spnwin rewatch #john winchester #mary campbell #lata dar #carlos cervantez #the winchesters #dean winchester #spnwin 1x09

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larcher0001 · 2 years

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Smash Season 1, Episode 10

Written vaguely as I watched it:

Cuba?!

Me too Julia, love 'er🤍

I can't remember girls name but I don't trust her with Dev. Very nervous.

Karen yea!!!!!!!

Julia is so supportive!!!!!! 🤍🤍🤍

Sam. Gotta love 'im

Ivy. You are obsessed. It's not good for the soul.

Eileen. Yo spanish.

Ellis GO GET YO CREDIT

Dev angsty too

Karen!!! Go off queen!!!!

Dev! Tell her!

Lovin' Sam and Tom's 'friendship' *wink wonk*

John feels it too, eek

Leo is just to likeable. It makes me sad

Ivy. Do. Not. Sing.

Tom is so funny. No that's just Christian 😜

Why am I watching this? I don't like musical tv shows.

I don't like this song??? I know it's not an original but the lyrics are so... Not my type

Okay Ivy, wake up.

I KNOW Karen jumped out of her skin

KAREN! Even *I* know to write it down and what downstage means.

Julia has so much attitude. Lovin' it. But also stop. It's rude. We all got our reasons but you can't just push your attitude onto someone else who did nothing wrong.

They are the perfect balance

Julia is so defensive.

Can't wait for Julia's life to rise again. Love her.

Tom is the angel we all need but don't deserve

Dev... Has a point but chiiiiiiill. Yelling doesn't help

Eileen... They got a point- Don't you DARE bring up Jerry! I'm tired of HEARING of him.

"Vultures"! XD

Nick, you are to sweet.

She is a lil useless

Ivy! I. Love her. So much.

TOM!!!🤍🤍🤍

Love this number!!!!!

Derrick smiling 🤍

"Thank yooou☺️"

SAM😲

John come back!

Nick is so lovely

Sam be snitching XD

Ivy. Me scared.

Those glasses poisoned

Tom and Julia are my favorite people

Tom! How dramatic!

Oh. Bye Jules

Eileen speak on it!

Nick... Tell. Me. More.

I hate the Marilyn talk.

This girl. This Lady. Hatehatehate. Get. AWAY!

Heya Tommy🤍

Julia going through it

"Oh."

I smile when Julia cries but I cry when Tom looks slightly sad. Not even sad, sympathetic. My bias is strong and constant.

I love them!!!!

This duo🤍🤍🤍

Anyways...

Leo XD

No Leo, you are never the problem

JULIA! NO NO NO!

Sam, investigate

Ivy... Okay, me interested. Not supporting it tho

John. Don't say it- Oh god

"What are you talking about?" ... I don't know if he actually knows or not. I don't like it. (OPINION)

PAIN

Julia. This is pain.

You sound... Familiar Julia.... Michael said something similar... Right?

Ellis- How DARE you go delving into Nick's personal life. Eileen and I don't wanna know.... This will come back later. Won't it😞

Karen!!! Yes queen!

Nick is the sweetest-

Eileen! Yo Spanish! XD

Karen! XD

Karen may forgive you but I won't- Yea! Don't forgive him!

Dev!!! What a king!

"He's lucky I held back." XD

Dev got a point here

I KNEW THIS WAS COMING

Bye Dev, gonna miss you

Randy is love. Randy is life.

Nick is my favorite person at this moment.

Is Frank finna show??? Oop-

Not a sad montage. Ew.

I love Eileen's happiness

Karen be giving. Yas queen

Oop- New big shot- Oh god.

Welcome back from Cuba

What I learned:

I remember the show a lot easier when I do these. So I will continue. Even if they stat in the drafts.

If you ever wonder why someone's at an event and it's not Ellis, 80% Sam invited them.

#smash #tv #tv series #christian borle #Bole plays Tom btw #Karen on my nerves sometimes #but who isn't on my nerves?#smash tv show

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

#tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #writing challenge #tbff21 #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #harry Holland

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

5 with Bucky?

-💛

Prompts | 5. “I’m sick of being useless.”

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings | language, mentions of injury, suggestive themes

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Let me come with you,” you frowned at Bucky as he vehemently shook his head. You threw your hands up in exasperation, momentarily contemplating pushing his chest to get your point across. You knew it would be in vain, so instead you put your hands on your hips and scoffed, “seriously, Buck? You’re just an asshole. You’re just saying no because you have some weird ego shit about it.”

“You don’t need to come along this mission,” he insisted, keeping his composure as you were the one that was nearing a meltdown. You hated how calm he could be, especially when you wanted to get an actual answer out of him, “it’s not safe. Sam and I will handle it on our own.”

“I helped you idiots in Europe, in Madripoor, and here in New York,” you reminded him as he hung his head and sighed lightly. There had definitely been some wild adventures as you’d tagged along with the two of them. The first time it had been inadvertent and you’d just happened to be there along with Bucky. The other times you’d invited yourself along, much to his chagrin, despite proving useful, “I can do this. I can help. You know I can.”

“But we don’t need you to,” he insisted, flexing his jaw in the way that would normally make you want to jump him then and there. Today it just worked to put fire into your blood, “we can handle it on our own.”

“You’ve been shielding me ever since we got back from Delacroix,” you huffed, folding your arms across your chest as you glared at him, “I don’t need you to protect me. I’m sick of feeling useless when the two of you are working and I’m left behind. I’m not a super soldier or anything, but I’ve got skills too.”

A tense silence fell over the two of you as you stared at each other. Bucky sighed as he ran a hand over his face as you attempted to push past him. But he was quicker and his vibranium fingers latched around your wrist in a firm grasp, “stop and listen to me for a moment and quit acting like a brat.”

“I’m busy being annoyed at you,” you pouted at him as he relaxed slightly when he realized you weren’t going to fight him off, “let me go, Buck.”

“The reason I keep you away from what we do is not because I don’t think you’re capable or that I don’t trust you,” he insisted as he pulled you into body as if you were nothing but a rag-doll. Your chest was pressed against his as he watched you closely, your breath suddenly hitching in your throat as his hands found your waist, “I want to keep you safe. Your safety is my main goal - my only priority.”

“Nothing’s ever happened,” you couldn’t help but chance at his lips as you subconsciously licked your own, “I’ve always been safe.”

“We both know that’s a lie, sugar,” he insisted, his fingers grazing over the scar on your hip from where you’d gotten stabbed by one of Karli’s Flag Smashers in Europe. Bucky had almost lost his mind at the injury and wanted nothing but vengeance, but that wasn’t him anymore. Instead his focus had been on getting you safe and treated - everything else could wait for later, "or have you so easily forgotten about this? That you now have because of me."

"I don't have that because of you," you grabbed his jaw in your hand and forced him to look at you. His ocean eyes were tinged with fear but slowly melted as you stared at him, "I hope you don't truly believe that. It happened in the moment - it could have been anyone. I just happened to be on the receiving end."

"Exactly...it was you."

"It was a one time thing, baby," you promised as you brushed your lips against his, "its not going to happen again, I swear it. I know you protect me - I am also more capable than you think."

"Its not you I don't trust," he almost moaned into your mouth as you carded your arms around his neck, "its everyone else."

"I know," you agreed as your kisses grew more frantic, “but there’s always going to be shitty people in the world, but I know you’ll be there to help me. Fuck, I love you.”

“I would tear anyone from limb to limb if they even thought about hurting my girl,” he insisted as he parted from you to catch his breath. You gave him a moment to recollect himself before gently pulling on his dog tags and pulling him back down to your lips.

“How do you think I would feel if anything happened to you, my honey baby?” you whispered before trailing kisses along his jaw, “I would hurt anyone that even came near you with bad intentions.”

Bucky effortlessly picked you up as you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom. His lips almost never parted from yours as he tried to keep you as close to him as possible. After having been denied of touch and intimacy for so long, he craved it more than anything - especially from you. There was nothing he loved more than getting to feel your skin on his skin, to feel your heart beating in time with his.

"I love you, Bucky," he trailed kisses down your neck as he laid you down on the bed. He stopped for a moment as he studied you, a hand gently going to your face as he stroked your cheek.

It was then that he reached around his neck and slowly pulled off his dog tags, letting them glint into the light for a moment. Your lips parted slightly as he gently placed when around your own neck, letting them fall in the valley of your breasts.

"There," he leaned down to kiss you, "now everyone knows you're my girl. Don't take them off."

"Never," you promised him softly, "you're a fool sometimes but I love you so much, Bucky."

"A fool for being protective-"

"Overprotective," you grinned as he nipped at the skin of your neck.

"Fine," he smirked against your skin, "call me overprotective, but I still love you."

"I love you too," you promised, "now hurry up and fuck me."

"Yes ma'am."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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@qhbr2013 @greeneyedblondie44 @april-showers-and-flowers @softboiipascal @im-an-adult-ish @patzammit @niki-xie @xxlovingfandomsxx @startrekkingaroundasgard @welcometothepedroverse @actual-spawn-of-satan @punkerthanpascal @lazybeeches @someday-when-you-leave-me @justgivemethekeys @salome-c @rosiefridayrogersunday @neptunesglow @artsymaddie @haildoodles @amneris21 @star017 @irepostthingsiwanttoseelater @its–fandom–darling @ayamenimthiriel @alyispunk @djarinbarnes @edencherries @ashamed23 @sunsetskywalkerr @nikkixostan @spookispunk @cable-kenobi @hrtsgetbrkn @ironicfoxes @iilwjbb @cc13723things @thenormreedus @gooddaykate @natthebattygeologist @sociallyantisocialbutterfly @n3ssm0nique @daughterofthenight117 @riddikulus-obsessions @imaginelover88 @saint-bvcky @banana-cheese-cake @sleep-tight1 @missstef23 @moonlacebeam @asylummara @wakandabiitch2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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violenceenthusiast · 3 years

Note

im curious why people are saying supernatural is jewish like idk if jewish writers makes an inherently jewish story especially when things like following out the christian apocalypse from revelations and showing a real physical g-d who is just some guy i think is super jarring since though christians claim to be against idolatry they seem totally fine showing depictions of gd or whatever i dont get jesus honestly but jews are far more strict and the idea of showing gds appearance is pretty wrong

WOOF okay um. Maybe this is one of those Tone Doesn’t Come Thru Well Online things but to me this is soo fucking rude… I’m half way between John Mulaney we don't have time to unpack all of that & Ben Wyatt wait it’s gonna bother me if I don’t explain why you’re wrong.

This turned into all my thoughts.

So like. First off, it’s all fun and games. We’re all just joking and joshing and projecting here on destiel dot tumblr dot com and Jupernatural is not an exception in a lot of ways. And so when someone shits on what we’re doing here (yes, even unintentionally) what you get is what happened: oh you think you’re funny well I’m about to be hilarious!!! aka I’m gonna do it even more now out of spite specifically because you said not to. Like it really is all jokes but also you know what’s not a joke? Antisemitism in all its forms, even the casual shit! It’s really draining and it builds up in your veins!! Just. Yeah. You saw a lot of people talking about it today in particular because much like other topics of the day, one thing kicks off a whole other turn of events. So like. one misguided comment that’s playfully antisemitic and then one more little one, and then one big/obvious one launched us (Jewish spn fans) into a whole bigger discussion about antisemitism and erasure of Jews in the spn fandom writ large. It’s one thing to be descriptive, offer a headcanon/what if, or employ a certain mode of analysis. It’s another thing to definitively say This Is The Truth, specifically when to do so overrides something else, especially in this case when what’s being overridden is Jews, an ethnoreligious minority. It’s also another thing to talk over Jews. And mind this has been building for days. Not in a bad way just like, it’s been topical for days and then today one big thing pushed it over the edge to us actually posting abt it (partially bc at that point it’s a pattern, which feels like it needs to be addressed). Like, destiel tumblr is small we pretty much all see all the same posts, and then Jewish spn fans… we’re friends, we chat about life? We joke around together, y’know? If you’re being antisemitic (yes, even unintentionally) we’re all gonna hear abt it. It’s how we stay safe or in this case, curate the online exp.

That being said tho projecting on fiction is like fun and even a good thing at times, and def opens up new modes of analysis. But! the other big thing here is that there IS a LOT of evidence for a Jewish reading of spn, in a lot of ways, and particularly if you know what to look for. Like there’s lots of niche Jewish slang (non-Jews just don’t know these things, and that is a reflection primarily of the writers but once you put it in the script it implies things about the characters too of course), the theology of the early seasons (I’ll get to that in a second), main character motivations (hold on), “Moishe Campbell” implying Mary is (and therefore Sam and Dean are) Jewish, etc.

It’s not surprising to me or anything that non-Jews don’t catch anything/everything Jewish about spn but that Jews catch both sides of it, because that’s just how being part of a marginalized group works. You learn about your own stuff AND the dominant culture’s stuff because that’s how you survive (socially, psychologically, literally). Members of the dominant culture don’t need to learn the marginalized one, are never confronted with it, and so they just.. don’t. I don’t even mean that in a normative or accusatory way, that’s just an observation on the state of things. Non-Jews who aren’t part of another marginalized religion, aka expressed xtians and cultural xtians, have a ton of misconceptions about Judaism, for example, “Jesus was Jewish” and not, “Jesus was an asshole of an apostate who made life harder for Jews at the time in a myriad of ways and whose movement has had a lasting negative impact on world Jewry (and other peoples) for the ensuing millenia”. I truly Don’t Have Time right now to get into the varied and intense history of antisemitism in all its forms but. the point I’m making here is that I’m not shocked I need to explain that life experience shapes your worldview?? So if you’re Jewish you’re always gonna be living life through that version of the world and it does impact you?? Same as anything else?? As unwell as they may be, spn writers aren’t exempt from that. Jewish people writing about xtianity are doing so thru a primarily Jewish understanding and vice versa. Jews can (and did!) write about xtian lore but in a Jewish way! Some core Jewish themes: wrestling with angels/G-d, questioning G-d, IF there’s a G-d they will have to beg MY forgiveness, the afterlife isn’t really a big thing so all that matters is your time on earth, make amends to others directly and thru your actions rather than seeking absolution with G-d, you are not obligated to complete the work nor may you abandon it, etc… So that’s the other reasoning why we say “spn is Jewish” based solely on it being written by Jews. Rather than Death of The Author, let’s look at what the author has imbued the story with, both intentionally and unintentionally. And re: Chuck and idolatry… I don’t even know where to start with the way you phrased this but. the Jewish Spn Writers of Note are apparently Kripke, Gamble, and Edlund. All of whom stopped writing for the show years before the Chuck Is God plot!

Like yes it feels very stupid to be writing a thousand words on antisemitism and supernatural but like. this is a spn blog run by a Jew so. This whole thing is also just the same every time. This is very representative of typical casual antisemitism.

#asks #no readmore we die like men (gender neutral)#sorry its so long alma #jupernatural #anonymous #scream maybe i should add a readmore.. maybe in the morning

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 3 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet (N-Z)

Part 1 | Part 2

The Falcon and The Winter Soldier

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Female! Reader

Summary: A-Z of just smut (and some fluff).

Word Count: 1324

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, minors DNI, unprotected vaginal sex, oral (male/female receiving), masturbation (male/female), overstimulation, creampie, multiple orgasms, teasing, slight spanking, sex toys, cursing, language, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note: POSTING IN 2 PARTS! Because Tumblr won’t let you have more than 250 text blocks. Happy Birthday to Sam! I love how this turned out and I hope you all do too! Enjoy loves <3

Main Masterlist | Sam Wilson Masterlist

Credit @ chrishemsworht for the wonderful gif

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would never ever do something that would hurt you in any way, shape, or form.

He had told you countless times that if there ever was something you weren’t comfortable with in bed or something was hurting that you speak immediately.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

That man could live between your thighs if he had the chance. At every opportunity, he would search for your core to nuzzle his face in it and bring you earth-shattering after earth-shattering orgasm with his master tongue.

Sam was close to bringing you to a third orgasm in some random room at the party the two of you were attending.

His mouth was sinful as he sucked on your raw and abused clit for how long you didn't know. You lost track of time how long you've been spread out for him on some random surface as he was on his knees. The short dress you were wearing made it easy for him to have access to all of you.

“I-I don't th-think I can d-do one mo-more baby.”

“Just one more. Just one more for me.”

“Shouldn't we go back to the party? People must wonder where we are.”

“I don't care. I don't like the food there. This here is much better. Now cum for me one last time.”

He wouldn’t say no to an offer from you in sucking him off. He just wishes sometimes you would have picked a more appropriate time to do so.

“Her? Now?” Sam questioned as you were on your knees trying to undo his pants. The two of you were at a party, and you had gotten the sudden urge to feel him on your tongue, so desperate to taste him.

You had pushed him into some random small broom closet. The crowns of people outside having no idea what was going on just a few meters from them.

“Yes now. Do you not want me to?” You asked innocently as you grabbed his dick through his underwear. “N-no, I want to. Please keep going… fuck.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If he’s been angry and frustrated that day, it’ll be more rough than usual. You could feel him take that little bit of frustration out on your body as he fucked you hard and fast from behind.

Not that you mind. It was terrible to admit, but you loved those times when he got home from his day a little angrier. Your thighs clenching together in knowledge that he would handle you roughly in bed.

Your head was buzzing as Sam fucked you into oblivion from behind. He had gotten home frustrated and in desperate need to release some steam. Your hands were gripping the sheets tightly in your palms to keep you grounded from his abusive thrusts.

His palm continuously left harsh slaps on your ass cheeks as he fucked you deeply into the mattress.

It didn't take long for both of you to release. His hands held a tight grip on your hips as he fucked you just a tad longer after the orgasm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

If there really isn’t time for foreplay and exploring each other, he has nothing against a quickie if one of you is in a rush.

“We don’t have time for this Y/N! We need to leave in 10 minutes.”

“10 minutes is more than enough, Sam! We just need to be very quick.”

The rush to get his pants down as well as your underwear under the dress down was immense as you only had a few minutes to bring each other pleasure before you had to leave for the fancy gala both of you were attending.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s up for exploring new possibilities in bed if that’s what you want.

New positions, maybe some toys that could be used to enhance both of your pleasures.

If you were game, he was as well.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

You have sex almost every day. That man can last as long as he wants and is good to go for 2-3 rounds. You don't understand how in the fuck he does it. It's like a secret superpower he has. He mainly uses it to his advantage when he wants to tease you to the fullest.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

There won’t be that many toys that are used. Sam always says that his mouth, hands, and dick are the only toys that are needed in the bedroom.

Once in a while, he will ask you to fuck yourself with the dildo in your drawer while he watches intensely.

“Please, Sam, can you just come and touch me?” The drive of the toy inside yourself was good, but it would never please you in the same way Sam did.

“No, no. I want to watch. You’ll get me later. Now show me what you do to yourself when I’m not at home.”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

There is teasing to some degree, but he mostly wants to get right on.

But those few times he does actually want to tease you, he’ll take his sweet time in doing so, driving you absolutely insane with need.

“No… please,” the pathetic plea for him not to deny your orgasm again was bringing a smirk to his expression.

“Shhh… I’m not done with you yet,” he said as his fingers were inserted in you once again to build you up. Was he going to allow you to let go this time? That would be left to see when the time came.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He can be loud at times, but mostly he’ll just let out grunts and moans of your name on a repeated loop. It became more evident just as he’s about to finish inside of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sam loves drawn-out foreplay when he has plenty of time to spare.

He takes good care in preparing you and making you cum at least once before he’s even put his dick in you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Have you seen how he walks? He’s thick and long, and he knows how to make you absolutely crazy with it. The way he holds himself just screams big dick energy.

You’ve been together for years, but you still can’t get used to his length inside of you, and you doubt you ever will.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He’s always ready if you are. He’s not joking when he says he wants you 24/7, 365 days.

Even when the two of you are tired but still horny for one another, you will find a way to pleasure each other.

The two of you were laying on your sides, Sam’s chest pressed tightly against your back as his dick was driving itself in and out of your tightness.

It was early in the morning. The two of you were as tired as could be but the need to feel each other was intense.

It wouldn’t be long until the two of you released all over each other. On the bright morning, none of you would be able to hold on for long.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He always takes care of you before his eyes close for sleep. Washing you, cuddling you, running a bath for the two of you to relax in.

He can’t sleep unless he knows you have been appropriately taken care of.

“Good night, sweet girl. I love you.”

Part 1 HERE

Credit @ firefly-graphics for the wonderful divider

Thank you for reading <3 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated if you liked it! As well as a reblog to share it with others!

If you are going to join the taglist please show support in following my blog as well!

Marvel Taglist: @whothehellisbuckybarnes @phoenixhalliwell @x-goddess-of-nature-x @trulysuccubus @skyesthebomb @whoreforsamwilson @natashadeservedbetter @beth-winchester21 @mrs-salvawhore @soldierstucky @missswritings @sariche @claudiaatje @myakai13 @paintballkid711 @ttalisa @teti-menchon0604 @J-e-nster @-im-fantastic- @donut-crazs @tatestripedsweater @feetoffthetablee @uraesthete @mae-black @midnightdragonzero @julia2000love @yvngzxx @midnightzonzz @kaystacks17 @missroro @living-that-best-life @alwaysclassyeagle

Sam Wilson Taglist: @kenbechillin @selenasprompts

Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

If your name is in bold it means I can’t tag you for some reason. My apologies!

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constellaj · 3 years

Note

Please talk more about your reboot!

16: If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

okay so how i would re-do CANON is completely different from how i would talk abt a reboot so im gonna touch on a couple things in both contexts! the reason for the difference is canon rewrites imply i can go back in time and introduce dp fresh and new, before anyone knows what it is; but for a reboot, id be working with an audience that has a better understanding of the source material, so i dont need to spend as much time explaining, but i also need to keep everything recognizable

Valerie

REWRITE: i would def make it more danny's fault that her dad lost his job, like danny was intentionally being reckless and shattered some security stuff, and he has a whole mini lesson about learning to not just run in guns blazing. i would probably remove the dating stuff with her and danny (and tuckers crush) too, I think them wanting to be good friends is good enough for freshman year

REBOOT: the fandom already knows valerie exists, so i would actually skip the whole shades-of-gray introductory episode and have her be present as the huntress from day 1-- probably even before danny got his powers. cujo is also HER dog, and her backstory-- we'd find out in like, season 1, that a natural ghost portal (maybe one wulf opened) ripped open on her dog and killed him, and since then shes had a vendetta against ghosts cause of how reckless they are and their disregard for life-- of course, cujo isnt actually dead. cujo is a halfa. a puby halfa. anyway instead of a hoverboard she actually rides cujo around cause he can fly and its big and epic. valerie has BEEN amity parks ghost-eradicating superhero for at least a year (tho shes been in the shadows abt it) and her hatred towards danny actually just becomes really petty, like them flying next to each other chasing skulker just going "I got this. no I got this. no I got this" and they just get in each others' way and its a mutual grudge.

BOTH: i am NOT keeping in vlad giving her the suit to watch danny under any circumstances. it was only utilized half assedly in canon (when vlad couldve just had an invisible duplicate watching him instead) anyway, and I dont have any reason to keep it in a reboot either. instead i want her tech to be a combination of half-stolen and half-gerryrigged stuff and she slowly slowly learns how to build her own.

I also dont want anyone knowing her secret identity, except maybe her dad, and sam or tucker. i think it works better if danny isnt privy to this magic info

Freakshow

REWRITE: i would honestly just remove him. the episodes hes in arent particularly interesting, theyre just generic "we need a plot about x" filler and he's not compelling enough a character (at least in writing) to carry a better plot that another antagonist couldnt. i'm serious

REBOOT: unfortunately in a reboot he's gonna have to pop up somewhere or else ppl will be like "where IS HE" so I'm going to stick with running some kind of ghost circus, maybe a few occult things, but cut out a lot of the spooky magical knowledge and mcguffin stuff. maybe i could make him like, someone from vlad/jack/maddies college who always felt pushed around by them and so he has a vendetta? and theyd be the only reason he even learned abt ghosts in the first place. idk in either way I want to force him into being irredeemable but also include LYDIA (the tattoo girl ghost) way more-- I want to give her an arc that ends in her tossing freakshow aside and running off to be a ghost vigilante.

BOTH: dear god the infinity gauntlet is stupid that needs to GO AWAY. especially for the reboot cause it would exist in a post-mcu world and way too many people would complain about it

Vlad

REWRITE: amp him up to a far more sinister and villainous character. the crushing on maddie isnt enough, I want to show him on-screen performing experiments on ghosts and himself, dismissing everyone else cause he thinks hes smarter than them. i want him to be actively sabotaging the fentons at every turn. i would also clarify that he doesnt actually want danny as a son, but as a trophy-- a line where danny says something along the lines of "you don't want a son. you want a slave". i want to make him a character who wants to destroy the entire planet and put it in the ghost zone so he can be the true ghost king and i want to make this all evident from day one. if i'm writing a series villain you can bet i'm going to write a GOOD one. less petty drama here and more actual stakes.

REBOOT: it seems silly but sense with reboot we have the benefit of hindsight and recognizing that vlad wasn't a big series villain, theres no way i'd actually go back and write him to be such. for starters, of course, theres the fact that anything he does would really be an exaggerated part of the original, and it would bore an audience to see the same story again-- theres also the fact that it doesnt seem right to take a character who was treated as a joke half the time and suddenly make them big and important. no, instead for my reboot i want to lean into the petty gay uncle vibe. he had a crush on jack and now just casually insults him. he moves mansions every now and again by just haunting the family who lives in the one he wants, and taking over-- i mean, who is gonna believe that an actual ghost haunted you. he dislikes danny not because he has some concept of 'evil' and 'good' but bc danny is just too damn active. of course he actually does care about danny and his safety deep down, it's just on the surface they have very conflicting motivations-- not to mention that danny has been raised on legends from his parents of the villainous Wisconsin Ghost, who has to be stopped at all costs.

BOTH: i want jack and maddie to KNOW he's a half ghost and to actively be hunting him down for it, maybe bc they think hes possessed, or been a ghost tricking them this whole time, or the victim of a tragic lab accident who needs to be put to rest, etc. whatever the case it will give vlad actual tangible reason to despise them and genuinely suspect they dont have dannys best interests at heart. i think it would be neat if vlad was cynical and every time danny hit him with the "I'll expose us both. at least theyll still love ME" vlad could be like in the back of his head "oh god theyre going to kill this child"

Dani

REWRITE: cut her out. we don't need her character at all. maybe replace her with a more ominous shadow duplicate / clone that actually looks like danny himself and doesnt really have a name? you could probably combine her and dark dans characters for their arcs

REBOOT: instead of a clone from vlad, she's a guys in white creation using some of dannys dna after he was captured (and vlad broke him out bc he was like "ugh i guess i have to save this child")

BOTH: vlad actually cares abt her (duh), shes nonbinary (double duh), she gets the funny dissolve into goo powers

i had more i thought i was gonna write but this post is already very long and also im running out of coherency for this LUL

#ask #danny phantom #long post #adpRewrite

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 3 years

Text

Opposites attract (Paul Lahote x Reader) Chapter 4

Warnings: Swearing?

Word Count: 1.7k

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

Life had a round about way of giving you what you had longed for all along.

You had spoke to Paul for hours up on the mountain side, the world around you quiet as the only thing you could focus on was him. You sat side by side, invisible sparks crackling between warm skin as he told you everything there was to know about your new found wolfiness. He reassured you that even though you were mates, it didn’t mean you had to feel pressured into anything, an imprint was there to be anything for their other half, a friend, a lover.. You shivered at the sound of being Paul Lahote’s lover, you had to stop yourself from pinching yourself a few times.

It was dark by the time you made the descent down the frosty mountain, in normal circumstances you would have most likely died of hypothermia by now, but as you’d established, life was anything but normal.

You were laughing at something Paul had said when you heard a twig snap in the distance, it caught Pauls attention to, he tensed, pushing you behind him. Your face scrunched against his back as a foul smell invaded your senses and that’s when it happened.

A flash of red hair was all it took for your body to start quivering.

—————————————��———————————---------------

“So that was a vampire?” You were changing back into clothing, your other stuff shredded in the shift. “I thought they would look… less human?” Your nose scrunched up when you thought about the vampire stench that came off the one they called Victoria.

You looked towards Paul who was tense with a capital T. He was mad that he didn’t sense her approach sooner, hating the fact that you were newly shifted and still had much to learn about being a wolf. What if something had happened to you? Luckily the red headed vamp disappeared when you and Paul started chasing her, the pack had followed behind in a second, your link alerting them to the threat nearby.

You walked closer to him, scared that he might be too angry. His back was rippling and his muscles tensed. Your small warm hand reached up to touch the space between his shoulder blades and it was like magic. In an instant he relaxed as invisible electrical current crackled between your skin.

He turned slowly and looked down at you, his gaze warm and calm when he looked into your eyes. He took your hand and pulled you into him, your bodies colliding in a much needed embrace, his chin resting on the top of your head. You sighed and snuggled your face into his toned chest as his arms came around you like a cocoon of safety.

“Yes Y/N, that, was a vampire. The only reason she’s here is because of the fucking Cullens and their pet project.” You felt his jaw tense on the top of your head, your hands rubbing small circles on the lower part of his back.

“What do you mean their pet project?” You hadn’t found out about Bella yet and her involvement with the Cullens. Vampires were your natural enemy now, but some part of you still found it romantic that a blood sucking demon fell in love with a human. A human that you didn’t really know, had only met in passing when she was little and used to visit the Blacks. Since then, you’d never seen her again, but by the sounds of things, you’d be seeing her very soon.

Sam had agreed to helping the Cullens. The pack had a treaty with them but it was unheard of for Wolves and Vampires to help each other, at least that’s what you were told anyway, you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that when you got angry a bushy tail would maybe appear.

Alice, one of the Cullens, could see the future? Honestly things were still feeling like a dream. Anyway, she could see the future and had a vision of a big bad newborn vampire army appearing from the watery depths below and invading forks. Naturally the Cullens would have handled it on their own if they could, but the numbers predicted were too many and they needed help. That’s where you guys came in. They would never see you coming.

“So were going to learn how to fight these newborns?” Paul had sat down while giving you the lowdown, his arms never leaving your waist, he just plopped you on his knee instead. You felt him tense again.

“Paul if you tense anymore you’re going to break a bone.” Your fingers found the back of his head, playing with and twisting the dark hair at the nape of his neck.

“You’re not going to learn to fight anything.” That made you halt your finger twirling. You looked at him with a scowl and he raised an eyebrow as if saying “try me.”

“Im a wolf like the rest of you now, just because i’m your soulmate doesn’t mean I shouldn’t know how to defend myself or learn how to.. you know… be a frikin wolf! What if you weren’t around and some vampire came about and boom, Y/N doesn’t know how to defend herself, then what?” You stood up from his lap, pacing slightly in front of him.

“I’ll never leave your side so you don’t have to worry about that babe.” That made your heart flutter but also angered you at the same time.

“As much as I love that Paul, it’s not realistic, what if Sam sends me off with other members of the pack or what if something comes up and you’re just not around? You can’t guarantee that you’ll always be around.” You watched Paul huff. Actually huff life a child would when they were told off.

“Awh come on you big baby, i’ll be fine!” You were interrupted by Sam and Emily coming through the door, Quil, Embry and Jake following behind, Leah coming in seconds after the rest.

“Who’s fine where, what?” Leah grabbed a cookie from a bowl Emily put out, she still want gotten over the feeling of betrayal when Sam left her to go to Emily, but you thought you saw a glimpse of… something there. Maybe she was getting used to being around them and the guys more. You’d like to think it would help now that you’d be around too, she had a confidant, a shoulder to lean on. You’d have to talk to her after, when you were both alone, find out if she was okay with everything going on. It’s not exactly like you could help it, but still, you wouldn’t be a good friend if you didn’t at least check in.

“Nothing, Paul is just worried about me learning to fight with the rest of you guys, you know, for the big, impending doom of the vampire army.” Sam frowned.

“I have to admit, I kinda agree with Paul on this one.” Leah stopped munching on her cookie when Sam finished his sentence. Embry and Quil looked around awkwardly and Jake wasn’t really paying too much attention.

“The training starts in two days and you’ve only just turned for the first time today, it might be too early for you to gain control over your wolf.”

You couldn’t believe Sam was siding with Paul. What the hell was the point of you turning and being chosen to be a Wolf, being told you’d have to give up everything you’d been working towards, for you to then be told you can’t fight and do what the fuck you were designed to now do.

“This is bullshit. I was perfectly fine being a normal girl, studying, working towards something I’d been dreaming of my whole life. Now this happens and you tell me i’m not ready. Whatever.” Leah stood at the same time you did, you heard Paul’s chair scrape back.

“Babe come on, it’s not like that.” You glared at him.

“Then what’s it like Paul, because i’m sure if I was a guy and didn’t have an imprint and the roles were reversed, i’d be training with the rest of you, newly shifted or not.” You grabbed your phone and house keys and made your way to the door, Leah walking beside you, most likely knowing exactly how you felt.

——————————————————————————————————

The next morning you woke to 20 missed calls and 40 texts, mostly from Paul a couple from Sam, one from Emily and even one from Jake. You snorted as you turned over in bed, noticing Leah sprawled out like a starfish, mouth hanging open, hair in every direction. Same old Leah.

You opened the message from Emily, wondering what she would have to say, she wasn’t someone you’d really spoke to before because of the whole love triangle but she seemed nice.

“I spoke to Sam about how unfair it was for you to miss out, all sorted ;)” .. what the hell did that mean?

Then you read the messages from Sam. “Training starts tomorrow at 8am, don’t be late, sorry about what happened the other day, i’m not used to having a pair of imprints in the pack.”

You could see where he was coming from. As the leader it was probably hard to always please everyone and Sam was obviously siding with Paul because he’d been part of his pack longer, friends when they were younger and he knew what it felt like to have the need to protect your mate. Still, they would just have to get used to it.

Leah soon woke and then left, pack duties. You would be put on duties soon enough, but first, you needed training. So that left you with a day of doing nothing, well, that was until you heard a knock on your.. bedroom window?

You grabbed the first thing that was closest to you for protection, a hairdryer. You hadn’t opened your curtains yet so couldn’t see what horror awaited, what if that red headed vamp followed you, but wait, wouldn’t you smell her? Or are your abilities not heightened enough yet? You got closer to the window when there was a knock again. The closer you got the happier you felt. Frikin Paul. Curtains pulled back, balcony door opened, your soulmate stumbled through wearing nothing but shorts.

“Babe, you’re a werewolf, were you seriously going to attack me with a hairdryer?"

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

@mariasblogsworld @rosella26 @punkfrogz @jjpogueprincess

@angeliken

@yoongitoo

@stinkii-boii

@geminidas

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agoldengalaxy · 3 years

Text

deny, deny, deny

read on Ao3

5 times someone told Sam and Bucky they cared about each other, and the 1 time they showed it.

“You two bicker a lot,” Dr. Raynor says, eyeing the two men who sit, fuming, on the other side of her desk. “If you won’t speak to each other, then tell me this, instead. James, why would you ignore Sam’s texts?”

Bucky grumbles something under his breath. Sam seems genuinely curious to hear the answer. Raynor glares until Bucky sighs and repeats himself, staring at the floor. “Didn’t wanna bother ‘im.”

“What? I was the one texting you, Bucky! Why would I -”

“Just drop it, Sam.”

“…Fine.”

Folding her hands on her desk, Raynor sighs. She can’t be certain, but Bucky has been her client for a few months now, and she knows it takes a long time for him to tell the truth. In this case, however, she thinks the truth is there, as a small part of it. The way that the tips of his ears redden tell her that there must be more to it.

She isn’t blind. She has a feeling she might know that answer. So she leans forward a little. “Good. Thank you for that answer, James.” Her gaze slides to Sam, whose arms are crossed over his chest as he looks toward the wall. “How does that make you feel, Sam?”

He scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for him, he still -”

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Gentlemen, please,” Raynor interrupts, feeling a headache coming on. She blows out a breath. “You’re both big boys now. You can handle this -“ she gestures vaguely, because she knows that they don’t quite understand yet, “- if you just talk to each other. Emotions are powerful things, you can’t ignore them forever.”

Bucky groans. Sam huffs.

They don’t get it. She’s not sure she wants to see them flounder, but she should put it out there, anyway. She leans forward. “Emotions including love, that you may have buried deep below.”

For a split second, she is met with stunned silence, before they both erupt, loudly. Denying, denying, denying, pushing the feelings down even deeper than they had been before despite the way that they fluster.

It’s okay, she tells herself. Deep breath in and out. They’ll accept it soon, someday.

Still, she shakes her head, effectively cutting them off. “No matter what kind of love it is, you care about each other. And that’s the bottom line. Once you cross it, things’ll be a whole lot easier.”

Sam looks at his lap, blinking. Bucky’s cheeks flush pink.

Raynor needs a drink.

“This is really easy for you, isn’t it? All that serum runnin’ through your veins.” John hates the man standing in front of him. Maybe, in another life, they could have been friends. But the stubbornness just pisses him off, so he goes for Bucky’s weakness. He knows Bucky can take being insulted, but there is one thing he won’t accept. “Barnes, your partner needs backup in there.”

He watches Bucky’s cold stare waver, if only for a moment. John takes that opportunity to stand his ground, glancing behind Bucky, to that open door he wants to go through so desperately. Karli is right there, and the only thing standing in his way now is Barnes, and his stupid loyalty to Sam.

Bucky thinks so highly of Sam, he doesn’t have any other choice but to use that one weakness.

So they lock eyes again. “I know you care about him. Do you really want his blood on your hands?”

Beside him, Lemar shifts his weight from one foot to the other as Bucky looks down for a split second. John knows what it’s like. He’d never leave Lemar behind, though he knows with Sam and Bucky, things are a little different. He can feel Zemo’s eyes boring into them now, clearly amused. They wait.

Bucky’s jaw is clenched, every inch of him now rigid. John knows the feeling, and knows perhaps it might have been unfair to put him in that position; he knows he would stop at nothing if it were his wife in that room. That’s almost the equivalent of what Bucky must have been thinking.

But the ends justify the means.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Bucky turns around, his shoulders still tight, and John exchanges a look with Lemar as he speaks. “You’re right. We should help him.”

John’s grip on the shield tightens. Lemar grins. “Maybe you should tell him how you feel,” he suggests as they start up the stairs.

Bucky ignores them both, readying for the fight.

“Super soldiers cannot be allowed to exist.”

“Isn’t that how gods talk?” Sam asks, cool and collected as ever. “And if that’s how you feel, then what about Bucky?”

Zemo carefully removes the ice pack from his forehead, weighing it in his hand as he sits up. He doesn’t know how to feel about Bucky just yet. For now, that question doesn’t have an answer. For now, Steve Rogers is the only exception, and he can’t imagine that changing anytime soon.

Still, he has to have some kind of fun, right?

So he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, tilting his head to get a better look at the man sitting at the table, and shrugs. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Sam blinks, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Come now, Sam, I always thought you were an intelligent individual,” he replies, only slightly teasing. He does like Sam. He’s righteous, level-headed, and doesn’t make any stupid decisions. Except, perhaps, the person he might have chosen to love. “What do you think of James?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Nodding, the other smiles and looks down, gathering his thoughts. “I think he’s annoyin’ as hell,” he answers slowly. “But...he’s passionate, smart, a big softie deep down...and he always does the right thing even though he’s hurting, too.” He pauses, then adds, “I still can’t tell if breakin’ you out of jail counts as the right thing, though.”

Zemo smirks, leaning back a little, tossing the ice pack from one hand to the other. “You know, when I first met my wife, she hated my guts.”

“Can’t say I blame her, Zemo.”

He chuckles, somewhat sadly, then continues. “These fights that you and James have, over the small things, they are nothing more than just couple’s quarrels.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he turns to look at him fully, as if he’s lost his mind. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? Bucky and I are just -”

“Just what, Sam?” Zemo tilts his head, as if challenging him. This is exactly the reaction he had been hoping for. It isn’t often the calm and collected Sam Wilson loses his cool, and Zemo likes to know he’s one of the ones who can get a rise out of him. “Friends, partners, all these terms you both throw around…” He thinks back to that look on Bucky’s face when John had challenged him, and his smile returns. “Perhaps you ought to think about what you truly want.”

And okay, maybe it isn’t just wanting to get a reaction from Sam. Maybe Zemo has seen the good in both of them, and thinks, perhaps, they ought to be happy, for once. His own partner is long gone, but it isn’t too late for Sam and Bucky.

Sam opens his mouth to respond, but he is cut off by the heavy sound of the door opening, and he immediately falls silent as Bucky walks in, with news that the Dora Milaje are after Zemo. Although Sam recovers quickly, staring at his laptop, Zemo side-eyes him, wondering if he might be blushing.

So Zemo stands up, shaking his head. How juvenile.

Sarah leans against the truck, wiping sweat from her forehead. It’s been hours, and she still can’t believe Sam has managed to pull off receiving this much help. She knows their parents did a lot of favors, but she never could have imagined it would pay off this much one day.

She’s already made up her mind. She can’t sell this boat. It means so much to her, and to Sam.

Her gaze drifts toward the dock, where Bucky is helping Sam carry some things to Carlos. She’s almost certain they’re bickering again, but as they walk, their shoulders almost touch. Sam smiles. It’s something she hadn’t realized she had missed so much.

Seeing her brother smile, and seeing the reason for that smile, is all the evidence she needs to agree to let Bucky crash on her couch. The sun is already dipping closer and closer to the horizon, and she knows people will begin returning home soon. Personally, she has to get the boys to bed. But she lets herself enjoy this moment as long as she can.

When Sam and Bucky place down their loads, Sarah whistles, getting their attention to wave Sam over. Bucky seems to think about following, but is soon distracted by AJ and Cass, excited to meet their uncle’s ‘cool friend.’ Sam chuckles as he tells them to behave, then makes his way over to his sister, a huge grin on his face.

“What’d I tell you? I knew we could make it work,” he says, spreading his hands. Just as confident as ever, she supposes. She rolls her eyes, but for some reason, she can’t stop smiling, and his grin fades a little. “What’re you lookin’ at me like that for?”

Sarah shakes her head. “Nothing. I just missed seeing you so happy,” she admits, because although they tease each other, although they bicker, she loves him. She has no trouble admitting she cares. Seeing the confusion on his face, she hops up to sit on the back of the truck, folding her hands in her lap. “You were gone. For a really long time. And that’s okay, I know what you had to do.” A pause. “When you came back all sad-puppy-dog in the rain that first night, my heart broke. I guess I’m just trying to say I’m glad my brother’s back.”

There’s another pause until Sam comes to sit beside her, so that their shoulders touch. He nods. “It’s been a rough couple years,” he murmurs, and she nods. It has been for both of them.

They gaze at the boys, who are excitedly coaxing Bucky to flex his metal arm, who has a confused look on his face as per usual. Sarah rests her head on Sam’s shoulder, just grateful to know she’s no longer so alone. And then she sits up, turning to face him.

“But enough of that sappy stuff,” she says. “Tell me about Bucky.”

He groans. “Don’t tell me his awful attempt at flirting was actually successful.”

“What?” Pulling a face, she shakes her head. “No, not that. Tell me about him. A guy that makes you smile that much is probably one worth keepin’ around.” She nudges his shoulder and he chuckles a little, his gaze returning to the man in question.

“You’re the second person who’s asked me about him recently.” He seems to collect his thoughts for a moment. “...He reminds me a lot of Riley, sometimes.”

Sarah nods, having expected something like that. “Is it the same?” Sam and Riley had always been close, but she had never seen them get physically close the way that Sam and Bucky did. Sam shakes his head.

“Some things are better. Some things are...more annoying.”

“It’s okay,” she assures, patting his shoulder as she slides off the truck to stand up. “In case you were wonderin’, I still know everything, and I also happen to know he feels exactly the same about you. He cares about you, and I know you care, too, so it’s up to you to do somethin’ with it.” She grins as a stunned look appears on his face, walking away before he can even think of something to reply with.

She hopes they can get their heads out of their asses and realize it. After all, having Bucky around could be pretty helpful.

“I’m sorry for how things ended down there.” A lie. “But for what it’s worth, suit looks good on you.”

Things had gotten dangerously close for Sharon. Too close. Luckily, though, Sam and Bucky haven’t found out the truth. If they had...well, she doesn’t want to think about what she would have to do if that were the case.

But here he is, their new Captain America, standing there in front of her with a soft chuckle and a slight nod. “Thanks.”

“All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” Bucky interjects, sounding...somewhat annoyed, for some reason. Her abdomen hurts terribly, but it’s not like she can’t handle a single gunshot wound. Still, standing around probably isn’t going to do her any good, so she nods and lets Bucky guide her.

They walk in silence for a little while until she looks at him. His gaze is fixed ahead, maybe lost in thought about something. Her eyes narrow a little. “What was that all about?”

“What was what all about?”

“I mean, you basically cut Sam off. Why’d you wanna leave so bad?” Her interest is peaked when she notices that, despite the fact that his expression barely changes, his ears redden.

Bucky clears his throat. “In case you forgot, you’re kind of bleeding out here, Sharon.”

She huffs. “I told you, I’m fine.” Watching him for a moment, she attempts to piece the puzzle together. His eyes hadn’t left Sam since he returned with Karli’s body. Back at her apartment, he’d seemed almost angry when she had complimented Sam without his shirt on. It dawns on her and she smirks. “Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush.”

His ears redden further. She guessed right.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would I like you?” Deflecting the accusation and dissing her all in one go. She’s almost impressed.

“We both know I’m not talking about myself.” She grabs his arm, and they both stop walking. He won’t look her in the eye. “Hey, it’s okay, all right? Your secret’s safe with me.” Of course, unless he gets in her way. That’s a bridge she’ll cross if it comes to it. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s a great candidate for you.”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head a little. “...I don’t wanna talk about this.”

Sighing, she nods. “Of course you don’t. Look, you should just go for it. What do you have to lose?”

A flicker of pain flashes across his face. “Everything,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly.

“Sam wouldn’t leave you if he didn’t feel the same. You shouldn’t hide from him.” She winces, then, not quite sure why she’s giving him advice. If he knew the truth, he’d have left her to die. But she doesn’t dwell on that, feeling his hand on her arm to ground her, and they begin walking again.

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Sharon. She might have gone down a different path a long time ago, but she still thinks they both deserve to be happy.

Unless, of course, they get in her way.

It’s late when Bucky comes to Sam’s door, knocking quietly before opening it to stand in the doorway, offering a beer out to him. “Fresh air?”

Sam accepts, and they walk outside together, footsteps sounding in tandem on the empty dock. A fresh sea breeze whips past, but not enough for either of them to get cold, the smell of salt filling their noses and the last couple cries of the seagulls before they settle in for the night.

They stop in front of the boat, admiring the work they had done on it together. Sam breaks the silence first. “Thanks for helpin’ out. With everything.”

Bucky looks at him and nods. “You’re welcome.” A pause. “It’s nice here, you know. Quiet. Nothing like New York.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah, I think it is.”

They gaze at each other for a moment before turning to their bottles. Silence is filled by the quiet crashing of waves in the distance. There’s a tension there that hadn’t been there before; an unspoken understanding of the situation.

Sam looks at Bucky, noticing the way the shadows under his eyes look a little lighter than they had been before. Bucky’s jaw is clenched, showcasing the stubble he’s been letting grow out, and Sam can’t help but think he looks princely.

And Bucky looks at Sam, at the way the moonlight so perfectly etches his features, his eyes bright as they stare back at him. He remembers the way Sam’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, how he reminds him of a sunshine that had pulled him from the deep, dark abyss he had been stuck in after Steve left.

They aren’t sure how long they’ve been standing there, quietly. Two words tear from Bucky’s throat, like he has no choice in the matter. “Sam, I…-”

Instead of answering, Sam steps closer, cupping one of Bucky’s cheeks, smashing their lips together. It’s rough but sweet. Sam tastes like vanilla. Bucky tastes like beer. And nothing has ever felt so right before.

Sam pulls away and chuckles. “I hope that was what you were gonna say.”

Bucky smiles, though his face is bright red, placing a hand on Sam’s hip to pull him closer. “Somethin’ like that. Want to say it again?”

“I like that idea.”

They suppose they can put the promise of ‘going their separate ways’ on hold for a little while.

#marvel #mcu #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #they're in love but stubborn your honor #anyways #everyone knew they were in love even before they admitted it ty #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

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grain-my-beloved · 3 years

Text

Honestly though I have seen a lot of takes that seem to really overstate/oversimplify Grian's negative- or perceived negative- personality traits and it feels very odd to me. Like, obligatory disclaimer that im new to the yhs fanbase and and as such don't know how old most of the fan content ive found on yhs is so if I ever mention character debate ive seen and y'all are like "I ain't seen anything like that recently???" It's cause I don't discriminate on new stuff, five year old stuff, or anything in between, mostly cause I don't know how old any post or whatever I stumble across is.

But like. I see Many posts implying Grian is rude, disrespectful, manipulative, vindictive, arrogant, and violent. And I don't *get* it.

I mean. Throughout yhs Grian is actually one of the characters most averse to violent or criminal action. His typical pattern of behaviour actually consists of Grian trying to completely avoid involvement in wild dangerous activities and objecting immediately both on logical and moral grounds, giving in only under outside pushing and often threat of serious harm to himself. And, well, duress is an actual legal defense in criminal cases that can get criminal charges cleared or reduced. "In criminal law, actions may sometimes be excused if the actor is able to establish a defense called duress. The defense can arise when there's a threat or actual use of physical force that drives the defendant—and would've driven a reasonable person—to commit a crime. A classic example is someone holding a gun to the defendant's head to force the defendant to break the law. Some courts use the term "coercion" or "compulsion" for this defense". Which is why it's immediately very odd to me for Grian to be assessed as just violent/criminal period as if that's an active part of his character. Most of the time when we see Grian commit a crime or physically harm someone he has reasonable cause to feel like he's in danger if he doesn't do so and would not take the same actions otherwise. Hell, legally speaking sometimes he's got an outright case for violencd self defense even beyond the cases for duress. Some examples of times Grian was involved in criminal activity include cases of robbery under duress, shooting in self defense, that kind of thing. This is a young highschooler with very minimum history of wrongdoing before getting stranded in a seriously abusive relationship in an incredibly crime heavy city and getting pulled into a string of crimes pretty much all with potential coercion/self-defense defenses built in. Literally everything about Grian's situation- from his age to his decently clean criminal history to the abuse he was suffering at the time to the use of threats/attacks against him to convince him to commit any crimes he was involved with- are likely to be a point in his favour on a legal standpoint and certainly should be notable when it comes to moral judgement. Quite frankly there aren't many characters in the series that id feel individually safer around because independently inciting violent encounters just isn't something he typically does. And having the survival instincts to bend under serious threat just isn't the same as being a violent person in your own right and saying Grian's just a violent or criminal person overall feels really weirdly oversimplified.

And beyond that is the idea that Grian's arrogant/disrespectful/manipulative/rude/vindictive. Which just feels out of pocket honestly. Grian can have a cynical streak, but that usually manifests in calling out genuinely inane bs or like...insulting his abuser(s). Stuff like being touchy and annoyed about their teachers not teaching them anything or calling Sam "literally the worst person who's ever lived" or making snide comments about how fucking insane Yuki is or similarly pretty justified grievances. Grian plays into the trope of the Only Sane Man, which, ive quoted this in the past but imma do it again, here's a quote from yhe tv tropes page on the Only Sane Man. "Alice is a Psycho for Hire, Bob is a Cloudcuckoolander, Henry is an Empty Shell, Charlotte is a Chaotic Stupid prankster, Daniel is the Annoying Younger Sibling, Emily is a Jerk with a Heart of Jerk, Maria Rhymes on a Dime, Franklin is a Mad Scientist, and Gardenia is a Holier Than Thou Lawful Stupid. Looks like your standard Dysfunction Junction. But then you have Isaac. Isaac is actually a very well-adjusted individual. He reacts with appropriate horror to things like Alice's finger collection or Franklin's experiments to revive the dead with science, and the crimes against nature that Gardenia calls pets. Isaac is the Only sane Man and The Only Voice Of Reason in the room". That's what Grian is. Pretty consistently. Grian's the guy that calls out the cruelty and incompetence and stupidity of the other characters because their general community is fucking *insane* and nobody else seems interested in questioning it. Grian isn't wrong about these observations though and it can't even be a case of "you're not wrong you're just an asshole" because he's not calling out harmless silly stuff, he's usually calling out shit like police corruption or the school neglecting their student's education or people consistently forgiving/excusing his abuser or the frequent unnecessary violence and crime going on in the community generally? And when he's in a situation where he's engaging with a kind or reasonable person Grian is actually typically prone to being polite and level headed in return. He's not typically, like, talking down to innocent people for harmless quirks/choices, he just shows a level of dismay and frustration towards the constant awful shit going on around him and in his interactions with people who are behaving like normal functional human beings he tends to have a pretty decent head on his shoulders?

Like. Grian isn't always in the right 100% of the time with no flaws and no incidents in which he's done something wrong. But he's definitely not some arrogant violent unempathetic prick who loves getting into fights and mocking undeserving people. The latter of which ive actually seen implied (maybe not quite as intensely/directly but ive certainly seen the words arrogant, violent, manipulative, unempathetic, disrespectful, and rude ascribed to him as general personality traits he has which just isn't accurate) way too many times for comfort.

#yhs #yandere highschool #yhs grian #to be fair a lot of the times ive seen this take its been paired with attempts to defend how sam didnt blatantly abuse the heck out of grian #which makes sense i suppose cause what better way to defend sam not being abusive than to make his victim look like the real villain #or at least like just as much of a villain

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fanfic-scribbles · 3 years

Text

Smile

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky gives you some reasons to smile.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Female Reader

Warnings: Fluff, puns, cheesy jokes, so cheesy

Words: 3344

A/N: I’m going to admit it upfront, about 40 percent of the time spent on this fic was spent on writing it. The other 60 percent was spent on finding the jokes. Also, this story is semi-inspired by the fact that my face is not nearly as expressive as it feels (I basically look like the polite cat meme when I really try and I can’t do it for long before my face hurts too much) so this goes out to other people who get accused of resting bitch/asshole face. And get written up for it. Anyway, please enjoy this goofy little Bucky/Reader get together.

‘How do you make a tissue dance?’

‘Put a little boogie in it.’

Bucky snorts and coughs when he accidentally breathes coffee instead of air. ‘That’s disgusting,’ he texts back but Sam just replies with an obnoxious smiling face. Bucky shakes his head and goes back to his coffee. It’s actually not so terrible today.

He doesn’t hang out in a dive, but this coffee shop is a type of quiet he almost never sees in the city. It’s too far from the tourism path for convenience and just outside the neighborhood purview where there are many other local (better) favorites. It’s clean enough and decently sized, but it’s decorated like it was supposed to be trendy ten years ago and the place is barely staffed, to match its perpetually nigh-empty interior. There was a short-lived attempt at hiring another person, but after a ridiculous amount of turnover the owners, or whoever, apparently cut their losses and the only constants that remain are Bucky, the lone customer, you, the person actually working the counter, and your manager.

You’re nice. You always speak kindly to Bucky and, when you think you can sneak it, upsize his cup without comment or charge. Also, one time when his glove broke and slipped off, you hadn’t even commented on the arm; you’d even helped him stop panicking enough to see it hadn’t gone far and helped secure it temporarily with a rubber band.

Your manager, meanwhile, is a dick who glares at Bucky and once made a snide comment about him leaning too close to the register, and only talks to you in demanding barks. Like now– but the five minute “hushed” conversation is winding down and soon it will be safe for Bucky to go get his refill.

“I’m writing you up,” the manager says.

You jerk back in shock. “For not smiling enough?”

“It’s what we got marked down for, it’s what’s going on your record,” he says, turns on his heel, and retreats into the back to do jack shit. Bucky glares at his back as he goes. His harsh expression turns to a milder frown when he looks at you, hunched over and staring at the counter with a dead expression on your face.

He looks at his phone, looks at his empty coffee cup, and makes a quick decision.

“Can I get a refill?” he asks when he’s in front of you, startling you out of your stagnant misery. You look up at Bucky and after a second force an unnatural smile on your face. He winces on your behalf.

“Of course,” you say softly, and turn to refill the cup.

When you hand it back to him Bucky shuffles, hesitates, but finally asks, “Why are colds bad criminals?”

You blink. “Uh…why?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You blink again, and then let out a startled laugh. Bucky smiles slightly at the sound, and smiles more at the more natural, smaller turn of your lips as you say, “That’s…that’s a good one.”

“It’s pretty terrible.”

“All the best ones are,” you say, and the door chimes making Bucky break away. But as he watches you talk to the delivery man like normal he nods to himself. He leaves with his coffee to start the day and fires a quick text to Sam: ‘Where do you get your dumb jokes?’

The next day when the door chimes and you see your one regular customer, you let yourself smile a lot more naturally than you have been. Your face is starting to hurt and your boss is probably napping in the back, so you take the chance to relax.

“Hi,” you say. “The usual?”

“Please,” he says, polite as ever as he hands you exact change and you go to fix his cup. When you bring it back he asks, “What did the fish say when he swam into a wall?”

“What?”

“Dam.”

You giggle despite yourself. Bucky’s smile is small and guarded, but you haven’t had a moment yet where you haven’t been grateful to see it. Maybe this ‘smiling’ business is all it’s cracked up to be. If only it didn’t hurt your cheeks so much.

But as he tips his cup to you and goes to his favorite corner, you find you don’t mind the ache as much.

Every time he comes in now, he brings a new joke.

“What do you call a fake noodle?”

“An im-pasta.”

“What does a clock do when it’s hungry?”

“It goes back four seconds.”

“Why did the bike fall over?”

“It was two tired.”

The delivery is fairly flat but there’s always at least the hint of a smile and, you don’t know, it might be his absolute seriousness that sells it, because every one of them raises your spirits. You don’t know why he’s suddenly telling you jokes. For anyone else you might think they’re flirting, but you don’t get that impression here. He’s handsome, always looks put-together in quality clothes even if they seem picked for comfort over anything else, and even before this he has always been unfailingly polite. If he wants someone, he has to have someone just as lovely. Right?

You can’t help but think about it even after he comes back. And the wonderfully terrible jokes, thankfully, don’t stop.

“Why did the mushroom go to the party?”

You keep pouring the coffee while you ponder an answer. “I don’t know,” you decide and lift your head as you hand Bucky his drink.

The way he smiles is very fetching– not quite a smirk, it’s a little too unsure for that, but it tilts up to the side and gives him a boyish charm that would make anyone weak in the knees. “Because he was a fungi.”

It makes a smile big enough for you to feel, but considering how self-conscious you are now you quickly tell him, “I liked that.”

“I know,” he says. “You smiled.”

“You can tell?” Maybe you aren’t as bad off as you thought. Or maybe he’s just being nice. But he seems honest, and he nods decisively.

“I get not being the most…expressive.” He shrugs. “But anyone can still see it, if they look.”

The implication that he cares enough to look stuns you both to silence. He ducks his head shyly and lifts his coffee cup in thanks before retreating to his corner. When you finally have working vocal cords again you say, “Have a nice day.” It might be the first time you’ve ever really meant it.

“What’s the opposite of coffee?”

Bucky’s eyes widen and narrow in quick succession as he goes from surprise to contemplation. He weighs your question with all the dramatic seriousness you could hope for before he says, “I don’t know. What is the opposite of coffee?”

You grin when you say, “Sneezy.”

His smile is bright and he nods his head. “Not bad, not bad.” He leans on the counter, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. It’s…shockingly warming. You have to remind yourself not to get too close. He showed up out of the blue and he can be gone just as quickly. Just because he’s nice doesn’t mean he has any attachment here. In fact, you hope he doesn’t– you’d question his sanity otherwise. “Why did Mozart hate chickens?”

“I don’t know,” you say, eager to hear the answer.

“Because when he asked them for their favorite composer, they said, “Bach! Bach! Bach!’”

You laugh– that is, of course, when your supervisor pokes his head out of the back and scowls at you. He should be happy that you’re ‘smiling enough’ but you know full well anything you do is never going to be good. You freeze whatever expression is on your face as Bucky’s mood darkens and your heart sinks. “Enjoy your coffee,” you say, infusing meaning into every word. That ekes out a small imitation of a smile as Bucky raises his cup and goes to his seat.

Your supervisor starts to stalk over to you but you are saved by the sudden ringing of a phone, and he blessedly turns on his heel and goes to answer.

You sigh and start cleaning up the counter. Bucky is in his corner, hunched over and quiet as usual. He looks fine, but you feel bad for the interruption, even though you get the impression he understands. Still, this is one nice thing you’ve had in this otherwise miserable job and you’re not going to lose yet one more good person to your superior’s shitty attitude.

You push out a roll of receipt paper, scribble ‘Why did the espresso keep checking his watch?’ on it, and stick it in your apron. You walk over to wipe down an untouched table and, before heading back, make a little detour to drop it next to Bucky’s arm. He grabs the paper as you’re scooting away (plausible deniability in case your boss comes out) but it isn’t until you’re back behind the counter that you realize what that just looked like. Does he think you just dropped your number? He hasn’t opened it yet. Is he trying to figure out a way to let you down? You suddenly regret playing into this so much; he was just trying to be nice, he probably didn’t expect you to latch onto it so–

He opens the paper, reads it, and shoots you a little smirk. You breathe a sigh of relief and mindlessly wipe things down and rearrange well-organized creamers and straws until Bucky comes up for his customary pre-leaving refill. You’re a little disheartened it’s that time already, but it means you’re that much closer to the end of your shift, at least.

“Why?” Bucky asks quietly. It takes you a second before you remember the receipt paper and you surreptitiously check the back to see the door is closed.

“Because he was pressed for time,” you say quietly as you hand back his cup.

He chuckles. “I like it,” he says and takes a sip. “Thanks,” he adds as expected, but then he winks and you…you just stare at him as he leaves.

Should you have dropped your number?

A few days later, Bucky is caught off his guard and pays for it.

“What’s this?”

Bucky doesn’t get to his coffee cup fast enough and Sam snatches it and reads. “Sam,” Bucky grumbles but there it is, Sam’s eyes go wide and he turns that stare on Bucky. “Don’t look at me like that,” Bucky snaps and snatches his drink back.

“You’ve been using my jokes to hit on a dorky barista?” Sam asks and follows him across the room.

“I’ve been using jokes from the site you steal yours from to share with the nice woman who makes my coffee,” Bucky says and sits in a chair. He never stays for Sam’s group VA sessions and he should have left sooner, damn it. “I wouldn’t use yours. They’re gross.”

“Potentially inappropriate for a lady,” Sam says. Bucky opens his mouth to argue but, no, that’s exactly it, even though Sam’s tone implies something completely different from what Bucky would have said. “What’s her name?”

“Bucky?”

Steve has never been more of an actual hero to Bucky than he is right now. Right on time to walk back home with Bucky, Steve wanders in, sees the two of them, and stops. “Oh, should I…”

“Let’s g–” Bucky is immediately stopped by Sam’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bucky’s got his eyes on someone,” Sam says, immediately centering himself as Bucky’s most hated arch-nemesis.

…Okay, maybe not, but if Bucky didn’t have real problems he would be.

“I do not,” Bucky grumbles, because he knows it’s pointless and Steve is immediately sitting in front of them and leaning in like he’s the last girl at the sleepover.

“Really Buck? That’s great!” Steve says. “Have you…are you going to make a move?”

“No,” Bucky says and quickly runs down the situation, hoping that it will clear things up but knowing his friends too well. Indeed, Sam and Steve share smirks before looking at him again.

“You’re a real hero,” Sam says, only partly joking.

“I hate you,” Bucky says, ducking his head down. He doesn’t really blush anymore, if he ever did, but the motion is instinctive.

“You don’t.”

“I wish I did.”

Steve grins, as does Sam, and Bucky wants to duck into a hole. Goddamn mother hens, they’re going to want to–

“Should we come by?” Sam asks and leans back in his chair. “Be real wingmen?”

“No,” Bucky says, harsher than he means to. Sam and Steve don’t look bothered– they’ve weathered worse emotional snaps than that– but they wait for him to explain and Bucky doesn’t know if he can. Because what if this is leading to something? Is he ready for that? He thinks he might like you, but would he be okay putting in the effort of getting to know you? What if he can’t handle it? What if Steve and Sam walk in and they’re all you see? Both of them are plenty distracting, and charming, while Bucky can hardly put one foot in front of the other, some days. And what if this isn’t leading to anything, you’re just nice, and it’s nice, but Sam and Steve find out and look at him with all the pity they can muster?

“I just…want to see it through. On my own. Whatever this is.” ‘Or could be’ he leaves unspoken, because hoping for anything still feels like too much.

“Okay,” Sam says first, because of course he does, but Steve nods along quickly. It’s enough to make Bucky exhale deeply and relax muscles he didn’t know he had tensed. He rolls his eyes and stands up to cover for it.

“You’ll keep us updated though, right?” Sam asks, an easy grin on his face as he lounges in the chair.

“Like I’ll be able to avoid it,” Bucky mutters, finishes his drink, and lets Sam know they’re okay by throwing the empty cup at his head.

The fact that you’re running out of coffee-related jokes is stressing you out. You wanted to keep on theme but too many more days of this and you’ll be scouring the internet for whatever jokes Bucky hasn’t used yet. There are some coffee-related puns, but…the ones you like carry a romantic hint to them, and you were hoping to save those in case Bucky showed any interest. So far you haven’t picked up on anything, but you’re also very oblivious, and your roommate thinks you’re an idiot and he’s obviously into you.

But he might not be.

You do what you’ve been doing since your boss snarked at you about flirting on the clock and get Bucky’s cup ready with maybe your favorite joke.

‘How did the hipster burn his tongue?

He drank his coffee before it was cool.’

And smile proudly at it. Your small handwriting is getting better– Bucky barely has to squint at it this time, and he gives you a conspirator’s smile when he slides his twenty-dollar bill across the counter at you, with the neatest print writing along the margins.

‘What do you call an alligator detective?

An investi-gator.’

It’s cute and you snicker to yourself as you gather his change and place it gently in his gloved hand. He doesn’t retreat to his corner right away, though, and shuffles in place. “I was…I just wanted to say…” But then his eyes glance to your side and his face freezes in an unfortunately familiar way. “Thank you for the coffee,” he says woodenly and raises his cup just so.

“Of course. Have a nice day,” you say as robotically as possible and watch him go. Your supervisor clears his throat pointedly and you pretend like the place isn’t as clean as it was since the last time you went around. But now you’re thinking. About how awkward Bucky looked, and how he mentioned wanting to say something…maybe…maybe he is open. To you. Potentially.

Tomorrow, you decide with a thrill of nauseating adrenaline. Tomorrow you’re going to bring it up.

The next day you arrive at the shop at your usual time in the pre-dawn cold only to find an extra padlock on the door and a note in the window.

You stare, dumbfounded, and read the note. You read it again. And again.

‘Out of Business.’

But nobody called you.

You immediately grab your phone and dial your supervisor’s number. When he doesn’t pick up you call it again because this cannot be real. The job was shit but it was a job, and you knew what to expect, and you’ll never see Bucky again, will you?

It takes almost half an hour for the asshole to pick up– or maybe more, as the sun is starting to show up– and upon answering, he snaps, “What?!”

“What happened?” you ask, just as unkindly.

Your boss grumbles unintelligibly but you wait. “Did you see the sign?”

“I was working yesterday; no one mentioned anything about this.”

“Corporate called last night.” He yawns loudly. “I tried to call you.”

That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one, but your tongue gets tripped up in anger and he says, “Sorry but there’s no room at the other branches for you, your last check is in the mail,” and hangs up.

You stand there for a while, trying to blink away tears at the sudden upheaval of your life. You should have found a replacement job while you had a chance. You should have asked your co-workers where they were going. You should have given Bucky your number.

You stand there for a little while, debating spending money you shouldn’t on a nice breakfast to wallow in, when the sound of footsteps coming up behind you makes you turn around.

“Oh, Bucky,” you say and rub your face. You think you’ve managed to hold it in, but it’s chilly and any exposed skin feels frozen.

“What’s going on?” he asks and peers around you at the note.

“Um…” You gesture uselessly. “Apparently this location is no longer in business. Just found out.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. “That asshole didn’t even call you?!”

The amount of anger on your behalf startles you. Startles both of you, actually, but just as he’s about to say something you laugh and say, “At least that asshole isn’t my problem anymore.” You sigh. You have savings, and the other job, and there’s always some other crappy job waiting for someone like you. But there’s something here that won’t be, and you pull out your phone and start typing. “Um…Bucky…there’s something I wanted to say to you. But it’s hard to say.”

“Okay?” he asks. You squeeze your eyes tight, brace yourself for impending rejection, and hold out your phone.

‘I like you a latte,’ followed by your phone number, hopefully gets the point across. After a few seconds your phone buzzes and you jump and bring it back, hoping no one texted you anything terrible while Bucky was staring at your phone.

It’s a new number, and the text reads, ‘It’s hard to espresso my feelings for you.’

You look up at him and he’s smiling, mouth parted slightly, and you start smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. But it’s okay. “I only had two more coffee jokes left before that line,” you confess and save his name to his number.

“Maybe you can tell them to me over breakfast? My treat,” he says and extends his arm.

You don’t even have to think about it. “Your treat this time,” you say, and link your arm with his. “In return, I’m going to show you where to get some good coffee.”

“Oh I don’t know,” he smirks at you. “The last place had its perks.”

Lacking a good comeback, you push your face into his shoulder to muffle your laughter. He leans into you, and doesn’t pull away even when you’ve gotten under control.

It’s the beginning of a brew-tiful relationship.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #avengers reader insert #captain america reader insert #fluff #stupid jokes (affectionate)#puns

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castieltrash1 · 4 years

Text

dangerous territory → clint b.

gif credit (x)

summary → clint stays behind during a mission, leaving you alone with him in the avengers building. seeing him sprawled out on the comfy lounge room couch gives you some naughty ideas -- only adding to the tension your relationship already has.

word count → 6.7k (literally wtf)

warnings → i ignore the entirety of iw/endgame except for clint’s makeover, extreme sexual tension, smut; switch!fem!reader, switch!clint, couch sex, oral (both recieving), fingering, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, praise

a/n → literally idk if i should be ashamed or not but im Horny 4 Hawkeye!!! oopsie !! also there are like .3 smut fics for him on here and im determined to fix that

---

Quiet was not a word you’d use to describe the Avengers Facility.

In fact, with Steve’s loud orders, Bruce’s lab explosions, and Sam’s boisterous laughter -- not to mention the never-ending petty arguments that managed to revert the Avengers to 11th graders in their first debate club -- it was the farthest thing from quiet.

But, now, with zero disagreements and zero distractions, you’d been able to enjoy the building all to yourself. Almost. Of course, the one time you got to avoid a mission, you ended up falling into an even worse situation.

You’d covered for Wanda last mission, and she’d insisted on paying you back for the newest one. It wasn’t high stakes by any means, but the work itself had countless components and everyone who was nearby -- or at least on the planet -- had been called in to fill some role.

Everyone, of course, except you. And Clint.

Suddenly the idea of being stuck in the Quinjet with everyone’s post-mission moodiness sounded very appealing. You could feel a headache growing as you wandered around the kitchen, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid him. He was not supposed to be here. Hell, he didn’t even like stepping foot in the place unless the world was in immediate danger.

Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice his odd attitude. Natasha gave him a confused look when he mentioned staying behind, but decidedly hadn’t commented, almost like she’d already pieced together the reason for Clint’s actions. Knowing her, she probably had. But, even Wanda shot a glance that worried you -- though you seemed to be the only one to catch her squinted green gaze before it disappeared. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what she saw in his mind.

Sure, you had a couple of ideas as to why he would choose to isolate himself with you, but you tried to not let those thoughts consume you. The others wouldn’t be back till midday tomorrow -- if all went well -- and you were not about to spend the next 36 hours soaking your panties with stupid fantasies.

Unfortunately, even when ignoring Clint, your mind was still focused on him. When you passed by the gym or shooting range, antsy to get your daily work in, one quick thought of seeing Clint’s arms -- tensed as he loaded his bow, muscles straining and eyes focused on his target -- was enough to have you quickly walking in the opposite direction.

But, now, as you make your way into the lounge to relax, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You have just as much of a right as Clint does to walk around whenever and wherever you please. In all honesty, you feel even more entitled considering you’re the one actually living in the tower (at least most of the time.)

He’s exactly where you expect him to be -- he may be fast and quiet on his feet, but you’ve been keeping tabs on him, for your own sake.

It’s a bit odd seeing a book instead of a bow in his hands, but you’re not entirely sure you should be focused on how his fingers wrap around the thin pages, thumbing the corners so gently--

“Done avoiding me, are you?”

Well, shit.

His gaze remains on his book -- though the very few pages he’s turned assures you he’s not paying attention to whatever riveting story Tony has stocked his shelves with.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. There’s a moment of temptation to take a seat next to him on the couch, as close as possible. To feel his strong arms around you, smell the raw masculine cologne he always wears a bit too much of -- heavy on his neck and sharp jaw that you know your lips could curl around so perfectly if given the chance.

You swallow heavily and take a seat in the chair across from him, sinking into the expensive fabric.

“Tony picks good furniture, right?” Clint sighs, book closing without so much as a dog-ear mark as he leans back.

It’s silent for a second, and you’re entirely sure you’ve missed a part of the conversation during your mini black-out, but Clint doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, waiting patiently for your answer. You consider it a small win and accept the change in topic with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah. Didn’t think price made such a big difference.” There’s a firmness to the chair that keeps you from sinking, and mentally, you consider if it’d be strong enough for other activities. “How much you wanna bet he spent on each of these chairs?” you question, genuinely curious. “I gotta guess at least two grand.”

Clint’s cool eyes glint playfully. “Three,” he challenges with a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. “Though, you should really try this couch. Definitely my favorite thing here.”

There’s just a hint of suggestion in his tone -- the kind that you’d miss if you weren’t trained in reading people. It’s not unexpected, though. You’d have to be a fool to not recognize the exact same longing stares, the same lingering touches that Clint offers you. But, that’s what makes it all more intimidating. It’s an unspoken thing, and at this point, that’s what feels most convenient -- even if your lonely nights spent moaning his name are growing far too common for comfort.

Still, you can’t exactly ignore him, and his eyes follow you closely as you make your way to the couch, falling into the comfy cushions with a huff.

“Wow.” You laugh. “No wonder you’ve been spending so much time down here.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “So you have been paying me some attention. Interesting.”

If he notices you shift as far to the other end of the couch as possible, he doesn’t mention it.

“Don’t take it personally, Barton,” you huff. “I’m used to keeping an eye on everyone around here.” It’s not entirely a lie, but he manages to see right through the half-truth regardless.

“So you avoid everyone, then?” There’s no hurt or misunderstanding in his voice, not even confusion. He knows what you’re doing, knows why you can’t bear to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the couch.

He just chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach clench unconsciously. You expect him to keep pressing you, work you up until you spill your guts, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even say a word as you hear the rustling of paper and feel the couch move slightly as he shifts.

You turn your head towards him and open one eye, then both as they go wide. Clint has taken on a whole new level of comfortable, feet perched on the coffee table and one arm resting on the back of the couch while his free hand flips through the same first few pages as before.

In all honesty, you suddenly find yourself happy that Steve and Tony are gone -- otherwise they’d be scolding Clint for his manners, and most definitely not ogling his firm legs in those tight, black jeans.

You drag your gaze back up his body, stopping near the hem of his shirt, where his new position has allowed for the fabric to ride up his stomach. It’s just a sliver of skin but the image is enough to make your heart race. There’s a faint dip in the muscled hip line leading to his jeans, and if you stare extra hard, you can see the light trail of thin hairs disappearing under the fabric.

Swallowing heavily, you quickly look back at Clint’s face, holding back a gasp as he stares back at you.

“So,” you fill the silence before he can, mentally thanking Natasha for her training on keeping your composure. “How’s that book of yours?”

Clint just grins for a second -- you both know he’s caught you. “It’s alright. Not the most interesting thing in the building right now, though.”

You gulp. “Yeah… The place is big. Lots to explore. I don’t think I’ve even seen every room--”

“I have a feeling you know that’s not what I mean,” Clint cuts you off with a chuckle, and you send him a challenging glare.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you scoff.

He hums, before his tongue peeks out to swipe across his bottom lip. “You’re sounding awfully like a broken record today.” His icy, pale eyes return to his book, and you watch as he lifts his thumb to his wet lips, tongue darting out the lick the tip. You can practically feel the action, and almost whine in disappointment when his hand returns to flip the page.

Clint is downright grinning at this point, and you know he’s taking in every breath, shift, and blink of yours. “But, I know you’re not actually confused,” he continues. “In fact, I’d argue you like this game of ours a bit more than you should.”

You know if you brush it off again, he’ll drop it. He’s too nice to make you uncomfortable, and his statement hangs in the air with a heavy weight.

“You know, Barton?” you shift from your spot on the couch, eliminating a good chunk of the space between you and him. “I think you’re smarter than most people give you credit for.” He raises a brow, and you would believe his undisturbed look if you didn’t see his fingers twitch against the spine of the forgotten book.

“Tell Nat that,” he jokes, and you grin. Seeing that little crack in his facade, the way he fills the conversation with a joke, the discreet but heavy swallow he tries to hide -- it’s all enough to power you to move closer, until there are mere centimeters between you two.

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ll be telling Natasha anything from this conversation of ours.” Keeping your attention on the slight tense of his jaw, you push the book from his hands, and he immediately drops his feet from the table to discard it in their place.

You pause for a second, glancing at Clint’s lap then back at him, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and grab your hip.

“Get over here already,” he groans, both arms wrapping around your waist to situate you in his lap. His hands are warm and firm and everything you could have ever imagined, and you automatically roll your hips down onto him. There’s a pleased moan from you both, and his own hips jolt in a way that sends you even closer to him, until your chests are touching.

He immediately dives for your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin as he breathes you in deeply. “I gotta admit,” he murmurs, letting his lips graze the bottom of your jaw in the most sinful way, “you look so much better sitting here than standing around in the kitchen.”

You drag your fingers through the long hair on the back of his head, tugging it playfully. “You’ve been watching me, Barton?”

He hums, squeezing you just as teasingly. “I do a lot of staring when it comes to you, babe.”

You pull him from your neck by his hair, and he looks up at you with the most mischievous glint in his eyes. The nickname makes you undeniably flustered, but you force the embarrassment away.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that’s what you call creepy,” you mumble, leaning down so Clint can feel your words against his own lips. He immediately darts forward, but you pull back with a sly grin, watching his eyes darken at the action.

“I think,” he growls, catching you off guard as he pushes you back onto the couch, making you jostle as you try not to fall off the edge. He steadies you with a large hand, and you only jolt again when he uses his free hand to spread your legs, caging you in as his hips drop between your parted thighs. “You’d be a hypocrite for saying that.” He drops back to your neck, and you can feel his smile before his teeth sink into your skin lightly -- just enough to make you gasp.

He continues to litter your neck with kisses, and you watch in awe as his toned arm tenses by the side of your head -- the thick black lines of ink rolling as his muscles flex.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, back arching as his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to right below your chin. “You gonna fuck me?”

Clint bites the edge of your jaw in retaliation to your words, before he pulls back just enough to stare at you with a lustful gaze.

“Not yet, baby. Not that easily.” One of his hands trails up the front of your thigh, before it busies itself with the hem of your shirt. You try to hide your disappointment, but Clint notices it, of course, and just shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you leave this couch anytime soon. You’ve made me wait long enough for this… I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, and you hungrily reach and tug until he’s as close as possible -- until you can feel the denim of his jeans scraping deliciously against your thighs as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. It’s messy and entirely uncalculated, and your nails catch in the wrinkles of the back of his shirt while his own fingers tug impatiently at the bottom of yours.

You part from him for a second, and his own greedy mouth follows yours, only managing to press against the side of your lips. “You act like you’ve made this easy for me,” you retort, and his chest rumbles against yours as he chuckles.

“Oh honey, I think I’ve made it quite obvious I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day you walked in here.”

“Clearly, not obvious enough.”

Clint huffs, warm breath hitting your cheek. “What’d you want me to do? Huh?” He shifts so his words make their way directly to your ear, each syllable accentuated with a puff of hot air. With him this close, neck just below your nose, you can take in the heavy smell of that sharp cologne you love so much.

His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, but instead of the obvious trail up, his hand trails down to play with the hem of your shorts. “Tug these little things off in front of everyone? Show them all how worked up you get me wearing these? Is that what you want?”

Your hips lift in a silent plea, and you groan. “They’re comfortable.”

“Maybe for you, but I find myself very uncomfortable when you wear them.” He snickers, and if you weren’t so turned on, you’re sure you’d roll your eyes. Only Clint Barton could make a joke about untimely hard-ons during a time like this.

“Then why don’t you take them off?” you groan, and he shakes his head while muttering something about you being bossy.

Still, his words betray him as he tugs the fabric down your legs, as slowly as possible while his eyes drink in the new area of exposed skin. “What part about taking my time with you did you not understand?” The corner of his lips tug in that mischievous way of his, and you have a sneaking feeling his patience is as fleeting as your own.

Proving your point, Clint tosses your shorts over the back of the couch with a grin, then pushes you further up the cushions. You’re almost sitting, shoulder blades knocking the arm of the sofa while your legs bend at the knee to accompany Clint, who scoots back. It’s the perfect and most disastrous angle to be at as you have to both feel and watch his deft fingers trail up from your knee.

You’re a hundred percent sure the effects of your arousal are extremely obvious, but he doesn’t comment on the wet patch of your panties -- though you see his eyes focus on the area between your legs for a second too long before his gaze flickers back to your thighs.

His calloused fingers trail the edge of fabric around your legs, rough skin providing a type of friction you can’t begin to explain. His touch is fleeting and he changes the amount of pressure with every swipe of his thumb, always pushing just enough to let you know he’s holding you down. That you can’t escape him -- as if you’d even think of trying to do so.

“Your legs are so sexy, you know that?”

You let out some type of pleased whine, a sound that Clint relishes as he tightens his grip on your thighs. “Make the prettiest sounds, too,” he continues, and then his fingers are right there. One hand holds your left leg down, while the other covers your panty-covered core. His thumb rubs into your desperate, throbbing clit, and you use your little amount of freedom to push your hips up, wanting, needing more.

Clint immediately presses you back down, and you watch his tattoos shift just slightly as he adds more weight to his hand on your thigh.

“Please, please.” You revert to begging at your lack of movement, losing all shame in regard to your desire. It’s obvious you need Clint -- any excuses or lies from before long forgotten. You need his movements to speed up, the slow circles of his thumb providing barely enough friction.

He just chuckles, but relents a little and you downright purr as the thin fabric of your underwear drags against your tingling nerve endings. It’s impossible to move under Clint’s weight, but all the muscles in your lower half flex and twitch as they desperately search for release and relief.

“How about…” Clint trails off, fingers moving upward to grab the waistline of your panties, “we get these off?”

You’re sure if you nod any faster you might make yourself dizzy, and Clint just smirks in that knowing way. That way that lets you know he has you right where he wants you. Right where he’s been waiting to have you.

The article of clothing is soon flung behind his shoulder just like your forgotten shorts -- and you can only faintly remind yourself to make sure you grab everything before the others return. Though, at this point, you think anyone could walk in on Clint between your legs and you’d still be begging him to make you cum -- audience or not.

“Fucking Christ,” Clint groans, palms sliding between your thighs to spread them, giving him a full view of your glistening core. “I swear, you’re gonna kill me.” Seeing his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and greedy fingers, you’re not sure you can reject that statement.

He removes his hands for just a second, but you don’t dare close your legs, and he has the audacity to wink. Before your mind can even process the action, though, he’s pulling his shirt off, arms crossing over his chest as they show off in their full glory. Hips, stomach, chest, arms -- they’re all exposed so quickly and your eyes drink in the features as fast as they can. Clint throws the shirt to the side -- you have a feeling he’s utilizing his perfect aim to create a clothing pile -- but you just stare at his shoulder, where the ink spreads to areas you’ve never had the chance to see before. The olive green accents contrast against his tanned skin, which has gained a light sheen from the sweat of his arousal.

As he leans back down, Ronin’s portrait stares you dead in the eyes -- quite literally. If you didn’t know the deeper meaning, you’re sure you could mistake the skull as a danger warning to the man pressing a kiss against the inside of your knee.

Short hairs chafe your legs as Clint makes himself comfortable, pressing his jaw against you. When his hot breath dances over your center you almost squeeze your thighs together, but he’s there to push them apart with a chuckle.

“No, no…” He pulls away barely, and you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re gonna give me what I want, ok?” His fingers are gentle, and so are his eyes when he glances up to you. He’s hopeful, pleading almost, but stays respectful. “If that’s ok, of course.”

You almost want to cry, because how could he think any differently, but you just nod. “Please Clint, touch me.”

He sends you a lopsided grin, and then he’s right there, pressing a kiss against your clit. The feeling is completely different from before, lips slick and soft unlike his rough thumb. All the air in your lungs leaves your body as you let out a sigh of relief, body finally relaxing as it gets the touch it needs.

You reach down and your nails scratch his scalp lightly before you grip his hair in a tight hold. He nuzzles against your hand and groans against you, and the feeling of control makes your blood run hot through your veins. One of the most powerful men on Earth is between your legs, sucking softly on your clit like it's the only thing he could ever want.

He traces circles on your thighs with his coarse fingers as he warms you up with gentle licks and the occasional curl of his lips around your most sensitive area. You let him have the satisfaction of your spread thighs, but you periodically tug on his tousled locks to remind him that he’s the one between your legs. It’s the perfect balance of dominance -- the type that makes your head spin and your eyes roll back into your head.

Clint presses another kiss to your clit before traveling lower and the intimacy of the action makes your skin flush. You can tell he’s not going to be holding back for much longer though, if the desperation of his descent is any indication. His fingers join his attack as he spreads your folds, tongue dragging the entirety of your core.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” he mutters, mouth impatient as he covers as much skin as he can at once. It’s fast and downright dirty as he presses his tongue into you, eliciting a groan from your parted, panting lips. You’re dripping at this point, and he laps up the mix of saliva and arousal with a yearning thirst.

It’s all so overwhelming. His fingers are digging into your skin -- likely to leave faint marks -- and the scruff framing his jaw scrapes and leaves your skin burning, while the softer locks between your fingers are a comfort to steady you.

The heat building in your body is entirely unbelievable, and your back digs into the couch as you arch into Clint, desperate for all he’ll be willing to give you. You press him closer, and he moans at the power in your hands -- the control you have despite him hovering over you. It’s a mental trip for you both, your stomach and pelvic muscles clenching as they react to his generous, eager giving.

“God, Clint, gonna cum.” The words barely feel like they’re coming from your own body, jaw slack as you tremble in his hold. His index finger presses into you slowly, while his thumb replaces his tongue on your clit. The change of stimulation has you reeling, your grip on Clint loosening as you feel his warm words against you.

“Kinda the point, sweetheart.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you know Clint is smirking -- you can practically hear it in his voice.

His finger curls to press against your front wall, and he rubs it gently once, twice, before he lets the digit drag out, sinking in again even slower. The leisurely thrusts continue as his tongue returns to circle your clit, his cocky words from before silenced as he puts his mouth to work. Your breath grows heavier, heart rate increasing with every second. His middle finger joins the first with a steady push, and you clench desperately as they curl and press and rub and reduce you to nothing but putty.

You’re right there and Clint knows it -- somehow he knows it. His fingers move faster, harder, and his lips wrap around your clit with even greater determination. There’s a shift, fingertips grazing the perfect spot as he sucks desperately and it’s over. You’re crying out his name, thighs shaking and you clench and flutter around his never-ceasing fingers. There’s a moment where all senses leave you and all you can feel is Clint, and the spread of warmth between your legs. Your ears ring and your own moans become faint background sounds.

And then, you’re pulling his head back, his tongue still trying to work your sensitive clit. He fights your tug on his hair but you must be begging because he finally relents with a huff. You can hear his breathing, and you feel his shift as he leans back over you, fingers still working you through your high.

“Look at me,” he demands, and his free hand drags down your cheek. “C’mon, open your eyes.” He forcefully grabs your chin, and your eyes open too quickly for your mind to process. It’s all so bright and you have to blink away the splotches of color coating your vision. Clint takes up the entirety of your view, lips wet and eyes dark. “There you go, baby.” He’s grinning and panting and his fingers are still fucking moving.

You whimper and glance down -- as much as his grip on your jaw will allow -- and the view of his tattooed arm between your thighs, veins pulsing as he fingers you is imprinted in your mind permanently. It’s a never-ending high that goes on for a second too long before Clint finally, finally eases his fingers from you. They’re practically dripping with your release, and he wastes no time bringing them to his glossy mouth.

It’s hypnotic to watch as his lips close around his fingers, nostrils flaring as he sucks them eagerly. They come out clean, and his chest rumbles with a groan. “Can’t get enough of your taste. Fuck.”

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, chest heaving and shirt clinging to sweaty skin. But, there’s finally a moment where your legs feel somewhat solid, and you take advantage of the opportunity, bending your leg to put the bottom of your foot on Clint’s bare chest.

He shoots you a confused but intrigued look, and you respond with a lopsided grin as you push him backward, until he’s the one stumbling to find a spot against the arm of the couch. Faintly, you consider the move would be much sexier with a pair of heels digging into his skin, but this will have to suffice for now. Maybe next time -- if there is a next time, of course.

“Now, what are you up to, baby girl?” Clint is practically vibrating with excitement as you gather the strength to push yourself off the couch, ignoring the slight twitch of your exerted thighs.

“Take your pants off,” you say, with little shame. “Now.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone get undressed so quickly and the hastiness of Clint’s actions leave him with very little coordination. It takes him three tries to get his belt undone, and he pokes himself with the metal prong when his eyes return to glance at you.

Raising a brow, you put your hands on your hips, and he speeds up. The button and zipper take him twice as long, but the sound when he finally tosses his belt and jeans off to the side is well worth the wait.

He licks his lips, looking up at you -- waiting, watching. Your earlier thoughts regarding his legs are heightened tenfold as you take in his toned thighs and hard cock in-between. He’s thick, the bulge pressing against his boxer-briefs making your heart skip a beat. The mere idea of him stretching you open has you growing too impatient for what you have planned.

“Keep going.” You swallow and hope your voice doesn’t sound too shaky.

Clint’s quick fingers make work of the fabric, and you focus on finishing yourself off. You pull your shirt off and let it drop to your feet before your hands move to unhook your bra. You’re barely sliding the straps down your arms when you hear Clint huff, and you look back to him.

“I wanted to do that,” he almost whines, chest puffing.

You roll your eyes but laugh, and toss your bra to him. He catches it with a wink, before throwing it behind him. Immediately, his gaze drags over your chest, excruciatingly slow. You know he’s taking in every inch, every natural mark that decorates your torso. Normally, you’d feel odd being examined so closely while still being at a decent distance -- but Clint is observant and his eyes are hungry.

Finally, his dark eyes reconnect with yours. “You gonna come sit or should I just grab you?” His tone is playful and daring, but you hear the hint of arousal that suggests he wouldn’t be opposed to tugging you into his arms. You don’t have time for games anymore, though, so you stand between Clint’s legs, and he pats his thigh playfully.

“Hmm…” You bite your lip and shake your head, eyes glistening with mischief. “Not yet…”

You make your descent to your knees perfectly paced, fluttering your lashes as you look up to Clint from between his thighs. He cusses and his arms fall limply to his side as he resigns himself to the torture he knows you’ll be sure to deliver.

“I thought you wanted to take your time,” you tease, fingers sliding up his thigh. Your nails against his skin have him tensing, muscles quivering.

He groans, and tosses his head back. “That was before I made you cum. Just wanna fuck you now -- make you shake again.”

You pinch him. “Sweet-talking will get you nowhere, Barton. You should know that.” But, you still let your palm graze over his hard cock, twitching at your touch. He’s firm and warm, and when your fingers wrap around his length, you realize how deliciously thick he is, filling your grasp fully. The length is there too, just enough to not be intimidating, but the girth has your core throbbing.

“Fuck, Clint,” you groan, giving a slow jerk of your wrist. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He’s pulsing in your hand, skin flushed and precum beginning to drip from the head of his cock. It coats your hand on the second stroke, easing the drag. Soon enough, he’s practically glistening, and your mouth waters. You have to taste him.

He calls your name, voice trembling, as your tongue darts out to flatten against his tip. “Oh God, please.” He’s flushed, from his cheeks to his tensing thighs, and you’d grin if you weren’t taking him deeper into your mouth. Another part of the burning, fervid desire deep in your veins lights up as your lips wrap around him -- tongue greedy for more as it laps everything it can reach. A growl reverberates through his entire body, and the sound makes your thighs clench.

You spare him a glance, and he looks destroyed. Sweat gathers on his forehead and the veins in his arm pulse as he grips the cushions to stay steady. Sane. Calm.

His knuckles are white and you relieve them by grabbing his left hand in your own, thumb rubbing over the back of his palm. He’s squeezing you like you’re his lifeline, and you reward him with your free hand around his base.

“Fuck fuck, I’ll cum too fast with you doing that,” Clint grunts, and you watch his chest heave as he tries to steady his breathing.

You pull off him with a line of spit, breaking it with your hand as you use the saliva to glide your fingers. He’s still throbbing, and you trace his underside vein with your wet thumb. “I thought that was the point, right?” You repeat his words from earlier with a grin, pressing a kiss against his thigh as your hand speeds up. He’s so close and he needs it so badly, but he finally pulls his hand from yours to grab your moving wrist.

“Not until I fuck you.” He pants, and begrudgingly removes your hold from his cock. “And a couple times, at the very least.”

Your heart races at the mere thought of as many rounds as you can handle, with Clint making you cum again and again. Still, you stand slowly, silently hoping he’ll push you back to your knees and cum down your throat.

But he doesn’t. He watches closely as you straighten out, and you quickly move to straddle him. “Fine, but you’ll let me ride you, understood?” Your thighs brush over him with the lightest touch, and with just one solid movement, you could have him sinking into you. But, you wait. You watch as he swallows heavily, eyes hooded.

Clint gives you a lopsided smile. “No complaints here, babe.” And with that, you reach down to hold his length, pressing the tip against your clenching, wet, core. He gasps, but you shift just slightly, until he bumps your clit. It’s too much and too little all at once, and you let out a soft cry as he jerks upward, precum coating the swollen nub. You reward yourself with one more drag down from your clit before letting the head of his cock push into you.

You’re immediately clenching around his length, and Clint’s calloused fingertips dig into your hips as he helps steady you. It only takes a couple breaths and a slow spread of your thighs to take him fully, arousal coating his cock quickly. He barely holds himself back from rutting into you right away, but you rock your hips and grip his shoulders regardless.

“Fuck,” he half-groans, half-whimpers. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Your nails dig into his skin as you roll again, letting out an incoherent babble of his name as your clit gains friction from his own warm body. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your thigh onto his, and it has you shuddering. It’s so dirty and your fingers move to Clint’s hair, desperately clinging at the long strands. His forehead presses to yours, and he smells like the most dangerous concoction of sweat, cologne, and mint toothpaste you’ve ever had the honor of inhaling.

You join in an almost-kiss that’s all teeth, but he brushes his tongue against your cupid’s bow in a much gentler way, and you know he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine in reaction. He squeezes your hip gently in reassurance, and then his grip on you tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but you can feel the years of arm workouts, and you know there’s no way to escape -- as if you’d ever want to.

Clint’s knee jerks and then he’s thrusting up into you with such force it leaves you breathless. He holds you down and all you can do is gasp and hold him tighter as he pushes into you harder and faster. Every shift provides a new angle and friction as his tip stimulates your sensitive walls.

Your thighs shake desperately and you can hear the wet slap each of his movements provide as you coat his cock in warm slick. He grins at the sight, one hand drifting from your hip until it reaches your throbbing clit.

“Look at you,” he coos and punctuates the words with a rough circle of his thumb.

Your chest heaves as you gasp, but the lack of Clint’s hold gives you a second to grind against him. He grunts as you do, and you chuckle breathlessly against his parted lips.

“And look at you.”

He retorts by way of another rub against your clit, and your laughter quickly turns to a drawn-out moan.

“You look so pretty when you’re about to cum.” He pants between every word, but he’s determined to deliver the compliment that makes your face too warm. You’re not sure how he knows you’re so close -- it must be way more embarrassingly obvious than you thought -- but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he’s letting his cock drag inside you slowly, with a hard thrust every few seconds. Not when the pressure on your clit is changing so rapidly you can’t breathe.

When you do cum, with a broken cry and shaking torso, Clint doesn’t let up. He goes faster, harder. It’s a never-ending high that turns your brain to mush, and your body into even less. Your thighs burn and your toes curl but all you can feel is the delicious length buried deep inside you.

It’s only during the beginning of the cool down that you tug a little harder on Clint’s hair, and roll your hips a little more. “C’mon, Clint, please. Please fill me up.” His chest rumbles against yours with a throaty growl, and you continue to ride out your orgasm as he fucks into you with a few more desperate, shaky thrusts.

He cums in you thick and warm, with a groan of your name. It tumbles from his lips sinfully, and you commit the sound to memory. The rasp of his tone and the sight of his wet, swollen lips.

It’s not until he eases out of you slowly, and you feel the drip down your thigh that you’re grounded and reminded of exactly where you are. On a multi-thousand dollar couch. Owned by Tony Stark.

“Oh my god, Clint.”

His eyes are closed and you’re sure he’s about three seconds from sleeping for eighteen hours, but he manages a tired smirk. “I know. That was good.”

“No! I mean yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He half-opens one eye. “What?”

“I think we stained the couch.” A quick glance between Clint’s thighs all but confirms it, and you’re not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed by the very large wet spot staining the blended fabric.

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking about right now. After everything that just happened.”

You playfully slap his shoulder as you roll onto the cushion next to him with a huff. He nudges you back with his arm before clearing his throat, and letting out a butchered impression of your voice. “Oh Clint! Your dick was just so amazing!-”

“Oh my god!” You cover your face but nothing stops the laughter that rumbles through your chest -- even if he’s got your tone completely wrong. He just chuckles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side with a sigh.

“How much do you think we’ll owe Tony by the end of the day?” He looks down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, but presses a chaste kiss to your hair. “C’mon, you don’t think I haven’t planned out every surface we still need to fuck on before they get back?”

“Clint!”

“See, you keep screaming my name but for all the wrong reasons.” Now you can feel his grin against the top of your head, and it comes into view as he stands with you still in his grasp. You’re not sure how he maneuvers it, but he’s got you in his arms before you can even blink, and the look he sends you tells you not to complain or even question it. He’s not even out of breath -- all things considered -- and when you glance in the direction he’s heading, your eyes widen.

“You have got to be joking…” You squirm in his arms as he sets you down on the table used for almost every meeting, and the mere thought of defiling it forever makes you squeeze your legs together shyly.

But, Clint is quick to spread them, all with a cocky grin and a far too confident tone.

“I don’t know about you…” He begins, as his fingers trail up your thigh. “But I think we could reach ten thousand by midnight.”

If you distantly hear FRIDAY warn adamantly against it -- neither of you mention it.

“Better get started then, Barton.”

---

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