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mochie85 · 1 year

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Poker Face

These Wicked Games Collection | Complete Masterlist

Summary: Will you win a game of strip poker against the god of mischief? A/N: A special cameo of my dear friend. Word Count: 1.7K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Explicit. No details of smut, but heavily implied. Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Loki looked around the table trying to stifle his smirk from giving him away. He had a great hand – a winning hand. All he needed to do now was bait you in and he would win.

Rogers and Barnes had shown him how to play Texas Hold’em. They needed a third player as their usual playing mates were out on a mission. Things got more interesting when the women decided to join and turned it into ‘strip poker.’

Loki kept his cards face down on the velvet green table and placed his hands behind his head waiting for everyone else.

You knew that look. That pompous I-have-a-trick-up-my-sleeve look. You knew all his looks. His tired look. His hungry look. His annoyed look. Right now, he thinks he’s going to win. You watched him stretch, his shirt untucking, riding up to give you a peek at what you could be winning tonight.

Nearly everyone was on their last piece of clothing. Steve and Bucky were now in their boxers, having negotiated that each sock was one piece of clothing. Nat was in a white undershirt that barely hid the dark pink dusting of her nipples underneath.

Vision wasn’t allowed to play because he would count cards and calculate the odds in his head. Instead, he opted to hold Andrea, the new computer engineer Tony hired, in his lap as she happily lost each round. One by one, a piece of her clothing came off and Vision had to hide her body strategically, making you think she was losing on purpose.

You and Loki were the only ones who were fully clothed. You kept your head low and played safe up until now, letting the others lose their bets and hands. Your father would be damn proud of you.

“Geez, Loki. You have a horrible tell. I know you’ve got a winning hand,” Natasha said as she took a gulp of her beer. “I fold.”

“Ya, work on that poker face, buddy,” Bucky groaned. “I fold. I’m not losing my boxers.”

“I fold too,” Steve said.

“I can’t fold,” Drea said, smiling.

“That’s because you have nothing left, darling.” Vision said as his grip on her tightened.

“Well, my dear, that just leaves you and me,” Loki said in a smoldering voice. If you didn’t lose this hand, you would’ve taken off your clothes anyway just by the way he looked at you. His deep voice caressed you from across the table, making you squeeze your legs tighter together. “What do you say we up the ante? Last play for all your clothes.”

“Don’t you mean all your clothes, Laufeyson? You forget that I have a Las Vegas past.” You fired back, as resounding ‘oohs’ and heckles came from everyone else.

“All right. Bet.” He smiled.

“If I win, you take off all your clothes, Laufeyson. Including the next time we play poker, whether it’s strip poker or not. You will play naked - as the day you were born. No matter who else is playing.” You arrogantly raised your chin, calling out his bluff. His smile grew wide, reaching from ear to ear.

“And If I win, dear pet, not only will you strip down, but then I want you to walk your pretty little arse down the hall to my room and we can continue our own little game.” Gasps and jeers were heard all around the table as Loki finally admitted to some semblance of an attraction towards you. How genuine that attraction was, or how deep those feelings went, was still a mystery.

“Now hold on just a minute, Loki,” Steve said being protective of you.

“No, no. It’s ok, Steve. I accept.” You steeled your nerves and looked into Loki’s swirling eyes. Your body shook visibly, feeling his stare reach past your clothes and stroke your waiting skin underneath.

You looked down at the table where four cards were laid out. They were clubs, a 10, a 9, and an 8. Then there was the queen of diamonds. You had a King and a Jack of clubs. You already had a great hand with a flush, matching the suit to all five cards. But if that last card turned out to be a 7 or a Queen of clubs, you’d win with a straight flush.

But what did Loki have? Would his hand be better than yours? Would that last card help you or condemn you?

“Are you both ready?” Nat asked, burning a card and readying to turn the last card down onto the river. You looked into his eyes, deep and promising as you both nodded. Nat turned the card over and placed it on the table.

It was the queen of clubs.

You took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Loki’s eyes turned deadly as he turned his hand face up. An 8 of spades and the queen of hearts. “I believe that I have a full house,” he prodded, misinterpreting your sigh as a sign of defeat. Everyone’s mouth hung open in shock at his assertion.

He leaned back onto his chair and placed his hands behind his head. A proud grin on his face. “Go on love, show everybody what I’ll be playing with later.”

His comment bristled your edges. He was so arrogant. So cocky. You’re going to relish taking him down a notch. Everyone silently watched with shock and awe as you stood up with your poker face still on.

Loki’s eyes changed into pools of desire as you decided to play with his emotions a little bit more. You traced the hem of your shirt, pinching it and scrunching it up in your fist.

His greedy eyes followed the movements of your hands as you reached for your cards and turned them face up. “A king and a jack of clubs. A straight flush. Which beats your full house.” The last part of your sentence was drowned out by the screams and yells of everyone at the table.

Surprised by the turn of events, Steve, Bucky, and Vision couldn’t stop laughing. Drea and Nat just sat there and whistled as they leered at Loki to start taking his clothes off.

Loki’s eyes were full and round- devastated that he had lost. He looked up at you, at your gorgeous playful face. That angelic smile that had him enraptured from the moment he laid his eyes on you, caught his breath. He was stunned.

It wasn’t until Bucky jostled him out of his reverie that he took a lungful of air. “You gotta do it now, man,” Bucky said, laughing at him.

Loki’s smile grew wicked as he stood up and looked straight into your eyes. “My pleasure,” he ground out, making your skin flush at his promise.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you. Not when he pulled his scarf down one side and threw it in your direction. Not when he started to unbutton his shirt, painfully slow. His grin growing wider with every button. You watched as his hands trailed down onto his belt and the sharp clank of metal resounded in your ears.

“Should we leave? I feel like I’m watching something intimate,” Steve whispered to Vision and Drea.

“You can leave if you want to. I’m getting my free show,” Nat said finishing her beer.

Loki had all but taken off his shirt, socks, and shoes. All that was left were his pants. His thumbs hooked into them, watching your reaction as he pushed them down revealing all his godly glory.

A resounding “OHH!” could be heard from everyone else as Loki stood there in front of you naked. His sculpted body was on display as your eyes took in all the details that they could remember. His wide shoulders, his defined abs, and the ‘V’ of his Adonis Belt leading your stare to his semi-erect cock.

“Do you like what you see, pet? Anything I can offer you later?” He asked with a proud smile.

“All right. All right. Put your clothes back on. I think we should all call it a night. I’m done,” Steve said.

“Awe boo, Cap.” Nat leered, getting up and gathering her clothes. Bucky laughed and followed her into the bar as he struggled to get his jeans back on.

Loki flicked his hands. In a flash, all his clothes were back on and put into place, immaculately.

“Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” you asked, still watching him.

“Because I wanted to give you a show,” he winked, and he strode off down the hallway towards his bedroom.

Not long after, the compound had gotten dark and silent. The remnants of the game you all had played earlier are gone. The table was dismantled, and the cards were put away.

Your soft feet patted down the hallway and stopped in front of Loki’s door. You raised your hand to knock, but the door slightly opened to reveal a sliver of yellow light coming through. You pushed the door open, taking that as an invitation to go in.

Loki was sitting in front of his fireplace, a book in hand that he thumped shut as he took you in shutting his door behind you.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you grace my bedroom?”

“You reneged on our deal.” You said confidently. Loki looked confused as he ran by the terms of the bet earlier.

“I don’t think so, darling. The bet was, that if I lost, I would be the one to strip down naked. And I did.”

“What was the next part, Loki?” you whispered. His name on your lips sent a shiver down his spine, making him visibly tremble. You held his name on your tongue. Your breath invoking it like a prayer.

“The next caveat was that the next game of poker I played, no matter who I was with, I would have to play stripped as well.” He recited as a gleam in his eyes sparkled at your mischief. You took out a deck of cards from your back pocket and proceeded to shuffle them in your hand.

“Care for a game of poker, my prince?”

He bit his lips at your words. “With pleasure,” he smiled as he got up to unbutton his shirt.

⬅️ These Wicked Games Collection | Chapter 2: The Chase ➡️

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tropes-and-tales · 11 months

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Ooooooooooooooh can I request “It’s not a big deal. Let’s just get it over with.” with everyone's favorite cowboy Rhett Abbott?

AN: 18+ only. Smutish.

AN: Wouldst thou like to have some yee-haw angst?

Your face prickles with heat when you finally work up the courage to ask him. It shouldn’t be a big deal—you and Rhett grew up together. Your mothers were best friends and the two of you were born within a month of each other. It shouldn’t be a big deal because you are—were—the best of friends, thick as thieves for the longest time.

It’s a big deal because you’ve drifted apart in the past few years, your friendship faltering in the face of puberty—the line between girl and boy drawn in more stark contrast to the easy camaraderie of childhood.

Still, you consider Rhett a friend, even if not a best friend. Still, you can’t think of anyone else to help you. Still, you think he’ll agree despite his cloying crush on Maria which so far (as far as you know) hasn’t come to anything beyond Rhett casting his big blue eyes on the pretty girl from afar.

“Huh?” he replies when you ask. He pauses in his motion of polishing a leather bridle. You’re in his family’s barn; you sought him out when you knew Royal and Perry weren’t around.

You swipe your sweaty palms along the thighs of your jeans. “I want to lose my virginity before I leave,” you repeat. You will yourself to look at him—it hardly helps to sell yourself as an assured, modern woman bound for college in the big city if you can’t meet his eyeline.

He stares back at you, and you can’t make out his expression. It’s curiously blank but you think you see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“Why?” he finally asks.

You lift your hands, drop them. “Because it’s going to be tough enough, moving away. I just…want it to be over. One less thing to worry about.” You turn your head and gaze at the mountain range outside of the open barn door. “Remember how scared I used to be about breaking a bone, to the point that I obsessed about it? And then I finally broke my wrist and my fear disappeared? It's like that.”

“Sex isn’t like breaking your wrist,” he points out, and you roll your eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

He turns away and goes back to polishing tack. “Why me?” he asks, and you can almost pretend you hear a shyness in his voice.

You don’t want to get into your reasoning. You don’t want to make this a thing.

“Why not you?” you counter with a shrug, and he stills again, hitches his shoulders up nearer his ears. He blows out a heavy sigh and tells you he’ll think about it.

-----

He calls you that night. “Okay” is all he says.

-----

The friendship you used to have with Rhett: how you shared your secrets and hopes and dreams. How he cheered you up when your parents died. How you built a secret fort in the foothills on your ranch, how you had a code language that you used to pass notes to each other. That Rhett is long gone, but maybe some lingering remnant of the friendship remains.

You set a date, and you expect Rhett to just take you someplace convenient. His family’s barn. The bluff where people park to make out. You expect you’ll lose your virginity awkwardly, in the cab of Rhett Abbott’s pick-up truck, but he surprises you.

He takes you outside of Wabang. He takes you to the nicest hotel in a fifty mile radius. You follow him to the room and you see that he’s nervous—his hand trembles, fumbles with the key card at the door.

It’s a nice room by rural Wyoming standards. You’re touched at the gesture, touched at his nerves, now apparent—the way he lifts his ballcap, rakes his hand through his hair. The way his eyes dart around the room, settle on your face, then dart away.

“How do you—” he starts, but he stops abruptly.

“However you think best,” you answer, honest. You have no experience beyond one sloppy kiss that a distant Tillerson cousin pressed on you at the winter formal a few years back.

“This is weird, right? It’s weird.” He looks at you, and he’s so wide-eyed that you laugh. Your laughter cuts the tension, and he smiles, then laughs too.

“It’s not a big deal. Let’s just get it over with,” you offer.

“It’s kind of a big deal,” he argues. But he starts to move—shrugs out of his denim jacket, kicks off his boots.

“It doesn’t have to be.” You shrug and hope it makes you look casual.

When you leave Wabang, you want to leave yourself behind. You want to step in a new persona, a completely new you. You want to leave behind the grief of your fractured family, the anxiety and pressure of being the perfect daughter in tribute to your dead parents. You have a picture in your mind’s eye of the type of woman you can be once you leave Wabang: cool, unbothered, effortless.

Rhett nods at you, uncertain, but you take a deep breath and walk over to him. Stand in front of him. An invitation.

He nods again, and then he reaches out. He lays his hands on your upper arms, tentative. He draws you closer to him, and when you’re close enough, he bends his head and kisses you.

It’s better than the Tillerson cousin’s kiss. It’s careful. It’s chaste, at first. His lips are a little chapped, rough from working in the wind and the sun, but he’s gentle.

He eases you into the kiss, curls his arm around your shoulders to draw you closer. He shifts his other hand to your jaw, tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His mouth moves against yours, sucks gently at your lower lip until you gasp, open your mouth to him. His tongue touches yours, and your stomach dips at the sensation.

He eases you into more: his mouth breaks away from yours, and he sucks hot, wet kisses along your jawline, along your neck. You groan at the sensation, the bolt of lust that rockets through you.

You’ve never felt anything like it—so immediate, so insistent. Your desire has always been a vague, indistinct thing. It’s always been abstract: seeing an actor you think is cute, reading a historical fiction novel with sexy scenes. This—Rhett’s searching kisses, his calloused hands working under the hem of your shirt to slide against your skin, the quiet groans he looses—is real.

You try to mimic him. You kiss the side of his neck, you nip against the tendon standing out there and smile at how he groans when you do. You untuck his flannel shirt, the t-shirt underneath, and you run your hands over the hard planes of him, all those muscles forged by ranch living.

He gets your shirt off of you, and his hands are on you immediately. He cups your bra-clad breasts, runs his thumbs over the lace edging along your skin. Then he bends his head and kisses you there: between your breasts, over the tops of them. He hooks his fingers along the cups and pulls them down, exposing you, and your nerves finally kick in. You flinch away, cross your arms over your chest.

“You okay?” he asks. He looks at you, his blue eyes wide with concern.

“Yeah, yeah.” You mutter your reply, feel your usual prickle of embarrassment. “I just need a moment.”

“Maybe we should stop.”

“No, I just need a minute.”

Rhett steps back, leans against the dresser and crosses his arms. “I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

The moment is unspooling from you. The persona you want to adopt once you leave Wabang suddenly seems laughable, a childish fantasy. Of course you’re going to still be you at college—the same insecure, anxiety-ridden mess. Driven to perfection that leaves you feeling hollow instead of fulfilled. The overthinker, the sad girl.

“No, I’m ready—”

“You aren’t.” He shakes his head. “This was a bad idea.”

And just like that, the moment ends. It’s like ice water down your spine, and you feel stupid and immature and a million miles away from the man who used to be the boy who used to be your best friend. You’re standing in front of him with your breasts exposed and you feel so utterly embarrassed that you wish a hole would form under your feet and swallow you.

“I’m ready,” you argue weakly, but he’s already tucking in his shirt.

“You aren’t, and I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, rough, then puts his hat back on.

“I didn’t twist your arm, Rhett Abbott.” His tone stings, and you twist away from him to readjust yourself and pull on your own shirt. “I asked for a favor and you said yes. You called me and said yes. You booked this hotel room and drove us here.”

“I shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t have done any of it.”

“Fine, great.” You spit out the words and stay turned around so he doesn’t see the tears that rise in your eyes. “You made a giant mistake, coming here with me.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Shoulda held out for Maria, I guess.” It’s mean, a low blow, but you don’t care at the moment.

“Yeah, I shoulda,” he snaps back. “Instead of pity-fucking the town orphan.”

You suck in a breath and whip around to look at him, and the look on your face—it must clue him in to what he’s said. What he can’t take back. The thundercloud of anger melts from his expression and it’s replaced by shock, then regret.

“Shit, no. I’m sor—”

“Fuck you, Rhett.” You cut him off and the tears start in earnest, making him swim in your vision. You bend down and scoop up your jacket, your purse, and you pivot to flee into the bathroom.

“Wait—” he says, and you feel his hand on your arm but you shake him off, slip his grasp. You make it to the bathroom and slam the door, lock it just in time to keep him out.

You hear him pleading with you through the door, but you can’t make out the words. Your crying drowns him out, makes him sound like he’s underwater, and all you can tell him is to leave you alone, to leave you, to never speak to you again.

-----

It takes a long time to pull yourself together. You curl up on the cool tile of the floor and let yourself cry, and you know that only a little bit of it is Rhett and the entire miserable situation with him. It’s more than that; it’s the grief you’ve bottled up for years, and you bleed it out a little in this hotel room outside of Wabang.

Then you pull yourself together. When you leave the bathroom, Rhett is nowhere to be found.

You swallow your pride and call your uncle. Your mother’s brother has been raising you since your parents died, and you’ll be eternally grateful for him stepping in and keeping you out of foster care.

It takes him half an hour to get to you, and when you slide into the cab of his truck, he studies you without saying anything. You know you look like a disaster, and being stranded in a hotel outside of town…you know how it looks.

Ten minutes into the drive, he clears his throat. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

He nods, keeps his eyes fixed on the road. “Boy problems?”

“I know how it looks, but I promise it isn’t—”

He lifts one hand from the steering wheel, holds it up. “Not my business. I trust you. I just need to know if there’s some shithead that needs a tune-up. I gotta rough a boy up for mistreating you, you let me know.”

You smile. Your uncle has always been awkward in his unexpected role of father and guardian, but he’s always been sweetly protective.

“Seriously….you okay?” he continues.

You sigh and turn to look out your window. “No, but I will be.”

#ask game #rhett abbott #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x reader #outer range #tropes and tales

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missvelvetsstuff · 1 month

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With Friends Like You, Who Needs Enemies

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Reader is a mutant with the ability to turn sound into light who was 'adopted' aka stolen as a child by Baron Von Strucker to use for experimentation. She was given a form of the Super soldier serum so in addition to her mutant abilities she also has super strength, enhanced senses and healing. When he starts experimenting on his volunteers, the Maximoff twins, she tries to convince them to escape with her but they tell the Baron that she's planning to escape so he doubles her cell security. Steve and reader met when the team recovered Loki's scepter from Strucker.

She falls in love with Steve and becomes good friends with Nat but they aren't the friends she thinks they are.

Notes: this story is canon adjacent except that Thanos never happened.

I try to keep my readers description vague but, as always, she's female and above average height.

Chapter 8

Warnings: swearing, a little angst, a little fluff

The next morning Helen Cho examined Nat and gave her a clean bill of health. In her report to Tony she noted that Nats vision had likely returned weeks ago but she had rescheduled her appointments multiple times, confirming his belief that Nat was stringing them along.

When the room Nat had been living in was cleaned the maintenance worker brought a box of items that were left behind to Tony's office where he was having a quick lunch with Pepper.

As Pepper went through the few items, Nats bandages went in the trash, books returned to the library but a pair of blue boxer briefs caught her attention.

"Tony? Were these Natashas? They don't look like they would fit her."

Tony looked at the offending item curiously

"While I can't say for sure as I have no idea what she wears or what size, those don't look like they would fit her." He held them up to his waist and chuckled, "Don't look like mine, like I would ever wear some poly blend, but I have an idea."

He cleared his throat

"FRIDAY? Could you tell Rogers I need to speak with him when he has a moment?"

"Of course, Boss." The AI replied.

A few hours later Steve knocked on Tony's office door "What's up, Stark?"

Tony chuckled "Just working on a little mystery. Look familiar?" He picked the briefs and showed them to Steve whose eyes grew wide when he recognized them.

Steve turned red and stuttered nervously, unsure where this was going "oh uh yeah, th those are mine. They caught in the dryer or something?"

Tony smiled menacingly "Nope. They were in Romanoffs room. Any idea why that would be?"

Steve chuckled "I uh I don't know. I went to talk to her a couple of times, trying to understand her point of view but, I'm ugh I don't know."

Tony shook his head "You're A shit liar Rogers. Just come clean so I don't have to check the footage from her room."

Steve tried to bluff "What do you mean Stark? What are you trying to accuse me of?"

Tony looked him in the eye "Jesus, Steve are you really unable to admit you were still fucking her? After everything you both did, how badly you hurt Y/N and you still couldn't let her go? Must be some enchanted pussy."

Steve flinched "It's none of your business who I'm intimate with, Tony. She's gone so let it go."

Tony tsked "I don't really see it that way since she was a duplicitous bitch and your continued association speaks to your character. I need to know what else you've hidden from the team and I want your word that you will leave Y/N alone."

Steve shook his head "No. I'm not hiding anything that you need to know and I'm definitely not giving you shit. If I want to pursue Y/N and try to fix what I've done it's between me and her."

Tony folded his arms over his chest "If it potentially messes with my team then I need to know. I guess you can try to fix things but that doesn't mean I have to make it easy for you. That poor girl has been thru enough, why can't you just let her and Barnes be happy."

"Never thought I'd see you stand up for Bucky, Stark."

Tony shrugged "Never thought you'd turn out to be a lying POS. Winter Soldier aside he seems a better man than you."

"Fine, Tony I have things to do." Steve stalked out, fuming.

On his way to his room he passed the common room where Rainbow and Bucky were cuddled up on the couch, quietly talking with lots of giggles and kissy noises.

Steve scoffed "Don't you both have private rooms where you can ahem fondue instead of hanging all over each other out here? What happened to modesty?" he grumbled as he walked off.

Bucky and Rainbow looked at each other confused at Steve's outburst. Bucky shrugged she giggled and they went back to their bubble until Sam showed up.

Sam grinned at them "Well, aren't you love birds just adorable." He started singing "Rainbow and Bucky, sittin in a tree, K I S S I N G-" He teased.

Bucky blushed before he glared at Sam, cutting him off, not wanting him to make Rainbow uncomfortable.

"Grow up, Sam. You'd think you had never seen a happy couple. Must have been one Hell of a dry spell."

Sam laughed "Nah, I just enjoy getting you flustered."

Bucky had enough and raised his voice "You need to stop-"

Rainbow softly touched his cheek and Bucky closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, Sam all but forgotten

"It's ok Jamie, he doesn't bother me. Nothing else matters when I'm with you."

Sam smirked "Aawww, ain't you the

cutest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About a month after Nat left the compound, there was a fundraiser for the New York library. Bucky and Rainbow were hesitant to join the team on a nite out but Tony did everything short of calling it mandatory so they agreed to shut him up.

Details about the triangle with Rainbow, Nat and Steve had been leaked including some racey pics, everyone assumed by Nat, and the teams popularity took a hit. Steve's approval rating was down more than anyone besides Nat.

Unfortunately they received funding from multiple governments and other rich benefactors besides Tony and the negative numbers made some of them twitchy. Tony was convinced that coming out together and showing a United front would help.

There hadn't been any huge incidents that required Avengers level intervention so Rainbow and Bucky hadn't been on any missions while he taught her how to fight hand to hand.

Steve was doing everything he could think of to get alone time with Rainbow but distracting Bucky wasn't enough. The entire team worked to keep Steve away from her which made him short tempered. He disappeared for a few hours at least 3 late nights a week and would be less awful the next morning but it didn't last long.

Everyone assumed he was hooking up but only Tony had a good inkling of who Steve was meeting up with, which meant she was still in town.

That concerned Tony. After the reveal of Nats multiple faces he didn't trust her, or Steve's, intentions so kept a close eye on Steve and kept the other eye open for her to try to worm or cheat her way back on to the team. Or cause them more damage. He couldn't find any trace of her or evidence that she was up to something but knew they hadn't seen the last of her. Tony kept it all to himself so that he wasn't needlessly worrying the team, who all had their own suspicions.

He had FRIDAY watching out for her without any luck, knowing that her particular skill set would help her stay under the radar.

Wanda and Rainbow went shopping to find outfits for the library gala. Rainbow found the perfect dress, a pastel ombre floor length gown with spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline.(like Faith Hills 2002 Oscar dress).

Rainbow was so excited, her first event as an official Avenger and a chance to dress up and go out on Bucky's arm.

She was also nervous about such a big event and all the people that would be there. It wasn't Tony's event or his venue so she was a little nervous about security and Nat trying to pull something.

Or Steve trying to get her and Bucky apart. Steve and Nats deception made her nervous and skittish about trusting anyone but Bucky, Sam, Tony, Bruce and Wanda. Steve was another story, he kept pursuing her but never even apologized for what he had done, trying to convince her it didn't happen how she remembered.

The day of the event Pepper called in a beauty team to help get the ladies ready so they could relax. They gossiped and giggled about the men in their lives, over champagne, carefully avoiding any mention of Steve or Nat.

Once it was time to go they went to the lobby to meet their men who were waiting, mostly patiently.

When Bucky saw Rainbow his mouth dropped open and his eyes darkened. It took him a moment to speak

"Damn doll, you look more beautiful every time I see you. All the men there are gonna be green with envy when they see my girl." He kissed the back of her hand.

Rainbow admired Bucky's all black look with a small splash of color in a pocket square that matched her dress.

Sam was also there with a very cute girl from the research team, they had bonded over Red Wing. Lauren was very sweet and a little crazy and not used to the kind of attention Sam lavished on her but she loved it.

As they headed towards the stretch SUV a familiar but unwelcome voice called out "Oh good, I got here just in time." And proceeded to insert himself between Bucky and Rainbow, hand on her lower back as he opened the car door for her.

Rainbow pulled away from Steve with a look of disgust on her face, Bucky bumped Steve with his shoulder to force him away from Rainbow.

Steve scoffed "Isn't this whole outing supposed to show we are still a united team, ready to work together and protect humanity? Who's going to buy that if everyone is giving me dirty looks and flinching away?"

Tony sighed "Dammit, he's right. We need to just hold our noses and look like one happy family." He looked at Rainbow sadly "You should probably dance with him at least once just for show."

Bucky shook his head "No fucking way, he needs to keep his hands off of her." his arm went around her shoulder and pulled Rainbow closer to him.

She looked in his eyes, touching his cheek softly "They're right but it's ok, Jamie. I don't want to be separated from you but it's only a dance or two and I can take care of myself."

Bucky sighed then glared at Steve "I swear to god Steve, you hurt one hair on her head and I'll kill you in your sleep."

He helped Rainbow into the car and scooted in after her before Steve could get between them and sit next to her.

The drive was tense, the lighthearted vibe from earlier was gone thanks to Steve's insistence on being part of the group, without regard to the feelings of anyone else. Bucky had Rainbow pulled close to him while giving Steve his best Winter Soldier stare.

When they arrived the door was opened to the red carpet, shorter than your typical Hollywood event but enough to let fans and paparazzi get a look at the Avengers.

Of course Tony and Pepper went first with a positive reaction of applause and shouting.

Wanda and Vision were next with a similar reaction from the crowd and camera flashes popping everywhere.

Rainbow stepped out of the car and the crowd erupted. Applause, whistles, shouting and requests for autographs and selfies. She smiled nervously, never having expected so much love.

Bucky followed her and received a positive response, if a bit muted.

Steve stepped out of the car and the crowd went silent, all that could be heard was whispers and flashes. Then a smattering of boos and hisses sounded and Steve clenched his jaw before striding past everyone and into the library.

Tony shrugged and smirked at the crowd and led everyone inside to stop at the bar first.

After snacking on some appetizers to offset the alcohol she was drinking Rainbow wandered around the room, holding Bucky's arm and chatting with the people Tony introduced them to.

Then came some speeches about the money raised and the good work the libraries did. A couple of local celebrities performed and then the music started. Steve appeared out of nowhere to grab Rainbows arm and drag her to the dance floor. She started to pull back before she remembered what Tony said, united front- happy family, and tried to relax in his arms.

She was doing well until a short, curvy blonde in a strapless, glittery, red dress with a cut outs and a slit high up her thigh approached Bucky. Rainbow didn't recognize her face but there was something familiar about her. Bucky shook his head but the woman wouldn't take no for an answer so he finally gave in, emphasizing that he would only give her one dance.

When the song ended Rainbow and Bucky pulled away from their dance partners, practically running back into each others arms. They swayed to a slow song, staring into each others eyes like they were the only people in the world.

A more lively song started and Bucky pulled her into the simple swing dance moves making her sport a real smile. When he went to spin her the crowd seemed to move together to come between them and Rainbow ended up in Steve's arms. He worked to move them down a hallway towards the bathrooms where Rainbow saw something that made her chest ache.

The sultry blond in the red dress was kissing Bucky hard, hands in his hair pulling him closer to her. When Rainbow saw, a gasp left her mouth and the blonde woman barely pulled back from Bucky to quickly smirk at her before pulling Bucky back to kiss him again. Steve turned Rainbow before she could see Bucky pushing the woman away and wiping all traces of her from his lips while looking for her. Rainbow felt a pinch in her neck and everything went black.

Bucky looked around frantically for Rainbow but her, Steve and the blonde woman were nowhere in sight. He moved through the crowd in the direction Steve had been moving, through the hall past the bathrooms to the service entrance but they were gone.

Bucky raced back into the main room, searching for Wanda first in the hopes that her powers could help find Rainbow.

He grabbed Wanda's hand and pulled her to interrupt Tony and Peppers dance and blurted out

"She's gone! Natasha was here and helped Steve separate us and now they're all gone."

Chapter 9

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #angst with a happy ending #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader

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thecreaturecodex · 9 months

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Dread Domicile

"The Dread Gazebo Updated" 3-D model by Michael Zavala under the Creative Commons license. Accessed at My Mini Factory here

[Sponsored by @balmz. "Eric and the Dread Gazebo" is a classic bit of tabletop gaming lore, which is older than I am. I haven't had this exact experience, of course, but as someone who uses a large vocabulary at the table, I have been on the receiving end of similar confusion. Rather than just make mine a gazebo, I took inspiration from the AD&D house hunter mimic.]

Dread Domicile CR 16 NE Aberration What appeared to be a gazebo reveals itself as a monster, its entrance growing a fanged maw and lashing tentacles growing around its perimeter. It has leering, dreadful eyes.

A dread domicile is a giant variant of mimic, capable of disguising itself as a whole building. Cottages, barns, sheds and gazebos are common choices for camouflage, and the dread domicile can enhance the appearance with lights, props, and even the sounds of conversation, farm animals or music. Unlike ordinary mimics, dread domiciles are typically evil—they actively hunt and eat sapient prey above all others. A number of them live in shantytowns or other rundown urban neighborhoods, where their victims won’t go missed.

Dread domiciles are slow, so they use ambush to hunt. They can feel vibrations in the ground, and so usually close their eyes until a creature has actually touched it. Their gaze causes creatures to cower in fear, so any creature that is not glued in place is usually unable to assist its allies. Glued prey is then transferred to the domicile’s mouth and swallowed whole, sequestered in a little pocket that acts as a stomach. A dread domicile will swallow multiple creatures if it can, and rapidly reshapes itself to accommodate new victims if a creature cuts its way out. Because of their low speed, a dread domicile is more likely to surrender and try to negotiate for its life than it is to flee. They collect plenty of treasure, which they use as both bait and bribes.

Variant Dread Domicile A dread vessel is an aquatic version of a dread domicile. It masquerades as a small ship, or occasionally as a raft, floating driftwood or even a whale carcass. A dread vessel is a dread domicile with the aquatic subtype, amphibious special quality, a land speed of 10 feet and a swim speed of 40 feet. A dread vessel is still a CR 16 creature.

Dread Domicile CR 16 XP 76,800 NE Gargantuan aberration Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +20, tremorsense 120 ft. Defense AC 30, touch 5, flat-footed 30 (-4 size, -1 Dex, +25 natural) hp 270 (20d8+180) Fort +17, Ref +5, Will +16 DR 15/magic and slashing; Resist acid 10, cold 10, electricity 10 Offense Speed 20 ft. Melee bite +21 (2d8+10 plus grab), 6 tentacles +19 (1d8+5 plus adhesive) Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft. (10 ft. with bite) Special Attacks gaze, swallow whole (AC 22, 27 hp, 2d6+10 bludgeoning and 2d6 acid) Statistics Str 31, Dex 8, Con 29, Int 12, Wis15, Cha 18 Base Atk +15; CMB +29 (+33 grapple); CMD 39 (cannot be tripped) Feats Blind-fight,Critical Focus, Deceitful, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Multiattack, Power Attack, Tiring Critical Skills Bluff +23, Climb +18, Disguise +26 (+46 as a building), Knowledge (dungeoneering) +16, Knowledge (engineering) +19, Perception +20, Sense Motive +17, Swim +18; Racial Modifiers +20 Disguise to appear as a building Languages Aboleth, Common SQ mimic building, sound mimicry (any) Ecology Environment any land or urban Organization solitary or development (2-6) Treasure standard Special Abilities Adhesive (Ex) A dread domicile exudes a thick slime that acts as a powerful adhesive, holding fast any creatures or items that touch it. An adhesive-covered dread domicile automatically grapples any creature it hits with its tentacle attack. Opponents so grappled cannot get free while the dreadful domicile is alive without removing the adhesive first, or if the dread domicile chooses. A weapon that strikes an adhesive-coated dreadful domicile is stuck fast unless the wielder succeeds on a DC 30 Reflex save. A successful DC 26 Strength check is needed to pry off a stuck weapon. A dread domicile can transfer a creature glued to itself in this way into its mouth with an action to maintain the grapple. Strong alcohol or universal solvent dissolves the adhesive, but the dread domicile can still grapple normally. A dreadful domicile can dissolve its adhesive at will, and the substance breaks down 5 rounds after the creature dies. The save DC is Strength-based, and the Strength check DC suffers a -4 racial penalty. Gaze (Su) Range 30 ft.; save Will DC 24; effect cower in fear 1d4 rounds. This is a fear effect, and the save DC is Charisma based. Mimic Building (Ex) A dread domicile gains a +20 racial bonus on any Disguise checks to disguise itself as a building of Gargantuan size. It can change its color and texture, and even create open spaces or lights (which radiate light up to that of a torch). Disguise is always a class skill for dread domiciles. Swallow Whole (Ex) A dread domicile reshapes itself to have a separate stomach chamber for each creature it swallows.A creature that cuts itself out of a dread domicile has a 25% chance to cut into another chamber and thus remain swallowed. A dread domicile can use its swallow whole ability even if a creature cuts its way out.

#pathfinder 1e #d&d #dread domicile #dread gazebo #mimic #sponsored post #game lore

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arazialotis · 1 year

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Get Him to the Con - Part 4

Pairing: Jensen × Reader

Word Count: About 7000

Summary: The reader stumbles into Jensen at her favorite bar, a very drunk Jensen. She soon realizes Jensen was booked for a con this weekend and has to be eight hours from town in only two.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: Language

I intend no hate or ill wishes to him or his family. This is purely just for writing and wasting my time as hobby. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

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“Ramble on. And now’s the time, the time is now to sing my song!” Jensen belted out from the passenger seat.

You hummed along, not as confident to share your untrained voice or speculative lyrical knowledge. However, you had no problem fabricating your own rhythms to fit Zeppelin’s complexity as you tapped along on the steering wheel. You had since stopped for a quick lunch, refueled, and switched seats as I-80 started to stretch into a straight line bordered by cornfields. Since then, you had made it through the first, and now we're nearing the end of Zeppelin's second album. Though you had a short attention span, and generally, the random shuffle on your playlists jumped from Broadway hits to Witch House, you were determined to make it to the end of album four. Haters would say it was the obvious choice and overrated, but screw them and their elitist attitude; it was still your favorite.

The car was beginning to lose that new car scent. Of course, it wasn't a new car, and the rental company used some variant of Febreze to cover up previous use. The pine tree air freshener didn't last long, either. Jensen prevented you from a littering offense just before you were about to throw it out the window by stuffing it in the glove compartment and tossing it at your first stop. With the sun beating down, opened snacks, and drinks in the console, it was beginning to feel like a well-loved family car.

After a few hours had gone by, this fantastical adventure was settling into reality. However, you were still unsure what prompted such an idea from Jensen. It had only been three months since Tennessee, and though he assured you that he was in a much better place now, you suspected the loneliness he talked of still haunted him. Part of you had hoped there might be something more than him wanting to cement the friendship you had built over the past few months. There was obvious and natural chemistry, yet you doubted its existence or that the feeling was reciprocated, thinking perhaps your previous admiration of him falsely conjured it. Jensen’s voice broke the spell of your spiraling thoughts.

"Two Girls and a Cupcake.” He chuckled as he read a billboard.

You couldn’t help but snort. “You're making that up. There's no way that's real."

"Dude, I just saw the sign." He pointed back. "I'm not sharp enough to make up a pun that good."

"What exit?" You challenged, barely believing him.

"A left at this one." He recited confidently.

You pinched your lips together in a smile and pressed down on the gas, hoping to pass a string of cars before the exit, to call his bluff, or end up with a cupcake. A win-win either way. Jensen grabbed the "oh shit" handle from the unexpected burst of speed.

Four miles down the road, surrounded by nothing but fields and an occasional decrepit barn, there were certainly no cupcakes to be seen.

"Just admit it," you said. "You were thinking about porn."

"How many times do I gotta swear it was real?" He defended. "Maybe I read the exit wrong. Wait, what is that?"

A little one-horse town seemingly popped out of the middle of nowhere solely for his benefit. He pointed ahead to a pink abomination growing ever closer.

"Ha! Told ya!" He gloated as you pulled in.

"Oh, we have to get a picture with that guy." You grinned at the overly tacky pink sasquatch.

"After cupcakes," Jensen demanded, already halfway out the door.

You chuckled and got out as well, taking your time stretching. Jensen showed no chivalry in waiting for you and was already in the shop receiving the rundown on best sellers and personal favorites by the time you joined him. He was leaned over, peering into the display, closely analyzing each flavor and acknowledging the shopkeeper now and then with an uh-huh.

"Okay, okay." He straightened and finally decided. "They all sound amazing, but I think I'm sold on the chocolate creme pie."

He glanced at you for your reaction, and you had to look away to keep from bursting out with laughter from the horrible innuendo.

"And for you, sweetheart?" The shopkeeper asked as they packaged up Jensen's.

"Oh, um. Surprise me, dealer's choice." You couldn't possibly settle on one with such fun and unique flavors.

"How spontaneous of you." Jensen teased, and you responded in kind by sticking out your tongue.

The shopkeeper thanked you on your way out. In a single bite, Jensen devoured half the cupcake. He rolled his eyes and leaned back.

You chuckled. "That bad, eh?"

“Yes, so bad that I better take yours off your hands.” He said and lunged for you.

You squealed and shielded your cupcake. “I will be the judge, thank you very much.”

He chuckled and let you be in peace as you dug in.

“Oh, yeah.” You concluded. “I’m stopping here on the way back. Hey! Where are you going?” You chastised him as he opened the car door.

“Denver?” He questioned, but it came together once you pointed back to the sasquatch. “Oh, you were serious? I will, but only for a bite.” His tongue peeked out between his teeth in a grin.

You contemplated. “How big a bite are we talking?” This was a very debatable matter as he had finished his in three bites only.

He pinched his fingers together, indicating the tiniest amount.

“Picture first.” You demanded.

“Alright. Alright.” He gave in and got his phone out. “Bring it in.”

You embraced the pink behemoth on each side, smiling at the camera. He took a couple, and on the third, you simultaneously kissed the creature on the cheek. Jensen looked through the photos.

“Oh, that's a keeper.” He remarked and forwarded them to you.

You laughed as you viewed them. “Adorable.”

“Aren’t I?” He teased.

You playfully slapped his shoulder. “Bigfoot, not you.”

He rubbed his shoulder in jest. “Shoot. If I had known Jared was your type, I would have invited him along.”

“Jared is not my type.” It slipped out before your brain caught up with your mouth.

You blushed, wondering if it came out harsher than intended or, even more so, if it implied something else to Jensen. There had always been teasing and banter that bordered on the edge of flirting. And the first road trip didn’t count in which Jensen had his drunk goggles on and lower standards as he shamelessly tried to pick you up, but since then, it had just been a friendship. The same mental dialogue from earlier repeated, ending with a spiraling mantra to not get your hopes up.

Jensen swallowed a lump in his throat. “He’ll be devastated knowing he’s been passed up. Out of curiosity, what is your type?”

Your heart thudded in your chest. What did that mean? Was he fishing for something in particular, or did he generally want to know? You. You’re my type. Your mind shouted at him as if it could reach him telepathically. Someone who is kind, and smart, and funny, and thoughtful, and passionate… the list went on. It wasn't that Jared wasn't any of those things, but there was something different about Jensen that had always spoken to you. Thankfully, a filter had reappeared since your last slip.

You cleared your throat, realizing too much time had passed without an answer, and you held out your cupcake. “As promised.”

He took it, his eyes never leaving yours, as if he was deeply contemplating your lack of response. That was until he took a bite and broke the concentration. He leaned his head back.

“God, how is that even better than the first one?” He shook his head in disbelief and went in for another bite.

“Hey! We said one!” You took it back from him after a brief playful struggle. “Now, let’s get this show on the road before your personal trainer puts a bounty on my head.”

“To hell with them, and self-control, and balance,” Jensen stated before heading back in and ordering a half dozen more for the road.

****

"I spy," Jensen drew out the words. "Something yellow."

"I swear to God, if it's corn again, I will turn this car around." You threatened.

Had one not been privy to the playful banter all day, they may have mistaken your threat as serious. Only three cupcakes remained in the backseat and were in danger of not surviving until night. Just as the trip started to drag, thus prompting the license plate game (in which you had fifteen states down already) and I Spy to emerge, the fourth album came on, bringing a rejuvenating spirit. Your levees broke, as they say, and any embarrassment from singing in front of Jensen vanished as you both sang out the opener Black Dog. Though the inhibitions only lasted so long. As Robert Plant’s voice made love to the microphone and John Paul Jone's fingers sweetly strummed the riff, your mind was transported to a seedy, sweaty motel room where you worked the man seated next to you with as much rhythm and passion. Jensen pulled you out as he grabbed your hand in tune with the lyrics. He let go, continuing to jam, unaware you had turned three shades darker as if through the touch, your thoughts could transfer to him. You wrung the steering wheel in a tight grip trying to think of anything but your body against his.

Despite the music, Jensen seemed determined to hold onto and win this game of I Spy. The problem was the options were limited to gray pavement, green grass, blue sky, or yellow corn. Granted, you could have both been more creative, but other things were taking precedence in your minds.

Jensen chuckled. “It’s not corn.”

“Is it the sun?” You bemoaned.

“Nope.”

“The lines on the road.” It was the only other thing it could possibly be. You hadn’t passed any signs recently, there was one other car on the road, but that was blue, and nothing inside the car looked yellow from your vantage point.

“Wrong again.” He said smugly.

“I give up. You win.” You easily gave up knowing Stairway to Heaven was playing next.

“It’s the corn’s husks.” He divulged.

“That is cheating.” Had you not been driving, you would have shoved him.

“Might I remind you,” He said, marking a tally. You bit back a smile and shook your head, knowing he was keeping score only to provoke you further. “When you said white, it wasn’t the clouds, it was specifically a jet trail, and I let it slide.”

“It’s completely a separate thing!” You argued. “Created by completely different methods and substances. Corn and corn husks are the same entity.”

“Okay, well, next time you have something with corn, I will make sure to replace it with husks, and then we will see how you feel.” He threatened.

You had lost, and you knew it.

“Shut up.” That was all you had to say, and in ending the conversation, you turned up the stereo for one of the most legendary songs in all of rock n’ roll.

“Despite the epicness of all that has come before,” Jensen stated as a few more songs passed to the slower acoustic melody of Going to California. “This is one of my favorites. Definitely in the top five.”

Lost in thought, he placed his hand on yours atop the gear stick, his thumb lazily stroking over your knuckles. Your heart stopped, toes curled, as you contained a scream internally. This wasn’t happening.

“You know, we should just skip over Denver and keep heading to Cali.” He thought aloud.

You gripped the steering wheel with your free hand, attempting to string together any semblance of comprehendible words. “Is that what you want?”

He sighed. “Of course, it’s what I want. What I should do is something entirely different.”

His hand left yours, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he meant something more than simply bailing on the convention.

“Like corn and corn husks.” You couldn’t help yourself.

He rolled his eyes in your direction, delightfully unamused, as if he wanted to give you something to really smirk about.

“I mean, if you need me to stage a kidnapping,” You proposed with false sincerity. “Out of the goodness of my heart, I would do that for you.”

He softly chuckled. “How kind of you.”

“So long as you promise not to press any charges.” You added.

“And miss the opportunity to see you in handcuffs,” Holy shit. He said it out loud. It just poured out like he was as inebriated as the night you first met. He desperately stumbled to fix it. “It would be hilarious. Just truly, the peak of comedy. And the mug shot after a week in a car and shitty motels. Oh, man.” He turned to look out the window and hide the blush that had crept into his cheeks, praying you didn’t catch on to where his mind initially went.

It worked. Yes, your thoughts went there briefly, but to you, it was obviously not what he intended. “It is on my bucket list to spend at least one night in jail.”

That shocked him out of his embarrassment. “Should I be concerned?”

You licked your lips, pondering. “Like, not for something nefarious. Maybe for protesting, embodying the Robin Hood persona, overdue library books, all those Limewire downloads coming back to haunt me, something like that.”

“Limewire? How dare you.” He teased. “Priacy is the biggest threat to my industry.” He pulled up his phone. “I’m calling the feds right now. Had I known…”

“Oh, no need; they already know. They deemed the six months I was grounded for destroying two family computers as time served.” Though the feds had not been involved, and other aspects exaggerated, you recalled how infuriated your parents had been. “And here I thought you would have run a background check.”

“Hey Siri,” He talked into his phone. “Remind me next time I decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl I met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.”

“Alright.” The automated voice replied. “When do you want to be reminded?”

“Ah…. well, driving route 66 to the Vegas convention might be fun, so give or take five months.” He responded.

“Okay. In five months, you will be reminded the next time you decide to go ‘cross country with the nice girl you met at a bar three months ago to run a background check.” The monotone voice concluded.

Perhaps out of the stir-craziness of being stuck in a car and on the road for so many hours, you both erupted with laughter.

A while longer, and you were close to reaching your limit. The car was close to needing gas again, the thought of dinner was haunting your stomach, and your legs were pleading to be stretched. The problem was, there was nothing out here. You were somewhere between Des Moines and Omaha. Siri had outlived her usefulness as cell service was shotty at best. Even if there was food or shelter nearby, she wouldn’t be able to tell you. Zeppelin had fulfilled their purpose, and you had rescinded the music rule, letting Jensen shuffle through radio channels, as streaming was no longer available anyways.

Finally, a billboard popped up in the distance, signifying a spot of life. As Jensen changed the station, the words came into view just as a guitar strummed the opening of an unmistakable song. The universe could not have manifested a more perfect unison. Asia’s Heat of the Moment and an advertisement for Iowa’s most mysterious spot collided. Both of you were dumbfounded.

“It’s fucking fate.” You finally managed a whisper.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” Jensen was not having it. “That is how people get murdered.”

“It’s not even Tuesday.” You snapped. “And I need to get out of this goddamn car.”

“Do you want to end up a cold open for Supernatural? Cause this is how you do it.” He argued back.

You weren’t having it. You needed the break and fresh air. Ignoring his protests, you made your way for the exit.

“Look.” You pointed to the sign listing things nearby. “There’s a restaurant and motel nearby as well.”

“If we switched and got back on the highway, I could get us Omaha tonight. We’re not that far.” He reasoned.

“And we could drive straight through to Denver.” You argued back, turning down the country road, fields of corn still surrounding you. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the spontaneous one.”

“I know what you’re trying to do.” He deduced. “It’s not going to work.”

“You are welcome to stay in the car and scout out the town.” You offered. “But don’t think for a second I will tell you what the mystery is. That’s for paying customers only.”

“Do you recall the classic cinematic plot line where cannibals lure unsuspecting tourists to their town with, I don’t know, world-famous apple pie or a mystery spot where physics are defied? And just as the couple has a great time and is leaving the town, one of the locals strings out spikes on the road that pops all the tires; thus, an ensuing bloodsoaked gorefest follows.” He rambled.

“I can’t say I do.” You feigned. “Aside from a few one-offs, Psycho, The Shining, Silence of the Lambs (speaking of cannibals), horror isn’t my thing. So this should be an enlightening experience.” You looked over at him. “Don’t worry, Jensen, I’ll protect you.” The reassuring pat on his thigh sold it.

Now as you pulled up to the lot, it was you who was having second guesses. Whatever this place was now, it was undoubtedly a repurposed carnival funhouse. From the purple paint, the neon trim, and the huge sadistic alien head that loomed over the entrance. Signs were scattered everywhere, bright yellow advertising the astonishments that waited inside. Aside from your car, a rusted-out maroon Corsica was for sale that probably hadn’t been moved since the early 90s.

Though the car was at a stop, the engine still ran as you analyzed the site before you. Jensen’s smugness grew the more he sensed your hesitation.

“No one’s going to call you a coward if you turn around.” He goaded.

You glared at him, biting the inside of your cheek, and switched the engine off.

“I’m not scared.” You assured him. “It’s probably just a mirror maze that leads to pieces of a broken weather balloon they are pawning off as a spaceship.”

By all means, he seemed to convey with the wave of his hand, be my guest. Flustered, you got out of the car but immediately relished your choice. You stretched and breathed in the fresh air, delighted to no longer be in motion. With a rejuvenated determination that this mystery would be life-altering and reveal the darkest kept secrets in all of Iowa, you made your way up the rickety metal stairs and through the doors.

Jensen audibly sighed while running his hands through his hair, giving it a few minutes for you to turn back around. When you didn’t, he finally gave in.

“Fine.” He conceded to no one other than himself. “Let’s get this over with.”

The doors chimed above him as he entered the stale lobby, whose furnishings and carpet were clearly taken from a closing Blockbuster. The decor was in complete shambles, from botched taxidermy to cheap plasma ball lamps. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without the t-shirts and shot glasses proclaiming the survival of the mystery spot. A black curtain separated the lobby or ‘free museum’ from the rest of the attraction.

You beamed as Jensen found his way in. “Make that two tickets.” You clarified with reversed peace sign and handed payment to the cashier, a teenager so young it was questionable if they were even legally allowed to work or if this was a family affair they were forcibly roped into after school.

With not a shred of enthusiasm, the teen mumbled their way through a scripted spiel. “What you are about to experience has baffled scientists, confused archaeologists, and astonished physicists. Your purchase today has granted you access to a select group of individuals who hold the key to enlightenment. Prepare to be amazed and….”

Jensen caught off the monotone dialogue with the wave of his hand. “We get it, kid, thanks.”

They looked relieved to have been granted permission to stop. “It’s behind the curtain. Follow the arrows.”

They popped a plexiglass case open and flipped a large breaker, causing a loud pop as the building came to life. The sound of motors whirring spun in the distance, and the foundations seemed to rock from the sudden change. Dust scattered through the air from high-up shelves and door frames.

Once you caught your balance, Jensen mumbled, “The only mystery to be solved is how this building is still in one piece.”

You laughed and stepped from the light of the lobby into darkness. The black lights above illuminated the neon carpet pieces and painted edgings of the walls. Sure enough, a bright green arrow made from duck tape pointed you forward. Like children discovering laser tag for the first time, you looked at each other's outfits to see what pieces of clothing were affected by the black lights. You jolted as Taylor Swift blasted over the speakers, then abruptly stopped. Clearly, the teen had the wrong playlist up and running. After a moment, Taylor had been replaced with sounds, cycling through blowing wind, rain, and thunder. A crow cawed, and a voice cackled. A violin softly cried out notes barely audible with the competing ambiance. A fear crept in that you had accidentally signed up for a haunted house and not a mystery spot. You took a step back and bumped into Jensen’s solid frame.

He chuckled slightly and grabbed your shoulders, pushing you forward, one hesitant step at a time. “Oh, there is no turning back now. You’ve just crossed over into the twilight zone.” He said before humming out the theme song’s notes.

“You didn’t even want to do this.” You hissed back at him, still resisting him, as you came up to the first corner, ready for something to pop out at you. The moment he would relinquish forcing you forward, you'd be ready to turn and run out of there, or at the very least make him go first.

“I did try to warn you. Call it just desserts.” He whispered in your ear.

“Bastard.” You aimlessly swatted behind you.

You rounded the corner and sighed with relief as nothing came jumping, dropping, or rushing toward you. Simply another green arrow leading ahead where your reflections bounced off the walls.

“See.” He soothed. “Nothing to be afraid of, just a mirror maze, as you predicted."

You sighed a breath and stepped forward without his prompting.

"Jesus!" He shouted as something flew across the hall.

Simultaneously, you forcefully backed into him. Jensen wrapped his arms protectively around you and took a few cautious steps back. The thing stopped swinging, and as your eyes adjusted to see it in the dark, laughter consumed you both. It was a tattered pinata in the form of a UFO. A piece of gray tissue paper floated to the floor from a growing patch of plain cardboard underneath.

“You were so fucking scared.” Jensen placed his hand over his torso, trying to catch his breath.

“So!” You said defensively. “You were just as scared.”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” He lied with enough conviction; he convinced himself as well. “I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, not buying it for a second. “Then I implore you to lead the way,” You gestured forward with your outstretched hand. “Oh, brave one.”

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck as if he was getting into character. “Fine.” He agreed. “I got this.” His voice seemed to deepen, and he reached out his hand to you. “You coming, sweetheart?”

The asshole dared to seal it with a wink. And despite yourself, a blush warmed your cheeks, and your toes curled momentarily, but your shyness did not stop you from taking his hand in yours.

As Jensen led the way, he let out a general warning to anyone in the nearby vicinity. “If anyone is running around or jumping out in a green suit, I will not be held liable for when they get punched square in the face.”

You snickered. “I don’t think they have the budget for scare actors, Jensen.”

You came up to the first wall. The mirrors distorted the way forward. One was smudged with fingerprints which made it obvious the wrong path, but for the others, Jensen reached out his free hand and felt the way forward.

It was a short maze, yet you still managed to run face-first into one mirror. After the maze came another jump scare. Both of you held your breath and squinted your eyes as if not wanting to tip the other off it had gotten you, yet the grip on each other’s hands tightened, giving it away. This led to the next section; a room filled with punching bags made to look like rockets that you had to squirm through. It smelled of sweaty socks and Cheetos. You mastered the slanted room, where you had to walk on an angle to traverse, and featured an old aquarium filled with green algae with the shadowed, mysterious blob floating inside.

You both paused at the ladder, plunging into a pool-sized ball pit. Moons, planets, and glow-in-the-dark stars decorated the ceiling above. Foam UFO saucers and blow-up alien dolls accompanied the balls in the pit. There was no way to walk around or over it; the only way was through. And you thought the stench from the punching bags was bad. But you had made it this far. You weren’t going to give up now.

Jensen forwent the ladder and jumped straight. You took the more delicate approach, sliding in inch-by-inch as if trying to adjust to cold water. Once you were finally in the pit, the balls came up to your waist. There were probably rogue toddlers lost in here that haunted the place and bit unsuspecting tourists’ ankles.

“This is disgusting,” Jensen complained, wading through with his arms raised as if to reduce the spread of bacteria. “I swear to god, if I step on a diaper, I’m suing.”

“I’m taking the longest, hottest shower tonight.” You agreed, stating that you needed to be disinfected.

He turned back to look at you. His eyes almost glowed as they raked over you.

“To burn my skin off.” You clarified.

Jensen opened his mouth, but then he swallowed and held his breath. He was channeling too much of Dean to make it through this hellhole, and he couldn’t trust what words would come out. Besides, he had already let several comments slide today, and that was when he wasn’t competing with his other half.

“Stop gaping and get a move on,” You threw two balls at him, which he caught with ease. “Or should I remind you what you are currently festering in?”

But then you saw the balls in his hand, and you spit out a laugh, nearly doubling over, but thankfully stopped yourself from going fully under. They were both blue.

He held back his laughter, but only for a second, as he said, “Very mature,” and then chucked them back at you before making a mad dash to escape the pit of disgust.

It just made you laugh even harder at how ridiculous he looked, failing to gain any speed or traction. After a painstakingly long ‘swim,’ you both made it out. After spending a full day in the car, you thought it would have been impossible to feel more grimy. The ball pit had proved you wrong.

As you wiped yourself down and readjusted your clothing, you came up on a bridge through a dark tunnel. The tunnel was lit with blue lights and neon streaks of pink and green. As Jensen crossed the threshold, the tunnel spun in a vortex, and he stumbled. You knew it was going to be a problem.

You took a step forward, and your ankle gave out, and nausea crept in.

“Wait, Jensen, please.” You complained and reached out to him.

He could sense the change in your tone and wasn’t going to give you shit about it. “Come here.”

You took another step forward and grabbed the railing for dear life as your knees buckled. You tensed and shook your head no. There was a greenish look to you, but he couldn’t tell if it was only because of the lights. Jensen came to you slowly and leaned against the rail, struggling himself.

“Put your head down and hold on to me. It’ll be over quickly.” He assured.

You buried your face between his shoulder blades, and despite the day, he smelled amazing, like cedar with a hint of rosemary. Jensen took it one step at a time, feeling the effect too, but eventually, he got you both to the other side. You both took a deep breath at the end.

“You feeling okay?” He rested his hand on your shoulder and took you in, searching for any lasting effects.

“Yeah. Thank you.” You softly said, slightly embarrassed. “I hate those things. Had I known we would have had to cross the seven circles of hell to get to whatever this mystery is, I would have reconsidered.”

He patted the back of your head, relieved to have your snarkiness back. “You’re not admitting I was right, are you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Never.”

In this room, spotlights highlighted text and pictures featuring crop circles and a crash site from the darkness. And in the middle of the room was an opaque silver box with a viewing hole where blue light shone.

“Alright, let’s see what all this was about.” Jensen was the first to peer in. “Oh, you are not going to believe this, Scully.” He stepped aside so you could take a look.

“You are definitely the Scully of this situation. I want to believe.” You corrected.

You stepped back and pinched your lips together, containing a smile.

“Was it worth it?” He asked.

“Every penny.”

****

Though you were ready for dinner, you both agreed finding a hotel and cleaning up was the higher priority. Cell service was still abysmal, so with directions from the mystery spot employee, down a ways and a few turns later, you found the motel that was advertised on the highway sign.

The single-level motel had white siding, green shutters, and a matching green roof. Porch swings hung between every room. A courtyard decorated with mosaic tiles, flowering bushes, and patio furniture suited for a French cafe separated the motel from the parking lot. The property sat on the edge of a lake where trees and shrubs secluded this alcove from the fields around it. A fire pit and kayaks were in the green grass that bordered the water.

“This is actually really nice.” Jensen sighed with delight.

After checking in, showering, and changing, the last thing you wanted to do was get back in the car. Ordering pizza and letting your feet soak in the lake off the dock was the only thing on your mind. Yet the hostess who checked you in raved about a nearby bar visitors had to check out. It wasn’t that far, there was plenty of daylight left, and they featured some local craft beer Jensen was eager to try.

The hostess had failed to mention that this was not only a bar; it was a line-dancing bar. The wooden frame was decorated to the brim with antique farmhouse equipment, country attire, awards, and pictures of dance leagues that had won competitions throughout the year. It was almost as if Cracker Barrel and Dave & Busters’ had a love child. It was packed to the brim with locals dancing and drinking. Your table overlooked the center stage, and somehow they all could interpret the caller shouting out dance moves over music featuring Brooks & Dunn, The Village People, and Alan Jackson.

Though it was loud, it was a great setting for people-watching, and after a full day of conversation, your brain was thankful for the distraction. After the cupcake debacle, Jensen opted for a salad though the cheeseburger was calling his name. He also had a small flight of the local craft brews, his favorite being a wheat ale featuring orange peels and cardamom. There was also a crushable IPA, but other than those two, you agreed the others were just meh.

“You going to give the dance floor a spin after food?” Jensen asked, moving around the food on his plate.

You laughed. “Oh no, I have two left feet and am prone to injuries. Though if you are looking for a partner, there is a girl at the bar who has been strongly admiring the back of your head for a solid fifteen minutes. Don’t look!” But as he did, you reached over and grabbed one of the beers he showed no interest in.

“Ah, she is not my type.” He looked back, playfully scowling at you momentarily as he realized part of his flight was missing.

“And what is your type?” You asked as you sipped on it.

“A question which you never answered,” He pointed out. “Don’t think I forgot.”

“Having a type is so limiting.” You concluded and threw your napkin over your unfinished food.

“I’ll give you mine if you give me yours.” He goaded.

You leaned back, considering. “I think some of the most important things are someone I can laugh with, but also someone who can deep dive into serious conversation, whether that is personal or academic. Someone who shows interest in my hobbies and passions and someone who pushes me to explore ones I hadn’t considered. It’s way more about the natural chemistry than physical appearance.”

“Indulge me anyways,” He requested. “I’m sure you had a checklist at one point.”

“Of course. What kind of person doesn’t create a checklist at some point in their life?” You asked and he snickered. “Let’s see… I have to go back to middle school… plays guitar was high up on the list, has a car, green eyes, freckles.” You cleared your throat and quickly added. “Dark, long, curly hair, loves animals, has that lower abdomen V thing.” You signaled with your hands, and Jensen laughed. “Shut up.”

“Those are actually very hard to get and maintain.” He commented.

“You asked for the list; I gave you the list.” You defended. When he didn’t say anything further, you questioned, “What about you? It’s your turn.”

“I agree with you. Compatibility and the relationship part matter more than the physical attraction. It’s hard to get out of that mindset sometimes, being in an industry where that is such an important aspect to the point where it sets unrealistic standards. But at the end of the day, when I am looking for someone to settle down with, I expect to get old, wrinkly, gray, and saggy. I’d much rather do that with someone I share a deep friendship with rather than some chick it barely works with but is on the runway now, and we’re together partially because we look good in pictures together.” He ranted.

“While I appreciate and respect that answer, you are totally copping out.” You challenge.

“Ah.” He groaned. “Humor is up there, someone who will laugh with me. Someone who is kind but can also dish it out. Someone who is a good listener but is also open with me. Mutual trust.”

“Again, all lovely, mature traits. Where is your middle school diary?” You prodded, biting your lip.

“Fine, fine. Must love dogs, could ride a horse bareback, drove a Jeep Wrangler, would want to go surfing together, gets along with my friends, and looks like Kelly Kapowski from Saved by the Bell. Satisfied?”

You smiled widely. “Very much so.”

He stood up, “Wipe that shit-eating grin off your face and come dance with me.”

He held out his hand to you, and this time you did not hesitate or push back. Spending time with the man was the highlight of your life. You’d follow him anywhere and take every opportunity that came your way.

Jensen led you to the dance floor, and as the group reset for a new song, you slid into the back of the line. The floor was filled with old and young alike. This one little place brought the whole community together. Some wore cowboy hats and boots, others in casual wear, and a few of the older women dressed up for an evening out.

As the announcer set up and called instructions for the next song that you wouldn’t have understood even if the ancient sound system didn’t muffle it, you leaned over to Jensen.

“You better not say something cliche like ‘follow my lead’ or something.” You warned.

“Oh, hell no.” He agreed. “You are completely on your own, and it is going to be hilarious.”

You were tempted to resort to teasing violence when the music started, and you both stared at each other in disbelief as others in the crowd cheered with anticipation. You weren’t sure how or why, but Fate did have her hand in this day somehow.

“I hate this fucking song.” You muttered. “You can’t line dance to this song.”

“You can line dance to any song. Especially our song.” He smiled.

“Don’t…” You held out a finger.

But the speaker began the count “5, 6, 7, 8” as Neil Diamond began to sing about his sweet Caroline.

In a panicked flurry, you watched the others in front of you and tried to mirror their steps. The terms being called out, such as walk, sugarfoot, and rock-recover, had no meaning to you. Jensen picked it up easily, adding a certain air of swagger to just the basic moves. It seemed once you had a pattern down, they changed it on you. You bumped into Jensen and then the person next to you. Realizing you were not going to master the steps anytime soon, Jensen grabbed you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, and swayed with you, generally keeping up with the direction of the room but lost in your own little world.

After another round of drinks increasing your confidence, five more songs where you became somewhat familiar with the caller’s instructions, and plenty of laughter from stepping on each other’s feet, you finally called it a night and headed back to the motel.

Taking advantage of the last rays of daylight before the sun set over the horizon, you lazily sat on the porch swing. The haunting and lonely call of a loon echoed over the lake. With your nose in a book, you gently push back and forth with one foot.

“Watch ya reading?” Jensen asked as you felt the weight of the bench shift as he sat down next to you.

Literally, men always picked the worse part of books to interrupt. Nearing the end of the chapter, you turned so he could see the cover but that you could continue reading.

He sounded out the title “Remarkably Bright Creatures” and then asked, “Is it any good?”

You slipped the postcard you used as a bookmark back into the book and set it down. “It’s so cute. This octopus named Marcellus is helping this older woman solve the murder of her son. Think A Man Called Ove meets Finding Nemo meets Poirot.”

He softly chuckled. “I really only know Finding Nemo, but that sounds like quite the combination.”

You looked out over the lake and saw a large family, or perhaps even two, who started up the fire pit and began roasting marshmallows for smores.

“You wanna get cozy by the fire?” You nodded in their direction.

“Nah. Probably turn on a game or something.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then settled his arm on the back of the bench, grazing your shoulder. “I just came to check on you before I turn in for the night.”

His soft green eyes caught the last bits of sun before it finally set, and the sky was left a hue of pink and purple. The porch lights flickered on. A kid screamed with excitement as a game of tag ensued near the water's edge.

“So,” You started. “First day of the road trip. Success?”

“Way better than I could have hoped for.” He beamed.

“Mystery spot and all?” You reminded him.

Mystery spot and all.” He confirmed.

“What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” You asked.

He scoffed. “Agenda? Wherever the road takes us.”

You nodded. “I can live with that. So long as we have a few adventures like today. You truly had fun?” A bit of insecurity was bubbling up.

“Y/N.” He called your name softly.

His gaze danced between your eyes and lips. That sensation of him wrestling between what he should and shouldn’t do struck you again as it had several times already today. Your eyes flickered to his lips, and your heart thudded against your chest. He had the slightest scar just above the cupid's bow. His hand wove through your hair as he leaned in. His lips were soft and gentle against yours, his eyelashes brushed against your skin, and still, your soul ascending with his to another plane of existence. It lasted mere seconds. When he pulled away, the loon cried out in the distance.

“Good night, Y/N. See ya tomorrow.”

And just like that, he got up and left for his room while you sat paralyzed, heart fluttering inside your chest.

---

Part 5

#Jensen Ackles #jensen x reader #Jensen x You #jensen x y/n #supernatural #SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfic #get him to the con

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korebringerofded · 1 year

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Shitty Bars- Bucky Barnes X F!Reader

Shitty Bars-Bucky Barnes X Reader

Summary- You agreed to a date with Bucky Barnes at a bar after weeks and weeks of the two of you flirting and staring at each other across the table during meetings.

Warnings-Smut, smut, smut with plot, tense, bucky being a 10. Kids gtfo my swamp

A/N- Unedited smut. better content coming soon

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

You were attracted to him, of course, James Buchan Barnes was tall, strong, and his jaw was as sharp as a blade. He was also incredibly kind and soft, that is when he wanted to be.

To put things simply, you wanted to look your best. You had been dreaming about entangling your fingers in his dark walnut colored hair and feeling his stubble across your bare stomach, his hot breath spreading over the skin.

You wore a thin dress that rode up your thighs and flowed back and forth revealing your ass cheeks and the bit of puffy skin above the see-through black thigh highs tights you also wore. You also made sure to be about 10 minutes late.

The moment that you walked into that shitty bar,you felt his striking blue eyes burning into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.You weren’t foolish, or naive, in fact you wanted to tease him just a bit more.

After a moment of pondering you decided to take a seat at the bar, keeping your eyes forward and being sure to wave your hips just slightly as you walked. You ordered your favorite drink at the bar and drank it slowly, waiting patiently.

Not much time passed when you felt a tall figure standing behind you, you grinned wildly as your heartbeat sped up, it was Bucky, it had to be.

You spun around, your smile dissipating immediately when you met with the eyes of a lanky greasy man, a drunken smile slapped on his face as his clammy hands reached towards you, stumbling just slightly as he did.

Before you could react the man was shoved to the side and Bucky stood between you and him, Bucky was significantly taller than the man and his thick arms raked with perfectly toned muscles was a sure sign of intimidation and after a soft apology the man stumbled out of the bar after tossing some cash on the bartop.

“What kinda company are you keeping, princess?” Bucky grinned, turning to you and moving so he was only inches from your face, his scent punching all the air from your lungs.

He was intoxicating, his blue eyes low as he ran his tongue over his top row of teeth.

“Ready to get a drink?” He winked.

Your cheeks went hot, giggling and rubbing your neck as your knees went weak, the wet slick between your thighs already soaking through your underwear.

“Oh, yeah sure.” You nodded sheepishly, trying to avoid eye contact with Bucky while your blush burned even deeper, your nose and shoulders crimson red.

The night continued, you and Bucky doing shot after shot, you were determined to keep up with him. Being around him was scary, he made you nervous but he also made you feel brave, adventurous.

“Slow down, princess. Wouldn’t want me to have to carry you out of here, hm?” Bucky grinned toothily, holding his hand over the glass that you had pressed to your lips, the liquid sloshing back and forth gently.

“Would that really be so bad?” You leaned towards him, lowered your eyes and smiled sweetly, swaying just slightly.

Bucky’s eyes widened, his smirk returning almost immediately and he leaned forward, his hot breath spreading over your bare neck as he whispered so softly you were almost sure he didn’t open his lips at all. “You are a minx, (Y/N), be careful or I will call your bluff. Right here, right now.”

“B-Bucky?” Your eyes were wide and your blush darkened, steam emanating from your flushed skin. “You can’t be serious.” You gulped, remembering to breathe as a dull burn spread over your lungs.

“Test me and find out.” He smirked, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear before standing up, extending his arm out to you, the gloved hand outstretched towards you.

“In the meantime, dance with me.”

The bar was popular and the dancefloor was extremely crowded, though Bucky kept both his hands spread out over your hips. He stayed close to you, his metal fingers cool and hard even against the gloves.

You couldn't help but imagine them on your bare skin, the icy metal pulling and tugging on your hard nipples, pressing against your sopping cunt. It made your head sp[in and you came to when you felt Bucky wrapping his arms around you, your hips swaying in rhythm from the music that boomed from the speakers, sending jolts through your chest.

The taxi ride home was impossibly long, Bucky's eyes scanning over you while his thick large fingers dig into your pudgy inner thighs.

When you two finally got to his apartment and the taxi had pulled away completely out of sight, Bucky cornered you in the doorway and the minute the lock clicked he connected your lips, his tongue prodigy down your throat while the taste of the beer he drank took over your mouth. He held your chin tight as he took off his gloves, tossing them aside.

His hands moved to your hips, the cool metal of his arm making you tremble slightly as he did. Slowly his large hands pressed over your body, he got on his knees and pressed kisses to your legs while trailing his fingers over your body, sneaking under your dress to hoot his thumb at the edge of your panties down to your ankles.

“Didya’ wear this just for me, baby?” He mumbled, trailing over your skin as he pushed your dress up over your bare cunt and with his tongue he ran a painfully slow line up your pussy, your voice cracked and pathetic when you cried out.

“Y-yes..” You admitted sheepishly. “Knew it would make you crazy.” You gasped as Bucky’s large fingers pressed circles around your already throbbing clit.

“Good girl, honesty might just save you today.” He whispered before a toothy grin spread over his face. “I still have to punish you, of course.” He chuckled, eyes blown and dark.

“Punish me? You tilted your head and swallowed your nerves. “How so?” You puckered your lip a bit.

Bucky laughed so hard his chest vibrated, a devious grin now spreading over his face before he spun you around and pressed your face and breasts hard against the wall.

“I will show you, baby.” Bucky pressed kisses down the side of your neck while he pressed the head of his dick to your soaked folds. While disappointed you didn’t get to see it, it felt amazing, just the tip of his dick made your eyes roll back and hips moving slightly, pushing your ass back towards him and pushing him deeper inside of you.

“Fuck-so tight. Fuck-So good, baby.” Bucky grumbled, his fingers digging into your hips while you slowly fuck yourself with Bucky’s dick.

Bucky adjusted himself slightly so he could have a better grip on your hips and when he did he pushed his throbbing dick the rest of the way inside of you, making you both moan as lewd, wet noises filled your front room.

He fucked into you deep, filling each and every part of you and hitting relentlessly against that soft sensitive bud that made your stomach twirl and spin, you whimpered softly only making Bucky fuck you harder, his dick making your legs tremble while the hot burning sensation grew and grew until you came once-twice on Bucky’s dick.

He came with a groan, fingers digging into your hips ass while he did before the two of you collapsed on the floor.

“Maybe we can try a bed next time,” Bucky mumbled, a toothy grin plastered on his face.

#bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #winter soldier x reader #james bucky barnes #winter soldier #stucky x reader

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edosianorchids901 · 3 months

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Freeze This Moment

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "how it ends"

The attack came out of nowhere. A shrieking laugh, sunlight glinting off a blade, and pain erupted in Aziraphale’s side.

The next strike slashed his leg. Gasping, Aziraphale tried to back up, to scramble away from the demon. His leg crumpled, damaged muscle unable to support him, and he fell. “Oh, stop that! That’s very rude. There’s no reason for this.”

The demon loomed over him, grinning, holding out a bloody sword. “Well, well. Little angel can’t defend itself, eh? Too weak to fight back?”

“Hardly,” Aziraphale said, weakly. “I-I’m just… giving you a chance to surrender.”

Unlike the bluff that he and Crawley had managed in so successfully in Job’s barn, this attempt only made the demon laugh again. “Oh, I won’t be surrendering, and neither will you. Time to die, featherbrain.”

Aziraphale ducked his head, shivering as he clutched at the wound in his side. He could perhaps attempt to miracle himself away, but he wasn’t able to focus very well. He’d be just as likely to miracle himself into a mountainside.

So he simply sat there, bleeding, gazing up in resignation as the demon conjured Hellfire on their fingertips. So, he thought. This is how it ends.

He simply closed his eyes as the Hellfire shot towards him. There was no sense in trying to fight anymore. God had a plan, after all, and it seemed that his part in that plan ended here.

He had accomplished some good, at least. Healed the sick, saved children, shown kindness to a lonely demon. It hadn’t been a wasted life.

It was a life that, inexplicably, hadn’t ended yet. Why wasn’t he on fire? It should have been over by now.

Confused, Aziraphale cracked one eye open. He yelped at the immediate sight of flames right in front of his face.

“Don’t touch that!” a very familiar voice snapped. “Angel, get back, now!”

Aziraphale scrambled back, then slumped to the sand as his head spun wildly. Agony tore through his wounds, and he couldn’t catch his breath. But while yes, he was hurt, he wasn’t dead.

“Crawley?” he asked, woozy. “What’re you doing?”

“Saving your damn life.” Crawley, dressed very similarly to their last encounter but with a slightly shorter beard, frowned at the other demon. The other demon wasn’t moving, and neither was the Hellfire. “How the deuce did you wind up tangling with Hastur, anyway?”

“Hastur? Oh, him?” Aziraphale struggled to understand, to make sense of this. “I-I don’t know. Bumped into him. Didn’t get my guard up in time. Why isn’t he killing me?”

“I said, I’m saving your life.” Crawley was breathing hard, jaw clenched as he stalked around the frozen demon. “Stopped time. Can’t hold it for long, though, not against a Duke. You have any holy water on you?”

“Um,” Aziraphale said, still reeling. “No?”

“Pity. Oh well.” Brow deeply furrowed, Crawley gnawed on his lip. Then, with a decisive nod, he tugged Hastur’s sword out of the clenched fist and slashed it across his throat.

“Oh!” Aziraphale flinched away as blood sprayed across the white sand. “Crawley, was that really necessary?”

“If you knew Hastur, you wouldn’t be asking that.” Lips pursed, Crawley brushed his fingers against the sparks of Hellfire. They extinguished. “Besides, he was about to light you up like… like something that gets lit up. You okay?”

“Oh, um…” Shivering, Aziraphale pressed harder against the gushing wound on his side. “Not exactly. Um. Crawley, what do we do now?”

Crawley dropped the sword in the sand by him. “You pick that up. Just hold it out for a second, like you’re slashing or stabbing or something.”

“Well, do you want me to look like I’m slashing or stabbing?”

“I dunno, whatever soldiers do?” Making a face again, Crawley shrugged. “You’re the expert. Principality and all that.”

Aziraphale did as he asked, head still spinning with confusion. But he’d trusted Crawley in Job’s barn, and their improvised scheme had fooled Archangels. They could certainly handle a Duke of Hell.

After ducking behind Hastur, Crawley winked. Then he snapped his fingers.

Time restarted, apparently, and Hastur let out a shriek that turned into a gurgle. His black eyes widened as he stared at Aziraphale, at the sword, at the blood gushing down his front. “You… you… how did…”

He fell over and went utterly still. Aziraphale let the sword drop, his muscles shaking too badly to hold it up. He thought he might pass out.

Crawley edged forward and kicked Hastur in the side, then grinned. “Nice work, angel. He’s discorporated.”

“Lovely,” Aziraphale said, and then fell over too.

Everything went a bit blurry for a bit, the world dimming. But there were gentle hands touching Aziraphale, so very gentle, and that soothed any fear.

When the world became less blurry, Aziraphale blinked and looked up in confusion. Crawley smiled, although he looked quite tired now. “Hi, angel. Think I got everything healed. Better?”

Aziraphale’s body still ached, but he didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore He managed a weak nod. “Much better, yes. You… you helped me. Why?”

Crawley shrugged. “Because I could.”

He said it quite casually, but Aziraphale knew better, and he would forever treasure this moment of kindness. Crawley had saved him because deep down, he really was quite a good person.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #hastur #blood #violence

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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years

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Two Sides of The Same Coin - Chapter 17: "The Joker and The Queen"

"I've been played before, if you hadn't guessed, so I kept my cards close to my foolproof vest. But you called my bluff, and saw through all my tells..."

Pairing: Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Bucky Barnes

Bucky POV

Over the next few months, you’d met and won over most of the team. And Bucky's insides practically boil with envy. Right now, he’s standing on the sidelines, both physically and mentally, watching the way you and Steve interact.

You’d immediately forgiven Steve and Tony, because of course you did. You even made both him and Sam swear they wouldn't hold any contempt on your behalf - you made it perfectly clear that no grudges were to be held. You all reconciled the events of that day and were all eager to put them behind you. Right now, he watches as you wrap your arms around Steve’s waist, Steve huffs a laugh, playfully rolling his eyes and returning the embrace.

But it’s not just Steve, it’s everyone. Bruce, Tony, random SHIELD agents, Thor, Loki, he’s jealous of everyone. Your attention was now divided between all these people and he struggles with the idea of competing for your attention, vying for an ounce of the happiness you brought into the room. That’s not him- he's not this person who desperately needs all this attention. Not that he’d even stand a chance.

Steve’s the better super soldier, that much is clear to Bucky. Steve doesn’t have nearly as much blood on his hands. All the glory with none of the shame.

Bruce is smarter. He’s become somewhat of a mentor to you. You spend a lot of time with him and Tony in the lab these days. You'd spend hours with Bruce, he'd ask you questions about your abilities, and you eagerly replied, explaining in as much detail as you were able to. You'd made Bruce blush more times than you'd ever realize.

Even though Tony’s happily married and settled down, he envies your witty banter with him. And then there’s how great you are with Morgan.

"Hi," Morgan greeted you, Bucky watching from the other side of the room.

"Hi," you kindly smiled at her, though Bucky could tell you weren't quite sure what to say to her.

"Do you live here too?"

You nodded gleefully. From there it only took a few words and some animated gestures before the kid absolutely loved you.

"Morgan!" Pepper called, the two of you sitting at the table weaving flowers you'd bloomed in the palm of your hand as Morgan watched you in awe. "I told you about running off. I'm sorry about her, I hope she wasn't bothering you."

"No," you assure Pepper. "It's fine, I've never felt cooler."

Pepper chuckles. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard all about you."

Pepper loved you just at much as Morgan did.

Clint, the person who vehemently hated you before even meeting you, was now equally playful with you. Bucky didn't get to see that first introduction, though more than anything he wished he had because it didn't make sense, even after you'd explained it to him twice.

It didn't make sense with how Clint went from being adamant about hating you, about staying away from you to playfully training with you in one short afternoon. He did however witness Sam finding you in the training room:

Sam’s eyes widen as a projectile flies at your head. He'd walked into the training room, without any precursor to what you were doing in here to see Clint eagerly through something at you.

You hear Sam's footsteps from rapidly approaching from behind you. And he looked ready to kill when he saw you deflect the projectile, only faltering when you and Clint simultaneously cheer as it flew past you- courtesy of your abilities, of course. His fist clenched he started storming toward Clint, until you stepped in front of him and explained the situation. And Bucky's jaw literally dropped.

“How many training mishaps need to happen before we stop doing stupid things like this?” Sam demands, plucking the knife from the mat behind you before you can grab it.

“Come on, Sam! We were being careful!” you cajole, trying to get Sam to continue your little game with Clint.

“Throwing knives at each other is being careful?” he asks, completely bewildered.

“That’s why we used the blunt knives,” you explain. "It's not even that sharp!"

Sam shakes his head at you then turns to Clint, ready to actually throw that knife at him. “Clint, what the hell happened? You hated her last week! You wanted nothing to do with her.”

Clint's face furrows as he tries to pinpoint the moment you won him over, he fumbles for the moment he went from pure hatred to having so much fun in your company. “I don’t know. Weird," he shrugs, at a loss of how to describe finding you walking the hall. You eagerly struck up a conversation with him despite Clint's best efforts. He tried to shut it down, to be rude, but apparently somewhere along the way, you'd became friends.

“What?" you call, turning back to Clint. "You hated me last week?”

“Sorry,” he shrugs again. "To be fair, I didn’t know you.”

“But I won you over, right?” you nod looking incredibly pleased with yourself.

You even intrigued both Asgardians. Even though you'd only been there just a few weeks, you'd had longer conversations with the two of them than Bucky had ever had with them.

"This is our newest member of the team," Sam said, introducing you to both Thor and Loki.

"This little one?" Thor asks, very literally looking down at you.

"Um...I've walked around New York, I'm pretty average height. You're all just really tall," you point out.

"I don't see it," Thor bluntly comments.

"We're not doing another demonstration," Sam interjects. "We've had enough of those."

"Then how about this?" you ask, holding up a small flame. "Or this?" you ask, the flame dying out as quickly as it started, quickly being replaced with a flower blooming in your hand.

"Hmm," Loki hums, the first time he'd spoken up as his eyes continued raking over you. He smirks, taking another step toward you. “An interesting little pet you’ll make.”

Your face drops into an awkward expression as you turn to ask Sam, who abruptly and protectively sticks out his arm in front of you. “A person can't be a pet, right?”

“No, Loki’s just…Loki.”

You nod, sighing in relief.

“I have a friend that I think you’d love, Tree,” Thor adds, ignoring his brother's strange behavior.

“You have a friend named Tree?” you question. “Sam, that’s weird right?”

“Yes, that’s weird," he sighs, already exhausted by the encounter with the Asgardians.

“Okay," you nod. "Good, I thought it was weird, but I wasn’t sure.”

How’s he supposed to compete with literal gods?

Even Peter, who was just glad to not be the newbie anymore, matched your optimism and wonderment in a way that Bucky simply couldn't.

"Yes!" Peter exclaims upon meeting you for the first time. "I'm not the rookie anymore. Oh man- this is so exc-"

Sam cuts him off immediately, "Oh, yes you are. You're still the newbie."

"What? How?" Peter complains.

"Talk to me when you're legally an adult," Sam retorts.

"It's alright, Peter," you console. "I'm not even technically a person - just an asset."

"Super dark, Pinkie. Super dark," Tony remarks.

"What? How?" you ask.

"It just is," Tony shrugs.

"Why don't we ask Ms. Natasha?" Peter suggests.

"Sure," Sam chuckles, turning to Nat, who's just walked through the door. "Hey, Nat, who's the newbie?"

Nat sighs deeply as if she's already tired of the encounter, slightly shaking her head. "Are you pretending you forgot Peter again? You almost made him cry last time. Honestly, Sam, it wasn't funny then, it's not funny now."

"Told you," Sam snickers to Peter.

You’d even caught the attention of the only person on the compound grumpier and more unapproachable than Bucky, Brock Rumlow - much to Bucky and Sam’s chagrin.

“Hi!” you chirp, seeing a new face as you search for Sam. “I’m new here.”

“Good for you,” the unfamiliar man grunts.

“What’s your name?” you ask.

“Brock. Brock Rumlow.”

“That’s a nice name,” you cheerfully compliment.

The corner of his mouth twitches up. “And your name?” You happily give him your name. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

You smile at the man, not noticing the way he's leering at you. “Thank you! What do you do around here?”

“This and that,” he nonchalantly responds.

“Me too!”

“There you are!” Sam calls, only seeing you until he walks into the room and sees the man keeping you company. You do catch how Sam's entire demeanor shifts the second he sees Rumlow.

“Rumlow,” Sam curtly greets, Bucky walking in tow.

Bucky doesn’t even verbally acknowledge his presence, just glares at him.

“Wilson. Barnes.”

“Come on, we have to go,” Bucky mutters to you, deliberately ignoring Rumlow.

“Alright,” you nod, turning to Rumlow one last time. “Well, it was nice to meet you!”

“You too,” he smiles, his eyes still glaring at Sam and Bucky.

But with Steve especially because he’s got everything that Bucky has to offer, plus that wholesomeness and glory that Bucky’s never quite had. It burns at him because he can see it already. You two would be a great couple- a perfect couple: You two walking hand in hand, Steve pressing chaste kisses to your cheek and temple in public. Making you laugh like Bucky used to make you laugh.

“She’s not interested in him,” Sam says, watching Bucky’s jealousy flare as he stares you and Steve down.

“Huh?”

“I know how it looks, but it’s not like that.”

“It’s not any of my business if it is like that.”

“But it’s not,” Sam reminds him. “So you can stop your pining and start being her friend again.”

“I didn’t stop being her friend.” Though he knew exactly what Sam was talking about.

Just a few days ago, he'd had that awkward conversation with you. He cringed knowing that you knew about the Compound's collective and sudden interest in your friendship. Or in the fact that they all thought you and Bucky were more than friends - something you were clear you weren't.

“Really? Because she just told me a few days ago that she hadn’t seen you in days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s doing really well here- found her footing, everyone really likes her,” Bucky comments, ignoring Sam’s attempt to pull anything out of him. “But I guess that’s her.”

“What’d you mean?” Sam urges, though by the way Bucky's watching you, he knows exactly what Bucky's talking.

“I don’t know, maybe you were right, and it’s a part of her thing. But it’s like a gravitational pull, maybe some kind of magnetic field,” Bucky marvels. “You can’t help it: getting sucked in, wanting to be near her, wanting her attention. The way everyone in a room orients themselves around her.”

“That’s possibly the corniest thing you’ve ever said.”

“And that’s the last time I willingly talk to you.”

But Sam's right. And he wasn’t exactly sure when it happened. All he knew was that this massive crush completely blindsided him.

At least that was what he was telling himself, the more he thought about it maybe there had always been something there. And when he was really being honest with himself, he was certain there had always been something there - a lot more than just something.

He shuts that thought down immediately. He wasn’t the man he was in the 40’s, not by a long-shot, but he desperately wished he was. He wanted that charm, to flash you one smile and have you, but he wasn’t that guy anymore. And it wasn’t that easy.

He never denied that he found you attractive upon meeting you, but now there was a friendship, a kinship between you two that he never in a million years could have anticipated.

It genuinely scared him that he might lose that. You were a seemingly endless puzzle, an unsolvable enigma. And he desperately wanted to know more. The bits and pieces were no longer satisfying, he wanted to sit you down and lay out your entire life story for him. To figure out how you clung onto your wonderment and warmth, how you could be good to a world that hadn’t done a single thing for you.

And he wanted to know why you had such a profound impact on him, he’d settle for even knowing if you knew how you affected him.

Like how when you touched him in passing, did you know that it felt like his skin had been set on fire after being cold for so long?

Did you know how much he looked forward to seeing you each day?

Did you know that he was now going completely out of his way to seek you out? Driving himself crazy as he thought about you day in and out.

Did you know that everything had changed?

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