according to sam

anonymous asked:

If Cait and Sam are just the friendliest of friends and actors who are just doing their job well (according to Sam and Cait) then why pull back on the physical intimacy of S1 which was an accurate portrayal of their characters.

They answer my friend is blowing in the wind.

Why Tony was right about the Sokovia Accords - a political perspective

If people are trying to be historical about the Sokovia Accords, I might as well add my two cents to the discussion (having studied the UN during my degree).

The Avengers are basically meant to be a crisis-response unit, right? The truth is that the UN does not really have one as of now, so there is a good likelihood that the Avengers would be governed by different rules than the rest of UN diplomacy.

Currently military intervention is only permitted under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, and needs to be authorised by the Security Council (UNSC). However, the Charter pertains to UN Member STATES. The Avengers are not a state, so it is possible that they could escape the inefficiency and politics of it all.

Firstly, because they would be governed by a new ‘panel, not the UNSC. The UNSC is notorious for its inability to do things because of a) veto power, and b) the fact that it reflects the post-WW2 balance of power. The UN is massively ashamed of this, and pissed off that they can do nothing to change the situation; they are really worried about things like the Rwandan genocide happening again because of the UN’s inability to act. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that they would try to avoid the UNSC’s inefficiencies when devising the panel.  The Avengers have to respond quickly – it’s not like they’re humanitarian intervention: they go in, deal with stuff, and then leave. Otherwise they’re useless, so the UN must have designed the panel in a way that would allow the Avengers to act when necessary.

Secondly, the support of people such as T’Chaka indicates that the panel is far less politically convoluted than the UNSC. Most of UNSC’s problems arise because the US and Russia/China keep throwing shit at each other, and smaller countries (a lot of them African, like Wakanda) sit at the back and get angry at the big countries. I think that T’Chaka’s support for the Accords is an indication of their quality, and the fact that they are based on expertise, not just politics (like Steve was worried).

Thirdly, the Avengers are essentially a private organisation (largely funded by Tony). As far as I know, the UN does not have the right to just intervene with private actors as it pleases, especially if they operate inside the borders of a sovereign Member State (theoretically they are US-based).  They looove sovereignty (Article 2 of the Charter, anyone?) so I imagine that the Accords would be framed like something similar to a public-private partnership. This would have to leave the Avengers some wiggle room – they are not the Blue Helmets (i.e. effectively part of the UN from the start) so the structure of their responsibility would have to be different. (Especially given the fact that it would be very difficult to actually capture them if they misbehaved.)

I also need to clarify Tony’s comment about amending the Accords if necessary, which has been (unsuccessfully) rebuffed by #teamCap. The Accords could be amended easily, because an awful lot (if not most) of UN legislation is. Each resolution ends with something likes “we decide to remain seized on the matter”, so that the UN can react to its previous decisions if they had been the wrong ones, so don’t tell me that ‘duh, you can’t just ament UN legislation, Tony is stupid blah blah’.

I suppose that Steve is scared that another HYDRA might be hiding behind the Accords (let’s admit it – Ross is a creep, and Steve did have a good point with that), but you are forgetting something else. Tony Stark is a genius, like…a proper, certified genius. The kind of a genius that Einstein was. This means that he wouldn’t let anyone make him sign complete bullshit, even if he was grief-stricken, and even if he had little time to understand what he was signing. The likelihood is that the UN would have known it as well – the Avengers is a bunch of geniuses, spies and ex-government employees, and you can’t bullshit those people. Therefore, the UN wouldn’t have tried to pass a totally bullshit version of the Accords, because they would have known that no one would sign them then.

Therefore, stop complaining about how little time they had to read it, and how politicised the whole process was. Yes, the Sokovia Accords is a political issue, but not necessary one harmful to the Avengers and/or their work.


Summary: Pure porn without plot. You wake up and spend a morning with Sam and Dean.

Warnings: Smut, threesome (no Wincest), anal sex

Word Count: 2650ish

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy! XOXO

Too hot. Too bright. Everything feels heavy and suffocating, like you’re trapped or tied down. Leg muscles twitch, but you can’t move them as you force your brain to swim toward the surface, try to break your mind out of its haze.

And then you wake up.

For just a moment, you focus only on your breath. You wake up like this two or three times a week, have ever since you started hunting, and it will only take your body a few seconds to calm down.

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Dean is allowed to refuse to do things Sam’s way.

Dean is allowed to disagree with Sam.

Dean is allowed to be angry when Sam abandons or betrays him.

Dean is allowed to keep his feelings to himself.

Dean is allowed to have feelings regardless of whether they are what Sam thinks they should be.

Dean is allowed to call out even a loved one for hurting him or betraying him, especially if they keep doing it.

Dean is allowed to be afraid or nervous that they will do it again.

Humans are allowed to do all of these things, and as a person, so is Dean. None of these make Dean controlling, abusive, or cruel. Framing it as such what an abuser does to keep their victim in line. It’s a method certain people use to manipulate someone else into silence or compliance. Dean falls for it because of years and years of formative, psychological abuse, but that doesn’t make it even remotely true or right or even acceptable.

My Fake Boyfriend Part 11 (Final Part)

Summary: After receiving a very rude letter of your ex on the mail saying that he is going to get married. You see yourself not knowing what to do, you can just let it go or accept the help of your hot neighbor and pretend he is your boyfriend.

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Words: 3571

Warnings: A lot of emotions, a lot of fluffy and a little of smut.

@drinkfantasy thank you so much for being my beta. You are the best.

You are so happy, you can’t believe that today you are finally going to sleep on your own bed. “You know, I really like to see you wearing my clothes.” You smile at Bucky’s words as he hugs you from behind.

“I like to wear them, they smell like you.” You are wearing a pair of leggings and one of his sweaters. It’s so big and comfortable. “You can keep it if you want, it looks really good on you.” You turn around kissing him on the lips. “You are going to regret this, in a couple months you are not going to have any more clothes to wear.” You say playful, taking his hair out of his forehead.

“I don’t mind, I can always steal them back and this way they are gonna smell like you.” He is so sweet, you can’t believe how kind and precious Bucky Barnes can be, especially after everything he has been through.

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That Girl is a Problem

Paul Lahote is PISSED when Jake brings around his best friend. She wasn’t supposed to know about any of this. Or was she? 

Pairing: PaulxReader, JacobxReader (Friends)

Warnings: Cursing 

Song(s) to Listen To: Truthfully by DNCE OR/AND That’s What You Get by Paramore 

A/N: This is my first Twilight relate imagine at all, so even though constructive criticism is encouraged, pls don't rip me to shreds lol. Also, if this goes over well, I have a part 2 planned. Hope you guys like this!!

Originally posted by pretty-dead-dog

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I’m really fascinated by the way that Magnificent 7 handles race relations. I saw someone criticize the fact that the movie includes Faraday’s racist comments to Vasquez, but I think that person is missing the point. I want to look at four major relationships within the Seven. Four instances of a racial divide being overcome. 

Major spoilers below

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Ten Years (Part 12)

Summary: AU. When a major account is on the line at work, reader is forced to revisit some old connections at her ten year high school reunion for a chance at success. Will she let the past consume her, or will she see the future in her grasp?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,065 (I AM OUT OF MY MIND)

Warnings: language, fluff, excessive sweetness

A/N: Tags are closed. This is the second to last part. I came THISCLOSE to having another cliffhanger, but I couldn’t do it. I don’t want to drag it out just to torture you. PS - IT’S SO FLUFFY I’M GONNA DIE!

Part: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

Originally posted by adamisstillinhellthankstoyou

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samson reinhart appreciation post because for some reason he doesn’t get the love he deserves!

birthday: november 6th, 1995
draft year: 2014 (second overall)
junior team: kootenay ice (whl)
plays internationally for team canada
favorite food: crepes
prefers to be called samson over sam
in general just such a sweet kind and soft boy who deserves more love because he’s such an angel

Slow Hands

(A Smutty-ish Steve One Shot)

A/N: I should be getting ready for work, I should be writing It’s a Buck Girl Thing but it’s Steve’s birthday and the poor lad needs some loving! It’s quite smutty and inspired by Niall Horan’s Slow Hands

A/N 2: I wrote it quickly this morning and only checked it once so apologies for any mistakes!

Summary: After the events of Civil War, and Bucky gone, Steve does not want to celebrate. He wants to feel like a normal guy, meet a nice gal, have his way with her. He’s in Wakanda and it’s the 4th of July and everyone’s down to celebrate.

Warnings: Smutty undertones. Pet names. Steve’s neck.

Word count: 2.5k

Originally posted by luvinchris

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Request: My Whole World

Request: Can you write one where the reader is being really petty towards dean for something he did and he gets fed up in a cute and fluffy way please.

Request: Could you write one where the reader is taking a nap and she’s pregnant and wakes up to dean talking to her stomach and it’s just all fluffy and cute

Word Count: 1,673

Thank you! I hope it’s what you were hoping for. Lots of love<3

“So anyway,” You continue, dipping the spoon back into the ice-cream carton and digging out another generous mouthful, “I get into the kitchen and he’s sat there, just munching on the last cookie. I’m not even kidding. I’d been craving them for weeks and I’d finally managed to convince his protective, overbearing ass to take me out to pick up the ingredients and he eats the last bloody one.”

Sam eyes the carton, balanced precariously atop your growing bump, and smiles a little, “He can be rude sometimes.”

“I know, right? And he acts like it’s nothing, like I haven’t been dragging his spawn around inside me for… what, seven and a half months?” You sigh dramatically, “All I wanted was a cookie and now all I have is…”

“Ice-cream?” Sam quirks an eyebrow with an amused smile, but you just shoot him a sardonic glare.

“It isn’t what I want. And you and Dean are so close, this might as well be your spawn too, so watch what you’re saying.” You manage to get the spoonful of ice-cream into your mouth just in time to point the spoon at him accusatorially, but he only laughs at you – it’s been like this for nearly three days now, considering that you’re not exactly on speaking terms with Dean unless it involves backrubs or food.

“I’m sure he feels awful.” Sam attempts, picking up another plate and setting it in the warm, soapy water of the sink – baby-proofing efforts are fully underway in the bunker, which, according to Sam, means turning the place into a clean, half-decent child-rearing environment. The brothers are so concerned with making it completely perfect and safe that you’ve barely had anything to do with it, which you’re perfectly fine with at this point.

“No, he doesn’t. He feels bad that I’m grumpy with him. But he enjoyed that cookie, and I know it.” You narrow your eyes, “They were damn good cookies.”

Sam turns to you after a moment, “Y/N, can I say something without you… spontaneously bursting into tears or throwing your ice-cream at me?”

“Probably not, but go on.” You nod, scraping out the bottom of the carton and giving him a roguish grin. He offers a small, though hesitant, smile, drying his hands off on the towel draped over the oven door handle.

“I think you’re scared. About Dean, about the baby, about everything.” He watches warily as your eyes narrow, and you sit forward slowly, a protective hand moving over your stomach as if his words could somehow hurt the tiny, helpless infant inside, “And I can’t help but wonder if you’re finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length so that if something does go wrong, he doesn’t blame himself. So he isn’t so hurt by losing one or both of you.”

“Sam-“ You try, but he has a way of reading you that not even Dean has managed to grasp – he really is your best friend, your brother in all but blood – in the least weird way, considering you’ve been with his biological brother for years.

“You’re going to be fine, Y/N. All three of you.”

“All four of us.” You correct, and he gives a conceding nod.

“All four of us. We have heaven and hell on our side, Y/N. Trust me on this one, alright?” He moves half a step closer to you, the smile on his face reminding you that he’s as excited as you are for this, and has mulled over every single one of the same possibilities, “We’ve gotten through everything else. This is just another adventure.”

You let the silence hang between you for a few moments, before hauling yourself to your feet and fixing him with a look that lets him know that he’s absolutely right, but that you’re less than impressed about it.

“One of these days, Sam Winchester, you’re going to tell someone a home truth that they really hate and you’re going to get punched.” You tell him, though the smile on your face instantly negates any kind of seriousness in your statement, “And fair warning, I am going to laugh.”

“Fair point.” He smiles, stepping forward to take your shoulders in his hands and press an affectionate kiss to your brow, “Go on, Y/N, get some rest. I’m almost done here.”

He can tell how obnoxiously tired you are, and even how hard you’re trying to hide it. It’s been a difficult transition, and one you’re still struggling with, going from reckless, active hunter, to careful, nurturing mother – though it’s one you’re more than willing to make.

“Alright, Sammy. I’m going for a nap.”


Naps have recently – even over the last three or four weeks – have become your primary source of sustenance. Depending on the hours that Winchester junior decides to make your bladder/ribs/kidneys into his or her personal trampoline, you’re not getting as much sleep as night as you perhaps should be, which means that the couch is your new favourite spot – these days, if either brother or anyone else needs to get a hold of you, that’s usually where you can be found.

When you find that the something pulling you from the warmth and comfort of sleep is Dean’s voice, you’re less than surprised – for a man who pretty much makes a living out of being sneaky and stealthy, he doesn’t half know how to make a racket (and then some) when he wants to. What you are more surprised to find is that, from where his voice is, he’s sat on the floor in front of you with his face up close to your shirt – more specifically, to your stomach.

“… And she’s stubborn; don’t ever try to get in her way. I’ve known her forever, and I’ve only actively disagreed with her once or twice. She’s clever, too. Probably too much for her own good. And beautiful – hopefully you’ll look a lot like her, but not too much, because then you’ll be charming the living shit out of everything in a five mile radius from the minute you’re born and none of us will stand a chance.”

He’s speaking in a low, soft tone that is difficult for even you to pick up at this point, but what you do feel is his hand lightly ghosting over your stomach – at first, you thought it was a bit odd, the way he’d like to randomly feel you up, but it eventually became more endearing than anything else.

“Another thing you’ve gotta watch out for with your mom is that she’s funny. Too funny, sometimes, like when we’re in a life or death situation and she comes out with a comment and man, does it piss off whoever – or whatever – we’re hunting and it distracts us all but it just makes the whole thing more bearable. But you’ll never know any of that, anyway, if we get our way. You deserve better, and I’ll be damned if that’s not what you’re going to get. Then again, I’m probably damned anyway.”  

He sighs softly, and after a moment, you feel his nose up against your skin.

“God, kid, I hope I don’t screw you up. I hope you get the childhood I couldn’t. I’d never be able to live with myself if you were scared for one minute of it.” He’s choked up, you realise, your heart skipping a beat and stomach lurching, “Kid, you are so, so loved. Whether your mom is pissed off at me or not; whether you know it or not, you two are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I promise you, you’re not going to forget that. And neither am I.”

There’s a long moment, and he takes a deep breath, obviously trying to collect himself – you’ve heard him speaking to the bump before, of course. He’s played music to it, cranking the volume up in the Impala as soon as he’d read in one of those books that the baby had hearing organs (‘Have to get their tastes refined early, Y/N. I refuse to have a child who can’t appreciate a bit of rock.’) and belting out lyrics even when it was just the two of you – but never like this. Never with that… vulnerability; never with that kind of feeling.

You prise one eye open, watching him for a few moments, “You really just can’t let me be mad at you for more than three and a half minutes, can you?”

His head snaps up and his eyes widen as he realises that you’re awake, and have been the whole time – his eyes are still shining and slightly glazed, but he plays it off by clearing his throat and giving you a small smile.

“So you’re not mad at me anymore? I can’t keep up.” He says softly, searching for your hand, and, once he finds it, he twines his fingers with yours sweetly.

“I was never mad at you. Well… not once the damage had been done.” You concede with a smile, slowly pushing yourself into a sitting position so he can come and sit beside you, one arm around your shoulders and the other hand still laced with yours.

“I’m sorry about the cookie. I’ll go and find more, Sam and I were thinking about-“

“It’s not about the damn cookie, Dean. Not even a little.” You interrupt, pulling your hand from his to hold his palm to your stomach, “I… was being dumb. And stupid. And rude. And it was uncalled for, whether I was being funny and petty over a cookie or not.”

“Is that an apology?” His eyes widen, but a grin spreads over his face as the baby kicks against his hand. You quirk an eyebrow.

“Don’t push your luck. And whether I’m mad or not, you owe me cookies.”

He doesn’t hesitate to nod, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “Anything you want. Everything you want. I don’t care, Y/N. You – both of you – you’re my world now.”

Let There Be Cowgirls

Let There Be Cowgirls(½): A Captain America Fanfiction

RelationshipSteve x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky has been cleared to start going out on social gatherings and Steve has been cleared to start forming intimate relationships. So what happens when they go to a bar and meet you?

Warnings: Drinking, mention of threesome, mention of military service.

Word Count: 3,840

Author’s Note: I’ve never in my life tried to write this perspective before. I typically stick to third person omniscient, sorry if this sucks. This is the first part of a two-shot  Reader x Steve, Reader x Bucky threesome. The second will most likely be gratuitous smut. Also, this happens in a post Civil War perfect land where nobody is in jail and everyone is mostly happy.

Bucky was not sure how he ended up here. He was only cleared to go out earlier that day, upon hearing the news Clint and Sam had immediately insisted on taking him out. Steve had of course followed and for good measure, Natasha had come too, just to keep an eye on her boys.

It had been a rough few months of therapy, all of the Avengers were in therapy, but Bucky had it the most frequently. His therapist had suggested a few weeks ago that he start pushing out of his comfort zone, first suggesting that he simply head a few floors down and grab a coffee from the Starbucks in the tower.

Next suggesting he try something other than plain black coffee, which had opened him up to a world of sweets he had never known before. In his time, sweets were rationed and everything was bland. Now he could get anything and everything he wanted, in fact, he had one time. He had asked the barista for one pump of everything, it hadn’t been good, but he had simply been excited by the thought.

A few weeks later, she had told him how proud of him she was and cleared him to leave the tower. Which usually meant Sam and Steve dragged him to some nearby food cart or nearby eatery. It was fine like that, it kept his human interaction minimal while also allowing him to slowly get used to the idea of being seen.

That had initially been his biggest issue; he had lived in the shadows for so long he hadn’t known how to stop. Going outside in broad daylight, even just to head to the deli on the corner was a huge step for him. It had terrified him at first, but Sam and Steve had been his rocks.

The two men had never faltered, and though his relationship with Sam appeared to be rocky, it was incredibly beneficial to him. The teasing and refusal to tiptoe around him had helped immensely; Sam treated him as if he was human. Whereas Steve still edged around him, afraid of upsetting him or setting him off.

Steve’s same therapist had given him the go-ahead weeks ago to start working on forming intimate relationships. Which had led to Clint and Sam attempting to take him to a strip club, as if that’s where relationships were formed.

Earlier that day Bucky’s therapist had proudly declared that she thought he was fit enough to go out socially. Which was how Sam concluded that Bucky and Steve needed to go to a bar. Clint had immediately jumped on board, excitedly planning the night out with his fellow bird. Steve had been apprehensive, partially because he himself was still iffy about going out.

According to Sam and Clint, they had chosen this bar, a country themed bar, because it was simple. The people there were mostly polite and while the music wasn’t what the boys had been used to, it was much better than that weird beeping shit. Most of the bar was retired military and traveling people who were in the rodeo or something related.

The former assassin was hunched over in the corner of the bar eyeing the drink in front of him with contempt. Clint had hurriedly ordered it for him before ditching the group to head after some girl in daisy dukes. Steve sat beside him, blinking at the odd drink in front of him. Neither man cared for the taste; however, they suspected it might be some type of beer.

They noticed the bartender slide over to their side of the bar, you eyed them curiously as you set a drink down in front of a man a few stools away. Bucky instinctively tensed and Steve immediately sat up straighter as you walked over to them.

“Evenin’ fellas. Your drinks okay?” You asked, your voice sounding like honey. The southern lilt in it was thick as you kept your voice low.

Both men shuddered; they could practically feel your words on their skin. Your accent seemed to caress them, the gentle inflection in your tone making them feel like you actually might care about their orders. You were definitely good at your job.

“Uh, what is it that we’re drinking?” Steve asked, his face wrinkling as he forced himself to take another sip.

You cocked her head and smiled softly. Your black, silver studded cowboy hat tilting forward and nearly falling in your face. “You’re with the blonde guy right? With the arms?” You murmured jerking your chin towards where Clint was dancing with some blonde-haired woman.

“Yeah.” Steve answered, though he was a little confused about the arms part. Didn’t everyone have arms? Well… maybe not everyone.

“It’s an IPA. Beer, but in my opinion, not good beer.” You chuckled softly before pulling their drinks away from them. “They’ve only picked up traction within the last few years; mostly hipsters drink ‘em.”

Hipsters was not a term that Bucky recognized, however, it made a small amount of sense to him. He could use context clues to guess the meaning, though he was off by about a mile. If the beer had only become popular within the last few years, then that explained a lot.

Steve, however, recognized the term immediately. Natasha had jokingly called him one when they donned disguises and ran from Hydra several years ago. She had spent the next ten minutes trying to explain to him what a hipster was.

“You fellas like whiskey?” You asked casually, turning back to the shelf behind you to catalogue the bottles. Bucky took note of how your long hair swished just above your jean-clad ass. He was sure every part of you was carefully crafted so you could get the best tips; your movements were friendly, but deliberate. You were clearly a woman who had perfected her art.

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky, silently asking him if he liked whiskey. Back in the day, they had, but they weren’t sure if they liked any new brands. Steve knew he liked what Tony drank, but he had a feeling that it was excessively expensive and that a place like this most likely wouldn’t carry it.

“Yeah.” Bucky answered gruffly, much to Steve’s surprise.

Steve shot him an odd look that was only met with a shrug. His therapist had told him to interact with people more, so he was doing as he had been told. Plus, you were a bartender, which meant you were kind of like the Baristas he had befriended.  

Both men summerized that you were cute; with your grey and red flannel tied up into a crop top with low-rise black jeans. If the sound of your footsteps was any indication, you were most likely wearing cowboy boots much like everyone else in the bar.

“Alright, well let’s see what we’ve got, yeah?” You shot them a cheeky smile over your shoulder as you pulled down five different bottles of whiskey.

“By the way,” You started as you set the bottles down in front of them, quickly finishing by introducing yourself.

“Steve.” The blonde man replied, giving you a hesitant smile.

The sincerity in his eyes made you melt. You weren’t technically supposed to take customers home, but boy did you want to share a handsy cab ride with this one. It wasn’t the bars rule, it was your own personal rule.

Bird Dog Blackberry, Bird Dog Peach, Cutty Sark, Wild Turkey, Old Grand-dad. Bucky mentally catalogued. Cutty Sark and Old Grand-dad seemed familiar, he liked familiar. However, he was supposed to try new things.

“Bucky.” The dark haired one mumbled.

“Alright, let’s start with Old Grand-Dad. It’s a classic. It’s been around since the 1840s, it’s a Kentucky bourbon. It’s got classic whiskey notes and this sucker is 100 proof. It’s got a sweet, but savory taste going on. I give it to all the whiskey snobs who tell me to surprise them.”  You poured them each a small amount in disposable cups. Both men tried it, both pleasantly surprised by the familiar taste of it.

“Next, Wild Turkey. My least favorite whiskey, ever. But, some people swear by it.” You wrinkled your nose as you took back their cups and poured a small amount in. “It’s been around since the 1940s, it’s also a Kentucky bourbon. Now this one is 101 and proof. It’s got a smokier and grittier flavor that sticks around in the back of your throat.  Most people prefer it with a bit of water. But it’s best in mixed drinks.”

Both men drank their cups, this time pulling slight faces. Maybe in the past they would have liked it, but both men had become spoiled by modern day sweets. The gritty flavor of this one just was not cutting it for them.

“Now, Cutty Sark. It’s a Scottish whisky from the 1920s. It’s also 100 proof. This one is soft, has less of a charred taste and is medium bodied so it doesn’t linger. It’s a good basic whisky.” You shrugged as you slid the drinks over to them. They enjoyed this one more, it was softer. Neither man really liked the lingering taste that the previous one had left.

“Don’t you have other customers?” Steve asked apprehensively, there were quite a few other people in the bar.

You shook your head, “They can get their drinks from Cash.” You waved your hand dismissively before shooting them a devilish look. “Besides, I like pleasing my customers.” You finished off with a wink in Bucky’s direction.

Cash was your fellow bartender, who because he lacked the proper assets -ahem, boobs- did not make as much in tips as you. However, he was a kickass bartender and the regulars loved him. 

“Alright, Bird Dog is a newer whiskey. It’s also a Kentucky Bourbon, but it’s only 86 proof. Bird Dog is known for its flavored whiskeys. If you have a sweet tooth this is the whiskey for you. Personally, the blackberry one is my favorite. Now, this isn’t like those fruity pink colored cocktails, this may be sweet, but it’s still whiskey.” You decided to pour them the peach one first.

Steve’s eyes widened as he drank it, while Bucky simply stared at it suspiciously after finishing his. It was delicious, yet both men felt slightly betrayed that they preferred this new age sweet whiskey to their familiar Old Grand-Dad.

Bucky was sure he’d found love when he tried the blackberry one, while Steve preferred the peach. Something about the sweetness of it mixing with the woody flavor of the bourbon made his taste buds sing.

You grinned as they grudgingly admitted their approval of the drinks. “Neat or on the rocks?” Both men chose neat, which lead to their plastic cups being disposed of and replaced with glass tumblers.

“I’ll be back to check on y’all in a bit.” You said before sashaying away from them and walking over to a group of undeniably drunk men at the other end of the bar.

“She was nice.” Steve mused quietly.

Bucky grunted in reply. You had been very nice to be so patient with them; of course, your motives were most likely tip related. It still made him feel warm inside, or maybe that was just the sweet whiskey he was sipping.

“She’s cute.” Natasha said casually, admiring her nails.

Steve and Bucky both jumped a little, neither had noticed Natasha show up.

“Where did you come from?” Steve asked, stuttering slightly. Natasha was one of the few people who could sneak up on him, and it hadn’t helped that maybe he had been a bit distracted by the cute bartender.

“Since Wild Turkey.” She snarked, spinning her seat to lean her back against the bar so she could analyze the crowd. Steve’s cheeks reddened and Bucky’s eyes narrowed at her revelation. “I think she likes you.” She didn’t bother specifying which of them.

The dark haired man immediately wanted to change the subject and clearly, Natasha was talking about Steve. Which, maybe, disappointed him. “What’re you drinking?” Bucky questioned, pointing to her mason jar.

Natasha eyed it curiously as if she was seeing it for the first time. “A Cowboy Killer.” She sent a smirk in the soldier’s direction.

The blond super soldier squinted at Natasha’s head. “Where did that hat come from?” She hadn’t shown up in a cowboy hat, but now she was wearing a sleek black one, perched easily on her red curls.

“A cowboy gave it to me.” She stated simply.

“Gave?” Bucky asked, raising a brow and shooting her a lopsided grin.

She looked offended for a minute before standing up and narrowing her eyes. “… Yes.” The redhead walked away, venturing back out into the fray.

“Hey, man? What’s that?” Sam asked, materializing out of seemingly nowhere between the two soldier’s.

Bucky tried to stop himself from making a snarky remark, but was just a little too late. “A drink.” He replied wrinkling his nose at the lanky man.

“It’s called Bird Dog Whiskey.” Steve answered, shooting Bucky a disapproving look. He held his cup out to Sam, offering the other man a sip.

After savoring the taste for a second Sam blinked, confusion taking over his features. “Why does it taste like peaches?”

“It’s peach flavored whiskey.” Bucky snapped, an implied ‘duh’ at the end of his sentence.

Steve sighed, giving up on trying mediating. He wasn’t entirely sure how the two’s relationship worked. They seemed to antagonize each other to no end, sometimes he feared they would start throwing punches. But, oddly enough, it seemed to work for them. Bucky seemed genuinely at ease around Sam, which filled Steve with a great sense of relief.

There was a few minutes of bickering before You approached them again right as the song changed. The new song singing something about God making cowgirls.

“Hey, soldier’s. Y’all still doing okay?” You leaned against the counter, maybe, just maybe, slightly showing off your exposed cleavage. It came with the job, but you also just kind wanted them to check the girls out.

Steve looked at you incredulously, “How’d you know?” After noticing how you were leaning against the bar his cheeks flushed and he began staring at the wall directly behind you.

Bucky risked a glance at your chest before swallowing thickly and averting his eyes the wall beside him. 

Mission accomplished. You thought smugly.

“Most of my family is military. I recognize it in your eyes.” You shot a slightly sad look at Steve and Bucky, causing both men to shudder. For a second you placed your hand on Steve’s, before straightening up again behind the bar. 

You would have done the same thing to Bucky, but you were getting the feeling that he wasn’t a fan of being touched.

You then brought your warm eyes to rest on Sam. “Airman.” You nodded at him.

“Okay, that’s impressive.” Sam said, tipping his beer bottle in your direction. “I’m Sam.” He gave you a charming grin as he settled into the seat Natasha had abandoned beside Steve.

Instead of immediately replying, you refilled the men’s drinks, not even needing to double check that you was pouring the right drinks. You answered with your name, giving him a curt smile.

Your expression brightened as you looked over at Bucky, he was continuously sweeping his too long hair behind his ears. Every few seconds the strands would fall back into his face, causing him to get slightly frustrated. The faint gleam of his metal hand could be seen as it rested on the bar, gently holding his cup. He had spent the last few months carefully practicing with holding breakable things, just to make sure his left arm wasn’t completely destructive.

“Interesting name.” Sam laughed, giving you a flirty look that you didn’t bother acknowledging. You already had your eyes on someone, or someone’s.

You kept your eyes on Bucky. “I have a non-traditional family.”

Suddenly, your hand appeared in front of him holding a black hair tie. “Take it.” You said, giving him a gentle smile.

 Instead of immediately grabbing the hair tie Bucky set his glass down and dropped his arm to his lap, not wanting to scare you. He smiled apprehensively back as he gently plucked the hair tie from your outstretched hand, making sure to use his right hand. He still didn’t pick up his drinks at Starbucks using his left-hand. He was still too worried about its destructive properties to risk touching anyone else with it.

Truthfully, as you watched him put his hair up all you could thing about was threading your fingers through the strands and giving them a good hard yank.

Your eyes darted to a man several stools down from them, sitting with a group of friends, all of them drinking beer. He had a prosthetic hand and leg that went from the thigh down. Immediately your eyes returned to Bucky, giving him a warm look. What you had tried to portray was that this was a safe place, you hoped he understood.

Steve watched this short exchange, his eyes softening as Bucky hesitantly wrapped his metal hand around the glass again. He was already planning on how to invite you to lunch, once he saw something that made his friend happy he tended to leap on it.

Sam had already backed off; clearly noticing the vibes you were putting out were not for him. They seemed to be for Bucky, or maybe Steve? However, he could still ask you questions that he knew Bucky and Steve would never ask. Just as a little help to his friends.

“How old are you?” He asked giving the two a cheeky grin as your back was turned. Both replied with frowns, though Bucky’s looked slightly more murderous than Steve’s.

“Twenty-six. But, my birthday is in a few weeks.” You replied casually as you tidied up behind the bar.

Sam thought it over for a minute, before reaching for his phone and quickly typing a few things into google. “So you’re a Taurus? You know that means you’re really compatible with Cancers and Pisces.”

You turned and raised an eyebrow as you dried a tumbler. “Yeah? You know any?”

“These two.” He replied, cheekily pointing his thumbs at his two companions.

Steve and Bucky had honestly no idea if they were actually what Sam said they were. Wanda sometimes read them their horoscopes, but it was usually in one ear and out the other.

You looked Steve and Bucky over before giving Sam an unimpressed look. “Yeah? What are you? Their wingman?” God, you hoped he was.

Steve and Bucky both snorted, oh if only you knew that’s exactly what Sam was.

“You could say that. So, which one do you think you’re taking home tonight?” That one got him an under the table smack from Steve who was now looking anywhere but at you.

Bucky was staring into his glass, already knowing the answer.

Por que no los dos?” You answered with a wicked grin.

Steve and Sam were rusty at best with their Spanish, but Bucky had been trained in multiple languages and was fluent. His eyes widened comically as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape.

Women now were so forward, he saw that every time he went anywhere with Steve. Women would throw themselves at the blonde super soldier, which usually left Bucky sitting on the sidelines. He supposed that was how Steve had felt all those years.

“Shit.” Sam said, laughing. “She speaks Spanish. I need to get Nat over here to translate.” The phrase sounded weirdly familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it.

Bucky considered offering up the translation, but he decided to be selfish and keep it to himself. Your words made him feel warm, girls didn’t like him anymore, Steve was the desirable one now. But you had wanted both, which meant Steve and Bucky.

“Did someone call me?” Nat asked, walking back over to the bar. She had been observing from the sidelines while babysitting a drunk Clint. She hadn’t heard anything that was said, due to the drunk man’s babbling, aside from her own name.

“Hey, Nat! I need you to transla-” Sam started only to be cut off by Clint.

“Well, hello, cowgirl.” Clint slurred, sauntering up to the bar. He shot an easy smile towards you. It was clear that he was decently intoxicated; such was to be expected as they had now been at the bar for almost two hours. “Whose bed are your boots gonna be under tonight?”

You wrinkled your nose slightly. “Referencing a Shania Twain song about cheating to hit on me, classy.”

“Classy is all I kno-” Clint started. He was cut off as a burp rose in his throat, which he released, burping loudly near your face.

“Good one, Clint.” Sam groaned, shaking his head disdainfully.

Steve immediately started apologizing for his friend. You were used to it, in fact worse had happened, much worse. You resisted the urge to shudder at the memory of a customer defecating on the bar.

The man felt another burp coming up, only to realize at the last second that this one felt suspiciously like more than a burp. In an instant you were holding a small yellow puke bag in front of him, which Clint graciously accepted.

“Sorry, boys, I think we’ve gotta go.” Natasha said apologetically.

The others reluctantly got up, Steve pulling out his wallet. “How much do we owe you?”  He motioned to Sam, himself, and Bucky. Natasha and Clint had set up a tab as soon as they walked in the door.

“Free for some fellow Bird Dog lovers.” You replied with a wink. “Which means you have to pay, Sam.” Your tone was teasing.

“Damn you, woman.” The former Airman replied, shaking his head.

Steve pulled out three twenties, “Then take these as a tip.” He gave you his signature all-American-boy smile that unbeknownst to him usually caused the panties to drop.

“I’ll see you again soon.” You replied, grinning as you slid the money into your back pocket. You leaned against the counter as you watched the group gently guide their drunk friend out.

You were a little disappointed that they had to leave, but you were confident that they would return.

Steve drove them back, Bucky sitting up front with Sam and Natasha sat in the back on either side of Clint.

“Man, I’m telling you, I was this close to sealing the deal for them.” Sam said, shaking his head ruefully as he glared at Clint.

“I’m so-sorry. I ruined Bucky’s only chance of getting laid- I’m the worst friend.” Clint drunkenly whined. He continued on, babbling nonsense while Natasha simply chuckled and gently patted his arm.

“We’ll just have to go back then.” Natasha said casually.

“By the way, Nat, what does ‘por que no los dos?’ mean?” Sam asked.

“Taco…commercial.” Clint mumbled.

“It means ‘Why not both?’” Both Natasha and Bucky supplied at the same time.

Steve accidentally tapped the brakes too hard, causing them to lurch to a stop at a red light. His cheeks were bright red and he coughed to cover up his embarrassment.

“Shit! From the taco commercial!” Sam exclaimed. “That’s where I know it from!”

Clint let out a loud wail, “I ruined their only chance at a threesome! I’m the worst!”

The car erupted into laughter. Steve continued coughing while Bucky chortled under his breath; Natasha laughed a full belly laugh and Sam simply let out a pained laugh as he shook his head.

“We’ll definitely have to go back then.” Natasha said as the laughter died down. There was mumbled agreement from the others in the car.

Steal my coursework? I'll steal your sports deal.

I knew this guy at university, lets call him Sam. Now we used to be good friends, he wasn’t the type of person you wanted to study with per se but he was a good person to party with. Unfortunately, his academic laziness caught up with him and he needed to ace some assignments to graduate with a half decent degree. This resulted in him going behind my back and submitting my 13 page assignment as his own, I informed the professors and academic committee who needed to look into the matter but it could take a few weeks.

Unfortunately for me, Sam was acting like an arrogant twat. He kept laughing my face and saying I deserved it for not helping him, and that when he graduated he would be playing football for a top club. We are in the UK at the most competitive sports university in Europe, so some of our most talented students get picked up by premier league sides for their academies.

According to Sam, a number of big name scouts were coming to an exhibition match to watch the lads in action so of course everyone was very hyped. The match was between ourselves and a long time rival in a nearby city, coincidentally my boyfriend Rami studies there and plays for their football team. Now Rami knows of the situation between Sam and I and is very unhappy, but being the level-headed dork he is, he tells me it’s best to wait for the academic committee to come to a decision on Sam.

This would’ve been a sad end to the story, had Rami not encountered Sam trashtalking me at a local bar. Now Rami is one of those people who is either at 0 or a 100 when it comes to revenge, 99% of the time staying at 0 since he believes revenge to be somewhat meaningless. At this moment however, he was a 110.

Cue the day of the match, scouts are sitting pitchside with notepads and eager to watch stars like Sam impress them. Firstly, before I continue with the story I need to tell you their positions which they play so you understand what happens. Rami plays Left Back, so he plays at the very back as a defender on the left side. Sam plays as Right Wing, so he plays alongside the striker on the right side. This means when the teams clash, Rami and Sam would be continuously going head to head.

Now, in football legal tackles can often take multiple forms, usually they are precise and agile and target the ball specifically. Or, you can go the more aggressive route and smash through the player, the tackle is legal assuming you hit the ball first. Now unfortunately for Sam, Rami was not in a friendly and precise mood. Within 4 minutes of the game, Sam is making a run down the wing and Rami is waiting to greet him. Rami flies in, gets the ball away but positions his tackle so he smashes into Sam, making him somersault into the air. Timeout is called, people check on Sam to make sure he continues playing which of course he does, don’t want to disappoint those scouts now do we. So Rami goes in with hard tackle after hard tackle, at the end of the first half Sam can barely stand, his legs are bruised and wrecked from the assault. Breaking Sam’s legs isn’t what Rami wanted, he wanted Sam to force himself to keep playing in front of the scouts whilst trying to hide the pain from his injuries which Rami achieved. Needless to say Sam didn’t get called up by the scouts, and during the time his legs took time to properly heal he was replaced in the first team by a newer player.

As the icing on the cake, the academic committee suspended Sam from the university, forcing him to retake his final year with every grade capped at 40% which is the bare minimum passing grade. All because of his douchebaggery, Sam lost his near guaranteed sports deal and a university degree. I’m sorry if this story isn’t up to standard or is too harsh, but I just wanted to talk about this somewhere. Thank you for reading <3.

according to sam, sienna robinson told her coach “thanks i just washed them yesterday” when he congratulated her on having cleaner knees and apparently she “thinks of food” to relax while competing. god i love this kid


Spielbergs and Kubricks

Supernatural Song Challenge : Renegades by X Ambassadors

Couples Counseling

Summary: What better way to investigate a marriage counselor (who may or may not be responsible for the death of six of her clients) than to go to marriage counseling? It’s just pretend right? No different than putting on the FBI suits. Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan, and Sam and Dean quickly get more than they bargained for.

Warnings: Wincest, eventual smut (all the smut), slow burn, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 9,200+

A/N: This is the first of two parts, because the fic got away from me and ended up being too long to post as one part. The second part is complete and will be up tomorrow! Feedback MUCH appreciated on this one!


“Remind me again what we’re doing here?” Dean is only half-sitting down in his chair, looking very much like he’s one wrong answer away from fleeing.

“Calm down,” Sam answers, keeping his voice low and steady. “Three people, all from the same small town, murdered their spouse then committed suicide, all within the span of a week. The only thing they have in common is this therapist.”

Keep reading

Atlas: Part Two

                                                    bucky x reader

summary: i n f i n i t y war.

                                                  word count: 2,521

if this gets to 200, i will post the rest - worked on this for hours upon hours. and I already have parts written for it, crazy.

notes: angst, mentions of sex and cursing.

please send in feedback, its really appreciated 

word count: 2,108

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

(1/3) in regards to 'delusional' Jonsa & antiD fans, I have to say we are the most rational. The meta out there is well constructed based on book & showverse reference, backed up with quotes, scene analysis & always exemplifies the best case scenario for individual character development for all parties. My issue with Aegony stans is they don't seem to be watching the same show. All their predictions are based on every other characters arc being crushed & a nonsensical plot that pushes Ds agenda

(2/4) According to them Sam will be so happy D burnt his family then bow at her feet, Jon will too especially after roasting those ‘evil’ unprepared Lannister soldiers-which he wanted her NOT to. Jon will tell all the northerners to fuck off because of his perfect queen & they will be completely ok with that & pledge their undying loyalty. Jaime will drop to his knees, proclaim her his queen even after he saw her roast all the men, burn all the resources & he tried to kill her (wish he had)

(¾) The food being burnt & everyone starving will be perfectly ok, I guess when it gets bad enough they’ll just eat eachother. The summer soldiers she bought to Westeros will be perfectly fine in the worst winter in 1k years that even the northerners & free folk will struggle to survive. The dothraki will be perfectly behaved & not rape and pillage. Arya the ‘despises all lords who take advantage of the common people & abuse power, loves her home & family’ stark will admire & love D

(4/4) for all she’s done and will gladly pledge herself/home to this violent foreign invader. Sansa will admire her strength and hand over her home and families well being (consensus is still out, some say she doesnt, gets roasted by D dragons and everyone cheers). D will have a magic targ baby and JD will get married and rule happily ever after, post defeating the NK. The delusional argument holds no ground, when they believe this ☝️