#claraxbarton

Hot dragon boyfriend AU.

It’s been a while since you hit me with this one an d I’m still. Not okay.

I. I have. It’s a lot.

We talked about this in private but for the general public let me repeat that, like... 04x17 is an angel-crafted fantasy world for Dean. A manipulative construct to teach Dean a lesson that would push him closer to accepting Michael. It took bits and pieces of Dean’s memory to make it “believeable” and “familiar” so he wouldn’t get suspicious right away.

The parallel to Brady is?? Stunning.

Dean doesn’t get to know Brady as the kind friend Sam had, he only sees him as this spineless, back-stabbing asshole. Only out for himself, conspiring, a snake. A demon, working for the higher-ups, yearning to crawl higher up the carreer ladder himself.

Pretty much a great characterization of Your Typical Corporate Asshole.

But Brady was also a close friend of Sam. So he must have had some good qualities, right? He still must have been attractive and likeable in some way, right? So Smith is that, too, all the while being this superficial, cold bastard.

The pic of Brady above is from 05x20, so rather than Smith adapting Brady’s attire (even the fucking haircut jfc), it’s the other way around. Going full cycle, so to speak. We learn that Brady basically acted as a CEO for a company laced into the Four Horsemen’s plans, putting him into that same role Smith had.

Garth Brooks friends in low places on the jukebox at a shitty roadhouse and Dean is trying to hustle john at pool.

lol i like this! i can start to see it in my head. i feel like they would definitely fuck in the impala and become like chill hunting booty calls across the us, sometimes working jobs together and then sleeping together after, maybe specifically calling to see if the other is in the vicinity for a hook up. 

things go to hell when they work a job by ellen’s roadhouse and end up meeting there for drinks. 

I need to know

So. when quarantine started, i like most of the world. went back and rewatched old shows I used to love. and .... i rewatched BBC sherlock. shut up yall i KNOW. were allowed poor choices in life  but I had a hard time finding fics I liked of them, so I started my own. there wasn't a super solid plot to it except; moments out of time in which john found himself loving sherlock the title, brought to you byyyy... (snippet undercut)

1-35

Rude!!!

Fortunately, I have no idea what meme this was, and cannot find it, therefore I am exempt! 

I know a version of this has been asked already but just to get a full lay of the land:

Say Clint and Bucky are the main pairing, but a third character is heavily involved with one and then both of them for a time before finally getting to be with his dude of his dreams and throughout the fic is a major character, as in Clint, Bucky and this dude are the trio of main characters? Is that cool?

Is there like... a percentage of screen time/relationship time that third parties are allowed before it crosses the line into “save this fic for another day” territory?

Asking for clarity and not to be annoying. Having this other character and his arc in there has really grown on me for the idea I want to try but if I need to shelve it for another day and come up with a different fic idea I’m game.

Thanks for being awesome!

Hi!

We don’t have a specific percentage of the fic that needs to be Winterhawk. We trust people to be able to draw that line themselves so as long as you’re honest with yourself about whether it counts as a predominantly Winterhawk fic, it should be fine.

The third main character would need to clearly be the third main character, even if they are a predominant and important part of the story, so that Clint and Bucky’s story is highlighted as being the main focus of the story.

Hey you. Yes you, the person reading this post. Do you need a pick me up? Do you love winterhawk? Do you like the idea of following Bucky on a series of dates to find his soulmate? Do you also desperately want to see Clint being the cutest cam boy you ever did see? Well then friend, does @claraxbarton have the fic for you!

Happy Valentine’s, @kangofu-cb!

Scenes From A Holiday

There were two distinct types of morning, at Bucky and Clint’s place. There was the type of morning where Clint was bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, yawning into his cereal and missing his mouth with three spoons out of his five, drinking directly out of the coffee pot and making baggy shirts look too damned hot. On these mornings, Bucky was grumpy.

Then there were the mornings where Clint was still-awake rather than just-. Where he was almost audibly buzzing from the caffeine, and grinning fit to bust, and talking faster than ought to be legal, before the sun was all the way up. On these mornings - on this morning - Bucky was fucking grumpy.

He only caught two words out of every ten, burying his head in the metaphorical desert of Instagram before 10am.

“ - contest,” Clint said, and Bucky grunted, and a little later there was definitely - “time off,” and Bucky absently nodded his head.

“Okay,” Clint said, grinning all over his face and making Bucky tired just looking at him, “okay, I’ll get everything sorted.”

“Mm,” Bucky agreed, and went back to bed.

*

Two weeks and two canvas bags and two arguments later, and Bucky followed Clint on board the towering cruise ship, snagging his sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and sliding them on just to escape the endless white - the boat, the passengers, the passengers’ hair…

“You did not,” Bucky hissed, “mention it was a fuckin’ retirement cruise.”

“All cruises are retirement cruises,” Clint told him with a shrug. “Plus you can’t complain - free travel, free drinks, and all the shuffleboard you can eat.”

A crew member appeared, clad in - naturally - spotless white, the better to match his teeth.

“Mr Barton and - Mr Barton, I assume,” he said, and Bucky’s mouth dropped open.

“Smile, honey,” Clint said, outta the side of his mouth, “we’re newlyweds, after all.”

*

“One bed,” Bucky said, through gritted teeth. “There’s one. Fucking. Bed.”

Clint gave him a cringing sort of grin and held out a cocktail, which was so full of swords and monkeys and umbrellas and cherries that he was almost able to hide behind it.

Bucky grabbed it and took a grim swig.

*

“Oh Edna,” Clint said, taking her arm carefully, almost visibly straining under the weight of her line of thick gold bracelets. “You say the sweetest things.”

Bucky was staying where it was safe, over by the bar; everything was softened by a sort of rosy haze, and he’d collected a menagerie of monkeys and was trying to build a tower. He was grimly making his way through something purple and trying not to resent the elderly, couldn’t decide whether the delighted grin Clint sent him made things better or worse.

He dismounted his stool once all the purple was gone, waiting to find his sea legs before he set off across the floor. Clint was holding court, centre of attention, just where he always liked to be, and Bucky glared at the line of his back, muscles beautifully outlined against the tight material of his shirt.

“…at first,” Clint was saying, as Bucky came closer. “I mean, he’s beautiful, but the scowl has to give you some reservations. Then he turned out to be really good for snuggling, and secretly loved Dog Cops, and bought Hello Kitty band-aids just to make me smile, and I kinda lost track of where friendship ended and found myself over the border and stranded without my passport.”

The chorus of old ladies cooed at Clint’s nonsensical story-telling, and Bucky pressed up behind him and wound his arms around Clint’s stomach, burying his smile into the material that covered his shoulder blade, and wondered when this kinda hug had become something they did.

*

“ - only woman under fifty, I swear,” Clint snapped, arms wrapped around himself even though the ship’s passage only created the barest of breezes.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Bucky said, too many cocktails pounding in his temples and grinding away at his temper. “She wasn’t even my type.”

“Like that matters,” Clint muttered. “They all fall for the goddamned Bucky Barnes charm.”

“Well maybe you shoulda brought someone else along then, asshole!”

Clint opened his mouth and then bit his lip, turning on his heel and disappearing off along the well-lit deck. Bucky looked out over the railing, at the way the ship created stars in the water and then the world beyond it disappeared, and then he swore softly and went to find some water he could actually drink.

*

“I didn’t want to bring anyone else along, asshole.”

Clint’s voice was low and miserable in the pitch darkness of the cabin, as far away as he was able to get in a cabin-sized bed.

Bucky edged around until he found the nightstand, carefully placing his refilled bottle of water before he crawled clumsily onto the mattress.

“’d be nice if you’d make a little sense, sometimes,” Bucky said, rolling onto his side so he could face the patch of darkness where Clint was, sliding his hand along the sheet with a gentle hiss and then leaving it empty there, waiting. Took a moment before he felt Clint’s calluses, pressing against his palm.

“I make sense when you know the context,” Clint told him, and Bucky thought about that. Thought about how boats made the most sense in the context of the ocean; about how Bucky made the most sense in the context of Clint.

“I think I’m starting to get that,” Bucky said, and shuffled in closer, shifted his position so their fingers could interweave.

*

“When did you know it was love?” Edna asked, and Bucky grinned his most charming grin, tightening his fingers a little against Clint’s.