#(anyways “when do i get my thor 5 updates” is the real question)

[magnusmodig]

||. me, still waiting for updated confirmation that thor will be in avengers 5...

[helahades]

the sexiest wip list

alright! reminder that this is a dark fic blog. dark fics are not just noncon, but uncomfortable subject matter and questionable thought processes and unreliable povs. control your media experience and read warnings carefully! they’ll be updated when the actual story releases, but these are wips, and i don’t know them all bc I simply have not finished these stories!

some darker warnings on this list include: threats of sexual violence, obsession, death, and previously mentioned unreliable povs from obsessive characters who justify themselves.

final reminder to read warnings! some of these are intense.

1) Jealous Thor (Untitled)

warnings: cheating, mean!reader, angst

You’re falling for Steve right under his nose. Each day, Thor feels you pull farther away. Each night, he squeezes his eyes shut as you lie asleep next to him, and tries to forget the way you lookat Steve these days with hunger and adoration that you once gave to him.

“He is earthly. For all his body’s and mind’s possession of unnatural experimental growth, he is earthly and limited, so Thor can’t understand why you’re drawing away from him, and telling Steve the jokes, giving Steve all the looks that had him hooked. The lingering eyes and touches… they ride the line of decency.”

—

2) Heimdall Angst (Untitled)

warnings: major character death, grief, existentialism, out of body experiences

Connected by incredible wisdom and duty to fate, you and The Gatekeeper of Asgard are pulled together by the unique pairing of your mutual seeing abilities—made for greatness, and destined for tragedy.

This story stretches from the moment that catalyzes your meeting, across the years of loving him, to the moment you lose him.

“A fateful tragedy. He sees an arrow through a dove.

He wonders how he missed your encounter with him in the whispers of the cosmos.

“—They’re star deaths,” you say abruptly, “the ones that move and change color. They speed up when you watch them—show their whole life to come...I read about them. Most can’t ever see them life this”.

Turning to where you stand beside him, his eyes swirl with the magic of knowing you, of your destinies combined. He sees you stare at his stars like they’re new.

“Only us.”

—

3) Away from the Party - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, dubcon, roughness, manipulation, unintentional exhibition

Steve hates these parties. After a mission, the work has just begun, and he fumes at the impossible way that Tony covers all problems in diamonds and pearls. Some things aren’t meant to be pretty.

You are. You’re soft, and kind, and you coax him gently away from the party—the source of his frustrations, with promises of leaving early, of calming down. Oh. He’ll calm down. And you’re just the toy to help. In a closet a corner away from the government’s finest, America’s golden boy has a hand on your throat and one demand.

“Keep quiet.”

“Of course, you both ended up at the party anyway, but with you swirling cool fingertips at his aching temples and rubbing softly over the stretch marks on his chest, he couldn’t find anything in heart to disagree with you then.

Even now with his erection pressed to you through barriers of clothing, with scarcely retrained and monstrous lust, he is steadily calmed by your presence. This rush, the secrecy—it excites him. And you pull him through the haze of it.”

—

4) Monster Thor Headcanons

warnings: wound and gore descriptions, some sadness

The fantasy of it all. Aesthetic, Lifestyle, Behavior. Some talking points include: hair, horns, hints about how he was influenced by a soft and charming lover many years ago, general horniness. Also spoiler that I’ve decided that He is 8ft tall

“Thor is...ancient. he is a being of war and folklore and raw energy and he’s earthy and elemental and connected. and form follows function. (and also whatever horny thoughts we want )”

—

5) The Call

warnings: voyeurism, death threats, obsession, implied sexual assault threats

When Frank comes to visit you, you beam like a sunflower. You’ve rearranged your room, and you’re excited about it. He would like to revel in the moment with you...but he’s caught up in one detail. Your bed is pushed against the window...and he can’t convince you to let him move it.

After a night of sin and wild lovemaking, you lie asleep bathed in moonlight, and Frank wakes to a call. Billy. He’s set up on a rooftop miles away, and he’s got things to say about Frank’s girl and what he’d like to do to her. A red dot on his chest means he can only listen. To your gentle snoring, and to the twisted fantasy of a brother unhinged.

“Black silk pajamas. Hair wrapped up in satin. Yellow light almost like sun stretches to the ceiling, but not quite over the rolling hills of your silhouette turned away from him in quiet sleep.

Frank’s hardly got the time to wonder why he’s awake, because his phone buzzes slow again. Pulls the moment he realizes he will have to break this magic peace to molasses and he half fills his lungs before huffing it out and flipping the phone open and tucked between his ear and shoulder.

“What.”

“She’s a reaaaaal pretty one, Frankie boy. You sure know how to pick em.”

—

6) Loki Longing (Untitled)

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, angst

On the Eve of the birth of Asgard’s heir, Thor is away. In a bath of flowers and magic to ease your pain, maidens worry over you, and Loki rescues you away, letting you rest in bed, and dreaming of the days when you were his lover instead.

“I’d like to rest…in my bed now, please.”

The ladies look to each other. It hasn’t been long enough for the herbs to take effect.

“My Queen,” the eldest starts—

“She is certainly your queen,” a silky silver timbre interrupts, “I’ve learned it’s best to mind her.”

His eyes fall to your form, and some blocked conflict—some guarded affection rests there. Some longing tucked in a pocket like an impossible secret.

—

7) With Child - Obsessive Steve

warnings: pregnant!fem reader, obsessive Steve

Watching you content, and very pregnant, as you gaze adoringly at your husband Thor from where you rest, half in his lap, Steve can’t help but fantasize. He thinks about impregnating you, the mechanics of sex with a pregnant woman, and being the god who does it all.

“Do you have to lie on your side? Is Thor just behind you, spooning you, fucking with desperate thrusts because you drive him so crazy this way? Steve has heard—and he doesn’t know where—that women get wetter when with child. Steve can’t help but wonder...does Thor need to hold one leg up for you—to save your back that’s so often heavy with the weight of supporting his legacy?”

—

8) Dean’s Girl

warnings: unreliable pov (john), voyeurism, masturbation + voyeurism

John notices the way you avoid him. You always seem to leave a room just as he’s coming into it. He’s living in the bunker now, and having to realize a lot of things that have changed for the both of his sons.

For example, his oldest, the last he’d ever think would fall in love, has got a pretty girl that dismisses her practical father in law with pointed boredom. She’s protective—how can he blame her after all that he’d put Dean through?

She’s pretty, and John is only a man, and can’t stop himself from just...looking. It starts with a convenient bend as she unloads the dishwasher...then he..can’t help that the door was open and she happened to be changing right there. He also can’t help it the next time when he’s just a little too obvious, pleasuring himself to the smell of her pretty lace panties.

—

9) Operator, Operator - Steve Smut

warnings: smut, financial troubles?, mentions of creepiness against and danger to sex workers, exhibitionism via phone call

Underpaid and overworked, you along with your roommate/secret crush/ best friend Steve have trouble making ends meet on minimum wage + his art commissions. When you start picking up calls on a phone sex line, he’s able to reason. It’s quick cash, and Steve is mature enough to keep his thoughts appropriate...at first.

One day, he wakes to the sound of breathy moans and a faked orgasms. He wonders how you would sound if only you were high on real pleasure...and there’s no time like the present. Don’t hang up. This call has only just started.

“By the time this year—junior year—swung around, Steve realized he was only catching glimpses of you. He would hear the shake of your keys when you tossed them on the counter, your backpack when it thudded to the floor, and most recently—your moans.

You must not know he’s home. Ever since you started online sex work, specifically being a phone sex operator, you seemed to also make the silent choice that more graphic calls would be saved for when he’s not around.

He gets it. You both split the rent, and Steve has done jobs he’d rather not mention in desperate times, when commissions came short. Still, sometimes you can’t tell when he’s here, and despite his best efforts to push down his arousal, to tell himself you’re his best friend...he’s an artist, and he can’t help but listen, and certainly not the wandering of his imagination.”

—

10) Professor Steve Medfet - (Untitled)

In an alternate timeline, a washed up Steve Rogers starts a new life in a run down city as an art / anatomy teacher. A class of hungry college students is filled to the brim each year, expecting the unspoken promise of their favorite hands on lab. You.

You keep his class sated, in turn giving the professor job security for funding his simple life out of the public eye. Each year when he calls, you come. Each year the students find a new way to tear you embarrass and degrade, much to the pleasure of the professor.

“Same speech. Same meaningless words. Focusing on the stillness of your skin and how it feels to be alone, you can almost drown out the way his tone edges toward excitement, the way the chairs shift and squeak—the anticipation.

Pretending your heart doesn’t send heat and cold flashes through you and run your breathing shallow, you look at the nicks in the door and try to guess their stories.

But then the metal frame clicks, the door unlatches. Professor Rogers wears a gentle smirk. It doesn’t ease your mind one bit.”

—

11) Swelter - Forest God Thor

warnings: sexual scenes, time limited conflict, religious themes

With a sickness overtaking nearby villages, yours is next, and has decided to sacrifice you to the cause of foraging for preventative herbs. You venture into the ancient woods after a rare vine of flowers, but leave with much more after encountering Thor.

After disturbing him where he lies cooling in the bank of a stream, you vow to prove the true intention of your soul—that you aren’t a hunter, or witch after his form or faculty, but a pious girl, also needing to escape the heat.

“You’re in the old woods now, and aside from the trees and the mossy nature tangled around them, there is only Him. Thor.

God of the harvest, bringer of land’s wealth, fertility, and vitality. You know of the sacrifices, of the woods where He is rumored to live in an unseen form, of livid white fire in the sky if He is severely displeased.

His name must not be spoken outside of prayer or ritual, and even now, you stutter to think it, and wonder if you are alone in your thoughts.”

[...]

“The frustration and the fear in your dilemma disturb the air, disquieting the otherwise enduring peace of the old woods, which rouses a large form in the cool muddy bank of the stream. It is only leaves shifting at first. Faded pumpkin and dried oak scatter—and suddenly the air smells like rain and your mouth sets around the tastes of copper and sage. Then, the leaves tumble off of a beast of a mass that rises slowly, and you note that it felt like the atmosphere changed to accommodate its awakening.”

—

12) Halloween Party - Thor Smut (Untitled)

warnings: smut, heartbreak, depressed!reader

An exclusive and mysterious Halloween party is still on this year—and you’re invited. It’s meant to be so extravagant and flashy an Avenger will one day attend, and all attendees decorate themselves in costumes inspired by the heroes, hoping to be noticed.

Fresh after a breakup with your boyfriend Brock, you take one half of the preordered couples costume and dress up as a goddess, determined to have a good night with your friends, find some excitement, and most importantly, a new god to match.

“Standing solemn, floor to ceiling windows allow in a few milky rays reflected by the moon, but they’re all the gems of your bodice need to gleam to a suitor's eye. Tonight, while you plan to rid your soul of another, you are welcomed with open arms and careful consideration as the final offering at an altar. You are seen by a god.”

—

13) Grief

warnings: dead!reader, guilt, grief, scary science, how do i say this... smut that is borderline necroph—there’s a replica of you, dark!steve, tony lives, pepper dies

Steve’s world is upside down. He’s lost the light of his life, and is completely in the dark. Luckily for him, Tony is back in the business of reality rejecting technology, and has found a way for him to be with you again.

At an abandoned cottage, Steve brings an armful of your scents to give the Tony’s invention sensory data, and faces the strange reality of what’s always been his worst stage...his worst trait. Denial.

“Dozens of test bottles full of manufactured scents, the kind of thing you smell borrowing a sweater, or with your face in the crook of someone’s neck. Essentially, the sort of organic thing that cannot be recaptured.

Steve’s got an armful of perfume and body wash. Of conditioner and deodorant, of all the elements he can think that make you smell the way you would—the way you do.

He wills the thoughts to be present tense. If he pretends you are alive, maybe it will look like it is you only sleeping. He wonders how well Tony knows the texture of your hair suddenly, because if it isn’t right, the experience will fall to shambles. It currently walks a plank over shambles. One wrong interpretation or surprise, and Steve will find himself spinning and burning with the fall into a new and uncharted taboo.”

14) Night Drive - Dean Smut

warnings: road head

On a long overnight drive, your back pressed into the seat of the impala makes you miss lying in bed with your lover, makes you miss his gentle caress right next to you...so you remind him how good it is to be close.

“You think about it when he hums a little tune. When he hums the song he wishes would play and thinks will come up next, it is eerily soft, and eerily similar to the soft contentment he sighs when you kiss on his neck.

When he reaches for your hand to hold, it makes you consider the shortness of the distance between you, and you think of pulling his cock out right here, giving him head that melts him here on this endless road.

Looking at him, he senses your interest—he turns his head to meet your eyes, throws up a grin of boyish charm. He’s happy to be here with you. These night drives are fine. He’s never minded them. But they’re even lovelier when in your company.”

—

15) Shadow - The Bucky Mystery

warnings: stalking, injury, sexual assault, canon typical hydra torture, mentions of bucky being forced to assault people, traumatized reader

On the run from Hydra, there aren’t many things that Bucky can remember. Inside his mind, there aren’t many feelings that make sense. Mostly, he feels guilt. Horror.

Following you to the gym where you practice ballet alone in the nights is all that makes sense, and for reasons he can’t explain, he feels drawn to you.

As time goes on, Bucky feels more enticed by his desire, you start to feel eyes staring from the walls, motivations and traumas are revealed, and in a horrible symphony, you both remember your connection.

“He’s a matte shadow against the noir shine of metal walls—an observer in the unlit quiet on his side of the room.

And he feels his unimportance. It’s humbling. Holds up the room like chunky beams and high rafters, dressed in the same layered neutrals. Framing the same cotton candy dancer, silent as the pad of her slippers when she turns her weight onto a straight leg, other coming up with her ankle pointed to the bend of her knee.

She spins, she spins and she whips her head around with each one, but it’s Bucky who gets dizzy.”

send an ask with any questions, or for more details about a particular story!

[mostfacinorous]

Stoki Whumptober Day 15: Into The Unknown [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14]

When he was removed from the cell the next day-- or let out, depending on how you looked at it, he had managed to get himself back to a state of being reasonably well put together. 

“So I uh-- heard you didn’t sleep so great. Sorry about that. I had forgotten that Jarvis has problems when I ask him to monitor Thor’s vitals, too.” 

Loki flapped his hand dismissively at Stark’s apology; he didn’t feel like going into the fact that his baseline would be wildly different from even Thor’s. It didn’t matter much. 

“How is the Captain?” He asked instead. 

Stark hummed. 

“Seems fine now-- that was a pretty wild treatment, though, so I think it’d be good to keep an eye on him.” 

He held the door open to allow Loki to board the elevator. 

“We got breakfast delivered, so I imagine he’ll be there-- and Barnes, too.” Stark looked wary, and Loki wondered what part of the gathering caused that. 

He found it odd that Stark seemed suddenly at ease around him, but perhaps his performance with Rogers the night before, and his relative lack of ill-will after being nearly roasted by his machine had given him some sense of confidence in Loki’s intentions. 

Bold of him to assume that Loki’s goodwill extended to him. But then again, all of his windows were thus far intact, so perhaps there was some small basis for it. It wasn’t a high bar to clear. 

“You seem… somewhat less than enthused about breakfast.” Loki offered it as an observation, but it was a question, ever so delicate, probing gently to learn more about these people he’d fought so often. He’d certainly never been allowed this close before, into their home. Or, home-base, at least. He knew Rogers had a place of his own, outside of the tower. 

Stark lifted one shoulder listlessly. But before he had a chance to elaborate, the elevator announced their arrival with a cheerful ping and the doors slid open onto a scene of surprising domesticity. 

The Avengers were gathered around the table, shy only Stark and alongside Barnes and a woman that Loki only knew peripherally as Pepper Potts, Stark’s good half. 

“So, now we’re all here-- good morning everyone--” Stark began, but was interrupted by Barnes snorting.

“It’s after noon.” Banner pointed out, clearly amused, and Loki blinked. He must have slept longer than he’d thought, to compensate for the heat and his efforts the day prior. 

“Well, yeah, okay. After noon. Happy brunch. Point is-- Loki. Steve. James Barnes-- what are we calling you these days? Bucky?” 

Stark’s edgy energy was back, and Loki realized it was centered around the Soldier. Fascinating, that Stark was literally more at ease with Loki at his back than with Barnes at his table. 

“James is probably fine.” He said mildly, buttering some toast and casually avoiding eye contact. 

Rogers, too, seemed unsurprised but on guard. 

Interesting. And charming. A crack in their united front, and Loki wasn’t even the cause. He ought to be offended, he supposed. Instead, he was merely amused. 

“Right. So. James… after you stopped in on Loki last night, did you notice anything… weird?” 

Rogers looked thoroughly confused-- Loki wondered at that. Had Barnes not told him about his stepping in? Loki would think he would-- to curry favor, prove himself as a good person, if nothing else. 

Barnes sat his toast down, only a single bite taken from it. 

“Define weird.” He said slowly, almost like the words were a threat. 

“Your arm.” Stark said, clearly trying not to sound eager and coming off as smug instead. “I got your message after you were asleep, and asked Jarvis to run a scan, make sure Loki didn’t do anything to you.” 

Loki felt his mouth falling open to protest, and, without looking, Stark held up his hand to stop him speaking. 

“Your arm has some weird stuff going on with it, but it doesn’t match Loki’s power signature. And last night, it started flaring up. So, did you notice anything weird?”

“You’re asking if I noticed anything weird with my arm while I was asleep?” Barnes reiterated, speaking slowly, as if he was becoming more and more convinced that Stark was an idiot. “No. Because I was asleep.”

“Hang on, why were you scanning him in his sleep?” Rogers demanded. “And why would you visit Loki?” 

“To have a chat, Steve, why else do people go see one another?” Barnes snapped back. “Anyway, it didn’t matter, because when I got there, Stark’s robot was in the process of frying the guy’s brain, so…” Barnes trailed off with a sharp glance in Stark’s direction. 

Rogers whipped his head around, glaring at Stark who raised his hands defensively. “Loki?” He asked firmly, turning his eyes on him next. “Are you alright?”

“I should be asking the same of you, though your voice is much improved. In fairness, Stark’s machine was concerned because my vital readings did not match that of humans. No harm was intended.” Loki spoke mildly and strode forward to take a seat directly across from Barnes. “But tell me more about this ‘weirdness’. Do you suppose it’s related to the time stone?” 

He helped himself to some bread and jam, and began to paint the latter across the former, performatively, of course-- a show of unconcern. 

When he glanced up, though, it was his turn to receive the full weight of Barnes’ glare. 

“Time stone?” The widow asked sharply.

“Oh. I’m sorry-- did they not know?” Loki asked, pretending at surprise.

“Is there a magical artifact in my house, and you didn’t tell me?” Stark demanded. 

Banner stood. 

“I’m sorry, I’m gonna excuse myself. Ah-- Pepper, can you update me or give me a call if I’m needed?” 

“Of course.” She said smoothly, watching him go then turning her eyes back to Rogers and Barnes, who looked both cornered and uncomfortable. 

Loki took a bite of his toast. 

“Look, as much as I’m not excited about having the time stone here, I think we’re burying the lede. What weird stuff did Jarvis pick up, Tony?” the Hawk spoke up, having held his peace and just made faces for a bit, but, as ever, keeping his eye on the big picture. Loki shot him an appreciative glance.

“Like I said, it started flaring up-- and with the time stone present-- I assume you have it stored in the arm?” Stark asked pointedly, his gaze dropping to Barnes’ shirt sleeve covered prosthetic. 

He pushed the sleeve up and opened a compartment, revealing the time stone, glowing a soft green. 

To Loki’s eyes, it was pulsing, however faintly, but that wasn’t the real concern. 

“It’s corrupting the metal. Or-- the metal is absorbing it?” He murmured, surprised and enthralled. “I’ve never seen something like that happen before.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, at the same time as Barnes snapped “It’s what?” 

“Jarvis?” The Widow asked, standing to come closer. 

“The stone is emitting a low level of power. I can confirm that the metal of Sergaent Barnes’s arm is absorbing it. It is, however, also releasing it back and amplifying the power in the stone’s direction at a .20 percent increase from the original radiation.”

Loki nodded.

“The pulsing-- the arm is absorbing the power, storing it, and then releasing it back stronger. This, in turn, overflows the limits of the stone-- causing it to release more.” 

Barnes immediately plucked the stone from the compartment with his flesh hand. 

“That’s all well and good,” Loki said, “but that leaves us with one problem: we’ll need to draw the power out of your arm.” 

Rogers looked to him. “Can you do that?” 

“I can.” Loki said. “I cannot guarantee there will not be lingering effects, but the excess we can draw out. Only, I will need to do something with it.”

Loki turned to look at Stark. 

“Are you capable of building some sort of containment for it?”

“I don’t even know what ‘it’ is, that’s a power source unlike any we’ve seen before.” 

“And the longer it stays within the cavity of Barnes’s arm, the more it grows.” Loki said calmly, then sighed. 

“I can… try to ground it, or disperse it, but until I try, until I have it in my hands, I will have little idea as to the best way. Is there a safe place that Barnes and I may go to try and mitigate any damage we may cause?” 

Loki saw Barnes narrow his eyes, and it did not escape him the way his flesh fist clenched all the tighter around the stone. 

“I have the space upstate-- pretty isolated, big plot of land. That should be safest. I’m going with you, of course-- I gotta see this. And I doubt Steve’s gonna want to stay behind.” 

“Nope.” Rogers responded quickly. 

“We’ll hold down the fort here.” The widow responded, clearly not needing to ask the hawk how he felt about such exercises. Loki nodded in acknowledgement. 

“To upstate, then.”

---

The upstate facility seemed to be somewhat more like a hangar than a tower, which Loki was grateful for. Less to fall on them, should something go wrong. And Stark insisted it was well built, launching into specifications and logistics than Loki had no interest in and didn’t understand. 

Instead, upon arrival, he’d begun arranging a table with chairs for himself and Barnes-- opposite sides, to keep the surface between them. For Barnes’ peace of mind, more than anything else. 

Loki settled down and gestured at the table.

“If you’re ready.” He said. 

Barnes took his seat, and lay the limb out. Loki had been, admittedly, curious about it, and was finally being allowed his first close up examination of the thing. 

“The workmanship is beautiful. Utilitarian, yes, but intricate and graceful all the same.” Loki ran his fingers gently up the edges where he knew the hollow was, able to feel the energy humming beneath his fingertips. 

“I don’t need a narration.” Barnes said, sounding uncomfortable and cross, which Loki decided likely translated to scared and trying to hide it. 

“Of course.” He answered smoothly. 

The panel folded back and away, and he dipped his fingertips into the glowing green pool that had formed in the absence of the time stone. 

“Ah.” He said, brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of what it was. 

It was cold and hummed, the sensation not unlike being buffeted by a river. But it climbed his arm, and he felt it pulling at him, trying to toss him to or fro, back into the past and forward into the future simultaneously. 

He put out a few tendrils of his own power, anchoring himself to the here and now, and urged the energy of the stone up over his fingers, across the back of his hand, and then, as he rolled his wrist, into his palm to pool. 

Once he held it and was certain it would not leap forth nor spill through the cracks, he flicked his eyes back to Barnes. 

There was no further trace of it there, though the metal sang with the empty echoes of a newly hollow vessel. 

“I think you must take care to keep it separate from that metal, going forward. It is… It reacts oddly.” 

Indeed, it was vibrating with a movement he was not used to feeling from time related magics. It had become agitated with its constant duplication, and it wanted now to burst free. 

He frowned. 

He could not put it to ground in such a state; it would merely spread itself out, affecting all it touched. 

He could attempt to contain it with his own magics, however, and with any luck they might be able to lock that away in more conventional metals, for study or future use. 

This course of action decided upon, Loki called his magics up and through him, pulling from the soles of his feet, though the core of him and down his arm to wrap around the power in his palm. 

But in doing so, he made one critical error. 

Before the power was contained, Loki became unmoored. And the power was interested only in spreading, now. He felt as it latched on to his power and tried to pull back, but it was no good, and too late. 

The power of the stone slid within him, and he felt as time within him lurched, shifted, and changed.

[levi-inthesun]

Two Can Play At That Game, Part 2

A/N: OKAY HERE IS PART 2! There will be at least one more part, and I apologize in advanced for 2 reasons: 1. I had a nerve ablation done on my cervical spine (c 3-5) and am in pain and 2. this is the closest thing to smut I have even written. (Oh, and 3 bc I BaRlEy edited this).. Last, the Ace of Diamonds is the reader’s super-spy name (that I came up with as a last-ditch effort, sue me)

Warnings: SexuAL TENSION, swearing, some angst.bc I’m a hoe for confronting difficult emotions.

Panic began to build in your chest, at least you were pretty sure that’s what it was., you couldn’t breathe and normally you only felt that when you were panicking and right now, you couldn’t breathe.

“Uh,” you started, words not coming, “I uh, I’m sorry Bucky, I only see you as a friend.”

Bucky watched your mouth open and close like a fish out of water for a second before smiling, He leaned in close so that is lips were practically touching your ear. “And who says friends can’t fuck? You can’t deny the tension here.”

You could feel a coil begin to tighten in your stomach and you were suddenly aware that you couldn’t breathe for a completely different reason. Then Bucky pushed off the wall and walked away. 

“Anyways, I’ll see ya later!”

It took a second for your breathing to get back to normal, but when it did you yelled down the hall after him, “I did not like that! Not one bit! I dare you to try that shit on me again, Barnes!”

The only sound you were met with was laughter.

You slammed the door to your room and locked it behind you.

“Aaaahh!” you screamed into your hands. “What the actual hell. I am so not equipped for this.” 

Ignoring the tension you felt in your body you plopped down on your bed and grabbed your laptop, opening up tumblr. Front and center was an update by theactualfalcon.

Hello, my falconettes, I am writing this post just in case I am murdered by my friends, our number one OTP, the Ace of Diamonds and the Winter Soldier. They came across my blog and read yours and my favorite story I wrote, Star Crossed Lovers and I walked in just as she read out the name of my blog. Unfortunately, my face was too telling and they automatically knew it was me. No matter my fate, please understand that I regret nothing. Although, I think I  underestimated their power together; they’re too strong, too powerful and I hope and pray to any god who is listening (except Thor or Loki) that they only stay a ship in our dreams.

Yours,

Sam Wilson, the actual Falcon.

You had to cover your face with a pillow to stop you from screaming and laughing too loud. Sam had been serious! He actually wanted you and old man Barnes to bang, at least, he used to. That is when the plan began to form and you send a quick text from your phone. After that, you hopped off your bed and booked it to your large closet and tore open the doors. After rifling through your belongings you found what you were looking for and changed your clothes.

You were working on your hair when you heard your phone ping.

Pepper: I’ll spread the word, is there a reason we should all avoid the compound?

You: Yes. Sam has a tumblr and is apparently the number 1 fan of Barnes and I getting together, at least he was until this morning. I am going to get back at him by making him think we ARE getting together. Figured I would spare everyone else.

Pepper: You’ve got to be kidding me. Of course, it’s for a prank. However, thank you for sparing us. I don’t think the team would survive.

Pepper: Just… don’t catch any actual feelings unless you’re ready for the consequences.

You: Yeah, yeah. Are we still down for a girl's night next weekend?

At that, you put your phone back down and finished getting ready before standing up and smoothing the slinky nightdress over your form.

“Check fucking mate, Banky Burnes.”

Using your skills as a spy, you creep through the hallways of the compound until you found yourself in the empty living room. Quickly, you light the fireplace and pull out the numerous candles you had on hand in essentially every room of the compound you had access too- and you had access to just about every room, even the ones you didn’t have a key too. Once the last one was lit, you quietly asked FRIDAY to play the playlist you had created (named *Seduce Barnes, Fool Wilson*) and skillfully lay your body across the very appropriately placed chaise lounge, which you were incredibly glad you had talked Tony, the drama queen into purchasing. 

Just on cue, you heard Bucky clunking through the compound hallways towards you.

“Hey, is everything alright, I smell-” Bucky halted at the entrance to the living room, eyes wide. You could tell he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned with the sheer amount of fire in the room or keep his eyes on your form.

“Hello, James,” you called out to him, voice low. 

“H-hey,” Bucky swallowed, pulling his collar away from his neck. “A-are you sure this is safe?” 

You smiled slowly, looking up at him from below your lashes, “The fire? Or the spark between us?”

You could have sworn you saw Bucky mouth the words ‘fuck yes’ to himself, but you weren’t positive because the moment he began to step in your direction you began to question your own sanity. Sure, you had seduced hundreds of men for missions and just for the fun of it, of course. And yes, every single time you managed to get them in whatever position you needed them to be in to extract pertinent information or simply to bang someone because you were bored, but that's besides the point. The point was, you were always successful and this was BANKY BURNES FOR FUCKS SAke. 

Now, Bucky was standing over you not sure what to do with himself and your face did not even twitch from the mental emotional turmoil you had just gone through. 

“So, Barnes,” you purred. “You gonna come down here, or am I gonna have to climb you like the tree you are?” 

Internally, you were wheezing at the line you had just used… did you really call BANKY BURNES A TREE?

Bucky didn’t move, so you moved into a kneeling position and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Sam will be here in precisely a minute and a half and if you do not kiss me like you mean to have me, we cannot get back at him like I’ve been planning all damn afternoon,” you tugged harshly on his shirt so he was now nose to nose with you. “Are you in or out?”

You saw all of heaven and hell pass through Bucky’s face as he grit his teeth, “You got me horny to get back at Sam, what the fuck?” 

“And you, for earlier, not fun, huh?” You did your best to smile mischievously but you weren’t really sure how well that turned out. 

Bucky huffed, “Shit, he’s coming. Yeah, I’m in.”

The second his soft, plump lips made contact with yours, you knew you were maybe fucked.

At first, you simply relaxed into the kiss, although not a part of your elaborate plan. In your head though, you were counting out the seconds before Sam walked through the door. 

Then Bucky’s entirely too large hands firmly grabbed your hips, spurring your forwards. You hooked your leg over his hip before flipping him over. Now that he was lying on the dramatic chaise lounge, you planted your knees on either side of his strong hips and attached your lips to the spot just below his jaw and ear and threaded your fingers in his too soft hair, tugging a little too roughly.

And just as Sam walked through the door, Bucky growled in your ear and that dumb coil in your stomach began to grow tighter and this was becoming too real but you couldn’t didn’t want to stop yourself.

Bucky managed to rotate positions so that you were on your back and he was hovering above you, you head hanging over the end of the lounge, ever so slightly, Bucky began to suck wet kisses on your neck and chest as his hands gripped your hips, rucking your nightgown up ever so slightly and you had the perfect view of Sam standing in the middle of the open kitchen, too many bags of groceries falling out of his hands, eyes, and mouth open wide. 

“Bucky,” you purred, “We have company.” 

Unfortunately Bucky stopped his ministrations and looked up.

“WHaT THE ActuAL FUCK,” Sam began yelling. “I diD NOT WANT THIS TO HAPPEN!”

Sam began pacing furiously, mumbling to himself, then stopped suddenly pointing at the two of you who haven’t moved a single inch except for Bucky’s stupid metal right hand which had moved approximately 2 inches up, further moving your nightgown, but you weren’t focusing on that, no that was simply the spy in you paying attention. 

“YOU SET THIS UP!” He finally yelled, an ‘aha’ in his voice. “This isn’t real,” he stated matter of factly, then picked up his groceries and began putting them away. 

You rolled your eyes and pushed the massive man away from you and began blowing out candles, forcing tears to your eyes. 

“Sam Wilson,” you said, voice watery, “You ruined a perfect night.”

Then you ran off towards your room, slowing once you were out of sight. 

You heard Bucky huff with annoyance once the last candle was out, “You had to make my girl upset?” he ground out before following you. 

By the time Bucky made his way to you, you were leaning up against his door, pouting (for effect, and just in case redwing followed). 

By the look in your eyes, Bucky knew redwing was peeking around the corner. 

“‘M sorry baby,” he said softly, running a finger down your cheek, tracing your jaw. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You allowed a small smile to form on your lips and suddenly felt very warm in the pit of your stomach, “Oh? How so?” 

“Well,” he started, settling one of his thick legs between yours while running his stupid metal hand down your left arm, “How about we head into my room and you can find out?” 

You willed you fucking head to nod and felt Bucky’s arm wrap around your waist just as he opened the door.

Once the door to his room was closed, however, and to your surprise, Bucky had you pinned to the wall,

“Please let me fucking kiss you,” Bucky growled.

“Do it,” you replied, voice hushed.

Bucky’s lips were not at all the same against yours as they were when you were in the living room. Compared to this, that was practiced and calculated. This was searing. The way his hot lips burned across your was made your heart constrict you and your toes curl and you kissed back with equal force.

You tore your hands from where they were gripping his shoulders to push at his abdomen with enough strength that he knew to move (you knew from enough missions and training sessions that that man wouldn’t move if he didn’t need to). Bucky let you push him back towards his bed but turned before the backs of his legs made contact and instead picked you up and chucked you onto it unceremoniously.

“You,” he started, voice husky, “are going to be,” he said as he climbed onto the bed and pulled on your leg so that you met him halfway, “the fucking death of me.” 

From the ferocity in this voice and intensity of his eyes, you expected this kiss to be as the last one, hot and burning.  Instead, it was gentle, almost, dare you say loving as his stupid long fingers brushed against your cheek and his body settled over yours, tongues exploring.

“You’ve been really closed off since, well,” Bucky paused, brushing some hair behind your ear, “Since Steve left. And I know you don’t like talking about that, I just wanted you to know that I noticed. That Sam and I noticed.”

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head, “We aren’t talking about him.”

“I know, and I mentioned that I know that,” Bucky’s brow was arched quizzically. 

“No,” you laughed, “I mean Sam.” 

Bucky relaxed back into the bed and rolled his eyes, turning back to you, giving you space to talk about Steve if you wanted.

“You,” you started, poking at Bucky’s ridiculously toned chest, “You didn’t see Steve and I before he left. He was like, well, the brother I always wished I had and I thought it had been the same for him. He was open with me about his past, about Peggy, about you, but he seemed, I dunno, “ you shrugged,”like he knew it was all in the past. I mean, with Peggy at least.”

Bucky nodded and interlaced his fingers with yours.

“I just wish he had told me,” you admitted. “I don’t think I would have been- well, no I still am, incredibly angry with him, I don’t think I would have been had he even discussed the possibility with me, even if he hadn’t come to any conclusion until he was on the platform. I would have been okay.” You felt a tear betray you and slip down your cheek, but at this point, you were well past caring. “I just-” you hiccupped, “I just wish he’d have talked to me.”

Bucky pulled you into his bare chest and wrapped his arms around you. It was in that perfect balance of warmth and weight that you finally cried, six months later.

[ijustreallylovezebras]

The Smell Of Books Pt 5

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Summary: The reader works in a bookshop as a co-owner. Loki begins to frequent in the store after moving permanently to Midgard. They find love between the pages of second hand books

Requested: No

Prologue, One, Two, Three, Four

It felt weird to look Loki in the eye after that day in the shop, after the notes passed between us and after the kiss he gave me.

Or I thought it would, at least. 

As it turned out, I was far more concerned about the cut that was drawn down the left side of his face, from right below his eye down to his chin. The red stood out against his pale skin, despite it already having scabbed over. Almost involuntarily, my hand raised to my mouth in shock at his appearance.

“What happened?” I asked, eyes wide but Loki waved me off, shaking his head and showing me two books.

“I brought you-”

“No, Loki, seriously that looks bad, what happened?” I ask again, coming around the counter and moving the books out of the way. I’m not really thinking when I cup his face gently in my hands and tilt it so I can get a better look at the cut.

He tenses up under my touch but doesn’t move to get away so I keep my hand where they are, inspecting it.

“Did you clean this out?” I ask, worried about the man who nods.

“I have a good doctor,” there’s a smile on his face as he says it, allowing me to understand that there’s more to the story than what he’s going to tell me.

“But what happened?” I ask again and the God just shakes his head, stepping away from my hand and pulling the books out again, beaming at me.

“Nothing that you should concern your pretty self with, darling,” I blush at his words, and duck to hide it from him. “Here are some books for you,” he gives me back my copy of Peter Pan first. “I was careful with it, I saw the inscription on the front page,” I had forgotten about the words written there, words written long ago, and I looked away, not embarrassed exactly, more just sad.

“Thank you,” I get out, taking the book from his hands and hugging it tight to my chest, his words served as a reminder to me as to why I barely leant people my own books and chose instead to simply recommend them. Eva was the only person I ever really let touch my books.

“And I thought you would like this one?” He offers the second book to me almost shyly and I smile, wondering to myself whether or not it would contain a note. I take it and his hands immediately clasp behind his back and he looks at me, before his gaze drops to the floor, clearly unsure of what my reaction would be.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was a book I had already read - one of my favourite books at that. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. 

“Thank you, Loki,” I say quietly and then return his action from the last time I had seen him, reaching up and placing a quick kiss on his cheek. I turn around before he can see that mine are burning from embarrassment.

I start rereading the book later that day, after Loki has done a coffee run, bringing me my usual Chai Latte and then retreated to the reading garden for his lunch break. 

The copy of The Catcher in the Rye that Loki lent me is nicer than the one that I have for myself. It’s an anniversary copy as apposed to the one I own, which was passed down from my parent’s to me, I believe it belonged to my grandparents before them, as well.

The note falls out of the novel, near the back as I’m reading it. I pick it up from where it lies on the counter and a huge smile covers my face as I read it, finding myself thrilled beyond belief that he picked out one of my favourite quotes in the whole history of books that I’ve read.

And I’ve read a lot of books.

I understand the appeal of Peter Pan, I see why you like his story so much and it seems to me that you never did grow up all that much - and that is not meant as a criticism, a compliment rather - however, I find myself drawn much more to Holden, I relate to him much more. Perhaps you don’t understand why, but he’s lost and he’s sad and sometimes I feel the same. 

 - “I can’t explain what I mean. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d feel like it anyway,”

My heart hurts a little reading it, hearing my favourite quote coming from Loki in such a sad context. Of course it had to be in a sad context, Holden was sad, that was the point of the story. He was indeed sad and lost and it was what drew me to his story, too. It upsets me more than I could ever imagine to think that Loki appreciated his story for the same reasons I did.

I sit back at the desk, putting the book away, using his note as a bookmark as I consider what book I could recommend next. People had just come into the shop and it was rude to read while they were there. I called out a cheery greeting, offering them help as I pondered on which book I should give him.

 I didn’t want to lend him any that my relatives had given to me after he told me about finding the inscription, which narrowed me down to modern books. I had to give him a happy one, one to cheer him up or make him understand that life wasn’t too bad. I knew that I needed something of the sort as well, at one stage of my life.

I allowed my eyes to skim the titles that surrounded me. I wondered what he would appreciate the most. Did he want a laugh? Did he want to cry? What did he want from this book?

By the time that Loki had returned from his lunch break, I had figured out which book to lend him.

“Do you mind watching the store real quick while I eat?” I ask as he comes back in. Loki looks surprised and I realise it’s the first time I’ve asked him to watch it on his own. Normally, Eva and I try to ensure that he has at least one other person on the floor with him. 

There was reason behind it, it wasn’t that we didn’t trust him - well, at least I trusted him, Eva was a different matter there - it was just that he wasn’t exactly our most welcoming member of staff. Loki did tend to scare off more customers than he attracted, mostly it tended to be something to do with the fact that everyone still remembered him as the asshole who tried to rule Earth a few years back.

Honestly, a guy makes one mistake and it follows him for life.

“I don’t mind,” Loki answers and I smile at him.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back down, holler if you need anything,” I’m already up and out of my seat, heading to the stairs to mine and Eva’s apartment before I’ve finished talking.

I find the book I’m looking for almost straight away and bring it into my small kitchen. Eva’s washing up from the morning was still there. She was the messy one of the two of us. I tended to keep the flat clean while she dealt with all the business and shit like that. It was a good system.

I put some soup in the microwave and set about writing my next note.

While The Catcher In The Rye is arguably one of the best and important books ever written, this book will be good for your soul in other ways, trust me Loki. This book will make you laugh and cry and everything in between, just trust me :) and if it’s any consolation, I think we all have a little Holden inside of us, and it’s the Holden in us that proves that we’re real people, that we really feel things.

 - “Something must first be shattered for it to be put back together in a way that is more beautiful than before”

I eat my lunch and try to convince myself that lending Loki my copy of Our Chemical Hearts by Krystal Sutherland is a good idea. I knew that he wouldn’t laugh at it, and I knew that he would read it and yet I wasn’t sure if he would enjoy it in the same way that Eva, MJ and I had.

I sighed and finished my soup, slipping the note between a couple of pages near the back and then heading back down to the store, ready to meet my fate.

To my surprise, there is another figure in the store, leaning on the counter. He’s tall and blond and unmistakeable in his identity, despite the baseball hat on his head that in reality does nothing to conceal his identity. 

Thor, as in the God of Thunder, was stood in my bookstore.

“Ah, here is said lady!” He booms as he sees me and I freeze, unsure whether or not I ought to finish walking into the store of if I should turn and run back to the safety of my flat.

“Hi?” I question unsurely, taking the last few stairs so that my feet are planted safely on the wooden floor of the store.

“I Loki for the rest of the day, if it is no trouble,”

“I told him I was working,” Loki argues, giving me a strained smile and glaring at his brother who shakes his head, letting out a booming laugh.

“The world needs you, brother!” He announces.

“If the world needs you, Loki, I’m sure I can spare you for the rest of the day,” Loki looks to me, his smile becoming more real as he looks at me. “Not that I’ll pay you or anything,” his smile widens again and Thor lets out another booming laugh, clapping his brother on the shoulder in delight. 

“I’ll meet you out in the car, brother, collect your things,” Thor insists and Loki sighs, nodding as Thor leaves the building.

“I’m sorry about this,”

“Don’t worry about it, Loki,” I laugh, really not minding. It had been a slow day in the store anyway, we didn’t really need two people working today. “This is for you, by the way,” I tell him, thrusting the book in his direction. Loki takes it, a more sincere smile on his face.

“Thank you, Y/N,” I refuse to look at him, well aware of the heat that was spreading across my cheeks.

“Go save the world or whatever,”

Part Six

I’M SORRY I MISSED SO MANY UPDATES AHH

TSOB TAGS

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MARVEL TAGS

@vineisdeadiwishiwas @sea040561 @slender--spirit @valentinebucky

PERMANENT TAGS

@sarahp879 @normanatenorma @highlandcatt

[fanfic-shiz]

Happenstance (A Tom Hiddleston Story)- Part One

Part Two

A/N: Okay so I normally don’t write fanfics about real people but Tom is my exception. Let me just begin by saying that this is a story idea that's been weaving in and about of my head for months so I finally decided to put it down on paper. I don't know how often or frequent updates will be, but I'll be writing whenever I have time. Keep in mind- this is not a story based on tons of factual evidence. I've never met Tom (sadly) so I don't know what he's actually like. Nor am I going to do tons of research on his schedules, where he lives, how often he films blah bah blah. Because this is a fanfiction and I'm just going to make things up as I see fit. Just a little reader discretion there. Anyways, I hope you love it as much as I love Tom.

Thirty more minutes until I could make my escape. I repeated this delightful mantra over and over in my head as I scrubbed vigorously at the huge, brown coffee stain on the middle of my once clean shirt. I knew I was only making it worse, but I was too far into the process to just give-up. Where was a bottle of Shout when you needed one anyways? Mia was always saying I need to look on the bright side more. Okay, so what was the bright side here?, I asked myself. I had ruined yet another perfectly good shirt, but I also had once again escaped the possibility of a third degree burn. What an incredibly depressing, dull bright side. I glanced up from the sink towards the clock on the wall. Twenty-nine more minutes.

I jumped as the shop phone suddenly began ringing shrilly from near the register. I abandoned trying to save my shirt, tossing the rag I'd been scrubbing with into the sink before scrambling for the phone.

"Common Grounds, this is Stella." I answered with a false note of cheerfulness. My facade immediately slipped away as I heard the familiar voice on the other end. "Oh hey, Clara. No, it's just me here." I'd almost forgotten it was a Monday. Clara always called and asked for her schedule on Monday. Like it was too much of an inconvenience for her to actually come into the shop and see for herself. She babbled for a moment before finally asking the inevitable. I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Your schedule? You don't say. Sure, just one second."

I double checked that the front of the shop was still free of customers before disappearing into the back office to check the schedule board. The office was cluttered with stacks of paper and empty coffee mugs, looking more like a hoarder's space than an actual business office. That was typical of my boss, though. Great guy, horrible organizational skills.

"Tomorrow you're in from 5am to 12pm. " I leaned forward, using my free hand to track Clara's hours on the colored sheet of paper. "Wednesday-" I was cut off by the sound of front door opening, the tiny little bell tinkling as it signaled the arrival of a customer. I groaned. Less than a half hour before close and someone needed a coffee fix? "Hey, I got somebody up front. Just be here tomorrow at 5." I clicked the phone off and set it on top of the desk.

I arranged my features into my fake happy face for customers before emerging from the office and heading back behind the counter. My smile faltered, though, as I glanced around the room and saw it empty. Weird. Maybe they changed their mind? At that exact moment, a small crowd of photographers stampeded past the window shouting and looking around mildly confused. I perked an eyebrow, wondering who the unfortunate victim was this time. Just last week I'd watched as Jennifer Garner got ambushed by paparazzi on her way out of a taxi cab. She'd looked as poised and gorgeous as ever, though. If it'd been me, I'd probably be on the front cover of People magazine for punching someone in the face. Hence why I'd make a terrible celebrity.

"Evening!"

An embarrassing squeak of surprise escaped me as I whirled around at the sound of a voice. "Holy shingles, don't you know it's rude to sneak up on people!" I exclaimed, placing a hand over my racing heart.

I'd been too preoccupied staring out of the window to have noticed the man now standing on the opposite side of the counter. My eyes quickly swept over him. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the pages of GQ magazine. He was tall. Like very tall. And his suit clung to his lean, slender frame incredibly well. Too good looking for this side of town. He belonged somewhere in Manhattan.

He gave me a sheepish smile, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his pants. "My apologies, I was trying to be inconspicuous." He spoke with a crisp British accent, only adding to my deduction that this was a man who belonged somewhere much swankier than Common Grounds.

Inconspicuous. A lightbulb went on in my head. So this is who those paps had been after. My curiosity was definitely piqued as I tried to casually study him without being noticeable. So far, while incredibly handsome, his face wasn't ringing any bells. "Can I get you something?"

"Just a coffee."

I glanced behind me to see what was still hot before turning back to face him. "All I have left is decaf. Is that okay?"

"Probably the better option considering how late it is." He agreed, checking his watch.

I grabbed a cup from the stack on the counter and as I poured his drink, I ran through the list of all the male celebrities I knew in my head. I couldn't come up with a match, though. Not Ryan Gosling, not Zac Efron, not Ben Affleck. It was an embarrassingly short list. Pop culture knowledge was Mia's thing, not mine. I snapped a lid onto his cup and pushed it across the counter towards him. "$2.75." I announced, tapping some keys on the register screen. "So who are you anyways? The paps don't just chase anybody down the street." I asked as nonchalantly as possible, sneaking a glance at him.

He perked an eyebrow at me before digging his wallet out of his pocket. "You really don't recognize me?" He didn't sound the least bit offended. His tone was more curious than anything. Was I the only person in New York City who didn't know him?

I shook my head. "No, sorry. Actor or model? Or wait, singer?"

He let out a laugh as he slid his money across the counter towards me, eyes dancing with amusement. "Just actor. In the movies, not telly."

I was momentarily distracted by his use of the word telly instead television but shook it off. "Okay, maybe if you tell me something you've been in." I suggested as I put his money into the register.

He held out his hand for his change and I dropped it into his open palm. "Thor, Avengers...," He trailed off, watching my expression expectantly.

"Ah, okay. Well that's why then. I don't like super hero movies," I explained, leaning back against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest.

His eyes were a bright, striking color of blue. One corner of his mouth had quirked upwards in an amused smile. "Really?"

"Nope. The whole one guy showing up, single handedly saving the day, and giving everyone a happy ending is a little too farfetched for me. I'm not much for heroes."

"You're in luck then. I don't play the hero...I play the villain." He teased as his smile grew. It was a little unfair how distracting he was. I wanted him to go away so I could think straight because this was dangerous territory. Who knew what ridiculous things I'd say or do for a face like that.

"Really? You definitely look more the hero type to me." I said with an air of surprise. "Aren't the heroes supposed to be incredibly handsome, and the villains hideous?" My voice betrayed me, making the question sound flirty when I hadn't intended it to come out that way at all. Damn him and his perfectly quaffed hair.

"They made an exception for me." He winked.

I flushed against my will. Damn it, he was charming. "And what is said name of this villain you play?"

"Loki." He answered simply.

I wrinkled my nose. "That's a terrible super villain name."

He let out a laugh. "Well, it's the name of an actual god from mythology. Thor's half brother. I'm sorry it's not up to your villain name standards, however."

I realized he was teasing me, and the flirtatious nature of his smile made me flustered. I combated with a halfhearted roll of my eyes. "Well in that case..."

He didn't seem deterred. "What's your name, love?"

"Stella."

"Stella." He repeated and I felt a small, unexpected thrill rush through me at the sound of my name leaving his lips. Double damn him. "I'm Tom."

"No last name?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I don't get very many chances to be just Tom so I'm taking advantage of it." He smiled at me broadly and I understood instantly what he'd meant. While I obviously lived under a rock and had no clue who he was, the rest of the world knew and recognized him as Tom Whoever, the famous actor. Here, right now, he could be just Tom. I was struck by the realization of what a strange existence it must have been, to be someone famous. His eyes appraised my curiously from over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip and I fought the urge to fidget under his gaze. "Perhaps I'll see you again?" He finally asked.

Perhaps you'll what now? I managed a shrug. "Perhaps, Just Tom." Oh, that was smooth.

He gave me one final movie star smile before turning and disappearing out the front door. I watched as he raised his hand from the curb and cab pulled up along side. I waited until the car door had shut and concealed him from view before slumping against the counter. "What the hell just happened?" I asked aloud.

I ran my hands through my hair and paused, cursing underneath my breath. I'd forgotten about the giant, unappealing coffee stain on my shirt. What a lovely first impression. I scurried towards the front door and quickly twisted the lock, flipping the open sign to closed.

I dug my cellphone out of my back pocket and quickly maneuvered to my contacts list, selecting a name. I held the phone to my ear as it began ringing. Wait, what was I even doing? My roommate answered before I had a chance to hang up. "Nevermind, Mia. Wrong person!" I quickly said, hanging up. I'd been about to drill her on actors named Tom who played super villains in important Marvel films but changed my mind. I didn't want to know. That would make it seem like I cared more than I should have. Why did it matter who he was, or what he did for a living?

He'd wound up in Common Grounds by complete chance and that was that. We'd talked, I'd poured him coffee, and he'd left. And somewhere in there he had very flirtatiously smiled at me and said some things in a British accent that I found very charming. Which was even more reason why not to look up him and figure out just who he was. I was not one of those girls who gushed over celebrities. I was not one of those girls that formed crushes on men I'd only just met. That was stupid.

My phone rang as Mia tried calling me back. I rolled my eyes and answered. "Everything is fine, stop calling me." I hung up for a second time and pushed myself off the door to finish closing up the shop.

#

I was ready to fall over, dead on my feet after a long day, by the time I'd finally made the long traipse home and stumbled in through the front door. Mia was sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through a magazine with her legs curled up beneath her. She arched an eyebrow at me.

"Hey weirdo, what was with the phone call?"

"Wrong person." I answered shortly, shrugging off my backpack and dropping it on the floor. She rolled her eyes, but didn't push it. She went back to looking through her magazine as I leaned against the counter and reached for the pile of mail. "Anything good?"

Before I had time to even register what was happening, Mia glanced up and eyes widened as she saw me reaching for the mail. She was out of her seat in less than a second, swiping the stack out of my reach. "Junk. All of it." She said quickly. She picked a letter from the top of the stack and pushed the rest back across the counter towards me.

I narrowed my eyes at her but she held on firmly to that one single cream colored envelope. My heart dropped a little. "What don't you want me to see?"

"Just trust me, Stell. It's better for you to remain oblivious."

I snorted. "Bullshit."

I wrestled the stack of mail from her hands and turned my back on her, shifting through the envelopes until I found what she had been trying to hide. I looked down at the cream colored envelope, addressed only to Mia. Not to me. I stared at the cursive, neat handwriting for a moment longer, hesitating. I knew Mia was right. She was thinking in my best interest for me since I clearly couldn't. Still, I couldn't stop myself from tearing open the envelope and pulling out the rectangle photograph inside.

'Save the date! Shawn and Catherine are getting married! Formal invitation to follow!'

Hatred suddenly began to curl inside of me, pushing itself to the service. I glared at their smiling faces, at the gorgeous ring sitting on her finger. I'd been harboring a petty hope that he would have started balding, or spontaneously lost all of his teeth or something. No such luck. He was still gorgeous and so was she.

"Stella, you okay?" Mia asked quietly, coming up behind me.

I forced my eyes shut, swallowing back the hurt. Mia had been right trying to hide this from me. I cleared my throat and smoothed my expression before turning around. "Fine. I'm fine." I lied. I handed the invitation back to her. "I'm sure it'll be a lovely wedding." My voice betrayed me.

"Are you kidding? I'm not going to their wedding." Mia said in an obvious tone, immediately popping the lid of the trash can and tossing it in. "Personally, I think it's a little rude they sent me anything at all considering you and I are still roommates."

I gave her a pointed look before reaching in and pulling it back out. I pushed it into her hands. "It's okay if you want to, really. I get it." I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Anyways, it's been a year. I should be over it, right?"

Mia shook her head and wrapped her arms around my middle, dropping her head onto my shoulder. "I don't care how long it's been. I refuse to go to my best friend's ex boyfriend's wedding to said best friend's ex-friend. Wow, that's a complicated sentence."

I let out a laugh despite myself, hugging her back. "Well, whatever you do about ex-boyfriend's wedding to ex-friend, I'll still love you best."

"You wanna eat ice cream out of the tub and watch reruns of Friends?" She asked, lifting her head to look up at me.

"Nah, it's all good. I'm not gonna let it bum me out." I decided, untangling myself from her hug.

"Yikes, that's a mighty big stain you have there." Mia said, pointing towards my shirt.

I frowned down at the shirt. "Yeah, I know." My mind almost immediately rewound right back to a certain very tall very attractive unknown celebrity sipping a cup of coffee a mere three feet away from me.

I debated with myself for a moment, before giving in. I jumped up onto the counter, swinging my legs. Mia was pulling out the ice cream anyways and grabbing two spoons from one of the drawers anyways. "Mia, you know movies. Who's the actor that plays the bad guy in the super hero hammer movie?"

She gave me an incredulous look from over her shoulder, before bumping the drawer shut with her hip. "You mean Thor? One of the most popular super hero movies of our time?"

I shrugged and she nodded. "Right, your super hero movie embargo. Anyways, said actor is Tom Hiddleston. Why do you ask?"

My pulse jumped a little at the confirmation of his first name. Not that I'd thought he'd been lying, but still. It was New York. You couldn't be too careful. "Well, this Tom character may or may not have purchased a cup of coffee from Common Grounds today."

She froze would a spoonful of ice cream halfway to her mouth. "Hold on a second, Tom Hiddleston comes into where you work, orders a coffee, and you wait until now to tell me? Or wait, is what that phone call was about?"

"I didn't want to make it a big deal! I didn't even know who the guy was!" I protested, snatching up the extra spoon lying on the counter between us.

She leaned back against the counter and let out a dreamy sigh. "God, what I wouldn't give to get him in my make-up chair just once."

I raised my eyebrows. "And if I didn't know you, I would think you were implying something sexual rather than something job related."

She scoffed. "Oh, he's gorgeous. No doubt. But I'm happily tied down." She beamed. I pretended to gag at the mention of her new boyfriend, a camera man she'd met on set of the latest project she'd been hired on. I valued the fact that Mia was used to being up close and personal with celebrities now more than ever. She didn't get all insane about encounters with them. "Is he beautiful in person?"

"Considering I've never seen him before today, I have nothing to compare him to." I said honestly and she gave me a pointed look. "But yes, fine. He's is gorgeous." I admitted grudgingly.

"Was he nice? He seems like he'd be nice."

I ate a spoonful of ice ream and thought it over. "Very polite. And charming. He has a nice smile."

Mia was smirking at me and I lightly kicked her with my foot. "Stop, I was just answering your question. "

"Should've asked for his number." She shrugged.

I took one last bite of ice cream and hopped off the counter, tossing my spoon into the empty sink. "You're insane." I answered simply. The idea of asking anyone out was uncomfortable enough, let alone someone famous. "I'm not trying to mortally embarrass myself. Besides, I don't date actors." I suddenly decided as an afterthought.

"Oh really? Since when? Should I add that to the list?" She joked, pointing with her spoon to a sheet of notebook paper taped to the fridge. Mia had started to compile a list of my 'date dealbreakers' after I began rejecting every single guy she tried setting me up...too loud, wears too much cologne, lives with his mother, likes nickelback... All valid reasons in my opinion. The list was mostly a joke, but I saw the point she was trying to make.

I shrugged. "Go for it."

"No problemo." She grabbed a pen and scribbled 'no actors' at the bottom of the list. "Narrowing down options pretty quickly here."

"Well, actors get paid to pretend for a living. That probably means they're great liars." I said matter-of-factly.

"That's actually a valid thought, but I still think you're nutty." Mia shrugged.

"And on that note, I'm going to bed. I have an early shift tomorrow." As if to prove my point, a large yawn escaped me. Mia waved her spoon at me, calling goodnight as a trailed down the hallway to my bedroom.

I shut the door behind me and began shedding my clothing, making a mental note to do something about the coffee stained shirt the next day. I went through my typical night routine before finally curling up in my bed underneath a comforter. I set my alarm on my phone, but paused before putting it on my nightstand. The urge to open up the browser and search 'Tom Hiddleston' was suddenly slightly unexpected and overwhelming. Even if it was just so I could once again confirm who he was and also possibly get another look at his perfection. I was turning into one of those girls, wasn't I?

My thumb hovered over the safari button but I abruptly changed my mind and shoved my phone onto the nightstand. I rolled over so the temptation was no longer in sight. "Freaking Tom Hiddleston." I muttered before shutting my eyes.

[hellomissmabel]

Bye Bye Brooklyn Boys (9)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader

Warnings: This is just so sad. Language.

Word count: 2.730

Summary: Bruce gives you some great advice and you finally make the trip back home.

September, October, November , December,

January , February, March,  April

May

I gave Thor the ring back.

Yeah, you read that correctly.

I gave Thor the ring back because I couldn’t marry him knowing fully well that my heart belonged elsewhere and with elsewhere I of course mean Steve. He cried, I cried, we both cried and it was messy although neither of us picked a fight. Nonetheless I’m damn sure his brother Loki would’ve wanted nothing more than for the two of us the fall out and scratch each other’s eyes out. No such thing happened yet I can’t help but think it might’ve made me feel a little bit better if he had just thrown all his shit my way and called it a day.

But that’s the end of it, the end of all of it. No more bad boy James, no more golden boy Steve.

Just no more.

I work with Bruce and I sometimes even live with the guy when my neighbour is banging another girl through the roof and I can’t seem to catch any sleep, which much to my dismay happens more often than not. Sometimes I can crash at a colleague’s place as well, but that never last for more than a couple times.

So here I am again, standing on Bruce’s doorstep with my sleeping bag and some spare clothing. Even this very evening I’m barricading his couch and stealing his pillows, occasionally glaring angrily his way if he tries to sneak one out to his bedroom. Usually on nights like these we stay up discussing our projects until the sun rises, talking spiritedly about what new endeavour we should take on next. If only nights like these could last forever.

No such luck tonight.

“Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a very long time.”

“Do tell, Bruce,” I say rather cheerfully, patting the only vacant spot next to me on the couch. “I’m all ears.”

When he takes his seat, his expression changes from merry to stoic in a matter of seconds and I gulp audibly when he looks at me with those intense eyes of his, assuming his role as my surrogate father figure rather impeccably.

He inhales deeply and gently rests his hand on my knee, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing nonsense patterns and squeezing lightly as his eyes soften at my obvious discomfort. “It’s time to go home, my dear,” he begins and I can feel the coil in my stomach tighten at his words and the covert message behind them.

“What do you mean, it’s time to go home?”

Hell, I know what he’s implying but I need to hear it from him, loud and clear. I need to hear it. “Bruce,” I whisper softly, placing my hand on top of his, “Surely, my home is here with you and the others, unless you see things differently? Let me assure you, there’s no place I’d rather be.”

He shakes his head and gives me a pointed look, a tinge of green flashing behind his eyes, alerting me that he knows I’m still in denial.

After all this time, I’m still in denial.

“No, Y/N, you left your home four years ago.”

I swallow thickly, averting my eyes and studying the carpet below my feet as if I’ve never seen anything more interesting in my entire life. The words weigh heavy on my tongue and I’m afraid that if I spit them out I might have to make a run for it. I know I have to go back at some point but… “I can’t go back. Bruce, I just can’t and you know why, you know damn well why I can’t go back.”

“Your time with me is almost over and as much as I’d like to keep you on as my assistant and as much as I enjoy your company and our cosy sleepovers,” Bruce chuckles lightly and you can’t help but smile a little as well, “This was never meant to be your destination. You’re only halfway your voyage, Y/N, and it’s time for you to continue your travels. I can book you a flight right now if you ask me to. It’s for your own good, Y/N, you even talk about him in your sleep. He was your beginning and if you let him, he can be your journey’s end as well.”

“But –,” I attempt although it’s of no use and I’m sure Bruce is going to kick my ass if I start to object so I reluctantly decide against it. Instead I lower my head in defeat only to lift it up again to meet his gentle eyes when the comforting weight of his hand on my shoulder opens the floodgates. I pour all my hurt and all my sorrow into these tiny, thick droplets of water dripping down my face, marked by insomnia and countless days of mulling over what could’ve been and what was never meant to be.

It feels good to be back. It feels good to be back and talk to my friends without having to take into account the telephone bill or when the less than satisfactory Wi-Fi connection is eventually going to give out on me.

Bruce was right, this is my home.

“Thank you so much for letting me stay in your old room, Nat.”

“Nah, it’s no biggie! Besides, Pietro is already inhabiting your room so it’s only reasonable I’m offering you mine, I’m spending most of my days at Clint’s anyway. You’re more than welcome to stay for as long as you like.”

“Natasha,” I beam gratefully, “Natasha, I missed you so, so much. But it’s only temporary, until I find myself a place of my own. Tony already made sure I got my old position back, it’s only a matter of time before I attack the real-estate market next.”

We go out for coffee at our old place, ordering two lattes and sitting at our regular spot at the window out front, watching hundreds of people mingle in the busy traffic whilst the hot liquid burns its way down our throat and wakes us up inside, the familiarity of the scenery enough to stir up a peculiar sense of nostalgia in the both of us.

“How is everyone?,” I ask nonchalantly from behind my coffee cup, trying to keep a straight face although it’s of no use, I’m an open book to Nat who shoots me a sympathetic smile as she sets her cup down on the wooden table.

“I assume Wanda already told you about her recent endeavour?”

While I was abroad, me and the girls always kept in touch. Nat and Wanda would call me every other day to check in on me and fill me in on what’s hot and new in their lives. Wanda graduated in computer sciences and decided to travel for a year before settling down and getting acquainted with the 9-to-5 life. During her travels she met a guy named Vision and according to Nat they hit it off immediately. After sharing quite the passionate summer between each other’s sheets, they are now preparing for the launch of their newest app after the initial success of their website blew everyone’s socks off.

“Well, let me see. Clint and I have been working overtime trying to impress our boss, Pepper Potts, who just happens to be professor Stark’s ex-wife.” She gives you a half-hearted grin which you return with a tight-lipped smile.

You were well acquainted with Pepper and got off on the wrong foot. She had suspected you to be Tony’s girl on the side, hence the source of her constant mistrust in you, his flirtatious nature only fuelling the fire. He tried adamantly to put the matter to bed and eventually she was willing to hear the two of you out but things never ran as smoothly as you desired. To hear that Natasha and Clint were now working for Pepper was a big surprise to say the least, especially so since Tony never stopped loving her.

“She told us that we both possess great potential. She’s pitched some of our ideas to a few people higher up and by the sound of it, they were very excited about them.”

Natasha and Clint have been together for what seems like ages and both are employed in the PR-business. I used to joke about how dedicated she was to this job, saying she loves this job more than she loves Clint although he’s just as much a workaholic as she is.

“She also said that there might be a job opening for Clint and I in Washington.”

“Nat! That’s great news!,” you exclaim with obvious delight before noticing how she’s fidgeting with the hem of her dress and you instantly know something’s off. “Or not?,” you question gingerly. She locks eyes with you, albeit reluctantly before releasing a deep sigh.

“It’s Clint. He – He wants it just as much as I do but he’s afraid that Pepper only offered him a job as well because she knows I will refuse to go without him.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could pronounce.

There’s a pregnant pause afterwards as we both finish our drinks and order a second one, Nat asking hers to be extra strong and adding an additional batch of blueberry muffins to nibble on. After they’ve arrived with our order, Nat takes a quick sip of her latte before she resumes speaking, the tension in the air palpable.

“Anyway, you also want an update on the boys from Brooklyn? Otherwise you wouldn’t have asked that question in the first place.” She kinks a brow at you. “You wanna know about Steve and Bucky?”

You stare at her with a dumbfounded look, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Shoot.”

She told me that Steve and Sharon got hitched right after graduation and are now living together in Steve’s old apartment, the one he used to share with Bucky before things turned sour between them. Fortunately Steve and Bucky resolved their issues and meet up on the regular for drinks at their local bar from back in the day when all of you were still enrolled at University.

Steve and Sharon are now both working for doctor Coulson, the head of the department of neuroscience at the local hospital and according to Nat, Steve’s well on his way to become a big name in his field of expertise. “If he keeps things up like this, that boy is going to go places Sharon can only dream of,” she says pointedly, taking a bite of her muffin and moaning in delight as the rich flavour hits her taste buds.

As for James, he got picked up by a head-hunter working for T’Challa, a renowned scientist recruiting specialists at the top of their game to work on a top-notch government project with him. “It’s a pretty big deal and I’ve never seen him more thrilled in his entire life. He got back on his feet real slow, but now it seems he’s on a winning streak.”

“It’s good the boys are doing so well for themselves,” I admit and it’s not a lie, it feels good to hear they’ve managed to make amends and find their way in this crazy life.

“Yeah, I have to disagree with you on that,” she replies bitterly. Nat’s answer takes me by surprise and I scan her face for any signs of mockery, disappointed to see she’s dead serious.

You look at her with mixed emotions. “How so?”

“Like I said, professionally they’re on fire but their private life is a mess. Steve and Sharon fall out all the time, even at the hospital in front of their staff. Even last week Wanda’s mother, who works there as well, said that their screaming match could be heard from their office all the way to the front desk. And James, James hasn’t dated ever since you left. I might’ve gotten him off my couch eventually, but that boy hasn’t even so much as looked at a woman. He’s lost his spark.”

She pushes her drink aside as well as the plate with muffins. “Y/N,” she starts off, her shoulders suddenly slumping and her eyes reveal the tiredness that’s eating away at her. The woman now in front of me is nothing like the strong and fiercely independent Natasha Romanoff that I have come to love.

“They’re not happy and neither are you. Please go talk to them, if not for me than do it for yourself. I’m not asking you to hook up with either of them, I’m just asking you to reconsider reaching out to them. Talk to them, see if they are willing to put the past behind and focus on the future. They’re still miserable and by the looks of it, so are you. Y/N, please, I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand to see my friends this depressed.”

You nod your head slightly, tears welling up in your eyes at you best friend’s confession. “I’m so sorry,” you apologise with a tormented look. “But I didn’t come here to drag myself through the mud again. I can’t, Natasha.”

She lifts an accusatory finger at you, her lips forming a tight line. “You’re scared. Y/N, you’re just scared.”

You scoff at this and answer sternly, your forehead drawing into a frown. “I know I was too caught up in my own shit to see that other people were suffering just as much as I was, but it’s not like I’m the only one to blame. They fucked it up just as much as I did and I lost myself, Nat, I lost myself and was on the verge of marrying a man that loved me dearly but would never be able to compare to Steve or James. I thought I’d found myself again, that Norway was where I was meant to be, but I only lost myself even more. If things would’ve been different, maybe Steve and I would be… Things… Things just would’ve been different.”

Something warm trickles its way down your cheek and when its bitter taste caresses your lips, you cannot refrain yourself any longer from sobbing, your shoulders shaking involuntarily. Natasha releases a shuddered breath, saying “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry Y/N. It was wrong of me, going after you like that. You have every right to be miserable.” and her voice sounds just as strangled.

“I was too blind to see that I drove a wedge between two best friends and unwillingly forced my own friends to pick a side as well,” I continued in a watery voice. It was just like the two Brooklyn boys had asked you to choose one of them and you had refused, just like Natasha or Wanda and look where it got you, look where it got all of them?

“No, Y/N, that’s not true,” Natasha countered softly and you narrowed your eyes at her, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s not true. Y/N, look at me.” She cups your face in her tender hands. “You lost yourself but that doesn’t mean it’s too late. It’s not too late to find yourself again. Third time’s a charm, right?”

You wince at her words but she doesn’t back down and the old Natasha Romanoff resurfaces again, the woman that can conquer the world through sheer will and determination if she so pleases.

“It’s not too late for you, Y/N, my dear. The secret to a happy and full life isn’t to be found in professional success, it’s in the people that make your life better, those people who make your life their greatest success. I’m not saying you have to become a homewrecker, don’t get me wrong, no matter how much I loathe Sharon you don’t have to stoop down to her level. But I just want you to see that at some point in your life, you have to stop looking backwards and start moving forward. It’s time to wrap this up, it’s time to move forward. It’s time, Y/N. Steve’s made his choice, now it’s your turn. You know what you gotta do and I’ll be there for your every step of the way. What was it that Bucky and Steve always used to say?”

“Till the end of the line.”

“Till the end of the line,” she echoes.

Part 10: June

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