#Barton Sidles

[olivierdemangeon]

FLIGHT OF FURY (2007) ★★★☆☆

FLIGHT OF FURY (2007) ★★★☆☆

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar Mama Chapter 1

And another one! New story involving #sugarbabybucky Summary: Bucky is overworked and struggling to get by.  The bills are piling up and he’s consistently in the red with no end in sight.  Y/N is a billionaire’s daughter, entrepreneur and philanthropist having a hard time finding true friends or love.  She has a proposition for him. 

bucky barnes x curvy!reader Warnings: eventual smut, sexual assault (not from Bucky)

Next chapter

Bucky was exhausted.  He had been working three jobs for four years now just trying to get by, and this was his sixth sixteen hour day in a row.  Student loans and credit card debt was eating him out of house and home, in the most literal sense.  Even living in a rent controlled building wasn’t helping with the bills piling up.  He had gone to college for architecture and interior design, which he was doing now working as an assistant during normal working hours for one of the many local interior designers.  Then he would go straight to his second job as a waiter in a high end restaurant in downtown Manhattan, then at the end of the night go home and do a few more hours of online tutoring.  He had ended his 20s and entered his 30s feeling like an old man, with no end in sight of ever getting a break or being able to break even with his debt.  Forget about dating or having a family someday.  That all seemed like a ridiculous pipe dream now.

“Heeeeyyyy Buckaroo?” Steve sidled up to him as he was cleaning off wine glasses.

“No,” Bucky cut him off.  

“But it’s just–”

“Steve, it’s Friday night, I’d really like to go home and get in bed at a normal time tonight,” Bucky interrupted him, the dark circles under his eyes that he tried to ignore looking more prominent by the day.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.  But Peggy has been hounding me about going to that new burlesque club that just opened and I told her I was working but we haven’t had a date night in a long time–”

“Ugh, fine.  But I’m not sharing tips,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his face as he pulled a 5 Hour Energy out of his apron pocket and quickly downed it like a shot.

“Those are bad for you, Buck,” Steve gave his friend a worried look.

“Well maybe a heart attack in my 30s will put me out of my misery,” Bucky half-joked.  Steve was silent.  Bucky turned to him and scoffed.  “It’s a joke.  Go, I’ll take the closing shift.  Say hi to Peg for me.”

“I’ll take your next closing, I promise.  Thanks punk,” Steve gave him a quick hug.

“Yeah whatever, jerk,” Bucky laughed.  As Steve went to the back to change, Bucky went to the host stand and figured out who was his next table.

“Whatcha got for me, witchy woman?” he leaned against the stand.  Wanda gave him a quick glance.  

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she sighed, looking back down at the list.

“It’s not my fault you got witch eyes.  And I never said that was a bad thing,” Bucky said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah whatever,” she rolled her amber eyes.  “You’re gonna love this one.  A Wall Street investment heiress, with some famous friends,” she gave him an unimpressed look.

“An heiress, huh?  Well maybe she’ll be my next sugar mama,” he joked, giving her a wink as he adjusted his apron.

“You wouldn’t know how to be a sugar baby even if you tried,” she sassed back at him.  “Table 42.  She’s all yours.”

“Thanks babes,” he sing-songed at her before heading towards his section.  As he approached table 42 he tried to see who the heiress was, but she was unfortunately facing away from him.  Her friends, though, he easily recognized from some of the most recent films that had just hit theaters: Clint Barton and Natasha Romanov.  Jackpot, he thought with a wry smile.

“Good evening, folks, welcome to Marea.  My name is Bucky and I’ll be your server tonight.  Could I get you started with some drinks?  Or a review of our wine list?” He gave them all a friendly smile as he looked each of them in the eye at least once.  The actors gave him quick smiles and glances before ordering generic wines and waters, then the heiress caught his eye.  He almost did a double take once he realized who she was.  Y/N Y/L/N, the daughter of Wall Street Tycoon Gerald Y/L/N.  She was set for life and beyond.  Her father was the investment king, knowing just when to buy in or sell out.  She had taken on his legacy by doing the same but instead of investing in huge corporations she was investing in smaller businesses and projects, being the key investor until the business could truly thrive, giving her investment a return and getting a chance to grow in an area like New York City.  She was the reason the new burlesque club opened that Steve was going to with Peggy.  Not only was she wealthy, she was beautiful.  Short in stature and plus size, she was an anomaly surrounded by her tall and slim friends, but she embraced her size and used it as a way to both literally and figuratively take up space in the industry and bring attention to the issues of body image, fatphobia, and investing in plus size companies and designers who she exclusively worked with for clothing her for events. 

Bucky tried not to ogle and quickly gave her his best flirtatious smile.  “And for you?” he asked her.

Y/N gave him an appreciative smile and her bright Y/C/E eyes seemed to really look at him rather than a passing glance like her friends.  “I’d like to hear the wine menu, please.”

“Wonderful, we have a…” As he listed off the wines Y/N watched him intently, her eyes searching his face.  He felt like he was the one being ogled and yet he persevered, trying not to sound nervous while serving some of the most influential and popular people in the world.

“It all sounds delicious, but I’m a creature of habit, so I think I’ll stick with my favorite Rose, the Billecart-Salmon.  And I’ll also have water on the side.”

“Excellent choice, ma’am.  Give me a moment and I’ll get those drinks out to you all,” he glanced at them all again before slipping away to the bar for the drinks.

Y/N watched him leave, a small smile on her face, before turning back to her friends.  They eyed her ruefully with mischievous smiles.  “What?” she asked.

“He’s cute,” Natasha commented, one eyebrow raised at her.

“Very cute.  One could even say hot,” Clint added, watching Bucky walk back to the bar.  “He’s got a great ass.  Too bad he’s working here.  He’d look divine in a Prada campaign.”

“You two stop it,” Y/N whispered, giving them a wide eyed glare.  “Yes he’s cute.”

“You gonna go for it?” Natasha asked, her grin twisting into something conspiratorial.

“Oh do it!  If you won’t, I’ll try my luck,” Clint shifted in his seat as he continued watching Bucky.  “See if he goes both ways.”

Bucky was walking back with the drinks on a tray.  Y/N narrowed her eyes and made the gesture for them to zip it.

“Alright, here are your drinks!  Your waters, and the Sauvignon blanc for you,” he set it in front of Clint, “the Stella Artois for you,” he set it in front of Natasha, “and the Billecart-Salmon Rose for you.”  He delicately set it in front of Y/N giving her another warm smile.  She reciprocated it as she reached for her wine.  She took a quick sip and her eyes fluttered shut.  

“Perfect, thank you Bucky,” she said as she licked her lips.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly before he caught himself.  “Well, would you like to start with any appetizers?  Or jump right into the good stuff?” he huffed a laugh.

“I’d like the lobster with the salad,” Clint ordered.  “And could you make sure that the lobster is really big and thick.  I like them meaty.”

Y/N’s eyes widened at him and his not-so-subtle innuendo.  Bucky knew what he was doing and just let it slide, nodding in agreement.  “I’ll put in a good word with the chef.”  

Natasha next to him giggled before ordering.  “I’ll just take the scallops and shrimp.”

Bucky nodded before turning to Y/N.  “I’ll have the crab cakes and risotto, please.”  He nodded again and gave her a smirk.

“My favorite,” he gave her a wink, making her blush. “I’ll get those in and come back to check on you all in a little bit,” he swept the table with a smile before walking back to the kitchen.

“Stop it, don’t embarrass him,” Y/N chastised Clint.  “I’m sure he and the other servers get enough grief from creepy patrons all the time.”

“Oh it was just a little fun.  Besides, he’s all eyes for you, honey, he barely even looked at me,” he shot back at her as he sipped his wine. 

“It’s true,” Natasha said, then gave her an exaggerated wink. Y/N rolled her eyes.  “I think you should ask him out.  Or maybe he can be your next sugar baby.”

“Oh don’t bring that up again,” Y/N groaned.  “It was a one time thing and ended badly.  I just wanted to try it.”

“It ended badly because he was an ass, not because of anything you did.  You gave him charity and he gave you an attitude.  This guy seems sweet, nothing can hurt from just asking,” Natasha chided her, reaching out and pinching Y/N’s arm lightly.  

Y/N considered her words.  She had wanted to try out the lifestyle of being a sugar mama to a sugar baby.  She had a lot of events to go to throughout the year, and as much as she enjoyed spending time with her friends and networking with people, she was getting really tired of these high-class, ridiculous men who thought that just by being famous or wealthy that she would throw herself at them.  They wanted to use her for her name and connections.  They never really cared about her.  So she had tried being a sugar mama to a man who wasn’t famous, down on his luck, and just trying to get a leg up in life to escort her to these functions and give her companionship.  But once he’d gotten his debts paid off by her and a taste of luxury he quickly became influenced by the rich douchebags around him and started treating Y/N disrespectfully, so much so that he’d made front page news of some tabloids and embarrassed her.  She kicked him out after that and blacklisted him from any upcoming events.  If there was one thing that she would never condone it was when others tried, directly or indirectly, to humiliate or embarrass her.

Bucky did seem nice, and very tired.  The dark circles under his eyes and his shirt not being as ironed as some of the other servers were small giveaways that he was struggling.  She didn’t want to embarrass him either by asking to be her sugar baby and assuming that he was struggling financially.  

“He is very handsome,” she conceded, a larger smile spreading across her face.

Natasha squealed, clapping her hands joyfully.  “Do it!”

The night dragged on as they ate their delicious meals and ordered more glasses of wine.  Other patrons were clearing out as it got later and closer to closing time.  As tired as Bucky was, doing his nightly closing duties quietly and discreetly so his table couldn’t see, he was banking on their tips.  High end restaurants meant high end clients meant high end tips, and he had rent coming due next week.  He packed on the compliments to Y/N and her friends, gave them warm and flirty smiles, offered complimentary items, and gave all his attention to them exclusively.  Y/N had asked to compliment the chef and when he came out and talked to her table she whispered something to him that he quickly agreed to and jogged back to the kitchen.  Bucky gave him a questioning glance but the chef waved him off.

Bucky watched carefully until he saw Y/N’s hand raise and her eyes searched for him.  His cue for the check, which he quickly grabbed and brought it over to her.  As he glanced at the insane price he noticed an extra meal that wasn’t supposed to be on there as he got to the table.

“Oh, I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N, there seems to be a mistake on the bill, I apologize, let me go–”

“No mistake, Bucky,” Y/N reassured him just as the chef came back out with a doggy box.  He handed it to her and thanked her for coming.  Y/N shook his hand and slipped something into it before  he disappeared back to the kitchen wearing a rare smile.  “Thank you,” she reached for the bill and slid her black American Express into the folder.  

“Oh, alright, I’ll be right back then,” Bucky composed himself after the mini heart attack he just had from thinking the bill was wrong as he walked back to the stand to take her payment.  Once everything was paid he brought back the folder, this time seeing her friends standing and putting on their coats while she stayed seated.  

“Thank you, Bucky,” Natasha said his name seductively as she passed him.  Clint gave him a little wave and a smirk as he left with her.  

“Have a good night!” He called after them.  He approached the table as Y/N was opening her wallet.  “Here’s the receipt Miss Y/L/N.  Thank you for coming in tonight.”

“No thank you for such excellent service, Bucky,” she complimented him as she took the folder again.  “Will you sit with me for a moment?”

Bucky’s eyebrows raised and he glanced back at the bar.  The manager, Pietro, and Wanda motioned to him to do as she asked.  “Yes, of course,” Bucky accepted and sat himself in the chair across from her where Clint sat previously.  

Her gaze flicked over him as she opened the folder, took the pen provided and filled out the parts of the receipt meant for her.  She closed it and slid it over to Bucky who thanked her and placed it in front of himself.

“I have a proposition for you, Bucky.  And please understand when I ask this that you are under no obligation to accept it and I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she started, looking a little nervous.

“Okay,” Bucky stated lamely as he watched her.  

Y/N cleared her throat and put her fidgeting hands down in her lap.  “I would like to offer you a type of job.  As an escort, a sugar baby, to me.”  Bucky’s eyes widened comically as he processed what she said. “I know it’s a strange request.  But it’s something that I enjoy trying and it helps others…sometimes.  I don’t want to assume anything of you, but I can tell when someone is struggling, and you look like life has not always been the easiest or kindest to you.  I mean no offense.”

“None taken,” he replied automatically.  “I…yes,” he looked down as he confessed to her.  “It’s been, uh, rough, to say the least.”

“Hm,” Y/N hummed.  She reached a finger out and pointed to the closed folder.  She gestured for him to open it.  He did and took a look over the receipt, nearly choking when he saw the amount on the tip line.

“No, no Miss Y/L/N, this is too much,” Bucky protested as he stared at the number. 

“That’s what your service was worth.  You are worth every cent, and more,” Y/N praised him.  “You don’t have to decide tonight, Bucky, but in the meantime, here’s my card,” she slipped a business card over to him. “Think about it,” she said as she stood up.  Bucky quickly stood up with her.  Y/N stepped closer to him and reached for his hand.  They shook hands and she leaned in and whispered to him, “By the way, you’re very handsome.”  Bucky’s eyes bulged and he swallowed hard as she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek then turned and left.  Bucky realized as he watched her leave that she had slipped something into his hand.  He opened his hand to find a small folded wad of one hundred dollar bills in his palm.  “Oh and that’s for you!” She called out and motioned towards the doggy box still sitting on the table.  “Your favorite.  Dinner’s on me,” she said and gave him a wink then twirled back around and out the door.  

After she was out of the restaurant and beyond hearing Wanda and Pietro ran up to him.  “How much did she give you?”  Wanda squealed as she looked at the bills in his hand.  He quickly counted it.

“$1000,” he whispered as he gawked at the money.

“Give me that,” Pietro demanded as he took the folder from Bucky.  He opened it and gasped.  “She gave you a $2500 card tip??  What did you do, Barnes, give her and everybody at her table a blow job?”

“Wow…I don’t know if I want to be her or be on her,” Wanda said wistfully as she looked back out the glass door where Y/N had already gotten into her car and drove off.  

Bucky felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders as he stared at the bills, the $2500 floating around in his mind.  He was not comprehending just how much she had given him.  He looked at her business card again and knew he had to at least meet with her and find out what she was offering.  But to become an actual sugar baby?  To have a sugar mama?  To have his debt disappear?  To be taken care of?  He smiled as his fingers touched where her lips had been. 

**this picture has me SALIVATING. This is what I imagine sugar baby!Bucky to look like in this. Hope y'all like it!**

[innerempire]

The Avengers trying to raise funds for god-knows-what and Natasha comes with brilliant naughty idea of a pin-up calendar of their youngest Avenger. There's nothing like showing some skin, and it's obvious (be it in Twitter, Instagram, Tiktok, or Reddit) that the public unanimously think that the newest addition to the team - Peter Parker - is pretty fucking hot.

Sure, they've not seen his face before, but that lithe body in that spandex? Peter's the only one comfortable with actually baring his ass for the calendar (Steve acknowledges that Captain America's ass is still one of the finest, but he's not fucking baring his ass cheeks for a goddamn calendar).

Thing is, Natasha has to run through the idea with Tony first because she thinks that Stark acts like a unhinged guard dog out for blood when his favorite protege is involved. She's not stupid to try and go behind Tony's back on this.

''I'm sorry, what-'' Tony swipes at his keyboard, interrupting Natasha from her tangent.

''Don't mind him.'' Peter pipes up from where he's tinkering with his latest project. ''He goes 'huh' a lot these days.''

Tony points a wrench in Peter's direction, ''Zip it.''

''Look, we want something that's going to sell. People love Peter in spandex, and what's hotter than hip keeping his mask on and, you know, executing a couple of suggestive positions with his ass showing. Pepper thinks putting him in a thong would make people go insane-''

''Are you-'' Tony rubs at his mouth. ''Did you even sleep after your coming back from your mission with Barton? Or am I the one hallucinating this conversation?'' He tries to mentally compute the last time he had slept.

''Peter said yes.''

Peter's neck is flushed, ''...I figured, since it's for charity...? I do have a pretty nice ass, especially when it's in spandex. So, you know, me in a thong would be-''

''Okay.'' Tony claps his hands together, startling both Natasha and Peter. ''I'm going to get a drink. Preferably something really strong, because I'm going to pretend that you didn't just waltz in here to tell me that you want the kid's bare ass on a pin-up calendar.''

''Prude.'' Natasha clicks her tongue disapprovingly at Tony.

After Natasha leaves, an amused Peter wheels his chair over towards Tony, ''So, which one bothered you more? The fact that people are going to own a calendar with like 12 months of Spiderman's bare ass, or the idea of me in a thong? Or panties, you know, the ones with the bows and frills that you have stashed deep in your wardrobe. I'm assuming they're for me, after you tell me that you've been fantasizing about this. But hey, if they're for you, that's pretty fucking hot too, Mr.Stark.''

A couple of months later, the idea does push through (under Tony's strict supervision). Because Peter's such a little shit, he signs the first printed copy and leaves it on Tony's desk with a note: Do me a favor and film yourself jerking off to the calendar, Mr. Stark. P.S: You'll love the month of May.

Of fucking course the month of May is Peter in the panties that Tony had so generously gifted to him - a gorgeous satiny piece that's gold and red.

The calendar is obviously a hit and during the next Avengers gathering, everyone's teasing Peter to sign their copies.

''So.'' Natasha sidles up to Peter. ''How bad did Tony give it to you for having your bare ass out in that calendar?''

''...they had to use two whole tubes of concealer and a shitload of powder and foundation even after a week after what Tony did to me.''

[brewstersbru]

Aaaand we're all caught up, have some clint and matt (clatt? mint?? idk)

Day 14: Clint Barton/Matt Murdock

"Good morning."

Clint's footsteps are light, but not inaudible as he pads into the kitchen, where Matt's going over a deposition. He doesn't respond; long enough for Matt to suspect he'd forgotten to put his ears on again.

The next time he sidles past--the soft shuffling of powder into paper implies that he's going about his morning cuppa--Matt lets one of his hands reach out and settle against his side. Clint stops, then shuffles a bit to face him.

Matt slides the hand up until it rests at the side of his neck, just under his ear. He tilts his head.

It takes a moment for Clint to understand, still groggy with sleep, but after a few seconds, he curses.

"Fuck! Sorry babe," There's a click, then the low hum of machinery, "did you say something?"

Matt laughs, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Good morning, Clint."

Words: 147

[ameliabartons]

Amelia was drunk. 

Obviously, if you asked her, she’d probably tell you she was fine. Or, at a push, she might settle for tipsy. You know, like a liar. The fact of the matter was, Amelia Barton used to be one of the finest athletes of her generation. For four years straight she had qualified as one of the Top Ten fastest women of all time in the 400m, had managed to to beat 6-time gold medalist swimmer Emma McKeon in the 200m freestyle, and had qualified to compete for team USA in multiple competitive categories. In short, Amelia Barton was a bit of an athletic prodigy, had excelled at every sport she’d ever tried, and had a sense of balance that could rival that of a world-class tight rope walker, and right now she was wobbling precariously on 6-inch heels, her knees weak at the joint, and her vision blurring behind her usually oh-so reliable contact lenses. 

Sufficed to say, she was definitely drunk. 

“Charlieeeeeee,” Amelia grumbled, her hand reaching desperately to find purchase against the closest wall. 

She glanced up, expecting to meet the gaze of her most handsomest friend – Oops, she thought. Sorry to the Lou-Lou that lives inside my brain! You’re handsome too! – only to see that... oh. He was gone! She could’ve sworn Charlie had been beside her just moments before. In fact, the two had been giggling and throwing back jello-shots at the bar, and her most surf-tastic pal had insisted on taking her for a spin on the dancefloor. If she remembered correctly – and, given her current state of inebriation, it was very possible she didn’t – he’d told her that her dress looked totally mermaidy and that it would look mad sick with the fabric flowing behind her while she spun in circles. Neither of them had paid any mind to the damage she might do to her ankles in these heels, thinking it an even better idea if she decided to – and, again, these were Charlie’s words – Coyote Ugly the shit out of that bartop, dog. And yet, there she stood, not a Charlie in sight. 

It had distantly occurred to her that he’d mentioned something about having a later set that he might need to ditch her for, just for an hour or so, which Amelia thought might even be the reason she’d stopped by this particular club on this particular night? She couldn’t recall, though. All she remembered was that Cheerful Charlie had been having a Not-So Delightful Day and that she’d been feeling equally miserable, and the two had concluded that vodka might be the only solution to their woes. 

Still, Amelia was a big girl and she was sure she could make her own fun without Charlie – until he was done, obviously. Then they’d get back to their whole Coyote Ugly bit, maybe even grab themselves a 3am breakfast to really stick the landing. 

Palm trailing along the wall of the club as she kept herself upright, the sound of Charlie’s set filled the air as she tried to scout out an empty seat – she assumed it was his, anyway. It was very good, so she doubted it could be anybody else’s! After what felt like an eternity of following the outskirts of the room, she still hadn’t managed to find a vacant booth, or even so much as a stool, and her feet were killing her, so she opted instead for sitting on the ground. Her back slid down the wall as her butt hit the ground, and Amy reached forward in a clumsy attempt to try and remove her torturous footwear. 

She was absently aware of the plunging neckline of her dress and the way she was giving half of the venue a bit of a show when a man sidled up next to her, lowering himself down onto the ground next to her. Over the thump of the bass and the current ringing sound that was chorusing through Amelia’s eardrum, she just about managed to catch that his name was Jonah and that he thought she was hot. 

“Oh my God, Jobah – Wait... Jovah... haha, like Jehovah? Sorry, wait. No, I got it... Jonah,” Amelia found herself sounding out his name, her tongue suddenly feeling far too big for her mouth, slippery as it seemed to get tangled around each tricky letter!  

Bemused, Jonah simply stared back at her, smiling back at her rather politely, so she thought! She knew, at that moment, that Jonah had been sent especially for her. Maybe by God, or her mom, or possibly just Charlie. But Jonah was about to be her new best friend for the night, and she found herself twisting her body to face him, a hand clasping his as she told him exactly that! 

“You’re so right, Jonah. I am hot. It’s so hot in here. It’s like, totally four billion degrees. Four billion and one, maybe!” she confirmed, suddenly thrusting her free palm up into the air as she laid the back of her hand against his forehead, as though to prove just how hot she was feeling. 

Amelia’s vision continued to blur as she looked at Jonah and she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. It wasn’t really his fault she was so drunk, but right now the spinny world was causing her to misread just about every signal, her reality warped as the effects of copious vodka-jellies made it seem as though Jonah was staring directly at her cleavage! She knew her dearest, most darling friend Jonah would never, though. Not by a long shot. 

“Hey, Jonaaaaahhhh,” Amelia called his name out, her hand sliding down his face to cup his cheek. “Could you pretty please go and get me some water?” 

She beamed across at him, awaiting his response as she mulled over that simple word, finding herself in something of a trance as she repeated it over and over again, in varying degrees of silly accents. 

“Wahdurrrr... Wor-ter... Waw-ah... Can you get me a cuppa waw-ah govnah?” Amelia found herself giggling to herself as she watched Jonah disappear towards the bar. 

[lifeinacartoon]

Fic: Life After Death?

Title: Life After Death? Author: lifeinacartoon Fandom: MCU - Avengers Pairings: Wanda Maximoff and Clint Barton Rating: PG but may contain emotional triggers.  Disclaimer: Not mine - please don’t sue me! Summary:  After years of separation, Clint and Wanda reunite by a lake, grieving their fallen friends. Author’s Note: As an aspiring writer, I felt drawn to the powerful scene between Wanda and Clint in Endgame. Their exchange was so raw and intense, and I wanted to explore their emotional turmoil in greater detail. I was captivated by the depth of their pain and wanted to convey it to readers in a more personal and intimate way. By delving deeper into their thoughts and feelings, I aimed to create a story that would allow readers to connect with the characters on a deeper level and feel the full weight of their emotions. This was written for a prompt community on LiveJournal and felt it was time I posted it here.  The prompt was 21. Contains Spoilers --------

Five years had passed, and Clint had come to accept that he would never see her again. He stood on the bank of the lake, his hands stuffed into his pockets. A profound feeling of stillness washed over him as he gazed out at the expanse of blue, the rippling water reflecting the images above into billows of green and white. He had lost count after twenty-one, the number of birds he had watched dive and scoop up sustenance from the surface before soaring back up into the sky, gliding through the air without formation.

Suddenly, Wanda sidled up next to him, and he lifted his head to squint at her. For a moment, he wondered if he was hallucinating, but he knew it was her. He had seen her on the battlefield and then again at Stark's memorial service earlier that day. Despite everything they had been through together, they couldn't seem to find the words to address each other. Even now, they stumbled over their words, talking over one another anxiously.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" he blurted out, feeling the weight of his words but unable to hold them back. "I missed you like crazy."

"I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again," she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said, pulling her towards him and placing his arm around her shoulder. She didn't resist, her hand resting on his shoulder as she brushed her finger over a new scar on his neck. His only regret was that Natasha, his closest friend, wasn't here. He needed desperately to let her know that they had won. He had said as much to Wanda, and her eyes glistened with fresh tears.

"She knows," Wanda said, offering a small but cheerful smile. "They both do."

Clint nodded, his eyes moistening with tears. They had lost not only Nat along the way but also Vision. It was easy to forget that many of the Avengers were not invincible.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against Wanda's. There was a desperate need to put on a brave face, but she could see through his façade, the way the sun reflected off the watery surface.

"It's okay to cry," she whispered, holding him tight as he tried to take comfort in her embrace. He recalled the last conversation he had with Nat before she fell to her demise.

"What, you think I want to do it? I'm trying to save your life, you idiot!" "Yeah, well, I don’t want you to because I… Natasha, you know what I've done. You know what I've become." "Well, I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes." "Maybe you should." "You didn't." "You’re a pain in my ass, you know that? Okay, you win."

As tears streamed down his face, hot and endless, Wanda felt his whole body shudder against hers. She held him tight, encouraging him to let it out. His face buried in the crook of her neck, hands clutching at her coat, he shook with the pain of his grief.

Silence descended as he collapsed in her arms, the waves of sorrow coming in intervals, interspersed with short pauses for recovery breaths. Relief finally came, allowing him to regain his composure, and he pulled away, blinking back tears before collapsing again.

Wanda held him in silence, rocking him slowly, and her heart was heavy with grief over her own loss. She had done enough crying to last a lifetime, but she knew that this might be the first time Clint had allowed himself to grieve.

Wanda sensed Clint's reticence and realized she didn't need to pry. If he wanted to talk, he would come to her. She turned to face the shimmering water, and he joined her, draping his arm across her shoulders. She leaned into him, and he pulled her close, his warmth enveloping her.

The pair stood together, gazing out at the peaceful lake. As the sun began its descent below the horizon, the sky transformed into a breathtaking masterpiece of crimson and azure. Wanda felt Clint's muscles relax under her touch as they both lost themselves in the beauty of the moment.

Their silence was comfortable and reassuring, a testament to their bond. They didn't need words to convey their feelings; they had been through too much together to need such trivialities. As the sky continued to change, Wanda felt a tear roll down her cheek, and Clint pulled her closer.

The wind picked up, sending ripples across the water's surface. The couple didn't move, still lost in the moment. Wanda couldn't help but think about how much she loved Clint, how grateful she was for his presence in her life. He had always been there for her, even in her darkest moments. And now, as they stood together, she felt her love for him deepen even more.

Finally, as the last rays of sunlight disappeared, Clint turned to face her. Wanda met his gaze, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. They held each other for what felt like an eternity, their love and gratitude for each other palpable.

At that moment, as they watched the night sky fill with stars, Wanda knew that she and Clint had something special. Something that could weather any storm, conquer any obstacle, and endure for a lifetime.

[brooklynislandgirl]

She takes the glass though it doesn't quite make it to her lips as Tati's commentary hits her full in the face and earns a giggle. The part that is funny is how quickly the little girl throws him under the bus, but also that they're in the same boat. Beth has no problem making sandwiches or salads, things that require no cooking. The art of preparing meals is an alchemy that is beyond her grasp, no matter how closely she follows a recipe, or how much outside help she receives. "You…you monster…" She mouths at Clint as she tries to rein in her merriment, not at all serious. Louder though, to be heard in the living room, Beth tells the little girl, "No worries, keiki, Mrs Dumay won't let eiddah of us t' be in here while she work her magic." "You can say that twice, Miss Riley," as if summoned, the cook comes from the pantry with an armful of produce and other sundries. She is a broad, honest-faced woman in her early sixties, the kind of woman synonymous with old New England grandmother. "You an' Mr Barton get on now, leave me to my work." Beth tries to look a little contrite as she comes around the island counter, and sidles up to Clint, brushing his arm with her shoulder. "I do believe we're being dismissed," she says softly, with a coy little smile. "Should we go for a walk on da shore, or curl up on da sofa an' watch somet'ing…anyt'ing oddah dan Frozen, on da television?" @defectivexfragmented

continued from here {x}

Pausing, he stared at her silently for a long moment before a smirk began to curl the corners of his lips and he leaned forward to hand her the still full glass. "Fair enough." A quick wink before he sat up on his rear and spun around on the countertop to dangle his legs over the edge and slide off.

"Now, are you sure I shouldn't be helping in some way?" He flashed a charming smile with a quick glance down to the food spread out across the counter. Flirting with his adoptive daughter's school nurse. Very classy, Barton...

"Say no!" Tatiana shouted from the next room, sounding very concerned. "He'll kill us all! He burns water!”

@brooklynislandgirl

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

hey, you

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ amy’s birthday ficlet series ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

clint barton x reader prompt: love note (tags beneath the cut)

You raised an eyebrow in surprise as a balled-up napkin suddenly bounced gently off the side of your empty glass, narrowly avoiding the puddle of condensation from the bottle of beer sitting beside it. The bar was packed – you were barely avoiding brushing shoulders with the people on either side of you, but you were stubborn enough that being one of the first to claim a seat at the bar meant you weren’t giving up the stool. As strange as it was, you worked well with the noise, and the laptop in front of you was filled with the invoices to prove it.

Unfurling the napkin curiously, you felt a bemused smile touch your lips as you read the phrase scrawled across it.

Hey, you. Can I buy you a drink?

Looking up, you cast a confused look along the bar. It was rectangular in shape, with one side of it taken up by the shelves of endless liquor and spirit bottles, the other three swamped with patrons. While the main stretch of the bar was left open for those patrons who frequented the dance floor or the booths, yours and the one opposite were lined with stools. Your eyes finally settled on a man sitting almost directly across from you, and you smirked lightly as you recognized him. He returned the smile, raising two fingers and cocking them to the side in a small wave.

Pulling a pen out of your laptop bag, you scribbled your response below his first message, wadded up the napkin and tossed it back. He had to lean forward to catch it as it fell short.

Since when do you spend your Friday nights in bars, Barton?

Clint scrawled down another message on a new napkin, flagging down a bartender. They exchanged a couple of words before Clint handed him both a five-dollar bill and napkin, and a few minutes later both the note and another soda were set down in front of you.

Since it’s invoice day.

You smiled, cheeks warming. He caught your next reply without really looking, halfway through a mouthful of beer. You know, I’ll be at the cookout on the roof tomorrow – you could have just waited to see me then. I thought you hated noisy places like this.

Clint turned his head, tapping his ear pointedly. You shook your head in amusement; he’d taken his hearing aids out.

Raising your hands, you signed out a response slowly. You’d only started learning ASL after moving into Clint’s building and realizing your landlord had a terrible habit of leaving his hearing aids behind whenever he answered his door. You’d heard what had happened six months ago – Clint was still getting used to signing again himself – so you’d asked a girl from work to teach you in exchange for walking her dog whenever she was out of town.

Signing wasn’t something you were picking up easily, but you’d made some progress, and Clint had seemed grateful when you’d first started using it with him.

How did you know which bar I was at?

Clint’s expression softened from his usual wry amusement as he watched you, the affection in his eyes obvious even in the low light of the bar. Superhero prowess.

You rolled your eyes, amused, before signing back. You want to see me so bad, just ask me to coffee. I live right down the hall.

Clint grinned, finishing his beer before standing and finally making his way over to join you, tucking his hearing aids back into his ears as he went. He winced as he adjusted to the noise, but his smile quickly returned. He sidled up between you and the man to your right, and you swivelled on your stool to face him, your legs parting on either side of one of his. “Hi.”

Clint’s smile didn’t dissipate as he leaned one elbow on the bar, reaching up to almost idly touch a strand of hair that was hanging against your forehead. His fingers followed it down, tucking it behind your ear. Clint leaned forward as he did, his lips moving to the same ear to speak low, barely audible over the din. The tenor of his voice, the gentle warmth of his breath tickling the side of your neck, was enough to make a shiver settle in the small of your back. “You know you just said I should ask you to make out, right?”

You straightened, heat rushing into your face. There was a teasing smirk on his features, but his eyes read honest. “What? I said—”

“They’re really similar…” Clint explained, taking hold of your wrists gently. His fingers were warm and familiar against your skin. He moved them into a position similar to the sign you’d just done. “This is ‘coffee’…” he tilted your hands and led you through the same gesture. “And this is ‘make out’.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, I’m flattered, really, and I know that Gil said you L.A. girls were aggressive, but—”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a fistful of the front of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. Clint groaned against your lips, melting into it immediately. One hand came up to take your waist, his thumb slipping up under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your sensitive skin. You heard a click as Clint closed your laptop, and you snickered against his lips as his hand slid into the hair by your ear.

When you finally broke apart, his hand lingered there, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

“So…” you said, nose bumping against his for a moment before you pulled back to meet his eye. You swallowed, steadying yourself as nerves bloomed in your belly despite yourself. “I guess I owe you a drink now.”

Clint smiled; his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Guess so.”

You kissed him again, trailing your hand down from his chest to hook your fingers suggestively in his belt. “How about we make it a nightcap?”

tags: @lipstickandtanqueray@startrekkingaroundasgard​  @lovely-dreamer19​ @wittyforachange​ @wefracturedmotivation​ @glossyloner​ @january-echoes​ @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink​ @s0ftness​ @castieltrash1​ @absolutly-me @sara-ravenclaw @drakelover78​ @queenoftheunderdark​ @lol-you-thought​ @ruderavenclaw​ @notafraid-bitch-igot9lives @enna-core​ @akumune​ @xxboesefrauxx​ @hearmyharmony​ @katsies​ @lipstickandtanqueray@youralphawolf72​ @whovianayesha​ @fanofalltheficsx @bradfordbantams​ @alice-the-nerd​ @rimaries @ace-fandom-dumbass​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @twsssmlmaa​ @earth-pig-fish​ @meeksmusic83​ @hallothankmas​ @multiyfandomgirl40 @fallinginlovewithqueue​ @justanothermagicalsara​ @fandomfangirl4ever

[edgessunflower]

Masterlist

Fics i have done!

Fandoms i write for!

Young justice

Kaldur'ahm/Aqualad

Megan morse/Miss martian

Connor kent/Superboy

Artemis crock/Tigress

Jaime reyes/Blue beetle

Cassie sandsmark/Wondergirl

Wally west/Kidflash

Barbara gordon/Batgirl

CSI Vegas

Sara sidle

Nick stokes

Mia dickerson

Greg sanders

Catherine willows

Warrick brown

Riley adams

Gil grissom

M*A*S*H*

Benjamin hawkeye pierce

Margaret hot lips houlihan

B.J. hunnicutt

Margie cutler

Radar o'reilly

Kellye yamoto

John mulcahy

Stranger things

Nancy wheeler

Dustin henderson

Max mayfield

Jonathan byers

Robin buckley

Steve harrison

Jane hopper/el

Lucas Sinclair

Joyce byers

Mike wheeler

Barbara holland

Jim hopper

CSI Miami

Walter simmons

Yelena salazar

Ryan wolfe

Natalia boa vista

Eric delko

Calliegh duquesne

Horatio caine

Alexx woods

Jesse cardoza

Marisol delko

Marvel

Kate bishop

Clint barton

Natasha romanoff

T'challa

Cassandra lang

Sam wilson

Kamala khan

Bucky barnes

Shuri

Bruce banner

Mortal kombat

Kung jin

Skarlet

Hanzo hasashi

Sonya blade

Kuai liang

Jaqui briggs

Johnny cage

Kitana

Takeda takashi

Jade

Jax briggs

Cassie cage

Resident evil

Claire redfield

Carlos olivera

Sherry birkins

Leon kennedy

Jill valentine

Jake muller

Helena harper

Chris redfield

Alice

NCIS NOLA

Chris laselle

Loretta wade

Sebastian lund

Hannah khoury

Patton plame

Sonja percy

Dwayne pride

Tammy gregario

Final destination

Clear rivers

Lewis romaro

Wendy christensen

Kevin horton

Carrie dryer

Kevin fischer

Kimberly corman

Thomas burke

Alex browning

The mighty ducks

Fulton reed

Julie gaffney

Adam banks

Charlie conway

Dean portman

Guy germaine

Dwayne robertson

Luiz mendoza

Connie monreau

Criminal minds

Emily prentiss

Spencer reid

Jennifer jareau

Aaron hotchner

Kate callahan

Derek morgan

Penelope garcia

Luke alvez

Tara lewis

Matt simmons

Trauma center

Derek stiles

Angie thompson

Gabriel cunningham

Elena salazar

Erhard miller

Naomi kimishima

Markus vaughn

Valerie blaylock

ER

Susan lewis

Mark greene

Carol hathaway

Doug ross

Kerry weaver

Gregory pratt

Samantha taggart

John carter

Cate banfield

Luka kovac

Harry potter

Cedric diggory

Luna lovegood

Harry potter

Ginny weasley

Remus lupin

Narcissa malfoy

Ron weasley

Nymphodora tonks

Sirius black

Marlene mckinnon

Draco malfoy

Fleur declour

Blaise zabini

Hermione granger

Kingdom hearts

Namine

Riku

Kairi

Sora

Aqua

Terra

Xion

Ventus

Roxas

Xmen

Charles xavier

Ororo munroe

Warren worthington

Kitty pryde

Kurt wagner

Illyana rasputin

Erik leshnerr

Raven darkholme

Logan

Marie d'ancanto

Peter maximoff

Jubliee

Pixie

Pixie o'brien

Harland mckenna

Frank mccullen

Final fantasy

Cloud strife

Oerba dia vanille

Snow villers

Tifa lockhart

Hope esthiem

Oerba yun fang

Vincent valentine

Lighting farron

Zack fair

Aerith gainsborough

Narnia

Lucy pevensie

Peter pevensie

Susan pevensie

Edmund pevensie

Mr tumnus

Prince caspian

NCIS LA

Marty deeks

Shay mosley

Sam hanna

Kensi blye

G callen

Fatima nazami

Eric beale

Harley hidoko

Nell jones

Code lyoko

Aelita schaffer

Odd della robbia

Yumi ishiyama

Ulrich stern

Milly solovieff

William dunbar

Tamiya diop

Jeremy belpois

Triple frontier

Will "ironhead" miller

Frankie "catfish" morales

Benny miller

Santiago "pope" garcia

The night shift

Landry de la cruz

Joey chavez

Gwen gaskin

Kenny fornette

Jordan alexander

Michael ragosa

Drew allister

Shannon rivera

TC callahan

Ewan mcgregor characters

Catcher block

Dan torrance

Perry makepeace

Christopher robin

Rodney copperbottom

Robert lewis

Alex law

Edward bloom

Star wars

Crosshair

Cara dune

Luke skywalker

Aayla secura

Hunter

Din djarin

Padme amidala

Cal kestis

Rey skywalker

Obi wan kenobi

Bo katan kryze

Qui gon jin

Tech

Ahsoka tano

Poe dameron

Leia organa

Echo

Finn

Iden versio

Del meeko

Wrecker

Misc 1

Jack mercer

Mason "mace" brown

Spike spiegel

Toph

Lu fox

Elizabeth martinson

Casi

Laney boggs

Max lewinsky

Mahtilda

Flip zimmerman

Nani pelekai

Murphy macmanus

Korra

Lu fox

Samantha caine

Bill s prescott

Iris

Zack siler

Rachel

David abbott

Marta

Jed eckhart

Tess finnegan

Ryan williams

Barbara novak

Ted logan

Toni

Eugene/vida boheme

Tris prior

Murtagh morzzansson

Skeeter

Christian

Stephanie speck

John wick

Viola eade

Jonathan levy

Evey hammond

Eli "Hawk" Moskowitz

Casey jones

Marni

Elliot alderson

Misc 2

Chris chambers

Andie anderson

Michael perry

Beatrix "the bride" kiddo

Elliott

Quinn fabray

Benjamin barry

Dani rojas

Billy/four

Daphne moon

Javi gutierrez

Allison reynolds

Hector villanueva

April o'neil

Ned tash

Kara

Don billingsley

Asami sato

Beau hutton

Monica long dutton

Joey coalter

Celine naville

Sam munroe

[ificouldhelpyouforget]

[11] I Love You, Tim Riggins (Tim Riggins x OFC)

MASTERLIST | DWHI MASTERLIST

Warnings: none

Words: 1.7k

"We're gonna lose the house," Tim told me.

We were walking around the football field because we wanted to. School was done for the day as well as practices. Neither of us was ready to go home.

"Did Billy lose his job again?" He nodded. "How much?"

"$2,000. We have to get it by next week."

I took his hand. "Let me help you guys. Please. I don't want either of you out on the streets."

He sighed. "I don't want your money, Catherine. People will think I'm using your family name as a cushion."

"Who cares? We'll know the truth. I'm not lettin' you find some questionable way to get the money – I know Billy. I'm willin' to help, so let me."

I squeaked when Tim wrapped me up in a hug. "You're too good for this town, Barton."

"Never."

*****

Dillon High was still crowded with Laraby kids, but things were calming down after the game. Their school renovations were nearing completion, so it was only a little bit longer before we were free. 

A couple of Larby boys looked at me and snickered just as one of the yearbook girls came up to my locker. I scowled at the boys before smiling at Samantha. She handed me an envelope with my name on it.

"We took these forever ago and forgot to give them to you. There're two copies of each photo"

"Subject?"

She smiled. "You and Tim Riggins."

"Are you serious? Please tell me they won't make it into the yearbook."

"That's up to the editor." Samantha said bye and left me alone again.

With shaking hands, I opened the envelope. A smile came on my face followed by a blush.

The first photo on the stack was me at State. Mrs. Taylor and Julie were in the shot with me, but it was clear I was the main subject. The 33 on my cheek was where my eyes went first.

Tim and I were standing in front of some lockers in the second shot. He was talking and I was listening wholeheartedly, a bright smile on my lips.

The next was at the powderpuff game when Tim high-fived me after a touchdown. There was a shot of me showing Tim how to use my camera, which I didn't know they had another person there taking photos. The last few photos were various moments of me and Tim throughout the last year. I hadn't realized what a spectacle we were in Dillon.

My favorite photo was me in his beat-up ball cap from a few weeks prior. I was laughing hard about something Tim said and he was watching me. My heart raced. I'd never seen him look at me like that and it was a look. The look.

"How cute," Julie said as she sidled up beside me to peer over my shoulder. "Who took those?"

"Yearbook. It's the first time I've seen them."

She eyed the one I was still staring at. "That's a really cute picture. Tim looks totally in love with you."

My stomach flipped. "Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Um..." I took a deep breath. "Do you really think he loves me?"

Julie made an 'o' with her mouth and smiled. "Definitely. It's pretty clear every time he looks at you, not just in this photo."

I nodded slowly, making a neat stack with the photos.

"Oh, and he's on his way over. I'll see you later, Cat." Julie left just as Tim came up behind me.

His arms went around my shoulders and he kissed the top of my head. "What's that?"

I turned to face him and hand the photos over. "Yearbook as been stalkin' us."

Tim's eyes lit up with each one he saw. I loved it.

"You're pretty cute, Catherine Barton."

"They gave me two copies of all of them."

"Smart idea." He immediately started gathering his pile of images.

I took my stack when he finished and made him bend over to kiss me. He pushed our hips together to deepen the kiss long enough before a teacher came and scolded us.

I laughed and rested my forehead on his chest. "My parents are leavin' today. You're welcome to come back over once they do. We've got a pool now."

"You sure you want me to have that invitation again?"

I nodded against him. "I miss you bein' around. I'm a lot happier when you're there and not so lonely."

"I'll see you tonight then." Tim kissed my lips before showing me the picture from State. "This one's my favorite." He kissed me again.

*****

I skipped up to Tim's truck when he pulled into the drive. My parents left a few hours before, so I called his house. He said he would be over after he got the things he left at Guy Raston's house.

"You get your stuff?" I asked, circling his waist with my arms.

He nodded, looking guilty. "I did something, Cat."

"Please don't say something like that when you come over. I feel like I'm about to have a breakdown and you haven't told me anything."

"I found $3,000." He rubbed his face. "No, I stole $3,000... from Guy."

I stepped away from him. "Why the hell did you do that?"

"Billy was with me and I accidentally knocked over one of Guy's guns. I went to pick it up and found money under his table. I wasn't thinking, so I took it. Billy used it to pay for the mortgage."

"Tim Riggins," I started, "I told you I was gonna help and you decided stealin' from a drug dealer was a better idea? What the fuck? He's gonna come after you."

"I know. I'm an idiot. I understand if you want to send me back home." He reached for his truck handle.

I grabbed his arm to keep him from climbing in the truck cab. "I don't want you to go home, Tim, and you're not an idiot. You made a bad choice. That doesn't mean you're stupid.

"I'm pissed you stole cash when I was ready to help because you Riggins boys are important to me. And you're not goin' anywhere except this house, all right? You're stayin' right here with me."

He stared down at me. I could see him struggling with his head. When he started looking everywhere except me, dread gathered in the pit of my stomach.

"I don't deserve you."

I grabbed his face and made him look at me. "Don't you dare do what you're thinkin', Tim. Please." I started tearing up before I realized it. "Please please please please don't."

Tim still tried to avoid looking at me, making my tears fall faster. "You're too good for me. I'm just gonna keep bringin' you into all my shit and I can't do that to you. You've got a future."

"You have one, too! Just because you're a troublemaker and prefer drinkin' over school, that doesn't mean you have nothin' waitin' for you in the future, Tim." I grasped his hand. "Don't sell yourself short... I'm not too good for you..."

He didn't say anything, didn't step away. He couldn't look at me.

My breath shook and I pressed the top of my head against his chest. "Please, believe me, Tim. I-I... I love you."

The stillness that followed had me hold down a sob. I was afraid to look up at him, but I needed him to do something. Preferably something that didn't end in him breaking up with me to be a hero.

Timidly, stepped closer and repositioned my head to listen to his heart. It was a mess. I hugged him. "I love you, Tim, Please, don't... don't go."

The air in my lungs whooshed out when Tim captured my mouth with his. He pushed me back against his truck and angled my head to deepen our kiss. Goosebump rose on my neck when his hands brushed against the flesh of my back.

The second my fingers wound their way into his hair, he picked me up and laid me across the seat of his truck. He crawled on top of me and kissed me more. Tim's lips touched my jaw just as his knee brushed against a hyperaware area, making me gasp.

"Tim," I breathed. It was my attempt to get him to slow down.

Tim's head fell on my shoulder, his hands still firm on my hips. I felt his lips connect to the skin on my neck a few times. He sighed and looked down at me.

"You mean it, Barton?" There was so much uncertainty in his voice.

My lips turned up. "I love you, Tim Riggins."

Suddenly, he pressed short kisses all over my face and neck, ridding me of the fear I had earlier. He finished with a long and slow kiss to my lips that left me in a dream-like state.

"I love you, too." His lips connected with mine a few more times, filling the truck with the sound.

I had to catch my breath when his lips lingered on my collarbone. "D-Don't leave me because you wanna be a hero. I want to be with-th you through everything." Tim lifted my shirt to expose my stomach and my world spun. His lips trailing along the newly revealed area wasn't helping. "I-I can't focus with you-you doin' that."

"Then quit talkin' and let me kiss you."

My laugh was airy. "I feel like your truck isn't the best place for this."

"All right."

Tim got off of me and pulled me to the end of the seat by my ankles. He put me over my shoulder, kicked his door shut, and brought me into my house. We were barely on the couch when he started kissing my skin again.

He kissed me again and again until the early hours of the morning when he was falling asleep in my hold. His lips still touched my flesh.

Neither of us made it to school and he almost missed practice. I could hardly bring myself to get off of the couch from the tingling of my skin. I was afraid it would go away if I moved too much. I was more than willing to lie there and wait for my Panther to come home.

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 2- Panic At The Disco

Intro: You head to the hospital as Paul’s life hangs in the balance and as you wait for news, you start to reflect on the early days of your relationship.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: So, you migh recognise a few familiar names/faces in this as well- I can assure you this isn’t an Avengers/Diskant AU, just a way for me to pay tribute to a few of our faves…because, why not!

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 1

"All units, we have a possible 2-4-5 in progress at 4223 E Palm, South of Figueroa and 1st. Unit responding is requesting back up, 11-9-9, Code 3."

"Unit 613 responding, Code 3."

The call went out over dispatch and you felt a slight relief at the fact support was on its way. You took a deep breath, held firm, your weapon poised as your partner stood next to you. 

"LAPD, drop the weapon and come out with your hands up. We will fire." Officer Barton, a long time veteran on beat called out. "Panny, hit the porch."

You nodded and walked the short steps, bracing yourself against the stucco near the jam. 

"Come on Garcia, your old lady called it in, I have back up coming, bro. You don't want this to go down worse than it is," Barton shouted. "Don't make my Rookie work hard today, man."

Lights and sirens filled your ears and soon a second unit had arrived on scene. The suspect, now surrounded, soon surrendered, his weapon dropped to the ground as he came out of his home with his hands up. 

The second unit to respond to the call was helping Barton with the arrest while you headed inside to check on the girlfriend who'd called it in. She was beat up and bloodied, a bullet graze across her upper left arm. Paramedics were treating her as you wrote down everything she could tell you for the report to be filed later. 

You gave the woman’s hand a little squeeze as you promised her you’d be right back and headed outside where you saw Barton stood talking to one of the duty sergeants from the second unit and another officer who you hadn’t seen before.

"She's requesting an escort, both medics are male," You said to Barton.

“Okay.” Barton nodded. “You good to take it or do you want me to call back and request someone take over?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I’m good, I could use the overtime. It’s no problem.”

"Rookies, always looking for the pay out," Barton laughed at you and you snorted before you looked back at the house.

“Well, to be honest I wanna make sure she’s okay, she’s beat up pretty bad.”

"Yeah, well this isn't their first 240 but now, it's bumping to a 273D, if she keeps the chargers." Barton nodded. “Okay, go with her and I’ll file the initial report when I get back. You can add your details to it later.”

“See, we’re not always money grabbing assholes.” The officer you’d never met before turned his eyes to the sergeant who met his look with one of his own. “Some of us rookies are simply driven by our social conscience.”

As the two men looked at one another it was clear that the statement meant something, and you could probably take a good guess that the officer in question had also had his fair share of rookie jokes at his expense. It was part and parcel of being a newbie.

“Oooh I’m sensing a little bit of tension there, Barnes!” Barton looked at the sergeant who scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“He’s a wise guy, thinks he’s funny.”

“I don’t think it, I know it.” The buzz cut man shrugged. “Why else does everyone laugh at me when I walk into a room?”

At that you couldn’t help a little chuckle of laughter as your eyes looked over the hood of Sargent Barnes' black and white and caught the name plate of the wise ass, before your eyes flicked up to his face. A pair of shades were pushed up on top of his shorn light brown hair, revealing a pair of blue eyes which were twinkling slightly with good humour. He was clean shaven with a strong jawline, and a pretty handsome profile with high cheekbones and a smattering of freckles over his nose. Two strong arms folded over a broad chest, as he stood tall, a good inch or so above Sergeant Barnes and a fair few over you. 

His eyes caught yours, a smirk curling in his lips as he clearly thought you’d been checking him out.

Which, to be fair, you had, and all in all, he was pretty damned hot.

"Don't I know you?" He asked, his hands unfolding from across his chest and coming to rest on his utility belt, either side of the buck.

“I don’t think so.” You shook your head.

“I’m sure I do. I never forget a pretty face.”

You laughed at the blatant pick up line and looked at Barton who was watching, his eyebrow raised. You shook your head and turned back to make some sly quip of your own before the medic interrupted the exchange, telling you they were ready for transport. You nodded before once more switching your attention back to the three men around you.

“It’s been a pleasure, gents.” You smiled, nodding to both Barton and Sergeant Barnes before you turned to look at the other man. "Diskant.”

He feigns a pain to his chest with a hard slap of his right hand over his heart. "Uh, you do know me! That hurts."

“Read your name tag.” You shrugged and with that you turned and left.

The red and blue lights of the black and white bouncing off the concrete exterior of UCLA Medical Centre as you arrived brought you out of your memory. Officer Weiss opened the door for you and escorted you inside where the waiting room had been cleared and you were met with the somber faces of not only Captain Biggs, but Paul's Captain, Sam Wilson. But what brought your world crashing down on you for the second time that night was seeing your own Captain, Steve Rogers, waiting for you. Wilson had to have called him in.

"Steve," your voice quivered as your Captain and friend wrapped an arm around you. Sam, too, pulling you close. "What...." you couldn't even get the words out, each syllable choked back by the closing of your throat, sobs threatening to escape. 

"We don't know, not yet. The call came in as an officer down, unit in pursuit. Medics arrived and called in code blue, 10-45C GSW to the neck. As soon as they arrived he was wheeled into emergency surgery," Captain Biggs explained. 

The air left your lungs at the news and you near hit the floor, both Rogers and Wilson catching an arm, and had you been more with it, you’d have clocked the worried look that your Captain shot Sam. He'd known you since your training at the academy, his eye on you for SWAT from the get go, and never had he seen your lose control in such a way. You hadn’t on the job, not once. It was something you prided yourself on.

Biggs grabbed a chair from the wall behind him, where a dozen lined the sterile white space, and allowed you to flop into it. Your hands were shaking, legs bouncing on the balls of your feet, the tore up converse you’d slipped on squeaking a little on the clinical floor. You’d dressed in such a haste, your skinny jeans being grabbed straight back off the top of the hamper for you to put on, one of Paul’s hoodies being pulled on over a tight camisole. Whilst you hadn’t given a single thought to what you were wearing, clearly your subconscious had wanted to be near him, and you were glad as you pulled the dark grey item round you tighter, breathing in his smell. And you were reminded of the first time you were able to really be close enough to smell his cologne or deodorant, a smell that was uniquely Paul Diskant. 

It was Friday and your shift had just finished. It was the first time your rest days had fallen over a Saturday and Sunday, and you were making the most of it. A few from your team were heading to Jack's Bar for a few beers and, you suspected, a lot of shots and probably karaoke later, apparently that’s how your team nights went down.

You’d been there a few hours and your rounds had all gotten out of sync, as was always the case when everyone had had a few, so you stood up to head to the bar to get yourself a refill, cringing at the cat-screeching masquerading as singing which was ringing around the room. You found a space, placing your empty glass on the smooth wood of the bar and stood waiting for the bar tender. You hadn’t been there long when someone sidled in next to you, their elbow lightly brushing your arm and you glanced up to see the handsome, buzz-cut officer that had attended the 273D you’d dealt with in the week.

“Did you bring your cuffs?” He asked and you frowned, looking at him.

“What? Why?”

He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the woman singing, “because she’s murdering Shania Twain and whilst she may feel like a woman, personally I feel that as police officers, it’s our duty to prevent crimes of this nature.”

You groaned out a laugh, “Jesus, you’re terrible”

“My name isn’t Jesus, but give me a chance and I’ll make you say ‘Oh God’,” he shot you a wink, “how’s that for terrible?”

You laughed and shook your head, cocking it slightly to one side as you studied him for a second. And then, you decided on a little joke of your own. “It’s Disco, right?”

He groaned, dropping his head in a dramatic sigh. “Diskant. Come on, you read my name tag, remember?”

"Diskant."  You shrugged, "Close enough."

He chuckled, nodding to your drink that was down to the foam at the bottom of the glass, "what are you drinking?"

"Beer," you replied.

"Any beer? Or..."

"The Heff," you nod to the taps.

Diskant waved the bartender over, "Jack, can we get another round, one for me and one for Officer...."

"Y/L/N."

"Officer Y/L/N. Whatever she's drinking."

"It's Paul by the way," he smirked at you while dropping some cash on the bar top as Jack returned your beers.

"Thanks for the beer, Disco," You winked and walked off to join your partner and the rest of the shift team.

“Woah, it’s like that? I buy you a drink and you bail, without even telling me your name?” He scoffed and you turned to look at him over your shoulder, giving him a smirk.

“Yeah," you shrugged, and when you turned away you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Later, you saw him laughing in a full body tilt, eyes crinkled and his smile exploding. His partner, whom you'd recognized again as Barnes, had said something ridiculous causing the table to erupt.

You headed to the bar and ordered a round of shots for your team and another beer to chase it. But sent one over Paul's way, with a note on the napkin.

When the waitress took the beer to him, she placed the napkin down first, making sure he saw the scribbled note.

'Now we're even. - Y/N'

You watched as he read the note, a huge smile breaking over his handsome face and he turned, bright eyes searching the bar. When they fell on you, he arched his brow and raised his beer in thanks. You gave a sharp jerk of your head to show you’d seen and turned back to your team.

From then on, he was a persistent little shit. He'd somehow figured out your shift patterns, catching you in and out of the doors to the station as you'd be coming off shift and he starting his. Barton liked to give you shit for it as he'd always walk with you out, calling Diskant "your lost, little puppy-dog" and the unit were quick to catch on. It was all in good fun, until one day, you'd worked a tough shift; chasing down a couple of suspects and catching yourself up on a fence, gashing your arm good. Medics treated you at the scene, but told you that it required stitches. You finished you shift anyway and like clockwork, there he was walking in as you were out.

"Hey Y/N, you okay?" He'd expressed concern as your face was blatantly displaying your discomfort and mood which wasn’t great.

You were tired, irritated and in pain, now that the day was over, you wanted to just go home, so you seemed to snap in reply, "What the hell is it gonna take for you to just go away?"

Your response took him back a bit as he raised his hands in defense."Whoa, relax," his voice was soft and careful.

You sighed and stepped out of the way of the different people coming in and out the doors. He followed. "I'm sorry, that was shitty. It's just been a really long day."

"It’s okay, I get it. Look, I'm off today, I was coming in to get some stuff I left in my locker. I'm sorry if I've crossed a line somehow."

You thought to yourself for a moment. He hadn't crossed any line, not one that made you uncomfortable. You had your own reservations about dating someone from work, but it wasn’t like no one else did it, hell, half the entire force seemed to be married to one another, and if you were honest, you were actually kind of attracted to him and you found his flirty way of things to be fun and you liked it.

“No, you didn’t, like I said, bad day.” You shook your head. “I gotta head to the clinic for some stitches, and if I’m honest, I’m not a huge fan of needles so...."

He frowned “you hurt yourself?”

"Got hung up on a chain link chasing a perp through an alley. Finished the shift with the bandages from the medics, now I gotta take care of it."

"Do you... errr...", he moved out of the way of someone leaving the building and scratched the back of his neck, "do you need a lift up there or something, I got nothing else on."

"I could use a ride, sure," you shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Okay, well gimme two minutes to grab something out of my locker and I’ll be with you in a second.”

You headed out of the way of the various traffic in and out of the station and perched on the low wall that surrounded the parking lot. True to his word, Diskant emerged a few minutes later, sliding his shades down from his head to his eyes, a bright pink gift bag in his hand and for some inexplicable reason, you felt your heart sink at the sight of the item in his hand, it was clearly for a woman.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” You asked, nodding to it as he stopped in front of you. A smirk crossed his face and a brow arched over the top of his wraparounds.

“Is that your way of asking me if I have a girlfriend?” He quipped and you hastily shook your head, lying through your teeth.

“No, I was just…making conversation. Besides, you might be gay for all I know.” You finished lamely and he snorted.

“Well, I’m not, and it’s for my Mom. It’s her birthday tomorrow and she’s a pain in the ass for finding her presents in my room or wherever I hide them. That and I actually only picked it up yesterday and forgot about it.”

"None of my business." You shrugged and at that he sighed, looking down before he glanced at you, chuckling.

"You asked, sweetheart."

The pet name had you feeling a little warm around your neck. Thankfully, Diskant then led you to his car, the conversation moving swiftly onwards as you explained in a little more detail how you’d gotten your injury. By the time you’d finished you were out of the parking lot and had joined the steady stream of traffic on the main road.

“You should count yourself lucky that it was only your arm.” Paul mused, his thumb tapping the steering wheel. “One of the first shifts I ever did ended with the guy I’d been partnered with straddling a piece of razor-wire.”

“Ouch.” You winced and Paul wrinkled his nose.

“Lot of blood and screaming.” He sniffed. “Mind you, every cloud and all that, he said it would save him and his wife a fortune on a vasectomy.”

You blinked before your mouth fell open in disbelief and you scoffed, shaking your head. “Bullshit.”

“I swear down…”

“Don’t believe you, Disco.”

“Well, I’m offended on two counts. First that you think I’m untrustworthy and second you know that’s not my name.” He shook his head, hanging a right.

You shrugged, “I like it, it suits you.”

“I used to get that all the time at school.” He shrugged, “fucking everyone used to sing that damned D-I-S-C-O song in the halls.”

“Okay, now that’s in my head.” You smirked, and you opened your mouth to sing but he cut you off.

“Just, no.”

You laughed and took a deep breath. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my team call me Panny, short for Panic. On account of the fact I never seem to.”

At that he snorted, “yeah, I’m not calling you that, that’s, fucking awful!”

You let out a low chuckle, “Y/N’s fine.”

“Mind you,” he stole a quick glance at you before his eyes went back to the road. “Panic at the Disco, not a bad band.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled a little. The conversation flowed with little interruption or awkwardness and once you arrived, your time at the clinic seemed relatively fast. You'd figured he'd left as you'd said goodbye to one another when you'd entered the clinic but to your surprise, and catching you a bit off guard, he was still waiting. 

"You didn't have to wait." You smiled at him and he shrugged.

“How else you gonna get back for your car?" His eyes flicked down, noting the clean wound and stitches in your forearm.

“Uber?” You shrugged and he paused, before he took a deep breath.

“Okay, you could have but my mom taught me never to leave a lady in need of help.”

"I was in there for an hour," You chuckled.

“Yeah, and now I’m kinda hungry, are you hungry?"

“Diskant…”

"There's a little place I know where we get some great quick food."

"And if I say no?"

"I'm a gentleman and no is no, I’ll take you back to the lot and you get in your car.” He paused, "and then I'll go home and weep into my pillow as I deal with your rejection."

You laugh loudly, genuinely amused, "fine, take me to dinner."

"Woah, I didn't say anything about dinner. I said food."

"Fine, food, let's get some food."

With a grin he gestured for you to lead the way and you headed out of the medical centre back to his car.

It turns out the place he’d been meaning was the Santa Monica Pier. And the food he had in mind was hot dogs and fries, which suited you absolutely fine.

"Alright, I gotta hand it to you, this is a pretty good hot dog and the beer isn't half bad," You tilted back the drink and smiled. "But, it doesn't beat Coney Island."

"Never been," he shrugged, "so I'll have to take you at your word."

"What else do you take me for? Obviously, you're swindling your way into something."

"I resent that accusation, Y/N."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you just suckered me into a date." You teased and he paused, turning to face you. “And, seeing as you said that was what it would take to get you to leave me alone…” “No, this is not a date.” He cut you off, shaking his head.

 “Hmm, just the two of us, you bought me food, pretty sure it counts as a date.” You wrinkled your nose, your tone flirty and Paul shook his head once more.

“Nope. Absolutely not. There’s a vital element missing.”

“What?”

“I haven’t kissed you.” He signed dramatically. “So, I’m afraid that if you want me to count this as a date then you’re gonna have to lay one on me.”

“Oh my God-“ You burst out laughing, “You are-“

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, Y/N!”

“So, to be absolutely clear, if I kiss you this counts as a date?”

“Yes.” He nodded.

“Well,” You popped a shoulder, stepping a little closer to him, your eyes flicking from his to his lips, “what the hell.”

You brought your lips to his, a littler firmer than you'd thought but the feel of his mouth against yours was soft and in a way delicate and as you began to pull away, his arm looped around your rib cage and pulled you back in for a longer, deeper kiss that if you'd been honest with yourself, made your stomach tilt and your toes curl. The way his tongue dipped into your mouth was delightful, the salty hoppy taste of the beer and fries you were sharing still an essence in his mouth. 

Breathless, you pulled away, “You gonna leave me alone now?”

“Not a chance.” He chuckled and leaned in again for a third kiss. 

"Y/N..." the voice calling out to you was familiar but your head was pounding and nothing but a fog had filtered over you. Tearfully coming out of your memory, you looked up to see Dorothy, Paul's mom standing before you, her husband Jim in the background talking to Sam. 

"Hi," you croaked and stood from your chair. She immediately wrapped her arms around you in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry... I didn't..."

"Its okay, Jimmy called us after Sam had called us both." She tearfully explained. "We came as soon we'd heard." She nodded to James Barnes, Paul's former beat partner who was talking with Jim, Sam and now Steve. 

"Dotty, I... I'm scared." You cried and she took hold of you again. Together you cried until Jim came and hugged you both, his eyes tearful but his demeanour strong. As a force veteran himself, Big Jim Diskant knew all too well how these things could happen but never did he want to believe it'd be his own son wounded in the line of duty. 

Barnes was quick to hand you a tissue and you accepted with a sad, soft smile in thanks. "He's gonna pull through, doll. Just you watch. You can't get rid of him that easy."

Your quivering lip turned to a wobble until you saw the doctor emerge from the double doors that led into the body of the hospital. His scrubs were bloodied and you feared the worst as he called out, "family of Paul Diskant."

The world around you felt like it was moving at a snail's pace, your stomach in your throat as you, Dotty, Jim and those there to comfort you all made their way to the doctor. 

"We've moved him into the ICU. He's critical, however, I'm hard pressed to say stable. He's not out of the woods yet. The bullet hit his carotid artery which supplies the brain, face and neck and while we were able to remove it, he's lost a lot of blood and I feel it's best to keep him medically sedated until some real healing takes place. That's all up to him on how long that will take and how his body works. Unfortunately, until he wakes up, we won’t be able to determine if there will be any long lasting damage due to the loss of blood to the brain. You should know, we nearly lost him once during the procedure and I know he coded twice before arrival. He's a fighter, that's for sure. For now, he just needs time."

"Can we see him?" Dotty asked, the words not able to leave your lips. 

"You can. One at a time," the doctor replied. "ICU rules. I can take the first of you up with me now."

Dotty very quickly turned to you, "go on." You looked at her like a deer in headlights. Jim nodded in agreement with his wife. 

"Follow me," the doctor nodded to go with him and as he did, he handed you a small plastic bag. "We had to cut it off. I'm sorry."

He placed the bag containing Paul's St. Christopher medal in your hand. It was covered in blood, no doubt from what had happened and the weight of it felt heavier than it ever had before in your hand as you joined the good doctor on the lift up.

It had been a month into your relationship when your parents decided to head out for a week trip to New York, your dad making good on his promise to treat your mom for their anniversary. That meant that you and Paul were playing house for the week.

After seeing them off, you'd proudly tidied up and made sure you pampered yourself before your date night to kick the week off. Fridays post shift were usually spent at Jack's but, you were off and Paul and Barnes were already day shift, as if the stars had perfectly aligned for tonight. Your gut was telling you that after a month of heavy, very heavy petting, absolutely breath-taking make out sessions and a few down the pants moments, tonight just might be the night things would change for the two of you. And if not tonight, then hopefully while the two of you were shacked up for the next five days.

A few hours of primping, preening and a ridiculously relaxing bath, setting fire to that very diamonds and pearls side of you, you picked out your nicest lingerie, a little all black set of bra and panties that hid lines well in your selected sleek black dress. Paul had said the two of you were going for a nice dinner, and he promised it was truly a nice dinner, not like the last he'd said was nice and you two laughed your way through burgers at the Beach Hut. He was going to pick you up at five, and you needed to be ready.

Punctual as always, your doorbell rang and there he was, duffle in one hand, flowers for you in the other. He always brought you flowers on your dates and you loved the old fashioned in him that clearly was a product of his parents love story.

You smiled at him from behind red lips and smoky eyes, your hair down and straight. "Hey! Thank you!" You took the outstretched flowers and welcomed him in. 

"Wow," he whispered, getting the full view of you as he stepped inside the doorway. "Sweetheart, you..., wow."

“You said nice... so if you’re taking me to some dive, Disco, when I’m dressed like this there’s gonna be trouble.”

"I promise, it's nice." Dropping his overnight bag next to the stairs, he followed you into the kitchen as you put the flowers in a vase. You turned from the island and his lips were on yours. "You do look beautiful, but if you want to get into trouble, I've got my cuffs in the car." 

You didn't miss the fire in his eyes and the feeling between your legs. “I thought only bad girls get the cuffs?”

"Maybe we should see how bad you can get."

"You're gonna have to feed me first."

“Damn, you drive a hard bargain.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck, "You think that's hard, you should..."

His finger covered your lips, "don't, don't finish that sentence or we'll never make dinner. THAT I can promise."

You smirked and pulled away from him fully, grabbing your hand bag off the entry table, "I'm ready, let's go."

The meal was divine, expensive and rich in place and taste, you dined on steaks and lobsters, Paul pulling out all the stops for such a new relationship and start of a fun weekend. You didn't mind, but you also knew that you'd have been fine with something simple too. 

"You know you didn’t have to spend so much, I’d have laid on my back for a sub," you sighed contently as he drove you two back to yours. 

"Well, in that case, fuck it, next time it's Subway."

"Is that what this was? You buttering me up so I'd sleep with you, Disco?"

“No, that’s...” he stopped and shrugged, “did it work?”

All you did was smirk back at him. From then, until tires skidded into the driveway, Paul drove at lightspeed, making a snarky comment about needing a red light for the dash or wishing he was in his squad car because he couldn't get you home fast enough. You were barely in the door before he was all over you, hands tangled through your hair, you kicking your shoes off at the bottom of the stairs. His strong arms and big hands lifted you off your feet as you clawed at him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist while he carried you up the stairs. It was a mix of breathy sounds and lots of tongue until your back hit the lamp at the landing stair, causing it to tilt, and the bulb to break. 

Shit," Paul cursed against your lips. 

"I'll get that later," you replied, continuing to fight for dominance in your kiss. 

He managed to get you to your room, but your pace slowed down as you entered, the heat lowering to a simmer unlike the two horny teenagers you’d both been in the stairs and hall. Your toes curled into your plush carpet as he set you down. Breathless and chests heaving, you kissed each other softly and slowly as your fingers unbuttoned his shirt, trying to hide your nerves. Your nails raked down the chest of his crisp white tee he wore underneath. You could feel his heart under your palm. 

Your eyes looked into his and you saw deep and beautiful blue pools staring back at you, a soft twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He took a half breath and his lips covered yours, his tongue slowly rolling over your top lip to pull you in. It made your stomach drop in need, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to close the space between you. 

His big hand splayed over your right ass cheek and held you there against him while the other hand cupped your face. If anyone were to walk in, they'd think you were one person, the two of you were so close to one another. Then you felt his hand trail over the curve of your backside, closer and closer to the start of your zipper. You felt your dress grow looser as he pulled the little metal piece over the teeth of its track. 

His lips trailed over your skin, and you could feel his heart now racing through his pulse point in his neck. Your eyes met his as he pulled away a second, "me too," You whispered.

A breathy chuckle left his lips and you pulled your dress away from your body, allowing the fabric to hit the floor. You felt naked despite the bra and panty set, his gaze taking all of you in. By no means was this your first time with a man, but it was your first time with Paul, and so far, you'd never felt or experienced anything like this and he wasn't even inside you yet. It was like your skin was on fire from the inside out, all of your nerves firing at once, causing everything to tingle and your breath to catch as your heart threatened to leap from your chest. 

His foot stepped between yours and he placed his hands on your hips, gently backing you into the bed, his lips sealing with yours, your hands holding his forearms to steady yourself. His hands cradled you as the two of you fell into the mattress, his body covering yours, his lips traveling down your neck and nipping at that sensitive spot that made your panties pool and your thighs clench. Your hands shoved the material of his button down over his shoulders and, as his lips carried on toward the swell of your breasts, he flung the shirt wherever it landed.

You smirked as he figured out the bra you had on was front closure and with a snap your breasts were freed. 

"Fuck, sweetheart," he said with a tone you'd never heard from him before.

He had his mouth on you before you could reply, your skin flushing and that twist of stomach igniting with pleasure. His hot tongue lolled around your nipple before suckling it between his teeth and giving it a little pull. You moaned as he pulled away, your fingers scratching at his neck. He smirked against your other breast as you arched into him, his free hand running over your hip and behind you to palm your ass as your leg lifted and bent a knee at his hip.

"I....oh God," you purred as his tongue licked and his mouth sucked, alternating between your breasts. "Fuck, I... Paul, please."

He sat back and ripped his shirt over his head, adding it to the pile. You could see he was solid from your foreplay and you knew the size he was packing. Your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

"Please... What?" He said softly as he left hot, wet kisses up the inside of your thigh. "You know, for a trained police officer I would expect you to have a little more self-control, Baby.”

"Shut up..."

He nipped at your thigh, and you moaned obscenely, your muscles twitching. "You gonna tell me what you want?" He nipped again, higher this time. "Or.."

"I need you."

“I asked what you want...”

"Fuck me."

Quickly he was standing, undoing his belt and pants while pulling a condom from his back pocket. You laid there amazed and in awe of the thick muscles of his entire body, the bare chest and tight abs he had on display. You'd seen his thick and full length before, hell, you'd even put your mouth around it but now, all you can think of is how it would feel deep inside you. Your eyes watched him with a hunger you could feel coursing all through you, the way he rolled the latex circle down his shaft and kneeled toward you on the bed. 

He pulled at your panties, peeling them away from your body, your legs lifting to remove them fully. You were soaked as he tested your folds, slicking the head of his cock. It felt so good already, you were squirming by the time his head dipped inside you. He caged you in with his body as he pressed into you little by little until you were both moaning at the perfect fit as he became fully seated inside you. His St. Christopher medal dangled between the two of you as it ghosted across your chest. 

Your hand gripped the medallion as you gave a gentle pull, his lips barely touching yours, "I said fuck me, Diskant." You sealed your words with a hard kiss, nothing but tongue inside his mouth and his hips snapped, again the two of you making lewd sounds as your bodies joined together.

He broke away from your kiss and thrust his hips forward again, slowly pulling out and snapping back in. It was blissful torture, your body experiencing each movement as if it were new. Your walls continuously contracted around him, giving him a pressure around his cock. It was a tight fit, but not painful, not uncomfortable in any way. Your eyes and his never broke away from each other, only lashes kissing cheeks as you would close your eyes for a kiss. 

With a deep, intentional roll of his hips, his lips moved across your jaw and neck, settling near your ear. "I love you," he whispered. 

You gasped as you felt your body react, "Oh fuck!" You moaned, your orgasm coming out of nowhere, tightening around him hard. 

"Fucking hell," Paul moaned as his hips sped up, until he was spasming inside you, his seed filling the barrier. 

He stilled while inside you, pulling out and slipping away with a soft kiss, only to come back cleaned up and pulling the sheet over the two of you. He curled his body around yours, your bare skin against his chest, his hand entwined with yours as his lips kissed your tousled head. "You're amazing."

You turned to look at him with your tired but happy eyes, "did you mean it?" 

A soft smile splayed over his features as his eyes twinkled a bit, understanding exactly what you were referring to. "I was being ironic, as I was, literally loving you." He took a pause and leaned in for a sweet, all lip kiss. "But hypothetically... if I did mean it..." 

You grinned, “then, hypothetically I’d say I love you to."

He chuckled and quickly pecked you again before settling in behind you for sleep. "Good to know."

The bell to the lift beeped and the doors loudly opened, bringing you to the present. It felt like everything took forever since you'd received Captain Biggs' call. You followed the doctor down the hall and after a sharp left, he showed you the doorway to Paul's room. 

As you stepped inside, your heart shattered. The first thing you noticed was how small and pale he looked there in his bed. Paul wasn't a small guy, in fact he was six feet of thick muscle and hard strength. A built frame that loved to wrap itself around you any chance he could. Your firm and well taught body fitting like the perfect piece to him. You swallowed hard as you stepped forward, closer to the edge of his bed. There were so many wires, so many leads hooked up to the various machines that ensured he stayed in his medicinal sleep and keeping him alive. A tube for the ventilator was in his mouth and down his throat while monitoring equipment measured his vitals, IV lines and pumps full of medication surrounded him, a feeding tube was stuck in his nose, and not to mention the various drains and catheters. You found yourself cursing all the episodes of ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ the pair of you had watched as you weren't sure if you'd rather not fucking know what the hell they all were. 

Despite the sick symphony of beeps and blips on the screens, the only sound you heard was the sound of his heart rate on its own monitor. A steady, morbid mantra reminding you that he was there but not really there with you. 

Gone were those beautiful blue eyes you loved waking up to each morning or staring deeply into as his pupils, lust blown with deep passion, love and desire stared back you while you made love. Hiding behind an ugly plastic tube were those pearly whites you loved seeing when he smiled or laughed with his whole body, his cheeky grin missing. Silent was the voice that would make your heart skip its beats, your body ignite, that would meet your voice in reply, 'sugar'. 

You held back the sob that was choking you breathless and you sat in the chair beside his bed, facing him. Your warm and soft hand took hold of his, and you were broken at how cold he felt. 

As you looked up for some form of help to the heavens above, your eyes looked back at him and you gave a breathy, shaky sigh, "hey, Stud."

***** Part 3

[buckyismybicycle]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: Established Bucky/Nat, Teachers AU,  Summary:   Clint has a brand new job at Westview Collegiate & Institute, and everything's fine, except: why does it feel like the most attractive couple he's ever seen are coming onto him? Wait a minute - Author’s Notes: Written for @the-poly-armory fic exchange, just super late posting it on Tumblr. Oops!

Snippet below!  [Full story on AO3 here!]

Bucky sips his underwhelming coffee, lounging on a somewhat lumpy couch in Westview Collegiate Institute’s break room for faculty. There is nothing in the staff room that’s remotely exciting, comfortable or inspiring. Unless, of course, his wife is in said staff room.

Nat’s usually there before him, because fate is a fickle thing and his classroom is in the opposite corner from the break room. As if someone really thought he would ditch his perfectly fine classroom in favour of the bland coffee and perpetual smell of almost-burnt popcorn.

Perhaps, they weren’t entirely wrong, but still, Bucky feels slighted.

When Nat finally comes through, a sandy-haired man is following behind her and – oh, Bucky knows that look so well.

Nat draws that look from everyone, of course, with her fiery hair and matching attitude. He knows he’s a lucky bastard, he always takes the time to remind himself – and everyone else – that he is. He rises, tossing the empty cup in the trash, to sidle over to the pair. Nat is pointing at the floor plan of their school that has been unceremoniously taped to the wall. He notices a hearing aid in the man’s ear, even with how he nods at almost everything Nat’s saying.

“Mornin’,” he greets with his best smile, turning to Nat and kissing her cheek. He’s a tad shorter than the man she’s with, but broader, and he has to remind himself not to do some form of demented peacock strut. She gives him a look that says she knows exactly what he’s doing, but he blinks innocently and extends his right hand to the newcomer, his other tucked in the pocket of his cardigan.

“Hi, I’m Bucky Barnes.”

“Bucky?” The man tilts his head with an amused smile, but before Bucky can defend his name, the man simply nods and says, “Cool. I’m Clint Barton, the new phys ed teacher.”

Bucky tries his best not to raise his eyebrows as they shake hands, and he notices how warm and calloused Clint’s hands are. It’s comforting, in a way.

“Welcome to WCI.”

“Thanks, I’ve already gotten lost twice before Natasha rescued me.”

“She has a habit of taking in strays,” Bucky jokes, before internally cringing at the fact he just called this guy a stray without even knowing who he is. Thankfully, Clint laughs genuinely, the corners of his eyes crinkling. They hold each other’s gaze for a beat longer than necessary before Nat interrupts them.

“And you’re the most annoying one of them all,” she quips, bouncing her hip lightly off his, and brushing imaginary lint off Bucky’s cardigan. He gives her a bit of side-eye, curious why she’s suddenly so handsy when she’s normally allergic to public displays of affection.

“Well, I guess I should try to be on time on my first day,” Clint excuses himself, looking up at the clock.

After saying their goodbyes, Bucky turns to her. “What was that about, huh?”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you weren’t doing the same thing,” she answers with a roll of her eyes.

They stare at each other for a while, and Bucky’s thankful there’s no one else in the room, so he can steal a kiss from her cherry-red lips, feeling them curl against his.

“James —”

“Mm,” Bucky hums, his mouth working its way down her throat. He kicks the door of their loft shut behind him, hands busy with more important tasks.

She tugs at the strands of his hair she has fisted in her grasp, hoisting herself up by his shoulder. Bucky catches her easily, his hand squeezing her ass appreciatively before he rucks up her dress. Her legs wrap around his waist as she places a firm hand under his jaw, tilting it upward to kiss him hungrily.

They don’t make it past the kitchen counter. Bucky slots himself between her legs, pulling the dress over her head, her tangle of red curls spilling over her shoulders when he does. When she goes to kick off her heels, he puts a hand on her knee with a grin.

“Keep them on?” His eyes sparkle as he tilts her hips so she lays flat on the counter and starts to kiss down her heaving chest. She shivers from the cold granite against her back, much like the titanium of Bucky’s hand that’s tugging her panties off.

Instead of responding, she props herself onto her elbows, slinging her legs over his shoulders with a smirk of her own.

Somewhere, somehow, between one orgasm and another, they miraculously make it into their bedroom, and Nat finds herself plastered to Bucky’s chest while they both catch their breath. Her fingers fiddle with his dog tags, while his metal hand runs up and down her spine.

She winces as she shuffles her leg, pleased by how the evening has turned out. “Jealous, were you?”

“No,” Bucky denies, but Nat knows better. “Besides, you were the one that got all touchy feely.”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on, this is ridiculous. Besides…”

Bucky turns his head at the way her sentence trails off. “Oh, I know that tone. Spit it out, what wicked plan have you concocted.”

She flicks his nipple playfully, chuckling at his yelp of surprise. “Well it’s obvious we’re both interested, wouldn’t you say?”

“… I won’t confirm or deny this fact until I hear the rest of this.”

She rolls on top of him, straddling his waist, as his hands smooth over her thighs. “And it’s obvious he’s interested in us.”

Bucky raises a brow. “You think he’d be open to it?”

“Absolutely.”

Bucky grins up at her. She has a knack for being right about these things. “I like where this is going. Who gets the honour of breaking his poor brain?”

Nat’s eyes get a mischievous glint in them as she lowers herself, hands squeezing at his pecs. “Let’s make it fun, hm? What do you say? We have a little race?”

Bucky licks his lips in excitement. The two of them have always been competitive — at work, at the gym, in bed. It’s kept the spark between them alive and well, and neither of them can resist a good challenge.

“Winner gets…?”

“To call the shots that night,” Natasha decides firmly.

“Oh, hell,” Bucky curses, his fingers dancing up her sides and sliding into her hair. “You’re on.”

Her responding laugh gets swallowed up by his kiss, as they put off dinner for a little while longer.

Thank you all so much for reading & for your support!  Overall Masterpost

Tag List: @fluffyunicorn-96​ @goldylions​ @angryknightstatesmantrash​ @rookthorne​

[zorilleerrant]

Auntie Yelena Saves Christmas

“So,” Clint says, looking around the room, “who’s ready for some apple cider?”

“Wait a minute,” says Laura, “we’re out of cinnamon.”

Clint groans, putting the jug back in the fridge. “Where’s still open?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” Laura says, checking on the cookies, “Yelena should be back in a minute with everything.”

Sure enough, the sound of the door opening follows that pronouncement, and Yelena drops a bag of groceries on the table.

Clint stares at her, clearing his throat, but doesn’t manage to say anything.

“What is the matter, Clint Barton?” Yelena asks, pulling out the cinnamon, “you look surprised to see me. As if your address would not be in my dossier.”

“Yelena!” Kate says, freezing as she walks into the kitchen, then dashing forward to give Yelena a hug. “Merry Christmas! What are you doing here?”

“I figured I should be with family for Christmas,” Yelena tells her, “after all, with how close he was to Natasha, Clint Barton is basically my sister.”

“Brother,” Clint says, still rooted to the spot.

“So you agree we are family, then?” Yelena says, staring him down.

“I,” Clint says.

Laura smacks him in the arm, and points to the saucepan. “Stop glaring at your sister and get the cider started, Clint.”

“Oh,” says Kate, happily, “we can finally get that drink, then.”

“Yes, we will have hot apple cider, and later hot cocoa, and perhaps after the children have gone to sleep hot wine, which sounds disgusting, but is a Christmas tradition,” Yelena says nodding at Kate. “I have been looking forward to trying it for many years, technically.”

“Wow!” Kate says, “gross! But understandable, I guess, given that it does show up in a lot of Christmas music. I have to admit, I do not know how to make it.”

“I do,” Laura says, with a sigh. “I’ll make some, I guess.”

“Are you still trying to kill me?” Clint says, skeptically, trying not to look at Yelena as he turns on the stove.

“Clint!” Kate hisses, nudging him in the side. “What a horrible thing to say to your sister. And on Christmas! We’re trying to have a nice family get together!”

“You’re family, too, now?” Clint says.

“Clint!” Laura says, now also glaring at him. “Be nice.”

“Um, I’m about to be your in-law, so,” Kate mutters, wiggling an eyebrow.

“Auntie Yelena!” says Nathaniel, “you’re back!”

“You’ve got him saying it already?” Clint says, plaintively.

“I am Auntie Yelena,” Yelena says, waving a spoon at him, “I brought him a present and everything! I am a very good aunt.”

“Shit,” says Kate, “I knew I forgot something.”

“I put your name on the presents from me,” Clint reassures her.

“Do you not want to know what I gave them?” Yelena says, leaning in to speak in a whisper. “They are very good presents. Like Natasha would have given them.”

“I mean, Natasha would have given them knives, so,” Clint says, with a snort.

“I want to know,” Kate says, sidling up to Yelena and rummaging through the grocery bag, finding some mistletoe.

“Yes, knives,” Yelena agrees. “Very high quality. I learned to throw on very similar knives, so I think it should work out well.”

“Did you consider their age when giving them said knives?” Clint asks, with a sigh.

“Oh, not for your youngest,” Yelena tells him.

Clint nods his head in relief.

“No throwing knives for him,” Yelena reassures him, “only regular stabbing knives. A matched pair, so he can fight with both hands.”

“I want stabbing knives,” Kate mutters.

“I have something much better for you,” Yelena purrs at her.

Kate immediately holds the mistletoe above her head.

Yelena looks at it, says, “I meant, that I have brought you many fancy arrows for a present, but it is Christmas, and you may have the present you like,” and gives her a quick peck on the cheek.

“I will take it,” Kate says, under her breath.

“You can supervise,” Laura says, breezily, “I’m sure the kids will be fine. She got them sweaters, too, you know.”

“Ugly sweaters,” Yelena corrects, with great relish.

“Mine isn’t ugly,” Laura adds, “it’s just red.”

“They did not have any left in adult sizes,” Yelena explains morosely, “I have nothing to wear. But this shows me for attending a function at the last minute, no?”

“Hard to shop on Christmas,” Kate agrees. “I have…I have some ugly sweaters in my bag? If you want to borrow one?”

“Yes, of course!” Yelena tosses the cinnamon at Clint and claps her hands together. “Come, let us go upstairs, Kate Bishop, and I will take off my clothes in front of you.”

“Not my bedroom!” Clint calls, as the head up the stairs. “Hey, Kate! Use one of the other rooms!”

“No promises,” Kate calls back as they head up the stairs.

“It is not actually so interesting as he thinks,” Yelena says, pulling off her normal sweater in favor of an incredibly garish, ruffled one. “I do not even remove my shirt, except for where it has static electricity and goes up a little bit.”

“You, um,” Kate says, smartly, “you have abs.”

“Yes,” Yelena agrees. “Perhaps I should take off my sweater again, a little bit, and my shirt, it will ride up more, and you catch a glimpse of my bras?”

“Is it,” Kate says, licking her lips and laughing slightly, “is it a fancy bra? Because, you know, if I’d known you’d be here, I would have worn a really fancy bra, I have one in, um, in petal pink? With like…seed beads. Look, it’s prettier than it sounds when I try to –”

Yelena silences her with a kiss, holding it for a few moments before pulling back. “It is a normal bra. Very economical. But later, we drink a little and I show you, yes?”

“Yes,” Kate squeaks.

“I am coming up the stairs with cider,” Laura says, very loudly.

“Cider!” Yelena says, and both of them burst into laughter as she opens the door.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I Learned that From You: Four

“Barton!” Tony barked, irritated, “I hope whoever you’re sexting has a plan for this shit.”

Clint felt his cheeks heat and he put his phone down, “I’m not sexting.”

“You were texting and smiling at your crotch,” Tony countered.

“Yeah but-”

“Guys!” Steve cut in, “Barton, put the phone away, Tony… let Barton live his life.”

“But he’s sexting! He’s saying swears!”

“And he’s not doing it where the press can hear him,” Steve sighed, “And you don’t really even know that he IS sexting.”

“I’m not,” Barton added, his cheeks turning redder. 

Tony rolled his eyes but Turned away and Clintshot Steve a grateful look and dutifully put his phone back on the table.

While it was true, he wasn’t saying anything untoward and there had been no mention of what you were wearing… He really didn’t feel like explaining who he was talking to. Or why. Or that he was using Bucky’s face to do it. Bucky was the least recognizable Avenger. And he knew… Or at least hoped that you hadn’t really paid attention to anything past the major current events. Bucky liked to stay out of the spotlight. And he was an assassin. Press Junkets weren’t really his thing. 

It felt slimy, using someone else’s face and name but. Not slimy enough that his chest didn’t feel warm whenever you messaged him back. You were… different. More cautious. But. The warmth that drew him to you to start with was still there. He could practically see you light up when you talked about your shop. And hear your interest when you talked to him about “himself”.

The rest of the briefing, a weekly event, passed in a blur. He knew that he should pay attention but. Nothing was happening right now and all he wanted to do was talk to you. To know that you were going to keep talking back. 

Still, Natasha caught him off guard when she sidled up to him in the hall, “So,” she asked teasing, “Were you sexting?”

“No,” Clint groaned, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket.  

“So why were you smiling at your crotch?”

“I uh-” he paused for a second, considering how much he should say. Or could say without Natasha catching on to him. “I uh- joined a dating site.”

“A dating site?” The spy blinked at him, clearly struggling to process that piece of information. “Why?”

“I thought it was time to get back out there,” Clint said uncomfortably, “After 10 years, y/N isn’t coming back.”

“Okay but-” Natasha blinked again. “You’re not completely unfortunate… why not just go out?”

“Thanks,” he snorted, “But I really don’t think I’m quite ready for that yet.”

“Fair enough,” Nat said nodding, “The dating scene is trash now, thanks to tinder.”

“You liked tinder,” Clint said going to pour himself a cup of coffee. 

“Well yeah,” she snorts, “It’s fine if you’re a woman. It’s a virtual firing squad of dicks every time you log in… Guys get sorted out of the algorithm because there are so fucking many of them.”

“That’s gross,” Clint said taking a sip from his mug. And suddenly, for the first time, he considered that you might be getting a lot of male attention. Like. A lot of it. And that made him feel a little sick. He was sure that the other men in your inbox weren’t appreciating you properly. The thought of them doing some of the things he’d heard of men doing on dating sites made him cringe.

“Yeah, well,” Natasha said helping herself to her own coffee, “if you have 80 guys and only 20 women… 60 of those guys are going to strike out.”

Clint grunted softly, “It’s still gross. Tinder is gross.”

“Oh totally,” Natasha said, “But. It’s nice to get the attention when you’re having a bad day.”

Clint rolled his eyes and shook his head. Natasha was impossible but. She seemed to be successfully distracted from Clint’s dating profile. And that was a good thing. If Natasha caught him, she’d also kill him. Or at least help Bucky kill him. And worse, she’d probably make him come clean. And… make no mistake, he meant to tell you. At some point. Just. Just not right now. Not until he could get you to talk about your past. About what had made you leave… He wanted to know if you still cared about him first. 

“So,” Natasha said, “Who’s the girl?”

“There are a couple of them,” he said shrugging, “I didn’t really set a distance limit.” Little pieces of the truth. Just enough to make it believable. And rememberable. Natasha was good at catching people in their bullshit. And one of the ways she did it was by catching them in changing stories. Clint knew first hand how much it sucked when she caught you. 

“Anything promising?”

Clint shrugged again, “One of them is really funny.” Again, another truth. You were hilarious. 

“And that explains the smiling at your crotch,” she said smirking. 

He felt his cheeks color and he nodded. He couldn’t deny that he had done it. Everyone had seen him do it. But people pointing it out made him feel like a stupid kid. And he didn’t appreciate the reminder that he was acting like one. 

The door to the meeting room down the hallway shut and Clint and Natasha turned to see Steve walking towards them, “Ooo,” Natasha said softly, “You’re in trouble, now.”

“Great,” Clint groaned. 

“You weren’t… sexting right?” Steve asked, uncomfortable.

“No!” Clint yelped, “For the last time.”

“He joined a dating site,” Natasha added, “And evidently one of his harem is funny.”

“I don’t-” Clint started. 

“He totally does,” Natasha said grinning. 

“You know what,” Steve said turning away, clearly out of his depth, “Just put your phone away next time. Stark’s putting out a memo… again.”

And Clint can’t help but chuckle. It is absurdly satisfying to get Steve flustered. 

----------

Natasha sat cross-legged on the bed and scrolled through profiles. She knew Clint. And she knew there were tons of dating sites he could use but. 

She also knew that he was probably using a free one. And one that you didn’t have to pay to use a ton of features. But. There wasn’t one. Not one profile that was actually Clint. Sure. Lots of desperate people had borrowed his picture but. It wasn’t him.

Actually. There were a lot of impostorous Avengers… Something that tickled Nat. And so she quietly started to put together a file. One for each of them. And put the links to the profiles. Maybe they could use it to play a drinking game one night.

[insomni-snacc]

Particle Physics for Beginners

This one is straight up smut. You’ve been warned. (18+ only)

Featuring one Russian Don by the name of Zhuk.

You had a lot of high expectations for your college experience: make the Dean’s List, go to parties, meet a cute person to hook up with, maybe join an a cappella group -- you know, the basic college movie experience. And you did those things (minus the a cappella group, no one wanted to be your Barton Bellas)

The one thing you didn’t think to add to that list of expectations was climaxing while face to face with the cover of Particle Physics for Beginners.

No, you hadn’t picked up some weird fetish for physics. Rather, you had just so happened to be browsing through the science books in the library when your professor caught up to you. You’d been working with him for a handful of weeks, though you were well acquainted with him by the time your assistant-ship had started. He had been your favorite professor Freshman year, and it wasn’t because you were so enamored with Political Science. Rather, you found yourself increasingly enamored with him. Good thing your schoolgirl crush had gotten two semesters to cool off before you were assigned to be his assistant.

“And how is my favorite TA doing?” He asked, sidling up beside you and leaning against the shelves. You stepped back, afraid they might fall.

When they didn’t, you smiled at him, plucking a book out from next to him. “I’ll be doing great once this Biochem final is over. How are you, Professor Shoggoth?”

“Oh, please, no need for the formalities, dorogoy. The students aren’t here, you can call me Zhuk.” He chuckled, forcing your grin a few millimetres wider. “Or, if it pleases you, lyubovnik will suffice.”

You laughed, “And what does that mean?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, after class.”

“Alright… How are you, Zhuk?”

“Kakoy krasivyy zvuk, malen'kaya ptitsa.” He leaned towards you, glancing around conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’m a bit troubled.”

“Oh, that’s no good. What’s the matter?”

“Well,” he pulled a tattered old notebook from inside of his jacket, “I found this old notebook. I believe it’s from one of my old students. It has some very important notes in it.”

He flipped the book open, landing on a page littered with doodles of, well, him. There were a few incriminating scribblings in the margins, as well. Things like ‘I’d have a much easier time understanding Marx if P. Shoggoth would stop being so damn attractive.’ and ‘Fuck me like you fucked us over on the last test.’

It was, unmistakably, your handwriting.

“They seem to have been in your class, back when you were just one of my students. You hadn’t become my favorite TA just yet.” He winked, pushing himself away from the shelves and towards you.

You took a step back, finding yourself pressed up against the wall. “I don’t… recognize the handwriting.”

He was closing in on you. “Oh, is that so? Tell me, kiska…”

In one hand, he still held the damning evidence of your crush. The other slammed into the wall beside your head. His face loomed over yours, so close you could feel his breath on your cheeks.

“If I were to, say, look through the notebook you left on my desk this morning, would I not find any similarities in the handwriting?”

“I-I uh… No, I don’t think so.”

He lowered his head then, lips trailing over your earlobe. You shivered at his touch. “You know, I don’t appreciate being lied to, not even by my favorite TA. Now,” he bit down on your earlobe, pressing his body against yours. You could feel him hardening against your abdomen. “Answer me, moya milaya malen'kaya shlyushka, and don’t lie to me this time.”

You swallowed hard, eyes frantically searching the area for any signs of lookers on. Thankfully, the library was almost entirely empty this late at night. The only other person you’d passed on your way in had been another Professor by the name of Scarafaggio.

“Y-yes, l-loo… lyubov… nik.” Your Russian was clumsy, but you hoped your attempt might win you some points on his good side.

“Oh,” he crooned, pressing his hard member into your stomach and rocking his hips slightly. “Are you trying to sweet talk your way out of this?” You were silent, only gasping as you felt him against you. He growled, sinking his teeth into your neck.

“Y-yes!” You yelped, hands reaching around his back of their own accord. You gripped helplessly at the back of his jacket.

“I don’t think you’re going to get out of this.” He dropped the notebook to the floor with a clatter, snaking his now free hand under your waistband, dipping inside to tease you. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you, dorogoy? How many times I nearly bent you over my desk, just like in your little doodles?” He gripped your underwear and pulled hard, leaving you exposed to his thick fingers as they ghosted over your most sensitive areas. “Ah, and you want me, still. You’re so needy, shlyukha. Do you want me to continue?”

You panted wordlessly, grinding your hips into his hand in your desperation for more friction.

“Answer me.” He commanded, biting down once again on your tender neck.

“Yes! Yes, I want you. Please, Zhuk, I need you.” You almost forgot to whisper, getting too caught up in your need for him to care who heard. You’d needed this for so long, and here he was, like a gift from Heaven or a curse from Hell, right in front of you. Heaven and Hell aside, you were going to take everything he could give you.

“That’s right. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

Without warning, two thick fingers plunged into you. The heel of his hand pressed up against you as he wiggled his digits inside of you, giving you just enough friction to see stars. He gave your neck a break, sucking at the skin instead of biting it, leaving a trail of bruises along your collar.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yours…”

This elicited the most delicious growl from Zhuk. He was growing impatient. The time for long, beautiful nights of love making could wait, he needed you now. He removed his hand, an action which you met with a plaintive whine, and roughly pulled you from the wall. He pushed you face first into the book case, right in front of a copy of Particle Physics for Beginners, and placed himself behind you. You heard the telltale sounds of his belt coming undone, then his zipper, then fabric being pushed hastily over his hips. He pushed your pants down and…

You moaned in unison; yours a needy keen, his, a feral groan. Both were quiet, restrained by your current predicament. You damned his choice of setting for this encounter, eager to hear how he’d sound when he really let loose.

Still, the feeling of him inside of you was nothing short of incredible. He held back, inching his way in slowly to allow you to adjust to his girth. Once you had, though, he showed no mercy. He babbled incoherent, but most definitely filthy things in Russian in your ear as he pounded into you. Your walls stretched around him as your hips bucked into his.

“Moya lyubov', moya supruga, ya sobirayus' …” He growled, shaking his head. “I’m going to cum… please…?”

“Oh, yes!” You begged, the needy tone in his voice nearly sending you over the edge. “Please, Zhuk, please.”

He picked up his pace, his hot breath ghosting over your neck as he shuddered and gasped and growled. You felt yourself being filled, and just when you thought he’d finished, you felt even more gush inside of you. You were so impossibly full. He held himself inside you as he softened, continuing to grind into you.

“Thank you. Thank you, darling.” He kissed your neck, reaching and hand around your waist to rest on your sex. He rubbed it gently as he rocked his hips.

You were on edge, just a little more and you’d--

As if on cue, his other hand reached for your chest, pulling your sweater away to expose your pert nipple. He teased it with his fingers.

“Zhuk…. Ah! I’m close, lyubovnik.”

“Pravil'no, dorogoy. Pozhaluysta, day mne uslyshat', kak ty konchish' dlya menya. YA tak dolgo etogo zhdal.”

He rubbed your sex harder, quickening his pace. You came undone in an instant, still feeling so beautifully full. You came down from cloud nine with him whispering praises into your ear. He pulled out, his cum leaking out of you, leaving you feeling satisfied, but cold. He quickly saw to it that you continued to feel just as cared for and warm as you had felt a moment before, cleaning you up with his handkerchief and pulling you into his embrace.

“You were beautiful, moya supruga.”

“And what does that one mean, Zhuk?”

“I’ll tell you someday,” he laughed.

[need-a-fugue]

We Grow Together (26)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Tessa Sullivan (OFC)

Chapter Summary: Shit’s about to get real... 

Summary: Relationships can be tough, especially when one person is a recovering-from-being-brainwashed-and-tortured former assassin and the other is an overworked mutant scientist. But hey, every couple has their struggles. Right?

“His name is Lobe? What the hell kind of name is Lobe?” Clint asks with a laugh.

Tessa shrugs in response. “No clue. But if Scofield says I should meet him, then I think I should meet him.”

Steve throws up a silencing hand. “Now, just hold on.” He moves over to stand behind Natasha as she sorts through mounds of data on the computer in front of her. “Nobody’s meeting anybody until we know a little more about this guy.” He nudges Nat’s shoulder. “Got anything?”

“Nothing,” she mumbles, obviously perturbed. “There are no references to anyone named Lobe in any of SHIELD’s files. Or in any other data we’ve collected over the last few years.”

“It’s probably a codename,” he tells her.

She twists her head around to look a him. “Ya think?” she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Maybe’s he clean,” Tessa suggests, immediately earning her incredulous stares from everyone in the room. “What? Devil’s advocate. I’m just trying to think of reasons why he’d never pop up on anyone’s radar.”

“I hate to say this, guys,” Clint sighs as he sidles up next to Tessa and drapes an arm over her shoulders. “But I think Doc’s right. If we can’t find anything on this guy, we should send her in to meet with him. Might be the only way we’ll get to know who he is.”

Tessa narrows her eyes. “For the record, you’re not saying that you hate to say that I’m right, right?”

“Right,” he responds with a confused frown.

She nods. “You just hate to say it because it’s not an ideal situation to be put in. Got it.”

“Not an ideal situation?” Bucky repeats with raised brows. “It’s a little more than that.”

“He’s in New York already. Scofield said that he’s actively looking for scientists, preferably ones with experience in genetic mapping and cellular splicing. This is perfect timing.”

“To be fair,” Natasha chimes in, leaning back in her chair, “while I really don’t think someone going by the name Lobe is a non-threat, it is possible.”

“It’s like Scofield said, X-gene research is highly regulated,” Tessa supplies. “And highly frowned upon. That could be reason enough to come up with a fake identity.”

“And the fake identity might only be for people he doesn’t know. Once she gets in, maybe we can get a real name.”

“Once she gets in?” Bucky asks incredulously.

Tessa turns to him with a frown. “Are you just going to repeat everything everyone else says?” He glowers at her and she relents. “Okay, fine. I get it. Like I said, it’s less than ideal. But,” she continues, turning to face the rest of the group, “this guy, whoever he is, is doing something that he shouldn’t be doing… something with mutant genes. That something might be good – maybe looking ways for ways to enhance DNA to prevent or even cure certain genetic diseases – or it could be something really, really bad. Either way, I want to know.”

To say that it took some convincing would be the understatement of the century. But in the end Tessa, Clint, and Natasha were able to talk Steve and Bucky into letting the meeting happen. There were certain parameters put in place, of course. For example, it had to be in a public place where they could be at least reasonably sure that they wouldn’t lose her. Scofield said that Lobe wanted to meet at a place called Magellan’s in upper Manhattan. Not ideal, but it would do. Tessa would get there early and sit in a pre-scouted location near the windows so that Bucky could see her from his position on one of the buildings across the street. Clint was able to move sites easier, so had a few spots he could go between in case they lost visual. Both Steve and Nat would be inside the restaurant, at the ready.

“Seems a bit like overkill,” Tessa mumbles as she sits down at the predetermined table. The team had Tony call into the restaurant to reserve two of the surrounding tables, ensuring that no other diners would get in their way, so Tessa found herself sitting neatly tucked away in a small sea of empty tables while the rest of the place bustled around her. “Not too obvious,” she snipes into the coms.

“Are you gonna argue with all of my orders?” Steve asks from his position at a corner table.

“I’m not arguing. I’m ridiculing.”

“I think I’m over wanting you on the team,” he mutters. “I’m ready for you to go back to your lab.”

“I got Scofield in my sights,” Bucky interrupts. “He’s entering the restaurant with two other men.”

Tessa stands when she sees the older man make his way over to the hostess, two other men trailing closely behind him. The hostess points to her and she waves as the men turn to make their way over. She takes one look at their faces and… “Oh shit.”

“What?” Steve asks.

Clint is heard next. “Is that – ”

Tessa nods stiffly as the men arrive at her table.

“Who?”

Clint barks out a laugh. “Oh, man. No way!”

“Dr. Sullivan,” Scofield greets, extending his hand to her. “This is my associate, Lobe.”

She looks to the thin bald man and offers a rigid smile. “Very nice to meet you,” she says, shaking his hand. He says nothing to her, and offers no smile nor hint of warmth.

“And I believe you already know Mr. Calvin,” Dr. Scofield says with a coy grin.

The other man – a tall, muscular, dark-haired specimen – quirks his lips as he too extends a hand. “Dr. Sullivan,” he says, deep, rich voice sounding all too brazen.

“Who the fuck is Mr. Calvin?” Bucky bites out.

She glares at him, refusing to touch his outstretched hand, opting instead to awkwardly, angrily stand and stare. “Uh, Doc,” she hears through her earpiece. “I know this is probably a bit of a shock. But you kind of need to get your shit together.”

“Who is this guy?” Steve asks again, more insistently.

Tessa cocks her head at the handsome man in front of her. “I thought you were dead.”

He shows off a dazzling smile. “Oh, come on. You didn’t really believe that.”

“Well,” she says, her jaw clenched, “a girl can dream.”

“Barton?” Steve nearly shouts through the coms, letting loose with a loud cough from his corner to cover the sound.

“Remember when I told you guys I met her ex in Minsk?” he says, an all-too-playful lilt to his voice. “That would be him.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Bucky mumbles, barely audibly.

“Ah,” Natasha croons. She can barely be seen leaning forward on her bar stool, craning her neck to get a better look. “I see what you mean about her type. Tall, dark, and… very fuckable.”

“Romanov,” Steve chides. “Try to be a professional.”

Clint chuckles as he meanders across the street, moving to a second, closer location. “Nat, did you just imply that Barnes is very fuckable?”

“This conversation is making me very uncomfortable,” Bucky mutters as he follows the small group of people at the table through his rifle’s sight.

Steve sighs loudly enough to be heard through the coms “Can everyone please stop saying fuckable?”

“Captain Rogers,” Natasha intones “you’ve got a dirty mouth.”

Bucky takes his eye off the table and leans back for moment to blink heavily. “Can we focus please?” he asks, clearly not amused.

They all watch as Scofield drops into a seat, the others slowly following suit. Between Lobe’s very obvious general awkwardness, and the rather extreme tension between the Tessa and Mr. Calvin, the older doctor is the only one who seems even remotely at ease. “I must say,” he begins, leaning back into his chair and popping open the menu in front of him, “I was rather surprised to hear that you hadn’t spoken to Mr. Calvin in years.” He glances up at Tessa and says with a chuckle, “Though I suppose if you thought he was dead, that would explain it.” He turns to Lobe, who looks utterly disinterested. “Mr. Calvin does have a knack for faking his own death.”

“Well,” Calvin says, charm just oozing from his pores, “It’s an unfortunate necessity in my line of work.”

“And what line is that, exactly?” Tessa asks before nervously taking a quick swallow of water. “Nowadays, I mean.”

Lobe answers for him in a deep, measured tone. “He’s in… acquisitions.”

“Personnel acquisitions?”

He stretches his lips into a long, slender, utterly terrifying smile, and says with a slight nod, “Of course.”

“That guy’s not too creepy,” Natasha mutters over the coms as she slowly stirs the martini in front of her.

At the table, Calvin leans in, closing much of the distance between him and Tessa, as he says, in a manner obviously meant just for her, “I was a little disappointed you didn’t mourn my passing like I thought you would.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “How would you know whether or not I mourned? Were you keeping tabs on me?”

“Maybe a little,” he says with a shrug.

“Well I’m feeling a lot better about this guy being involved,” Bucky snipes sarcastically.

Rolling her eyes, Tessa mutters, “It wasn’t the first time you died, Cal. Besides, if you wanted it to be believable, you would have had a coked-out hooker stab you in a by-the-hour motel.”

“Oh, sounds like a keeper,” Clint says. “Wonder why it didn’t work out.”

Steve clears his throat into the coms, a wordless order for everyone to shut the hell up.

At the same time, they hear Calvin laugh, soft and supple. “Car explosion was cheaper.” Then, leveling Tessa with a thoughtful stare, “Still, I’d hoped you’d be a little more upset.”

“I stopped getting upset about the things you do a long time ago. I’m over it.”

“But you never quite got over me, did you, sugar?” he asks with a wink.

She leans in, green eyes steely. “Do not call me that.”

“They have a history,” Scofield tells Lobe conspiratorially as he watches the scene unfold in front of him.

For his part, Lobe simply rolls his eyes. “I’ve heard good things about you, Dr. Sullivan.”

She drops her angry glare and looks over to the man across from her. “Have you?” she asks. “From Dr. Scofield?”

He spends a long moment looking her up and down, seemingly assessing her very being, before responding with, “Yes.”

She feels a shiver pulse through her, unsure if the anxiety she’s feeling is a result of simply being nervous about this whole situation, or if it’s due to the fact that this guy’s energy is almost unreadable for her. She tries to cover the unease with a small smile. “Well, I do have a rather full resume,” she says.

Scofield chuckles a bit. “A rather impressive resume, you mean.” He turns to Lobe. “Before coming to Genetech, she studied with Dr. Moira MacTaggert.”

Lobe’s expression shifts to what seems like genuine interest. “At Muir Island?”

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Yes. For a time.” Another put-on smile. “I was very young then. Still in med school.”

He gives her another appraising look, this one ending in a wide-eyed grin. “I would very much like to know about your time there.”

“Well…” she starts, not quite sure where to go.

“You know,” Calvin interrupts suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind having a moment alone with Dr. Sullivan. Just to catch up a bit.” He shoots her a meaningful look before glancing back at Lobe. “A quick drink at the bar, maybe? Won’t be but a few minutes.”

“I’m not here to meet with you, Cal. I’m here to meet with Lobe,” she says, uncertainty lacing her words.

“C’mon,” he croons, reaching out and gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist. “One drink,” he says with a small tug.

Instinctively, she jerks away as though she’s been burned.

“It’s fine, really,” Scofield says absently, waving them off. “Go have a drink. Lobe and I have some things to discuss anyhow.”

“If you stay near the end of the bar, I’ll still have visual,” Clint’s voice sounds through the coms.

“And from here I can get audio on whatever the other two talk about,” Steve says. “Let’s play this out.”

“Fine,” she says with a scowl, harshly pushing back her chair. Calvin jumps up as well, hurrying to catch up with her as she makes a beeline for the bar. He’s next to her in just a few long strides, dropping his hand to the small of her back in a guiding gesture. “Stop it,” she turns to growl at him.

“You used to like it when I touched you,” he whispers in her ear as they both lean onto the bar. “Said it made easier to suck up all my… intensity.”

“He’s a real charmer,” Natasha mutters from her spot at the opposite corner of the bar.

“What do you want?” Tessa asks him.

His eyes positively twinkle with mischief when he replies, “You really want me to answer that?”

“Oh, if only he knew that her current tall, dark, and fuckable boyfriend had a high-powered rifle trained on him right now,” Clint hums.

She shakes her head impatiently, both at the man in front of her and the one in her ear. “Can you be serious for five seconds?”

“Sugar, after five years together, I’d think you’d know the answer to that,” he says with an airy laugh.

“Five years!”

“Barton,” Steve barks out with obvious irritation.

Tessa sighs, long and drawn out. “What are you doing, Cal?” she asks with a shake of the head.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

She looks up at him, her expression softening for the first time since he waltzed into the restaurant. “I’m serious. Do you even know who this guy is?”

The smug smile falls from his face, his lips tightening into a firm line. “I know enough about him to know that you shouldn’t be meeting with him.”

She quirks her head at him. “Why is that?”

He leans in close, his lips grazing her hair as he whispers into her ear, “If he finds out what you are, he’ll tear you apart and sell every piece to the highest bidder.”

“What was that?” Natasha asks, watching as Tessa’s expression turns grave. “What did he say?”

Calvin leans back and looks down at her. “You should go,” he says with a small nod.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before looking him right in the eye and issuing out, “Fuck. You.”

A surprised laugh escapes him. “You’re being pretty hostile right now,” he tells her, quirking his brow. “Keep this up and I’ll be left to assume you want to hate fuck in the ladies room like old times.”

Someone snorts out a laugh into the coms. “That’s not funny,” she grumbles.

He reaches out and runs his fingertips along the curve of her hip. “It has been a long time, sugar.”

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she says, taking hold of his forearm. He twists in her grip, grabs onto her hand and brings it to his lips for a lingering kiss.

“I have a clean shot,” Bucky breathes out through the coms.

“Ugh,” Tessa growls. “Stop it.” Then she grasps his arm again and gives a strong tug, pulling him around into a corridor.

“What the hell,” Bucky roars as soon as he loses visual. “Romanov?”

“I’m on it,” she responds, getting up and heading for the hallway that Tessa and Calvin disappeared into. She tries to remain casually hidden, not quite rounding the corner. But from her position… “I can’t get a clear visual.”

She may have disappeared from their sight, but the team can still hear everything that Tessa says. “Who is he, Cal?” she asks hurriedly. “And what the fuck are you doing for him?”

“He’s an entrepreneur. And I’m acquiring things for him.”

“Things?”

“C’mon, T. You know what I do. I go where the money is.”

She takes a sharp inhale. “Tell me you didn’t sell him the samples?”

“Samples? What samples?”

Her voice rises when she says, “The ones you stole from me in Belarus!”

He scoffs. “Those samples were sold a long time ago, sugar. And this guy… he’s way past wanting some tricked-out, radioactive genes.”

“The genes weren’t radioactive,” she corrects, impatiently. “They were activated by radiation.”

“Whatever,” he says with a dismissive sweep of the hand. “You know I don’t give a shit about the science.”

“Right. You only care about the money.”

“Look,” he says, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m trying to look out for you here. Whatever you’re doing – whatever you’re up to – I’m telling you, you need to stop. Now.”

“That’s cute, Cal. Really. You thinking you can tell me what to do. Cute.” She brushes past him and strides back over to their table, almost clipping Natasha on her way around the corner. “Mister,” she starts, standing in front of the two men, “sorry… Lobe.” She drops back into her seat with a saccharine smile. “Lobe, what an interesting name.”

“Not really,” he says to her. He looks up as Calvin returns and takes his seat as well, a furrowed, concerned look on his face. “Everything alright, Mr. Calvin?”

“Yes, everything’s fine.”

“All done with your lovers’ quarrel, I hope.” He turns back to Tessa. “Can we finally talk business then?”

Tessa tosses a quick glance to Cal and takes in his warning glare. Then she gives Lobe a curt, but certain nod. “Yes, I think we should.”