#Steve later that day: my mouth is itchy

[morganbritton132]

Eddie’s live-streaming one evening, pacing around the house and complaining about writer’s block when he stops in the kitchen. Steve is there.

He’s working on lesson plans and eating cookies. Before Eddie can even reach for one, Steve smacking his hand away like, “You’re allergic.”

Eddie: Only to bees, babe. You can’t keep using that one.

Steve: They’re for Robin

Steve: You won’t like them, they’re cinnamon

Eddie:

Eddie: Steve, you’re allergic to cinnamon

Steve: Yeah, but like, not a lot

Eddie, worry mode activated: Steve, what the fuck

[stobinesque]

@steddie-week day 2: fluff | 1.8k words | teen and up

The door to the apartment slammed shut, followed by the jingle-clang of keys landing in the ceramic bowl Robin had made for Steve two years ago.  

"Babe?" Steve looked up from the magazine he'd been flipping through and frowned at the stormy expression on Eddie's face. 

Eddie barely acknowledged him, just swept past with stomping feet, dropping an absentminded kiss to the top of Steve's head as he made his way into the bedroom. A few moments later Steve heard the telltale thunk and flop of Eddie's bag hitting the ground and the man himself hitting their bed.

Ah, so one of those days.

Steve set down his magazine, folded his reading glasses neatly atop it, and pushed himself up from the couch to make for the bathroom.

~*~*~*~

Eddie wanted to die. Nope, no, he wanted to commit a homicide. 

Actually, scratch that, being wanted for murder sucked.

What he wanted was for the world not to be full of a bunch of entitled little shitsacks who had never been taught how to talk to another human being who didn't have a white collar around their neck.

At least his bed was there to support him. The mattress was a little lumpy, sure, but nothing could outmatch the satisfaction of dramatically flinging oneself onto a flat surface after a shity day at work. 

The sound of running bath water filtered into Eddie's awareness. 

Okay, maybe one thing.

Steve usually allowed him a few minutes to sulk and brood when he got home feeling like shit. Sometimes interacting with any human (even someone he would literally—and nearly did—die for) was just too much. 

"Eds?"

"Mmph." Eddie spit some of the hair that had landed in his mouth out, but didn't bother to raise his head more than half an inch off the bed to do so.

Steve chuckled. "Okay, five more minutes—otherwise the water will get too cold. I'm gonna go make us some tea."

Eddie raised an arm and waved vaguely in the direction of Steve's voice in acknowledgement.

He let himself drift for his five minutes to the sound of Steve puttering around the kitchen—grabbing mugs, teabags, the sugar jar—before peeling himself up off the bed when the shrill whistle of the kettle pierced through the relative silence of the apartment. If he wasn't in the bath by the time Steve made it there he'd be in trouble. Which could be fun, but it wasn't what he was in the mood for today. 

Eddie stripped off his—itchy, sweaty, suffocating—uniform as he padded over to the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he went.

~*~*~*~

Steve waltzed back into the bathroom with two steaming mugs in his hand to find Eddie already situated in the tub, knees pulled up under his chin, hair piled up in a messy bun, and one hand dragging lazily across the surface of the water. 

Steve set both mugs down on the ground next to the bath. "Hey, baby," he murmured, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple.

"Hi." Eddie's voice was low and subdued.

“Bad day?” Steve asked as he pulled his shirt up and over his head.

Eddie shrugged. “You could say that.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve shucked off his jeans.

Eddie shook his head. “Not much to talk about.”

“Okay.” Steve folded his clothes, set them in a neat stack atop the closed toilet lid, and carefully lowered himself into the bath behind Eddie.

The water was just a touch too hot for his own comfort, but Eddie ran cold and preferred his baths on the scalding warmer side. (Shared showers were a trial. Eddie insisted that Steve was trying to murder him with frostbite. Steve maintained that Eddie was trying to boil the both of them alive.)

Some of the tension had already bled out just from being in the bath. Eddie’s shoulders were no longer curled up around his ears—instead, he was slouched forward into the water. 

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist and pressed a kiss to the patchy birthmark high up on his back, smiling when Eddie responded with a humming little sigh. “Wash my hair?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Eds.”

Steve reached over to grab the shampoo and tiny bucket they left in the shower just for this. “Wanna drink some of your tea before I douse you?”

Eddie didn’t say anything, but reached out blindly to grab one of the steaming mugs next to the tub. Steve didn’t bother holding back a snort that he’d managed to grab the “Don’t Bother Me, I’m Crabby” mug they’d nicked from Wayne. 

Eddie took a slow sip of the tea, and the second he’d set it back down and straightened back up, Steve dumped a bucket of warm water over his head.

Eddie spluttered. “Babe, what the fuck!”

Steve snickered from behind him. “Just wanted to make sure you were here on earth with me, bedhead.”

Eddie shook his head like a rain-soaked dog. “You could have at least taken out the ponytail first!”

“I suppose I could have,” Steve said, lips twitching up into a smile as he reached up to start pulling Eddie’s dark curls from where they’d gotten tangled in the hair tie. “I got you talking again in something other than a monotone, though.”

“Maybe I was enjoying playing the dark, broody hero.”

Steve pinched Eddie’s side, which resulted in a high-pitched squeak, and a wild flail that had water splashing up around them. "Behave," Steve chastised—though the warning was undercut by the laugh of unconcealed delight he barked out as Eddie’s arms swung around him. 

"You're the one assaulting me in my time of suffering!"

"Suck it up, buttercup,” Steve shot back, combing his fingers through wet curls and gently detangling each and every knot he ran into. He couldn't help but rub the silky-soft strands between his fingers as he went. Steve's own day had been slow and uneventful, but a quiet sort of unease had been hovering at the edges for hours. Drawing Eddie a bath and settling in behind him to wash his hair helped settle Steve back into his body just as much as it did for Eddie. 

Steve began working shampoo into Eddie's roots, massaging his fingers into his scalp, and Eddie's head tipped back as he let out a pleased hum that sounded almost like a purr. "Love your fingers in my hair, Stevie," he mumbled, sounding a bit hazy.

"Yeah? Is that the only place you like my fingers?" Steve asked, right into Eddie's ear. 

Eddie scrambled back upright and turned to face Steve with an alarmed expression on his face. "No! Why would you think that? Did I say something to make you think that? Please, I’m so sorry, baby. Please know that I love your fingers anywhere on me. Or in me. What if they went somewhere else right now?" 

Steve laughed, grabbing Eddie's shoulder to turn him back around with one hand, and dipping the bucket back into the water to rinse the suds out of Eddie's hair with the other. When Steve was sure he'd thoroughly rinsed Eddie's hair he leaned past him to grab the conditioner and whisper in his ear, "You can get them somewhere else a little later if you're good for me, baby," before leaning back and clicking the bottle open.

"I'll be so good for you, Stevie. Just tell me what I gotta do."

"Keep still and don't sass me for the next five minutes."

Eddie's mouth opened and then immediately snapped back shut as he clearly decided that whatever his response to that was gonna be probably qualified as "sass."

"Good boy," Steve said simply, dropping another kiss to Eddie's back. 

"I can be good when I wanna be," Eddie grumbled. 

"Careful," Steve shot back, gently chiding. He methodically worked the conditioner through Eddie's hair in sections, tugging gently as he did, just for the soft satisfaction that ran through him every time Eddie let out a soft gasp in response to it. 

"Always careful, Stevie," Eddie mumbled back, eyes fluttering shut. 

Steve reached down to brush one hand over the scars running down Eddie's side. "Not always," he whispered, just a little sadly, as he pressed a firm kiss to the mostly-faded ring of scars at his throat. 

"Mm, don't be sad, baby."

"Not sad. Just glad you're alive."

Eddie was quiet for a stretch, and Steve chuckled. 

"What? What were you gonna say, asshole?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, love," Eddie replied, all faux innocence.

"You were gonna say something sassy just then, that's why you went all quiet. So, out with it, come on. How were you gonna sass me in response to me saying I'm glad you're alive?"

"Promise you won't hold it against me?"

"Yeah, baby." Steve leaned over to press a kiss to Eddie’s nose. "This one's a freebie."

Eddie looked over his shoulder with a wide grin, and a twinkle in his eye. "I was gonna call you a sap."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Oh, well, fuck me for being happy my boyfriend's alive I guess."

"I was actually hoping that you would fuck me," Eddie replied. 

"You're pushing your luck, Eds," Steve warned, yanking lightly at his hair. 

"Sorry, baby."

Steve ran his hands up and down the sides of Eddie's arms. "All forgiven, Eds." 

Steve let his hands drift as he waited for the conditioner to rest—digging his fingers into the dense coils of muscle in Eddie's neck, smoothing his palms down the ridges of Eddie's spine, ghosting his hands up Eddie's sides. When time was up, he grabbed the bucket, turned on the tap to fill it with clean, warm water, and spilled it over Eddie’s head. Steve combed his fingers through the chestnut locks again, making sure he’d thoroughly rinsed them once more. The two of them fell still and silent, like two little stones in the river bed. 

Steve loved this. The quiet trance they fell into, as Eddie relaxed into the water, and Steve pressed kisses into his lover’s skin, and they both forgot the mugs of tea that Steve made. 

Steve separated Eddie’s hair into even sections, savoring the feeling of freshly cleaned locks passing through his fingers as he wove the strands together—over-under, over-under, over-under—and plaited Eddie’s hair down the length of his back. When he was done, he flipped the end of the braid back over Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie leaned further into him, pressing the length of his back against Steve’s chest.

Steve let his hands start wandering, and Eddie let out a soft gasp of surprise when the pads of Steve's thumbs brushed over both nipples. "Steve."

"Shh, I got you baby," Steve murmured, and let one hand drop down to where Eddie was stiffening up beneath the water.

"I know you do, Stevie," Eddie whispered back on a sigh and a gasp. "I know you do."

[softsnzstuff]

Doctor AU where they use a new disinfectant spray/wipe and one of them is insanely allergic 🤭

YOOOOO okay I’m putting a spin on this a little. Allergic!Robin with caring best friends Steve and Eddie - set in my Doctors Office AU ❤️

****

“T’shIEW!”

Robins head bobbed down for the 20th time that morning.

“Bless you!” Steve was standing by the fax machine scanning papers. “You okay? You’re really sneezy this morning.”

“Yeah M’fine. Just… TSHIEW!”

Steve raises an eyebrow and hums in thought. He takes a step toward his best friend and reaches his hand out to feel her forehead.

She looks up at him from behind his hand, “I don’t feel sick Steven.”

“Yeah we’ll you sound sick… but you’re right. No fever. Want me to have Eddie come check you out?”

“That seems…excessive but. If you insist.”

She pulls a few tissues from the box on her desk and blows her nose while Steve finishes scanning his papers. He leaves the chart with Robin and heads back towards his desk.

A few minutes later, Eddie shows up and straddles the extra swivel chair next to her.

“Hey Birdie! Steve says you want a second opinion on the sneezing?”

“SnFF! Yeah. Can’t seem to stop, really. Pretty annoying.”

Eddie also reached out to check her forehead, but she turns away from him and brings her shirt collar up over her nose.

“H’etssiew! E’KSHtew!”

“Bless you!” He pulls his otoscope from his coat pocket, “Open.”

Robin does as instructed and opens her mouth while Eddie looks inside.

“Good. Tilt your head back.”

He quickly glances in her nose as well.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” She rubs the back of her hand against her pink nose dusted with freckles.

“Your throat looks fine but your nose is super inflamed and irritated. I’m thinking allergic reaction. Use any new perfumes or sprays or anything lately?”

“Ummmb I don’t thi’gk so?” She thinks for a minute, “OHHHH shoot. We snfff ran out of the good cleani’g spray so I had to snf use a n’dew one today…”

She held up the bottle and scrunched her nose trying to fight off the unrelenting tickle.

“Give it here Robs.” Eddie takes the spray from her. “Go wash your face and I’m going to give you some antihistamines to help for the rest of the day.”

Robin nodded as she stood up to go to the bathroom to wash her face. Eddie stood up too to get rid of the cleaning spray, Robin’s itchy sneezes punctuating the silence.

He chuckled slightly as he entered the nurses station, holding the spray up for Steve to see.

“That the culprit?” Steve asks.

“Guilty as charged.” Eddie tossed the spray to Steve. “Hide that will you?”

Steve nodded, already planning to bag it and store it under the furthest sink cabinet.

[nephilim-tears]

Steve Harrington x Reader x Robin Buckley

Warnings: F! Reader, fxfxm sexual relations, Billy slander, Word count:3k. ↳ Slice of life + Horror :: Pack your things we’re going to summer camp.  Browse my catalog? You are responsible for the content you consume, as always read with care.

The warm summer breeze followed the children from Hawkins to the edge of a forgotten town bordering nowhere where Camp Cold Lake sits waiting patiently. Her newly polished floorboards squeak with excitement anxious to be scuffed up by fifty at most snotty-nosed high school brats. Time after time, year after year, they would come here as strangers and leave as something a little more than that. A ritual, without fail, bonded them together by joy, fear, and secrets. 

Surrounded by acres of evergreen pine trees that stretched on for miles, a single file line of three caterpillar yellow school buses slugged to a stop emitting an exhausted sigh delivering the children to their final destination.

Fellow camp counselor Steve Harrington stool tall and proud brushing clean his white polo shirt tucked into his bright red pants that stopped midthighs. One at a time, clipboard in hand, he diligently took a headcount of the gaggle of children checking them off his list. 

The flow abruptly stopped when Steve placed his hand out in front of a mop of curly hair. The boy was half of Steve’s size prompting him to hunch over saying something inaudible to the rest of the counselors. From mere feet away, you watched Steve’s stern face twist into an annoyed expression as the kid sassed him and rolled his eyes heading for the dining hall.

“That one’s Dustin,” Robin Buckley, colleague camp counselor and self-proclaimed extraordinaire whispered hoovering over your shoulders. “He and Steve go way back.” She tucked her identical clipboard under her armpits and proceed to fix the belt of her uncomfortably large red shorts that hang on her slender frame. She opted for the male uniform bottoms but even the smallest available size was too big, so she’d routinely seal Steve’s belts to keep them up. 

You chuckled at her wiggling around, gesturing to your skirt that was almost as short as your cheerleading uniform, “I didn’t know that was an option for us, otherwise I would have gone for the shorts too.” 

Her sandy brown hair swiftly swept her shoulder when she turned in your direction, “No!” 

You quirked a brow up at her eagerness. Sensing the awkward atmosphere created mostly by her, she cleared her throat and began again, “Uh, ahem, I mean no. You look great. You look great in your skirt. Steve likes it—Harrington’s not all that but if you care, which it seems like you do, he likes it.” 

If anyone knows what Steve likes, it’d be the woman he calms he’d platonically die for. Only having met them two days prior, you've grown quite fond of the disaster brunets from Hawkins, a town neighboring yours—which was even smaller, even sleepier by comparison. 

Well, that was the case until a peculiar and dreadful incident prompted your town’s version of its satanic panic. A dead girl with her eyes gorged out, strung from the trees in a local park tends to ruin the quietest of reputations. 

“...right.” You decided to spare her from the heat of the embarrassment that clung around her neck, suffocating her like an ugly, itchy, wool sweater in the scorching summer's temperature. 

“Tommy Sheperd,” you held your clipboard up, “Is missing.” 

Robin opened her mouth to say something but Steve cut her off, “I got off the phone earlier with his parents, they pulled him last minute and I didn’t get the chance to update the roster.” While you were all equally footed, Steve took initiative and fell into the leadership position effortlessly. 

Even though the job was an unpaid community service requirement to graduate, Steve genuinely enjoyed his role serving as the middleman communicating directly with parents and camp directors and later relaying the information. It made pretty boy Harrington well-liked in the circle of ten senior counselors.  

 “Sorry for the trouble,” he backed away toward camp, “And nice skirt.” He threw a wink in your direction, earning an involuntary smile, it make the apples of your cheeks hurt. 

“Told you so,” Robin whispered following Steve but not before she playfully tugged the bottom of your red pleated skirt. 

For a moment, you stood alone watching her till she was a tiny figure disappearing in the sea of people. The waves of midday sunshine that washed the camp in a hazy glow made her hair soft hair look especially shiny. 

SNAP went what must have been a twig jerked you from the trance. Somewhere behind the thickening of trees, between the sound of cold dew settling on their leaves, was it murmuring you heard? What you did not hear, was it hissing your name. 

The sound stopped as soon as it began. The ground squished beneath your feet, it’s only a matter of time before the whites of your sneakers, socks, and shirts get soiled if you kept looking. 

Deciding it was probably an animal native to the territory, you swatted a bug crawling up the side of your ankle socks and trailed after the others towards camp.

On any given day, walking into the dining hall was like walking into a cloud puffed with the smell of sunscreen, chlorine, play dough, and bug spray. Two whole weeks passed, three more to go. Marker in hand, you drew an x on the passing days on the calendar and read over today’s schedule.  

Everyone was gearing up for an annual game of Capture the Flag, everyone except the Hawkins bunch. They huddled together at the head of a long table, trading tall tales of monsters and Russians infiltrating their town. In a manner, only children are privy to, you admired their little faces as they lit up with excitement and passion. 

All except Dustin, he slumped over a bowl of oatmeal sludge stirring the contents around with a silver spoon. Steve waved you over with a smile, and a string of hello’s and hi's greeted you as you made a beeline for their table. 

“Goofmourningh” Steve mumbled, popping another marshmallow into his mouth. 

Steve isn’t a morning person but if all his mornings began with that smile you gave him, he might have to reconsider his stance. 

Without a second thought, he dusted a stay eyelash that lingered on your cheek. A gesture that felt far too intimate to bestow upon someone he’s only known for a few weeks. He might have pushed a boundary however, you didn’t seem to mind, at least he didn’t kiss your forehead like he initially wanted to. That would have surely freaked you out. 

“Hey! Stop. We won’t have any left for the campfire if you keep eating it all.” Robin snatched the bag from him and resumed her seating position—criss-cross on the chair picking, at a loose thread of her pajamas. 

Motioning to Mike’s name tag, you asked, “Wheeler huh? Any relation to Nancy?” 

Mike, not spearing you a glace deadpanned, “When I’m in public, no.” 

Cutting through the crowd’s laughter, Dustin groaned loudly, “What am I eating, huh? Shapes? Texture? Where’s the flavooor, people? Get this shit out of my face!” He dramatically pushed the oatmeal away from him. 

“Language!” Steve snapped. 

You gagged at the sludge and pitted the boy, “Alright, everyone who wants something that isn’t..that, follow me to the kitchen. How do you like your tea, Dustin?” 

“Uh, in a cup?” As he got up to follow you, Steve lightly smacked the back of his head in response. 

A fiery redhead, Dustin, and Robin all made their way to the kitchen with you. 

“That one is gonna try to get you to feed her s’mores for breakfast!” Steve shouted through his megaphone pointing at Max, “Do not acquiesce under any circumstances. I repeat, do not acquiesce under any—” His mouth hung open, offended before he could finish the sentence, Max flipped him off. 

Perched at the top of the kitchen counter, sat a shirtless man waiting for the toaster to chime. Billy Hargrove, you’ve seen him around, mostly with his shirt off too. Typically he had an excuse, he’s one of the counselors stationed by the pool. When he isn’t there, he’s patrolling near the lake often with a cigarette hanging between his lips. 

“Top of the mornin’ to ya, sweetheart.” 

“We haven’t officially met, but I’ve seen you at the seminar,” you stuck your hand out waiting for him to cordially shake it. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you at the seminars too. It’s hard to miss someone so…delicious.” He hops down from the counter, eyes trailing down your body, closing the distance between you. 

Instinctively you withdrew your hand and backed up a few meters till you bumped into Robin standing behind you. Almost as tall as him, she firmly positioned herself between you and Billy, “Beat it creep! She’s not interested.” 

The ping of the toaster startled everyone in the room and Billy scoffed. He grabbed his pop tart, ruffled Max’s hair then exited the kitchen. 

 “You’ve met that guy before?” you asked, turning your attention to her.

Max’s cheeks reddened to the shade of her hair with embarrassment. Swiping a box of crackers, she tried to play it cool,  “Well, he’s my brother so I’ve met him at home a few times.” 

 “So! Tea?!” Dustin clasped his hands together loud enough to diffuse the tension in the room.

“Can’t you guys at least give us a hint?!” Dustin flailed his arms around trying to cause a scene on purpose. 

“No! It has to be a fair game. Now go with your team and capture some flags or whatever you’re supposed to do.” you dismissed him. 

“But you’re our friends” he resorted to what had to be the whinest voice you’ve heard from him thus far. “What about what Gandhi said, huh? ‘Thou shall not betray thy friends.’” His lisp slipped over the s of friends. 

Lucas, growing tired of his shenanigans decided to cut in, “He did not say—”

“Gandhi said something like that.” Dustin defended a stance you’re certain he didn’t believe.

“No.” Lucas, again. 

“He wasn’t the one that said ‘Thou shall not—’” 

“No!” 

“For the record, I prefer the term overlords, not friends.” Robin grabbed Dustin by his shoulder spinning him in the opposite direction, giving him a little shove. 

His ploy to stall till the game was over was unsuccessful, reluctantly, Dustin let Lucas drag him into the darkened wood sporting their arts and crafts red and blue shirts respectively. 

Orange and lilacs swirled overhead the evening sun that hung low dipping beyond the trees. Except for the cook or the nurse, you stood alone with Robin in a nearly deserted camp letting the crisp air nip at your skin. 

The eerie silence was quick to reclaim what was once a spirited camp meer minutes ago. You wondered if it’ll be like this when everyone leaves at the end of summer. It felt odd.  You’d all grow up and move on as if you’ve never been here at all. The traces of your existence lost and forgotten by time itself; meanwhile, Camp Cold Lake will always be here, waiting. A constant living relic ripped from your collective memories, existing with or without you. 

Over the glowing horizon, a counselor whistles somewhere in the distance signaling the capture of the first flag.  “You should go get your jacket then come join us,” Robin broke the silence heading towards the whistle, “I think you left it in the arts and crafts cabin.” 

By your jacket, she meant Steve’s. The varsity jacket that draped loosely on your frame and always smelt of marshmallows. He loaned it to her once and later, she loaned it to you. Between the two of you, it won't make its way back into Steve’s closet. 

You entered the cabin, heart still light on the memory. The room was a mess, clearly, the kids had vacated in a hurry. Scraps of paper, discarded paint brushes, and half-eaten grilled cheese sandwiches occupied every flat, sticky surface. 

The idea of leaving the mess for someone to find flickers and fades in your mind. However,  no one else was here and if you let the mess fester, it’ll attract unwanted visitors from all sectors of the food chain. Besides game night would go on just fine without you, they had enough counselors on duty. 

As you sank floor level to retrieve a stay paint brush a loud CLANK caught you off guard. 

Swiftly, you whipped around to face the sound. The broom closet. 

An avalanche of frost plunges into the room; the feeling of being watched made the hairs on the back of your neck stand attentive. Rattled to the bone, cautiously, you grabbed the nearest lethal object in your immediate vicinity—a baseball bat painted pink. Upon approaching the closet, you froze. There it was again. The murmuring, the hissing from a few weeks ago. 

You ignored the little voice in your dizzy head saying to run and bit back the scream building in the back of your cotton-dry throat. The floorboards squeak in protest under your sneakers and your breath hitches when you swing the door wide open, ready for a confrontation. 

In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t even processed the high-pitched squeal you emitted. 

Consumed by adrenaline you flinched as the cold, murky gunk touched your exposed skin. Motionless, you stood there glaring at the bucket that came tumbling from the ceiling leaving you submerged headfirst in dirt—everything from your hair, shirt, and sneakers, soiled. 

Another THUD followed by nails on wood—scratching interrupted any flow of tranquility or relief that should have followed. 

The sound wasn’t coming from in the closet but from behind it. Outside. The person responsible for this was still lurking and laughing at your expense. Righteous anger and boiling hot fury melted the fear. Pink baseball bat in hand you rushed out the door, just in time to see the shrubs shiver past whoever ran into the woods. 

Those damn pranksters were in trouble. 

“Kids,” You scoff covered in dirt from head to toe. 

You could decide whether you wanted to retaliate or abuse your role and dispense punishment, or both, after a shower.

Thirty minutes later, free of dirt and grime, you hugged the fluffy white towel closer to your body. “I hate this job” you mumbled, aggressively rubbing the lotion on your legs. 

“But I love watching you do it,” Robin responded, her presence catching you off guard. Although it shouldn't, it’s her cabin too. And from time to time, Steve had a habit of barging in unannounced as well. Claiming the bathroom was cleaner and smelt better than the one he shared with the boys, he’d often leave smelling like your vanilla shampoo. 

“I heard you scream and I came to investigate the commotion.” She stood tall in the room, cocky as ever. 

“Ok, first of all. I did not screa—”

“You did too! Everyone heard you. What’s with the, uh?” She motioned to the bat propped against the wall. 

“I…I just had a long day, ok? Since you’re here, can you gimme a hand?” You shoved the lotion bottle in her face. 

She hesitated to take it, swallowing hard as she watched you turn your back towards her and loosen your grip on the towel, exposing more skin when it dipped lower making room for her to cover with lotion. At some point she must have stopped breathing, she engrossed herself,  memorizing every freckle, every beauty spot on your back. It’s a sign of the times the second her hands—shivering, soft and dainty—touched your skin. Her slender finger traced your spine and stopped midway, neither of you dared to move a muscle. 

You lift your head to meet her eyes welling up with tears, “We can’t do this,” she whispered “I never—This is wrong.  I could get you in a lot of trouble if anyone finds out. I’m probably the last person on Earth you’d hook up with.” 

Reaching around to face her, you lay your flat palm against her cheek, she leaned into it. “You’re ok Robin. You didn’t do anything I didn’t already want. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

Knowing she would never make the first move, you seized the moment standing on your tippy toes and pressed your lips into her cherry-red pout. She moans at the contact, pulling your body flush against hers. Emboldened, she lets her hands roam from your hips to the curved slope of your ass with confidence. 

You pulled back just in time to see the fear leave her eyes, a new softness takes its place. “For the record, you’re like the fifth person on Earth I’d hook up with.” 

Robin scrunched her eyebrows, the cogs in her brain worked overtime to process the situation. 

“Joke. That’s a joke, Robin. You’re supposed to laugh.” 

And laughed she did—husky and melodic, it sounded like music to your ears. Shrugging she added,  “Honestly, I would have been ok with being in the top five.” 

Before you had a chance to respond, in barges pretty boy Harrington with his glorious chestnut hair tousling in the wind. His eyes are the size of saucers observing your reaction. Still wrapped in your towel pressed against Robin who had her hands firmly on your ass, “Well don’t stop on my account,” he grinned. 

Despite your compromising position, ever so slightly, you swooned at the sight of him. Robin exaggerated a sigh, “He’s not all that y’know.” 

“Can I watch?” Steve asks, enthusiasm bubbling under his best doe eye impression, “I promise you won’t even know I’m here.”

“That’s creepy even by your standards Harrington. If you want to stay you gotta make yourself useful.” You smirked, looking over at Robin to confirm she was onboard. 

Rolling her eyes, she beckoned Steve closer, “One rule: Touch me and you’re a dead man Harrington.” 

Steve wasted no time discarding his sneakers and shirt. He slots himself behind you nibbling under your ear, “We’ll take good care of you don’t worry, you’re our girl now.” He shared a mischievous look with Robin. 

His hands travel to your chest pinching the buds of your hardened nipples under the fabric. 

The towel drops to the floor leaving you bare in front of them. You leaned back, Steve welcomed your weight, supporting you with one arm around your waist holding you up, “I’ve been meaning to tell you— you keep me up at night. So perfect,” he whispers. Robin got down on her knees and hiked your leg over her shoulder, kissing the soft flesh up your inner thigh, “I bet you taste just as good too.” 

Evidence of your anticipation dripped down your thigh, Robin dragged her eager tongue and devoured your wetness, delighted she hummed at the taste. Steve moaned at the sight and began to grind his hardened cock against your ass.

Slowly letting his hand drop from your nipple down to your pussy, he circled your clit with his index finger, Robin immediately followed his lead. The juxtaposition of hands grabbing at your body sent shivers down your spine—Steve’s rough and large, Robin’s delicate and tiny by comparison. Both of their fingers pull you apart in different directions causing your toes to coil in reflex. 

Nothing but the sound of your excited squeals and wetness echoed off the walls. Disregarding the burning embers welling under your skin, you melt into the comfort and safety of their hands. For a split second, it was just the three of you in the wreckage of the world.

Robin was the first to break the streak of silence, “You owe me five bucks, Harrington.” she declared proudly pinching your clit. 

“No no she’s into me too, so you owe me,” Steve responded, pumping two fingers in and out of your pussy. His rhythm is as gentle and steady as his voice.

With the very last of your cohesiveness you muttered, “Are you guys really having this conversation now?” 

The duo stopped abruptly as a soft BUMP against the cabin made them both turn their attention to the door; thus ending the sweet moment between the three of you. 

Steve steadied you on both legs and passed you the shirt he had discarded moments earlier. Robin stood by your side and tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. 

WHACK!

WHACK!

SNAP!

Pandemonium erupted as the door forcefully flew open and slammed against the wall, splinters of wood scattering on the ground. 

Billy. 

His billy-shaped shadow splatted across the walls, swallowing up the room in its entirety. Robin gagged as Billy’s skin began to change and the scent of rotten eggs reached her nostrils. Everyone stared motionless in horror as his face twisted and his body began to transform. Bumps the size of coins surfaced on his skin. His usual pale complexion darkened purple camouflaging him against the velvet indigo skyline bidding you goodbye.

Billy leaned back, his spine cracked and popped as he screeched in agony.  What looked like a tail cut through the air in swift fluid motions. 

His face stretched, his hair dissolved into his skull, and his eyes sank into his elongated reptilian head. A long pink ropy tongue flickered across countless jagged rows of teeth, whipping side to side. 

He flexed his claws—three on each hand and a deep rumble came from the base of his throat. The semi-translucent nictitating membrane darted over his wet slit eyes that remained fixated on you as he snapped his jaw in your direction.

Steve maneuvered himself between you and Billy, “What the fuck.”

[sinner-as-saint]

You Were Made To Be Mine - 3.

Pirate!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader

Part 3 of this series.

Run-through: Bucky is one of the greatest pirates ever known. Living peacefully in his vast and flourishing archipelago; filthy rich and respected by all those around him. He is the leader of his people and his massive fleet, and is viewed as no less than a king by his crew and the people on his lands. He, however, has a secret that he keeps from everyone. The infamous and brawny pirate has lost his heart to one of the most beautiful creations he’s ever seen �� you. Ever since the moment he saw you, he knew that you were meant to be his. But he belonged to the earth, you to the ocean. Could love and resilience somehow find a way to unite two worlds?

Themes: mermaid!reader, mythological elements, pirate!bucky, fluff, slight angst, smut

a/n: This will be the last part of this series. Thank you to everyone who loved this series, and pirate!bucky as much as I did! I love you guys so much!

One week in your absence felt like a thousand years to the heartbroken man you had left behind.

A tragedy of his own making, truth be told.

Bucky was miserable, torn and completely unable to function properly now with you gone. He could barely sleep. And spent most of his time on the shore of the small isle – where he used to meet up with you. Which used to be his favorite place but now the shore and the rocks only reminded him of his terrible mistake. A mistake which cost him the one thing he soon realized he couldn’t live without.

Sat there, on the rock where he had spent countless hours with you in the past just talking and learning about each other and falling deeper and deeper in love, Bucky looked down to see a shiny pearl in the palm of his hand. You brought him many pretty things from the depths of the ocean – shells, pearls, but this one pearl stood out the most to him. Mainly because the color of it reminded him of the many hues present on your tail.

“I miss you, my little pearl. Come back to me. Please.” He whispered under his breath. Sad and sulking, he hadn’t smiled since you were gone. Sometimes it felt like he hadn’t lived at all before he met you and now with you gone, he was just… existing – void of any happiness and love and warmth.

As each wave crashed on the shore and on the rocks, it felt like someone was poking at a wound. Each day he returned back to his island, without any knowledge of your whereabouts, it felt like a defeat. Bucky spent the nights at the isle, then rowed back in the morning – where he slept and sulked all day inside his home and came out at night again to row back to the isle. He was a mess and only you could fix it, but you were mad and broken and gone.

His friends were worried sick but there was nothing they could do. It was impossible to even look for you because they would never find you from the surface. All they could do was wait and pray that you come back else they feared that their friend might die from a heartbreak. He was already in so much pain already.

 Bucky never gave up. Midway into the second week, he was hurting just the same but that didn’t diminish his hope. He would sit at the rock and wait each night. You never showed up, but he never stopped showing up either. He’d sit there at the shore or on your rock and just reminisce the time he spent with you. He’d smile to himself, laugh at the funny things, shed a tear or two whenever the realization hit him and reminded him cruelly that you were gone and it was his fault.

“I’m not gonna make it without you. Please come back.” he begged, looking towards the ocean as the gentle, cool and salty wind caressed his face, reminding him of your touch. Damp and cool but it brought him warmth like no other. And just like always, all he got back as a reply was tranquility and the sound of waves dying out on the shore – much like him.

Yet, just like the waves, he was resilient and he kept coming back hoping that one day you’ll show up. He had faith in the love he had for you, and he knew that you’d be reunited again one day. Sooner or later.

Lucky for him, that day wasn’t too far.

-

 One evening, Bucky felt much better than he had ever felt in the past two weeks in your absence. Which was weird because he’d only been sad and gloomy since the day you were gone. But tonight as he rowed to the isle he was almost, dare he say, excited and more hopeful than ever. He was confused but he felt tingly and warm – like how he usually felt whenever you were around.

And much to his surprise, he had been right. Because as soon as he reached the shore, he felt immediately more alive. And something told him that you were close by.

“Sweetheart? Is it you?” he called out, using the moonlight and the torch to look around as much as he could. He found you and his body froze to the ground.

He found you on the shore, not far from him. You appeared to be unconscious, and as though the waves had washed your body up to the shore. He ran to you, and as soon as he got close enough, his heart skipped a beat or two.

You were… human. With legs in lieu of your lovely tail and fins. Oh sweetheart…

Bucky fell to his knees beside your bare body and wedged the torch to the ground and pulled your body up to him. Bucky immediately removed his thick coat and wrapped you in it, sheltering you from the cold. You whimpered as he touched you, because even when not so conscious, you knew it was him. “Wake up, Y/N. Please wake up,” he cradled you against his warm chest.

He could feel your heartbeat as he held you against him, and that was the only thing keeping him from being hysterical due to all the overwhelming emotions he was feeling. Regret for letting you go in the first place. Guilt for being selfish. Heartache because he had broken your heart in doing so. Happiness for having found you at last. It all hit him right in the face like a harsh punch.

He felt like he wanted to scream and shout and just do something, but then the sound of your voice calmed him down instantly.

“Buck…” your voice sounded hoarse and it ended in a cough. You didn’t open your eyes but you felt him there, holding you. You felt safe.

“I’m here, my love. I’m right here. Are you okay? What- I need to know you’re okay, please.” He waited, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he hugged you tighter.

You struggled to talk but you managed to mumble out some words, “It’s… I…everything hurts.”

Bucky felt like he was being torn apart limb by limb. “How can I make it better, sweetheart? Tell me what to do.” he sounded frantic and scared and hurt all at the same time.

Your next few words made him shed tears right there on the shore. “Take me home.” He held you, clinging to you like a child and he cried silently. Whispering and pleading and telling you he’s sorry.

-

When Bucky brought you home that night, his friends were surprised but they didn’t question him right away. Thor was the one who knew just what to give you for the pain. Okoye brought you all that a woman could need. And Sam and Steve worked on what to tell the rest of the people when they find out about you.

You were still slipping in and out of consciousness. And no one knew what happened in those two weeks, all they could do was wait for you to wake up.

“She’s alright. She’s here with you now, with us. Everything’s going to be alright, Buck.” Steve gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder and Bucky nodded. “Get some sleep. I’m sure she’ll be fine by morning.”

His friends all left, telling him they were close by and to call for them if he needed help with anything. Bucky walked them till the front door then hurried his way back to you. He had cleaned you and dressed you in a light blue sleeping gown and placed you in his bed, you looked comfortable and at ease. But he wanted you to just wake up already.

There was so many questions he needed answers to, so much he had to apologize for, so much to make up for.

“I love you more than anything.” He whispered and leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I’m sorry, my love.” Bucky stayed by your side the entire night that night. He hadn’t seen you for two weeks, so each glimpse of you now was a privilege that he was more than grateful for.

-

You woke up abruptly in the middle of the night; panicking and panting. You felt warm, and something was clinging to your body. Your eyes were wide open and you felt so hot. Your chest was heaving and you thrashed around trying to reorient yourself and find out where you were. All you felt was dry, silky material wrapped all around you.

Your movements woke Bucky up and he opened his eyes and realized that the candles had gone out so hurried to light them up again. And once he did and turned around, he caught your stare. You were clearly disoriented and scared.

“Hey…” he came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to touch your cheek and you closed your eyes and relished the feeling of his skin against yours. Oh how you had missed him. “Are you in pain right now?” he asked, there was so much you and him needed to talk about but right now your comfort and health was more important that anything. Besides, now you would plenty of time to discuss things.

You shook your head. You weren’t in any physical pain, not anymore. But your heart hurt. “How did you…” your voice trailed off, your throat suddenly feeling dry and itchy. Bucky figured you needed some water so he grabbed the nearby goblet of water and held it up to your lips. Reluctantly you leaned in, but then stopped.

“It’s just water. You’re thirsty, you need some. Drink,” he cupped your face gently and tipped the lip of the goblet a little, letting some water into your mouth. You drank half of it and closed your eyes and sighed, it seemed to have quenched your thirst.

“Thank you.” you mumbled as Bucky placed the goblet to the side and turned to face you. One look into his pretty blue eyes and your own started watering. It was all too much to bear. The separation had killed you, the heartbreak as well. And now here you were, thousands of unasked questions between you two acting as another barrier, although you had just overcame a major one.

Bucky spoke up after a few seconds of staring into your eyes. “I found you on the shore. You were barely conscious at the time.” He filled you in on the part which you seemed to have trouble remembering. You nodded and he spoke up again. “I’m sorry I let you go.” He scooted closer to you and caressed your cheek. “I love you. Way too much. It’s killing me, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do.”

He sounded lost and vulnerable. Your tears fell, despite how much you tried to hold them back. You let out a quiet sob as you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him. He hugged you back, tightly securing his arms around you. Your tears were incessant, but you broke into a faint smile as he cradled your head. Your hugs weren’t damp and cold anymore, but warm and comfortable.

When the tears finally stopped, you pulled away and filled Bucky in on what he missed. After you ‘broke up’ you were pissed and dove into deep waters without a care in the world. You made it to where the potion supposedly was, and after spending multiple days looking for it, you managed to find it.

Your memory was messy and scattered after that. You remember feeling pain. A lot of pain, and you remember passing out and feeling like you were being torn in two.

“I must have lost consciousness then. I don’t remember. But the waves thankfully brought me to the shore.” You finished. Bucky listened attentively. God, he felt awful.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.” he apologized, looking down in his lap where he held both your hands in his.

You squeezed his hands. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“I was stupid to let you go.” He argued.

You smiled and reached up to touch his face. “I wouldn’t be here, like this,” you pointed at your lower limbs, “if you didn’t let me go.”

“I love you.”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “And I love you.” you mumbled against his lips.

Bucky spent the whole night just holding you close to him. You were still a little weak and unwell, but you promised him you would be alright in the morning. After all, you were way too excited to explore his island and meet his people and be one of them.

“Will they like me?” you asked, unable to fall asleep. Bucky chuckled and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“They’ll love you.” he replied.

-

He had been right.

As soon as his friends came by the next morning, they were all impatient to see you at once. They told Bucky that they would make up a story and tell the rest of the inhabitants of the archipelago that you were found stranded on an island, and that’s where Bucky found you.

“We have to hide the truth, for her sake.” Sam made sure everybody understood and were on the same page. Everyone nodded.

When Bucky came to get you, you wobbled on your feet a little before standing up. “I’ll have to get used to this.”

Bucky chuckled and came over to help you steady yourself. “One foot in front of the other. We’ll take it slow, sweetheart. Don’t you worry, you’ll get the hang of things in no time.” He smiled and led you out of the room.

You struggled to walk initially, but you were a quick learner. By the time you reached downstairs, you were able to walk on your own, but you still let Bucky keep his arms around you and you held on to him just in case. You met Bucky’s closest friend in the foyer. And the men all stared at you like they had never seen anything like you before. The woman however, Okoye – Bucky spoke of her often, gave you a polite smile.

“Welcome to our world.” She spoke, stepping closer and giving you a polite nod.

You smiled at her, her warmth rubbing off on you. “Thank you for the clothes.” Bucky had told you last night how she had made all the arrangements regarding your clothes. She smiled and said there was no need to thank her.

“You’re one of us now. You’re family.”

You almost shed tear of joy at her words. And something told you that you and Okoye would get along really well in the future. She just had that kind of aura around her; fierce and strong but also almost motherly and caring.

Bucky introduced you to everyone else. You recognized Steve from the swords fight. Then Sam was just as Bucky described him. Thor was much taller and broader than you imagined, but he was also the most gentle out of all of them.

Steve spoke up soon after you were introduced to all of them. “We’re so glad you’re finally here. Now someone,” he looked directly at Bucky, “will finally stop weeping and moaning in sadness.” That earned a round of chuckles and a giggle from you.

Bucky shot Steve a glare and had you not been there, he would have showered his friend with insults. You immediately liked them all. And even after they left, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“I can’t wait to meet everyone!” you chirped as Bucky helped you sit down at the stone table for breakfast. He figured you must be hungry.

“I can’t wait either, but it’s time you eat.” His words made you a little nervous, but also excited. Bucky gave you a quick tutorial on how to handle cutlery and you learnt in less than a few minutes. “That’s really good!” he cheered as you took your first bite of food all on your own.

You chewed cautiously, then turned to him with wide eyes. He chuckled, happy that you seemed to really enjoy human food.

-

That was just the beginning, soon Bucky realized that you were no different than a child experiencing everything the world had to offer for the first time. Bucky really enjoyed walking you through everything; and luckily you learnt everything rather quickly.

By the end of the first week, you were able to walk around on your own, dress yourself up and wash and brush your teeth and do your own hair. Bucky was impressed.

Some days later, Bucky decided that it was time to introduce you to everyone. And he meant everyone.

You had always wanted to be part of one of Bucky’s feast but you had never thought it would be this grand, and crowded and loud and cheery. People gathered around the many tables; loud chatter, laughter and clinging of goblets – it made you happy.

Bucky managed to get everyone’s attention. And told them the makeshift story of how he once found you, stranded on an island far from here. He added to the story and told them that he had to keep you hidden for a week or so because you were injured and sick but you were all better now.

“So I’m glad to introduce you to Y/N, the newest member of our family.” He held your hand showed you off proudly. He didn’t have to say it, everyone present at the massive hall could tell that he was madly in love with you. It could be seen in his eyes as he looked at you in pure adoration.

Your introduction was followed by a loud roar of cheer and claps and merry. Everyone was just happy that their mass was growing, and they took pride in it.

All throughout the feast, Bucky couldn’t help but feel more powerful as he sat next to you. He felt like he was on top of the world, like there was nothing he couldn’t do. You completed him. And you were here now, here to stay. Forever by his side.

Bucky made love to you that night. He couldn’t hold back from touching you anymore. All those nights of sleeping beside you, and not holding you or pleasuring you like he so desperately wanted to, had been pure torture.

Not only for him, but you as well. Having to see him shirtless and having his arms around you almost all the time had been making you feel hot and bothered almost always. But you were too shy and inexperienced to initiate anything so you waited. Until tonight.

Back home from the feast, as soon as you walked into your shared bedroom, Bucky grabbed you and gently pressed you against the door once he closed it behind him. He had you trapped between him and the door, and you weren’t complaining.

The look in his eyes spoke volumes. He was hungry and wild, and ready to ravish you all night long. But he knew he had to be gentle with you. He wondered how to ease you into it but you took care of that by reaching up and pressing your lips to his. You kiss was rough and needy, even Bucky was surprised.

Your body trembled in anticipation as he wrapped his arms around you and walked the two of you towards the large bed. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you let him. He stroked the top of your mouth and you found yourself whining and needing more.

Your body felt like it was on fire. One which could only be doused by his touch. Yet as soothing as his touch was, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you wanted him. Unrestrained, and passionately. You needed him so terribly you almost begged.

As soon as your back hit the soft mattress, Bucky pulled away and looked down at you. His body hovered over yours, and your hands caressed the back of his neck lovingly. “Make me yours.” You whispered.

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed. “My little pearl…” he was feeling too much to talk. So he decided to let his emotions show instead. He planned on worshipping your body and make love to you until the sun came up.

Bucky pressed his body down against yours. Nothing had to be said, you could both see it in each other’s eyes; the love, the desire and the need. The feral need. That same tingle spread all over you again – the one you got each time he touched you even in the most innocent ways possible. You looked up to see his eyes had darkened a shade. His grip tightened on your body and he dipped his head and kissed down your neck – making you shiver again.  

“I will make you mine. Just promise you’ll tell me if it hurts or makes you uncomfortable. Yes?” he made sure you understood. You nodded and mumbled a ‘yes’.

Bucky took his time and got you out of the lovely dress you were wearing. As much as he liked it, he liked you better naked. So he didn’t stop undressing you until you were bare against his sheets. He looked down at you like you were a meal, and he, a hungry man with an insatiable appetite. You felt no awkwardness, no shame. You were his, entirely and his gaze only made you feel more confident and beautiful.

He went on to remove most of his clothes as well, leaving only his pants on. Bucky leaned down to kiss every inch of your body. Your lips, down your neck, your collar bones and your chest. He paid a lot of attention to your breasts; licking and biting and sucking, letting his hands cup your breasts and taking his sweet time; caressing and fondling. Instinctively, your back arched off the bed and you whimpered under his soft, yet needy touch. Bucky was eager to show you how much he loves you, but he knew he had to take it slow.

He dragged his soft lips up and down your body, making you tremble under his touch. His beard pricked your skin but it also tickled, making your whine end in a giggle. He smiled when he heard the noises you made, he knew it would be his favorite things to hear from now on.

Your body tingled and burned under his touch, and there was nothing you wanted more than have him buried deep in you. But you were also nervous for your first time together, but the pressing need inside you overpowered the nervousness.

His mouth found yours as his hand slipped in between your legs with ease; caressing your inner thighs as he went. The foreign, but very pleasant feeling caused a shiver to run down your spine; you shivered and moaned through the kiss. His knuckles gently stroked your wet folds; making you whimper. He chuckled against your mouth upon feeling just how aroused you were. Wet, and warm and ready – just as needy as he was.

But he wanted to take his time and savour you first. He ran his fingers up and down your folds, gathering and smearing your arousal around as he went. He poked at your entrance with his finger, “Is this okay, sweetheart?” he wanted to confirm. You nodded quickly, eyes shut and head thrown back.

“Yes… please Buck…” you were breathless already. Pulsing and hot, your body wanted him bad. So bad. He chuckled at your reply and pushed a finger into you and you shivered. He messed with you for a little bit; stroking your walls with his finger, then added another; making you whine.

You felt your hole stretch around his fingers as he was knuckles deep in you, slowly slipping his fingers in and out of you. He kissed the side of your face, along your jaw and down your neck as he sped up. Your legs spread further apart naturally, a sign that you wanted more. Bucky smirked.

“You feel so good around my fingers, sweetheart,” he whispered, nibbling at your jaw. “So warm, and wet…” he chuckled and the sound of his laugh was so hot it made your body clench around his fingers. He noticed and slowed down his pace, purposely teasing you. Oh he wanted to pleasure you so bad, but not so easily… “You’re dripping all over my hand,” he noted, seductively whispering and kissing the shell of your ear, “I wonder how you taste…”

You squirmed at the sound of his words, your heart racing in anticipation as he kissed his way down your body again. Quicker this time, impatient to reach in between your legs. You threw your head back and moaned once his lips kissed your inner thigh and his mouth latched onto your core in no time; his tongue teasing your clit softly. He had you squirming and moaning – a complete mess under him in no time.

He kept his fingers inside you, moving ever so gently against your walls. Your body welcomed the foreign feeling. You felt his rough beard scratch in between your thighs but that was the least of your concerns, all you focused on was his mouth on you. Shamelessly eating you out like you were his favorite meal. His tongue licked up and down your slit, diving in and out of your wet folds, occasionally running over your opening where his fingers were snug inside you.

You moaned and reached down to grip his hair. You squirmed and whined and cried out. Your legs trembled in pleasure, and Bucky lifted one of them and placed it over his shoulders, eager to taste you even more, pushing your core further into his mouth and making you cry out of pleasure. His hands locked around your thighs as the lower half of his face pressed down into your wet heat; his lips drenched with your arousal.

“Hmm,” his hum reverberated inside you, making you squirm. “You taste heavenly, my little pearl.” He whispered and placed a loud kiss right on your clit before getting back to eating you out like a madman again.

Your eyes were shut, but you imagine he must be quite the sight. Big and broad and muscular, knelt in between your legs, his face pushed in between your hips as he took your higher… and higher. A couple more strokes of his tongue and your moans got louder and louder, a strange but sweet pressure forming in your lower regions.

“Let go sweetheart, cum for me.” He mumbled. He had you coming in no time; gushing out all over his lips as he lapped up whatever you gave him. The wet sounds erupting whenever his mouth sucked on your sensitive clit were downright sinful. As the waves of euphoria washed over you, you felt him kissing his way up your body; leaving warm, wet kisses all over your skin until he reached your mouth again. Bucky kissed you deeply and his kiss was a little more rough and messy and demanding than earlier.

You were like a drug. And now that he had had a taste, he only wanted more. He needed more. Bucky pulled away from the kiss a few seconds later. Chest heaving, and recovering from your previous orgasm, you admired the man above you, as he lowered his pants, reached down and pulled out his cock; stroking it while he looked down into your eyes.

You lips parted in hunger. You wanted him so bad it hurt. Your walls clenched around nothing as you watched him stroke himself. His size both startled and excited you. You were both nervous and impatient to just have him in you already. Bucky leaned in again to press his forehead against yours again. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and gruff as he pushed his erected cock past your tight entrance. You moaned out loud as he did. He grunted once he filled you up entirely, and he gave you a couple of seconds to adjust.

“You okay, my love?” he asked again, breathless as your walls squeezed him violently. Fuck…

“Yeah…” you were just as needy as him. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you felt his body flex against yours. His back muscles felt taut and firm under your touch and his hard chest pressed down into you.

You were so full of his thick cock that even forming a proper thought seemed impossible at the moment. You shuddered as you felt all of him. His lips found yours again, attempting to get you to stay quiet while he rolled his hips against yours. Slowly at first, testing and seeing if you could take it.

You moaned as your body welcomed him in, and Bucky got his answer.

He removed himself out of you entirely and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you struggled to adjust to his size. He lowered his face again, and dipped his head into the crook of your neck. You heard him panting and swearing under his breath as he rocked into you. Your nails sank into his skin, around his shoulder and muscular arm; which you held onto for dear life as he pounded into you. He slowed down occasionally, then picked up the pace again; making you lose your mind. Yes… yes…yes. All you knew was that you wanted him there, forever if you could.

You tried matching his thrusts but were unable to; so you simply let go. He kissed you, bit your skin, kissed your open mouth while he rammed into you; and you never complained once. Given his size, he stretched you out completely. And it did hurt, but the pleasure compensated for the pain.  

“I love you so much…” he mumbled against your skin. But you were unable to answer, all you did was moan and whimper and squirm as he pounded into you. Your legs trembled and he lifted them up to wrap them around his waist. This allowed him to thrust deeper into you.

Bucky growled and bit down on your shoulder to keep himself from making any louder noises while he fucked you. He was relentless, as though each moan, each mewl which left your lips only encouraged him to give you his all.

He was sweet and caring as he handled your body, caressing you and kissing you, but he was also animalistic and wild at the same time. His kisses were passionate and deep. His touch was tantalizing, and he didn’t hold back as he made love to you. And you knew you could definitely get used to this. The now familiar pressure was back again, hot and burning. You got louder and so did he.

As he pulled away and looked down at you, you saw in his eyes, the determination, the hunger and the need; matching your own. “You’re all mine.” he whispered as he made you cum again around his cock for the first time that night. Your moans were wanton as your walls clenched around his cock. You felt him fill you up again, with his warm load shooting at your walls. “Mine.” he growled and collapsed into your arms.

 At some point during the night, he took you again. This time he flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you onto your knees by your hips, your ass up in the air.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked again.

“Yes.” you replied almost immediately.

He kissed the back of your neck and pushed himself inside you again. You felt his hard body press against the curve of your ass as he filled you up just like he had earlier.

Bucky’s hand found its way to your front and he pressed his palm against your lower abdomen. He liked the wave of excitement which coursed through his veins each time he felt himself thrusting deep within you. He liked how he was the only one who would ever touch you like this, the only one who would own you like this, the only one who would ever fuck you like this.

You moaned at how wonderfully Bucky stretched you out and rammed his thick cock in and out of you rapidly. You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member. The sounds leaving his lips were sinful more than anything. And it sent shivers down your spine. He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face lovingly.

He didn’t slow down as your walls clenched around him violently, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came; hard. Bucky fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and how perfect you felt around him.

Unable to form coherent sentences, you moaned as you felt your release approaching. Your legs were shaking, and your body moved along with his perfectly. You wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him. A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again. He growled under his breath, his lips dangerously close to yours as you whined and whimpered under him.

You came again, walls tightening around his length. He bit down on your lip as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again. You noticed his irregular thrusts and the sound which left his lips; he came right after you; filling you up yet again.

After he was done, he fell limp into your arms, careful as to not crush you beneath his body weight.

He stayed like that for a while, and let you wrap your arms around him; with his head against your bare chest. He relished the feeling of being in your arms. Until he finally rolled over and pulled you into his side, tucking your head under his chin.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

 ---

Days went by in pure bliss.

“Do you miss it?” Bucky asked one night, as you laid your chest on his bare chest. Both of you worn out and tired after having made love to one another for hours.

You closed your eyes and sighed, pressing your face into his warm chest. His smell, his body heat, his soft touch – it was all pure heaven. You knew he was asking about the ocean.

“I do. But I miss it like one missed their childhood.” You explained further. “The nostalgia hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt. Take yourself for example, you will always miss your childhood; the freedom, the fun and the lack of responsibilities. Yet at the same time, now you’re grateful for what you have now and who you’ve become. You’re wiser and better and surrounded by people who love you.”

You tilted your head up and found him staring down at you, looking lovingly into your eyes. You spoke up again. “It’s the same for me. I will always miss it, I mean I was born there. But this is where I’m meant to be. With you, till my dying day.”

He rolled the two of you over and hovered above you. His long hair framing his face, making him look so handsome and angelic you could cry. “I love you.” he said, his bare body pressing down on you under the covers.

His body heat wrapped around you like a protective cocoon. “I love you more.”

 -6 YEARS LATER-

 You stood on the beach, not too far from home. You smiled as you looked around; right on this beach is where you and Bucky got married 6 years ago. It was a beautiful wedding, and the celebration even more so. You turned around and caught a glimpse of the grand fortress. Stone and concrete, sharp and rough edges but still radiating a sense of warmth and security – much like the man who had it built himself.

Your smile grew at the thought of your husband. In just six years, so much had changed. For the better.

Your little reverie was interrupted by the sound of giggles and shouts of excitement. You looked straight ahead and found your three kids running around and playing close to the water, paying little to no attention to the beautiful sunset behind them. Yes, they were human but very much skilled when it came to diving into the ocean. You often took them swimming, and they all amazed you by how well they could hold their breath under water for surprisingly a long time. They definitely got that from you. And Bucky was proud of that.

You sighed in content at the sight of your kids. They were everything to you and Bucky. Speaking of Bucky, he caught you by surprise by coming up to you and wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, nuzzling your neck.

“Hello, my love.” he mumbled against your skin. You giggled. All these years and his voice still made you weak in the knees.

“Hi.” You turned your head to the side and beamed at him. “How did the meeting go with the rest?” Bucky and his crew were planning another loot soon, and they’ve been busy preparing and discussing these past days.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, his beard pricking your skin gently. But you had gotten used to the roughness of it, it was almost comforting now. “It was fine.” Bucky went on to give you some details about what they discussed.

Then you were both interrupted by the sound of your kids laughing and yelling in excitement. Apparently their sand castle was now complete, they’ve been working on it for hours. Bucky looked at them and a warm smile formed on his face.

“We should get these little monsters home and get them showered before dinner.” He smiled down at you. You chuckled.

“They won’t listen, and they won’t leave until their feet aren’t hurting from running around too much.” You knew your kids too well. “I’m afraid they’re just as stubborn as their father.” You added, teasing your husband.

He raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. “Are they now?” he leaned down to gently bite your partially exposed shoulder. You laughed, tipping your head back and resting it on his shoulder. He tightened his grip around you and looked down at you in pure and utter adoration and smiled. His wife, at last. The mother of his kids. Entirely his, finally.

Then as he often did, he got emotional just thinking about that night all those years ago, where he was foolish enough to think that letting you go was a good idea. He blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

You turned around in his arms and faced him. You reached up and cupped his face in your hands. “What for?”

Bucky looked down, seeing your bodies pressed together. He let out a dry chuckle. “I almost broke us apart forever that night.” he said and you knew exactly what he was talking about. “I didn’t realize I would be hurting you too. I was so stupid to even think that I would survive without you.”

He often brought it up, whenever he was sad or upset. Or when he’s had a little too much ale. He’s even cried in your arms like a child all night once when you brought it up casually. The guilt had diminished, but it was still there in him somewhere. But you had faith the one day it’ll be gone entirely. You were both working on it.

“It’s been years, Buck. Let it go. We’re here, aren’t we? We’re together and we have a family just like we always dreamt of. That’s all that matters.” You maintained his stare as you spoke. He nodded. “I love you.” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. You pulled away and smiled, “Besides, if it weren’t for my fit of rage that day, I would’ve never found the potion. So think of it this way, we had to drift apart for a while, and it happened for a reason.”

He smiled and leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “I love you so much it hurts.” He mumbled, making you giggle. Then a thought popped into his head out of nowhere. “I never asked you this, but when you found the potion, did you drink all of it?” he had always been curious about that.

You smiled faintly, remembering the day you found it. “No.” you answered, deep in thought. “I took some, and then I put the rest right back.”

“Why?” he was intrigued. He wondered how come this conversation never came up earlier in the past years.

You pulled away and looked up at him. “I was scared. I saw it and I wondered, what if in the next life the roles are reversed? What if you’re born in the ocean and I, on land?” you chuckled, although your eyes watered a little. “I wanted there to be hope for us even then. I… I can’t imagine not finding you in the next life. Or the one after that, and the one after that.” you chuckled again. “It scares me, when I think about what if our paths don’t cross in another life?” You let the single tear fall, which Bucky caught as it ran down your cheek. “Or what if we can’t be together like this again?”

Bucky felt a weight on his chest at the sight of another tear escaping your eye. You wiped this one away quickly yourself. He couldn’t help but lean in and kiss you on the lips, a gentle, sweet kiss to remind you that he was right here and there was nothing for you to worry about.

“My little pearl…” he whispered softly as he pulled away from you. “All of you, your heart, your soul; you were made to be mine. Don’t you worry, I’ll find you in the next life as well. And the one after that, and the one after that.” His words earned him a teary smile from you. “I promise you, my love, I will always find you. And you will always end up being mine.”

You threw your arms around him tightly and pulled him in for a kiss. You felt him smile through the kiss which lightened up the mood a little. “And I promise to love you just the same each time.” You whispered against his lips.

-

Although neither one of you recalled the promise you made to each other that day on that beach; in each lifetime, you both kept your promises. Bucky kept his word, somehow he always ended up finding you. And you did the same, you loved him unconditionally each time. It didn’t matter when or where you met. Or how your story began or ended. All that mattered was that in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that; you ended up together every single time.

Bucky had been right; you were made to be his. And him, yours.

[jadedxrealityw]

-Second And Third Chance- Tony Stark x Female Reader

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: favorite dilf- i’m sorry lmao

   Movie/Show: after endgame. but no one is dead because i’m still in denial.

   Summary: (Backstory included) Being the fiancee of Tony Stark was all you could dream of, but not everyone is perfect and Tony is certainly no saint. Even with Thanos being gone, Tony is still obsessing on how to keep you safe from other worldly beings, but due to his own ignorance ends up losing you all by himself. 

   Possible Triggers / Warnings: angst with fluff ending, cursing, Tony being Tony, F.R.I.D.A.Y and Wanda being your besties lmao, 

    ☼-☪-☼

   you wondered how you were ever came across such a man. Narcissistic, arrogant, just completely full of himself in every way possible. You had met the infamous Tony Stark at a shield ball/party so long ago. He was charming, you’ll admit, but you were fully aware of his playboy status. 

   you wore a long black off the shoulder dress that started skin tight at the top and flowy at the bottom, also sporting a slit down the side of the dress. Some said hi and gave you compliments on your outfit. You wanted to find Fury so you could talk to him as he was the only person you really knew. 

   walking along the floor a woman holding a platter of drinks offered you one and you gladly accepted it. You spotted Fury a few tables away, talking amongst Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. Once you made it over, you slipped yourself into a empty seat. 

   Fury noticed you first and patted your shoulder “Didn’t think these parties were your scene Agent L/n” he spoke with his usual formality. You hummed into the glass of wine as you took a sip “They are not, but i needed a reason to drink” you admitted, earning a chuckle from Natasha. 

   you then took the time to look at both of them and smile “Natasha Steve. Still doing the whole saving the world thing?” you say. Steve cracks a smile and nods once “The world can’t seem to give us a break” he says. A chuckle bubbled in your throat “Not that you would take it though, right cap?”

   you four spent a good thirty minutes talking about the usual, until Maria Hill showed up then you got to talking about new missions that he Fury only trusted you all with. You were like Fury third in command. Someone Maria had recommended if something would have ever happened to her. 

   not to long Natasha and Steve had left the party earlier then expected, but they were always in the rush. You, Fury, and Maria were now standing next to the table. Maria’s phone rang and she slipped it from her bag and pressed the green button “Yes?...Give me ten minutes” 

   she hung it up and put it back in her bag. Fury looked at her with a questioning stare “I’m going to assume Romanoff or Rogers were on the end of that line. Would the rest of us be needed?” he asked. Maria shook her head “No. Just a minor problem. I’ll call if it escalates”

   Fury nods once and gestures with his head to the exit, dismissing her. They were so loyal to each other. Maria then sends you a polite smile before exiting the ballroom. You placed your cup on the table were you all resided minutes ago “Should we be concerned?” you ask. 

   he shakes his head “They’ll be fine. I like to come in at the end anyway, makes me alluring” he says, making you stifle a bit of laughter. “Right” you agreed not really wanting to dwell in that subject. Only seconds later is when an unfamiliar voice spoke “Nick”

   both you and Fury turn around and see the nice tailored suit belonging to the less nice man of Tony Stark. Fury cracks a small grin and holds his hand out “Stark, fashionably late” he points out. Tony grabs his hand and shakes it “Well if i wasn’t i’d be stuck looking like you losers.”

   did this grown man just call you both losers? Okay then. You folded your arms over your chest, not really paying much attention to there very testosterone filled conversation. Tony eyes removed themselves from Fury and looked at you “and who is this?” he asked. 

   you removed your eyes from the people walking past you and looked towards the billionaire “ This is Agent L/n. works alongside Agent Hill and myself” Fury explains. You give Tony a polite nod “It’s Y/n L/n” you say. Tony grins and went to say something more when Fury coughed. 

   “I’m going to use the bathroom. Tony don’t be weird” he spoke before leaving you both by your lonesome. Great. “May i offer you another drink?” he asked and you shook your head “I already had one and i have to be alert at all times. It’s in the job description. Very fine print”

   “Sounds like you need a vacation or a xanax” he makes a face, earning a small smile from you “Maybe, but i like my job too much” you reply. Tony steps to the side and gestures with his hand for you to walk. You didn’t see much wrong with that, just a friendly stroll. Why not. 

   you step in forward and Tony lifts his arm up a bit for you to link yours. ‘What a charmer’ you thought before slipping your arm through his. YOu both began to walk slowly through the ballroom “So what does your significant other think about how much you work?” he asked. 

   ‘very slick’ “I don't have a boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment. Tried dating on the job, but no one really understands how much working here changes you in a way” you explained, Tony nodding along with your answer. Being an Agent had its perks and downfalls. 

   “Why did you get into this line of work, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tony questions. It was strange seeing him be so genuine with his wording, the complete opposite of what Fury, Steve, Natasha, or Maria had to say about him. It was pleasant.  

   you gulp, a few choice memories deciding to flood your mind “I worked CIA with my sister for awhile. Our whole family was worked in some form of Government job. Then the 2012 attack happened and we were told to stand down. Me and my sister were stubborn so we didn’t”

   you inhale deeply and managed to keep your formal smile upon your face despite the urge to down another glass of wine and call it a night “No one knew about aliens back then, but we wanted to help people in any way we could. In hindsight it was very stupid of us”

   your mind began to wander to something else, the smile fading from your face and be replaced with a blank stare. For an expression so neutral it would be hard to tell that you were reliving a terrible memory. Crashing, a blood curdling scream, your pleas, and a then silence.

   Tony looked at you once you had stopped talking abruptly and used his free hand to pat your shoulder. You broke out of whatever horrific trance you were in “Sorry, zoned out- anyway my sister ended up passing, i was charged with treason funny enough, but Fury convinced them to drop the charges”

   Tony chose to ignore the brief daze you were in for your own sake and you two continued your stroll. The night ended with more talking and much needed laughter. He also offered you a ride home and you gladly took him up on that. It was really nice. 

   when you got to your house he asked you on a date to a very nice restaurant near your place. You accepted even though your brain was telling you not to. On the day of the date you ended up being called in and canceled. He said he understood and that you could reschedule anytime. 

   you never did go on that date 

    ☼-☪-☼

   just like most things it only happened once and you figured that was that. Spending a couple magical hours talking to Tony Stark would be any girls dream and just like dreams you awoke to reality. You had a job and had many other important things to do beside fantasize about a billionaire. 

   that was until Hydra took over Shield in 2014, you and Fury faked your deaths. Tony actually went to your funeral, wearing sunglasses and standing away from everybody. It was pretty sad, but you had a job to do. fury actually came back, but you stayed in hiding.

   then in 2015 when Ultron was a the main problem and you were itchy to bash some robots skulls in- wait they don’t have skulls. Whatever, Fury wouldn’t get involved. Then Sokovia became a giant plane and Fury caved. After a year of doing grunt work you could finally fight. 

   all the staff, including you loaded up a helicarrier. You made your way to the command center where Fury and Maria resided “Ah Agent Y/n. Glad that you could join us. Already suited up i see?” Fury points to your all black outfit and mask. 

   shrugging, you walked towards the front “I’ve been ‘dead’ for a year, cut me some slack for being excited” you say. Fury nods, agreeing with your statement before facing forward. “Set a course to Sokovia and making it fast” Maria announced.

   and with that, you were off

    ☼-☪-☼

  Maria hacked into the Avengers coms and connected Fury’s, your’s, and her own. “Where else am i gonna get a view like this?” a woman said through your earpiece. You instantly recognize it as Nat. You missed her so much, god you couldn’t wait to talk to her again. 

   “Glad you like the view Romanoff. It’s about to get better” Fury spoke, folding his arms behind his back, interlocking his hands. The helicarrier started to raise above Sokovia. Holy shit this is high. As you ascended you were able to see Nat and Steve standing together. Nat cut her hair, it looks pretty.

   rest of the staff began to enter the command room and set up “Nice right? Pulled her out of mothballs with a couple old friends. She’s dusty, but she’ll do” he spoke. “Fury you son of a bitch” Steve said right back. Did he just curse? That had to be Ultron. 

   “Woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury said with a fake surprised tone. His comment made you chuckle a bit since he had a foul mouth. Hypocrisy am i right? “Altitude is 18,000 and climbing” Maria spoke, typing away on her keyboard like desk. 

   another guy spoke up from behind you “Lifeboats secure to deploy, disengage in three...two...take them out ” he clicked one final button and sat back. You felt the helicarrier rumble beneath you, which meant the lifeboats were being sent to the ground.

   oh shit. You were supposed to be on one of those. “Shit!” you yell before running out the command room. You raced down the stairs and made your way to the deck. You watched as a lifeboat flew right below. This is such a bad idea. Your doing it anyway.

   taking a couple steps back, you mentally prepare yourself before running as fast as you could. As you touch the edge you jump and launch yourself off the helicarrier. The lifeboat came closer to you until your shoulder collided with it. You hissed and slowly pushed yourself up “Damn- that’s gonna sting”

   “Did you just jump off the helicarrier?” Fury says through the coms

   “Who did?” Steve spoke

   “Oh you know, backup-” Fury replies before Maria cut in “Sir we have multiple bogeys on our starboard flank” she spoke and indeed when you looked up you saw a bunch of Iron man suits flying above. Oh shit. “Show them what he got” he replied back. 

   you reach down and pull both guns out the holsters that were on both of your thighs “It feels good to be back” you said to yourself. You heard something fly above you that wasn’t a Bogey and saw War Machine- Rhodey blasting through a bunch of them. He’s pretty cool.

   just as you were about to bask in the moment a Bogey landed on the lifeboat and came charging at you. It swung and you ducked just in time, lifting your foot to kick it in the chest. As it stumbled back you raised your gun and shot it straight in the head.

   the literal lights behind its glass ‘eyes’ flickered until it shut off and it fell to the ground. “It better not be that easy to kill the actual Iron Man” you spoke. “And your not gonna find out” a voice spoke. You turn around and see Tony in his suit, with his arm raised, ready to attack you. 

   you raise your hands “Woah- What the hell Stark!” you shout. Oh shit- you had a mask. “I’m on your side” you add. Tony tilts his head “Really, prove it” he says. You slowly move your hand. as to not startle him and slowly pull the mas down from your face “Hey Tony”

   he visibly tensed up. His mask retracting back into his face. Still has handsome as ever. He reaches up with both arms and takes off his helmet, dropping it to the side. “So is faking your death a Shield initiation thing or you just really didn’t want to go out with me?” he asked. 

   you cracked a smile and dropped your arms to your sides “I told you work gets in the way” you said. He went to say something when four Bogeys landed on the lifeboat. Damn you couldn’t let any on until you landed. Tony groaned dramatically and shot one in the chest, causing it to fall off the ship.  

   “No. See regular work doesn’t involve faking your death. I went to your funeral you know?” he says. You drop off and push off the seat and onto the Bogey, wrapping your thighs around its head. You push the barrel of the gun against the top of its head and shot “I know. I was there!” you shout.

   “Oh that’s just great. You saw me all vulnerable and teary” he says with a scoff. what was happening right now. You drop to the ground and the Bogey grabs your leg, pulling you back. You shot it in the arm and it lets go “I actually didn’t know you cried. That’s kind of cute though”

   you shoot the Bogey in the head and stand up on your feet. Just as you are about to take a step, a metal arm wraps around your neck, pulling you back. Oh yeah there was four. You went to reach behind as Tony shot through it’s head. The grip around your neck was released and you pushed it’s corpse off.

   “Your welcome” Tony spoke, he still sounded snappy. “Your such a baby Tony. What can i do to make you stop moping?” you ask, putting one of your guns into the holster. You look behind you as the lifeboats pull up next to Sokovia “One date after all this. So i can show you what you missed of course”

   you crack a smile, pulling your hood off your head. You raise your hand and hold up one finger “One date. That’s it” you say and he nods along “That works for me” he replies before picking up his helmet. He puts it on his head “But you’ll come back for more” he says as his face is covered by metal once more.

    ☼-☪-☼

   present

   you ended up did going on that date with Tony and he was right, there would be multiple date and girts until he finally asked you to be in a relationship. It was any big grand gesture that you expected from him, it was simple and sweet. It took him three years for him to propose in 2018.

   but he was always one to wait. 

   the second battle with Thanos, but everyone seemed to be somewhat recovering, but Tony wasn’t himself anymore. You already knew he was a workaholic, but it had never been this bad. He’d stay up all night working on new tech. Security, suit adjustments, anything. 

   when it first started happening you chalked it up to his response to trauma. One night you suggested he’d go to therapist. Just one session and if he thought it would work then he could continue and vise versa. Tony ended up shooting down the idea with a couple harsh words. 

   it was strange to see him yell at you because he had never done before. It was like you were talking to an entirely different person. It scared you to be honest, but you loved him. A whole year after Thanos had gone by and he was just falling deeper and deeper into his work and less into you.

   “Friday, is Tony awake?” you spoke, pouring coffee into a black mug. You place it on the silver tray and grab the light beige cardigan off the counter, slipping it over your white sports bra. “Yes Miss. Would you like me to inform him your coming down to the lab?” Friday asked.

   “No that’s alright. I’d rather surprise him. Thank you Friday” you say and grab the tray off the counter, it had a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes. You knew he wouldn’t have eaten already “Just doing my job Miss” she replies. You smile to yourself. You liked listening to her accent. 

       ☼-☪-☼

   you push open the door with the side of your hip since your hands were full “Tony!” you call out, looking around the lab one time. You stop as you see your lovers head pop up behind a machine you were unfamiliar of “Y/n? What’re you doing up? It’s late” he said, putting down a tablet.

   you roll your eyes and walk over to the big table in the middle, placing the tray down “It’s nine in the morning, love” you reply. Was he starting to lose track of time now? This place needed more windows clearly. Tony put on a confused face as he scratched the back of his neck “Really?”

   nodding, you lift up the mug of coffee from the tray and make your way over to Tony. You dodge a few tools laying on the ground and hand him the cup “Drink” you say. He takes it from you and brings it to his lips “Thanks” he says. While he drank you studied his face. He looked so exhausted.

   it broke your heart

   “You look terrible by the way” you comment, causing him to crack a small smile. “You said yes to this face, remember that” he retorts. Well he wasn’t wrong about that one. “That is true, seriously i want you out the lab today and into bed. Tomorrow is an important day”

   Tony goes silent for a moment and you can tell he was trying really hard to think “Tony” you said, your voice sounding like a mom who was getting ready to lecture there child for forgetting to do homework. “I know i know- important day. Can’t wait for that...day”

   you narrowed your eyes “Friday” you called out. “Yes Miss” she replies instantly. “Read me Tony’s schedule that he set for himself for the week” you ask. Tony steps forward, but you take a step back, moving away from him. “There is nothing on Mr. Stark’s schedule this week Miss” 

   wow

   moving away from Tony, you walk over to the table “It’s our anniversary tomorrow you ass” you snap at him. Tony sighs and runs his hand over his face “I’ve been busy-” “You’ve never forgot it before” your tone was unusually calm, which through Tony off. 

   “Thanos is dead Tony” 

   “I know-”

   “Then what are you doing?!” you shout, shocking yourself at the loudness of your own voice. “I’m trying to keep you safe!” he exclaims. Your fist clench. God you loved this man, but you wanted to punch him in the nose “You know i thought that you would get over this, but i can’t take much more”

   your words seem to scare Tony a bit, but you continued to speak “It’s been a year Tony. You don’t sleep next to me, we barely talk unless it’s me making sure you don’t fucking starve to death, we haven’t been intimate in god knows how long. I’m tired of being neglected”

   crying for a man was so pathetic, so you reached up and wiped any forming tears away with your thumb. Tony reached his arms out and wrapped them around you. You wanted to push him away, but he hasn't hugged you in so long, so you gave in. 

   he rubbed the back of your head as you let a few tears fall onto his shirt “I’ll stop okay- look i promise i’ll get some sleep and will have a whole day together okay?” he says. You were mad and you wanted to scream at him, but you also loved him and wanted to give him a second chance.

   “Okay, but i swear Tony. You screw this up and-” you were cut off by him placing his lips on yours. Damn Stark. You smiled lightly into the kiss and pull away a couple seconds later “and you’ll throw me out on my ass i know.” he says. 

   you ended up making Tony go to sleep in your shared room while you cleaned up his lab and such. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   the anniversary, night 

   you were waiting outside a restaurant since Tony wanted to show up in his car to ‘swoon’ you wearing a black jumpsuit, it was his favorite color on you You looked at your phone and noticed he was about ten minutes late, but that didn’t worry you much since he liked to be fashionably late. 

   he’d come. He wouldn’t risk his last chance.

   would he?

    ☼-☪-☼

   after two hours Happy ended up picking you up and taking you back to your home. He apologized for Tony a couple times, but you said it was fine. Once you got home you kicked off your heels at the door. You were kind of running on autopilot just in shock and realization at the same time.

   you knew what you had to do, but at the same time you didn’t want to, but it was over. You gave Tony a chance and he blew it. Nine years down the drain in a flash. You just couldn’t believe it. Walking down the hall, you wipe your face from the warm tears.  

   shutting the door to your shared bedroom, you go over to the closet “Miss you seem to be in distress is there anyway i can help?” Friday spoke. For an AI she was very self aware on feelings. “Is Tony awake Friday?” you ask, going over to your closet. “No Miss, he is asleep in the lab. May i call someone for you?”

   you open the closet and pull out a suitcase you had in there and bring it over to the bed “Call Wanda” you say as you unzip the suitcase, opening it up and throw it on the bed. “Of course Miss, contacting Wanda Maximoff” she replies. After a couple seconds you hear her voice. 

   “Y/n? It’s late, are you alright?” she asked. You had confided in Wanda about your relationship problems with Tony since you were both in a long term relationship. You had also told her about the anniversary thing and Tony’s last chance. she said if it didn’t work out yo could stay at her place.

   “Hey Wanda- uh. Yeah i know it’s late but-” you didn’t get to finish speaking when Wanda cut you off “Are you crying? Tony didn’t come did he? Know what? i’m on way. He better like a car through his window” she threatens, you could hear her moving around and the sound of keys. Well damn-

   you began to grab your clothes from your dresser and stuff them in your suitcase “He’s sleeping, just pull in the front. I’ll send you the gate code okay?” you say, beginning to take off the jumpsuit you were wearing. “Fine, but no promises if i see him in the street. I’ll see you soon Y/n, goodbye”

   Wanda hung up the phone “Friday-” “I sent Wanda the gate code. Before you leave would you like to leave a message for Mr. Stark?” Friday asked. You grab a dark green sweater and jeans from your dresser and throw them on quickly. You didn’t bother to pack the jumpsuit. 

   you wanted Tony to know why you had left so he could see the consequences of his actions and so that he wouldn’t tear the city apart thinking you were kidnapped. “I will, can you record a holographic message?” you ask. “Yes Miss, also Wanda will be arriving in 15 minutes”

   “Okay”

    ☼-☪-☼

   Tony awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring off into his ear “Shit. Friday shut that off!” he groans, lifting his head from the table “Yes Boss” she replies and the alarm shuts off. “Y/n has left a message for you to listen too. It is very important” she adds.

   “Play it” he says going to lay his head back down on the table “It is a holographic message, Boss” Friday says. Tony begrudgingly lifts his head and leans it on his arm “Play it” he repeats. A second later you appeared sitting on the chair at the table with a blue hue around you. 

   “Hey Tony” you spoke a half smile on your face. tony would have found comfort in it if he doesn’t your puffy eyes and saddened expression. His head lifted on his arm “Remember our anniversary, you know your last chance and all that? Yeah.” you began. Tony sighed mumbling curses under his breath.

    “I care about you, i have since you talked to me at the Shield dance, but i haven’t been your first priority in a while and i get it, but you promised when i left Shield that you would always make time for me. I know that Thanos shook you and you won’t admit it, but you need realize that something bad isn’t lurking around every corner”

   Tony watched as you reached up and rubbed your eyes, the scene tugging on his heartstrings “We need a break from each other Tony, just for a little while. I’m going to stay with some friends. Please try to help yourself, get out the lab, clean yourself up, all of that.”

   you pulled something off your ring finger and placed it on the table. Tony looked down and saw the silver ring with three aquamarine stones. He remembered proposing to you with it. You said the color reminded you of his reactor. Weirdly enough your hologram looked up at him and smiled. 

   “I’ll be waiting” you said and then flickered away “That’s the end of the message, Boss” Friday says. Tony slowly picked up the ring off the table. You had recorded the message in hear, talking to his sleeping body. He wished he had woken up. 

    ☼-☪-☼

   three months later

   staying with Wanda was fun, but after a month or so you decided to get your own place. As much as you loved your big house you shared with Tony you bought small cabin well away from the city. It was quiet, it was outdoors and you loved it. 

   when you and Tony got engaged you ended up retiring from Shield so you could be more at home and help Tony with his work, but now even though you didn’t need a job you also didn’t like the idea of sitting on your ass. In that night of packing you put your old suit in there while on autopilot. 

   It took awhile, but you called up Fury and he was more than happy to let you back in “What does Stark have to say about all this?” he asked and you just sighed quietly “What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him” you replied and he didn’t ask any more questions after that. 

   getting back into your old life was pretty easy. All you needed was to get back into your regular exercise regiment that you had been lacking on and you felt more confident than ever. You didn’t feel neglected or forgotten, the complete opposite, you felt badass. 

   one day when you were walking out the store after picking up some groceries you felt eyes on you as you walked along the sidewalk. After years of being an Agent you knew when you were being followed. What was strange was that it felt like someone was watching you from above.

   having a hunch at who it might be you quickly looked up and see a quick blur of red and blue swing away from your vision. Was this kid following you? but why? You duck into an alley way and walk slowly. You hear him drop behind you and follow your steps. 

   “Peter”

   “Hi” he replies in nervous tone. You turn around, placing your free hand on your hip “Why have you been following me all week Peter?” yopu ask. You haven’t talked to Peter in months. Did he need something? Peter lifts his arm and grabs the top of his mask, pulling it off of his head. 

   he was lucky you were in a remote part of the city “Mr. Stark told me you weren’t together at the moment” he starts, looking at his feet. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright” he says and flashes a toothy grin. Aw- wait. “Did Tony ask you to check on me?”

   Peter shook his head “No. He’s been busy with setting up the new senteries and therapy- i mean i don’t know. I just missed you and i can tell Mr. Stark is trying to change, but i hate to see you both so sad. I couldn’t imagine not being with Mj” he says. This kid was too adorable. 

   not only that he went out of his way to see how you were doing. Wait- what did he say about Tony “What senteries?” you asked, stepping closer to him. Peter started to fidget a bit “Uh- i really have to get going-” “Peter” you said in a demanding tone. 

   he exhaled deeply, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this “Mr. Stark has a whole line of senteries to sell to the senator so he can finally retire from being Iron Man. Not fully retire just on a long term vacation- that’s what he called it.” he spoke. Holy shit- you hoped he had done this for himself

   and you as well- but mostly himself

   a smile creeped onto your face. The most stubborn man you had ever met changed. “When does he plan on doing this?” you say to Peter “A dinner party this weekend. I wasn’t supposed to say anything until it was done. He was going to do some grand gesture to show you he’s changed” 

   you shook your head and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder “Don’t be. For once i’m doing the grand gesture”

    ☼-☪-☼

   saturday 

   after figuring out and planning on when and where you were going to show up you decided to tap into Friday’s systems and watch most of his speech then find Tony when the time was right, preferably when he was alone. Being with Tony for so long you figured out a way to enter your shared home, undetected.

   once you were in the building you hid away in a spare room that was never used “Friday show me the room Tony’s in” you spoke, pulling out your phone “Yes Miss” she spoke and on your screen you saw Tony in the dining room. You lift your phone and flick it so its projected off the screen.

   your eyes latched to Tony as soon as it turned on. He looked so different and healthy. It was pleasing to see that he was doing much better. You were also glad he took your advice. A warmth invaded your chest, it’s like you fell in love with him all over again. 

   gosh how you wanted to run into his arms that very moment. 

   “So Stark, why retire now?” the senator asked, taking a sip of wine from the glass he held. Tony seemed to tense up the question, but no one noticed other then you and Tony himself “If you asked me three months ago i would have told you to go to hell and that i don’t need to retire”

   “and now?”

   “Well back then i had my fiancee and thought i was the king of the world. Then i lost her because of my workaholic nature- also i’m not retiring Iron, Man will still be here for whoever needs him, but i think it’s time i put my future wife first if i want to keep her” he shrugs his shoulders casually.

   most at the table were stunned into silence before the senator lifted his hand for tony to shake “I guess Tony Stark does have a heart” he spoke and Tony shook his hand. You felt something warm come down your face and reached to wipe the tears away.

   god- what a charmer. Always knew just what to say.

   “Well this was fun, but my finacee i’ve been talking about is actually here on the moment” he said. Wait what? You looked at the screen as Tony’s head turned towards the camera, sending you a wink. How the hell did he find out?! Tony grabbed a pen from his pocket and signed the paper.

   “Happy will show you all out” Tony waved them off before walking out the room “If you step out the room you’ll be able to meet Mr. Stark in the hallway” Friday spoke. Oh so she snitched. Betrayal at it’s finest “Thanks Friday” you spoke before stepping out the room. 

   as you turned your head you come face to face with your husband to be, except he seemed nervous? “You look great- well you always look great” Tony says, making you form a smile “I’m proud of you” you say back. Tony reaches up, using this thumb to wipe away a stray tear. 

   “That means a lot coming from you. I can’t believe i let you slip away” his voice got darker, a frown forming. “I’m right here” you open your arms out. tony takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “But seriously Tony i will really leave you next time”

   he nods “I know i know. You can have the whole house if i do” he says, making you chuckle. After a moment of staring into each other's eyes, silently making up for lost time. “Oh my god Tony Stark if you don’t kiss me right now-” you didn’t even need to finish before his lips were on yours. 

   the kiss was desperate and starved for a deeper feeling. Who knew one person could miss another so much? After this, you speculated you’d be stuck to his side like glue for a couple weeks before he say something stupid to piss you off. 

   Tony’s hands traveled lower and lower until they gripped the back of your thighs, causing a familiar feeling to bloom within you. He pulls away from your mouth and his lips attach to your neck, leaving hot open mouthed kisses. Zero to one hundred real quick. 

   “Tony” you breathed out. You could feel the smirk against the skin of your neck. Horny bastard “Tony seriously” you say, a laugh bubbling in your throat. He pulls away and looks at you ‘I’m trying to seduce you. Why are you interrupting?” 

   you shake your head and hook your arms around his neck “I love you, you idiot”  you say, trying to catch your breath. A ego filling grin decorated his face as he pecked your lips “I love you too. Now let me get back to work” he says and goes back to kissing your neck and his hands worked off your belt.

   yeah- you were in love 

    ☼-☪-☼

   Click here to join my Taglist!    @sonbelleame @hel-viti @loudbluepancake @vmame

    ☼-☪-☼

   Kody: Eh this kinda sucks. requests are open and my taglist. Anyways, peace

[marvelousstevetony]

hi you’re so wonderful. Could you possibly write nose kisses + “You’ve sneezed four times. That’s not like you.” from the prompt list you posted for Sam and Bucky ♥️♥️

Omg, thank you, anon! You’re wonderful, and I hope you’ll like this small fic of sick!Bucky and a very sweet Sam taking care of him. I know this is another old prompt, but hopefully you’ll see this anyway!♥️

-----------

Sam sighs as he closes the door behind him and dumps his back on the floor. Shrugging off his jacket, he simultaneously toes off his shoes, and he nearly stumbles when his left sneaker doesn’t come as easily as the right one did. He looks down at his feet and glares at the shoe as if it had been trying to kill him.

Well, it kinda had, Sam thinks to himself. He could’ve fallen over and hit his head and he could’ve died, and it would definitely have been the shoe’s fault and not because Sam was too lazy to untie the laces and— wait. Sam stops his train of thought when he notices Bucky’s shoes are in the hallway, which they shouldn’t be. Sam is sure Buck had said that he’d be in debrief way past dinnertime.

He shoots one last glance at the potentially lethal shoe and kicks it out of his way and heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink before hunting down his boyfriend. It’s a surprisingly easy hunt, though, because Bucky is standing at the kitchen counter when Sam enters the room.

Bucky’s wearing a thick knit sweater that he’d once stolen from Steve, and his hair’s pulled into a small bun at the nape of his neck. Sam can’t help but smile into the soft, navy material when he comes up and hugs Bucky from behind, nuzzling his face between Bucky’s shoulder blades. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Bucky chuckles softly and places his right hand on top of one of Sam’s, giving it a small squeeze.

“You’re home already,” Sam says gratefully. “Did debrief finish early?”

“Uh… snff! Yeah, kind of. We’re finishing up tomorrow.”

Sam hums in acknowledgement and plants a kiss on Bucky’s shoulder before pulling away to fetch a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. He takes a long gulp of it and sets the glass on the counter, then goes to open the fridge and frowns at it when he realizes it’s empty. Or, well, basically empty, apart from milk, a couple of eggs, a few bell peppers and some other basic stuff. Not enough to make dinner out of, though.

“I didn’t think you’d be home, so I didn’t go shopping for groceries,” Sam explains when Bucky asks why he’s staring off into the fridge. “If I’d known you’d be back so soon I would’ve made you dinner, but…”

“We can— snff! We can just order in,” Bucky says. “What… snf! d-do you waahh- huh? huh… uhhUSH’ooo!”

“Bless you!” Sam exclaims and turns to look at Bucky, who’s rubbing at his nose with knuckles, eyes narrowed and mouth hanging slightly agape. He presses a bent index finger to his septum, but whether he’s trying to hold off the building tickle in his nose or coax out another sneeze, Sam can’t tell. It’s the latter that wins, because after a few hitching breaths and a final desperate gasp, Bucky yanks the collar of the sweater over his mouth and nose, succumbing to the sneezy sensation.

“huhh… uhhETCH’oo! ehhh… EIShoo! Hh! UhTSHHh’uh!”

Three strong sneezes rush over him, his shoulders tensing with the force of them, making his body jerk a little forward each time.

“Jesus, bless you, Buck,” Sam says, his tone now somewhere between protective and concerned. “You’ve sneezed four times. That’s not like you.”

Bucky sniffles a good few times before releasing his grip of the sweater and swipes at his nose with the back of his wrist instead. “Snf! Sorry,” he murmurs, voice congested and raspy. “Than’gks,” he adds when Sam pulls out a couple of tissues from the box on the counter and hands them to him.

He gives a couple of useless blows that makes him cough more than it helps clear out his sinuses, and he ends up doing more coughing and snuffling into them than anything else.

“You sound horrible,” Sam states and grimaces when Bucky draws in a breath and waits for another sneeze to overcome him. It doesn’t come though, and all Bucky is left with is an itchy and fuzzy feeling in his head, which he tries to ward off by shaking his head, then lets out a defeated, stuffy sigh. “And you look even worse,” Sam continues when he gets a good look of Bucky for the first time since he came home.

His eyes are all watery and tired looking, and the purplish bags underneath them could rival Steve’s from that time he went three days without sleeping on a mission and came home exhausted and hurt and sick. Additionally, Bucky’s cheeks are flushed the same bright red colour as his nose, which also looks like it’s been abused by rough tissue paper and the cuff of his sweater all day.

“Fuck off, Wilson,” Bucky grumbles, but there’s no fire to it, no real annoyance. Not at Sam, anyway, probably more at the state he’s in. “You’re just… snf! Just repeating what Steve told mbe all day.”

Ah. “So that’s why you’re home early?” Sam realizes. “So Rogers is the one I have to thank for getting my boyfriend all to myself on a Wednesday evening. How did he manage to convince you to go home?” He asks, impressed that even Steve could get him to resign to this monster of a cold.

Bucky ducks his head with a shy smile and rubs the back of his neck. “Said he’d walk me down to med himself if I refused to go home…”

“Buck,” Sam breathes sympathetically and comes to stand next to Bucky, who’s still leaning against the counter. Sam brings a hand to Bucky’s hair and pulls it out of the bun. He snaps the band around his wrist before threading his fingers through the long, dark locks. “He thinks you need to go to med?”

Bucky shakes his head, then clears his throat. “Ndo I— snf! He knows I hate it down there, so threatening to take me there was probably just his way to make sure I went home.”

“Hmm… He’s a smart guy.”

Bucky chuckles at that, low and congested, but it makes him smile, and seeing the way the corners of Bucky’s mouth curl upwards makes Sam smile, too.

“Alright, I’ll order dinner for us. What do you want? Italian? Good,” Sam decides when Bucky nods. “Go huddle up on the couch, I’ll come after I’ve showered, okay?”

Bucky nods again and starts to pull back a little, but Sam stops him before he can get too far away and leans in close enough to brush his lips over the tip of Bucky’s nose. Although the kiss is gentle and feather-light, Bucky nose twitches, and he has to duck his head to rub it against his index finger. When he looks back up at Sam, he has this bashful look on his face that makes him look even cuter than Sam thought possible, and if Sam hadn’t already decided that Bucky needs to relax, he probably — no, definitely — would’ve pulled Bucky into a deep, warm kiss that left both of their lips numb and wanting more. But that’s not what Bucky needs right now. Right now, he needs food, a fresh box of tissues, maybe a cup of tea later and maybe even some of the cold-medicine Sam insists they keep in stock. Just in case, he always says.

“Okay, to the couch you go,” Sam sighs and nudges Bucky’s shoulder when he feigns a pout and tries to nestle into Sam’s embrace again. Rolling his eyes when Bucky looks at him through his thick lashes, Sam pokes softly at Bucky’s side. “Stop with the puppy eyes, Barnes, and a go sit your ass down.”

With a small grin, Bucky heads for the living room, leaving Sam to order dinner and clean up before joining him.

Dinner arrives about thirty minutes later. They eat on the couch, cuddled up in a nest of blankets and pillows while some horrible reality show is playing on the tv. Sam doesn’t know why they’re even watching it, but it’s entertaining enough that neither of them want to sacrifice how comfortable they are to reach the remote.

Through it all, Bucky has been sniffling and sneezing into the tissues Sam brought with him to the couch, and by the time Sam’s going to make tea, the box is empty.

“Umb, Sam? Do you snf— snff! Do you thin’gk you could mbe sombe more tissues?” Bucky asks as his eyes begin to glaze over, lashes fluttering wildly before he pushes a crumpled tissue against his nose and gives into the sneezes. “H’uhh… UhhIShoo! Oh… snf! Heh—? ehh… ehCH’sshh! EISHh’oo!”

“You’ve really got the sniffles today, don’t you?” Sam jokes as he gets to his feet, but his voice is warm and fond.

“Shud up, Sam,” Bucky huffs. “Just get me the damn tissues, will ya?”

Sam holds his hands up in surrender and laughs. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll get you tea and tissues,” he says and comes back with a new box of Kleenex and a steaming cup of tea five minutes later. He put the cup on the coffee table, and drops the box of tissues onto Bucky’s lap before dropping himself right down next to Bucky, holding his arms out for Bucky to cuddle into to, and how could Bucky reject such an invitation?

Within a few seconds, Bucky is settled in good and close in Sam’s embrace, Bucky’s head resting against Sam’s chest. It’s nice like this, Sam thinks. It’s nice that they can have this, that they let themselves have this. And in this instant, Sam’s gaze wanders over Bucky screen-lit face, letting himself dwell in the stillness and bliss of the moment. It’s simple, but it’s perfect, and suddenly an overwhelming sense of home surges through Sam, a feeling that makes his breath catch in his chest. When Bucky looks up at him with questioning blue eyes, silently asking him if he’s alright, Sam just smiles and gently cups Bucky’s jaw in his palm, angling his head in just the right position for Sam to lean down and place a kiss right on the bridge of Bucky’s nose.

[too-gay-for-marvel]

broken

a/n: listen. i had fun writing this one, and i enjoyed it, but i am so done with it. this was the most writers block ive had in so long. i promise im not dead, im just busy being as unproductive as i possibly can

Word Count: 1855

Warnings: none

Pairing: Carol x Reader

“This sucks.”

Carol turned from her spot at the counter to see you throw your book against the wall. It had been a long three days, and you still had a lot of time left before you could go on another mission. She almost felt sorry for you. But then she remembered what you had done to get in this position in the first place, and she didn’t feel so bad anymore.

“Shouldn’t have been so careless,” she shrugged even though she knew you weren’t looking at her.

“It was Sam’s fault,” you mumbled just loud enough for her to hear.

If she were a good girlfriend, she would have gone and sat with you. Maybe she would have pulled your head into her lap and offered some snacks or a movie or a game. A kiss or two on the forehead to show she was with you until the end.

But no one ever said she was a good girlfriend.

“Sam wasn’t even on the mission.”

“He told me to do it!” You shouted back, and Carol could see you throw your arms into the air in indignation. It was pretty cute.

“If your friends told you to-”

“-Without question.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” Carol complained as she finally fully turned around to face you.

“Doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “I take no convincing to make bad decisions.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbled to herself.

You both went quiet and Carol could partially see the look on your face from over the back of the couch. She knew that glazed look in your eyes and the way you were zoned out at the ceiling. And even though she wanted you to know she wasn’t happy with you, she knew she needed to have mercy. Only for a little bit.

She slid off the counter stool and made her way to the couch where she could just stare down at you. You didn’t move, though, instead still staring at the ceiling. Carol could only imagine how infuriating this probably was, and even though it was absolutely your fault, she felt for you.

“Move over,” Carol said a little harsher than intended. When you still hadn’t moved, she nudged your unbroken leg with her knee, and when you looked at her she raised her brow.

“Fine,” you sighed before lifting your legs enough for her to sit down.

“Your leg is heavy,” Carol complained when you set your legs back down.

“It’s a cast, Carol,” you huffed, “it’s gonna be heavy.”

“You know what would have fixed this problem?”

“’Don’t break your leg,’” you mocked, “yeah yeah, fuck off.”

You sighed and threw an arm over your eyes before you both went silent. That was exactly what Carol had been about to say, and she had to hand it to you; you knew her better than most. But you went quiet, so she decided to instead just run her fingers over the new markings on your cast.

It seemed everyone had signed it in some way or another. Rhodey, Nat, and Bruce had signed it like normal people. There was a flower on your knee that Steve had drawn. Sam and Bucky had written a mini argument down your calf. Clint had, of course, drawn a dick (and a poorly drawn one at that).  Tony had written the number for an escort service on the top of your thigh “so you can always see it.” Even Hulk had managed to scribble out his name.

“When did this happen?” Carol asked as she looked back up to your face.

“Couple days ago, I guess,” you shrugged without looking down from the hole you were staring into the ceiling.

“Where was I?” Carol chuckled nervously to herself. But she knew the answer.

“Away,” you confirmed with a small voice. And it broke her heart.

You knew going into this that Carol would have to be gone for unknown amounts of time. She loved being home, but she had a responsibility to keep everyone safe, and that meant a lot of distance at the worst of times. And in her defense, as soon as she had gotten word that you’d gotten hurt she had rushed home.

And then had to leave again for almost two weeks.

“Let me up,” Carol said softly with a pat to your good leg. You finally looked down and raised a brow at her, but raised your legs anyway so she could stand.

She ignored the look she could feel you sending her way and continued walking to the kitchen. It took a little longer than she had thought, but she eventually found the junk drawer and dug around. There were scissors, matches, random batteries… and an orange marker. Why orange? She had no idea, but it would work.

Instead of sitting under your legs again, Carol kneeled in front of the couch. She took the cap off with her mouth and started drawing, up on your thigh. It wasn’t going to be pretty. Okay, it was going to be borderline hideous. But that wasn’t the point.

“What are you doing?”

Carol’s hand stopped when she noticed you had raised yourself up onto your elbows. Your frustration seemed to have melted away - even if temporarily - to be replaced with curiosity. Which was understandable because she may have been ruining your cast, but honestly? She didn’t care.

“Leaving my mark,” Carol answered as she went back to drawing.

“You don’t have to,” you said quickly.

“I know I don’t, I want to.”

“No, really, it’s okay.”

“Baby, just let me finish-”

“-I don’t even know what that is,” you whined as you gestured toward the beautiful new drawing on your thigh.

“What do you mean you don’t know what it is?” Carol asked. She had finally finished and was now focused on you. And the almost terrified look on your face.

“It’s a mess!”

“It’s Goose!”

“If that’s Goose, then I’m a Skrull.”

“Wait, are you?”

“Carol,” you warned.

A silence fell over the both of you as you stared each other down, daring the other to make the first move. Carol stared into your eyes and searched for something, she didn’t know what. The tension was so thick it was almost hard to breathe. But when the corner of your mouth slowly tilted up, she couldn’t stop her own smile and the tension devolved into laughter.

It was so nice to get to see that smile on your face once again. You hadn’t smiled or laughed since the accident, and even though Carol couldn’t blame you, she had missed it. She had missed hearing you laugh at the team or smile to yourself when Goose came over to lay on you.

She had missed you.

“If someone makes fun of me, I’m blaming you,” you managed to choke out around your laughter.

“Now you’ll always think of me,” Carol retorted, completely ignoring your threat.

“For better or worse,” you shot back with a smirk that quickly turned into a wide-mouthed yawn.

Carol’s eyes flitted to the clock on the wall and noted that it was far too late to still be awake. Even though the both of you were homebound for a while, she knew how grumpy you could be if you didn’t get enough sleep. Okay, maybe she got a bit grumpy too, but that wasn’t the point. She was going to pretend it was all for you.

“Let’s get to bed,” Carol said softly, but she still didn’t get up from her spot on the floor.

“I can’t walk.”

“I’ll get your crutches,” Carol shrugged.

“They’re not… here,” you mumbled, and she noticed you desperately trying to avoid her eyes.

“Where are they?”

Yet again you avoided her gaze, and Carol couldn’t help glaring at you. She knew you could still see her, and she hoped you just caved. You needed those crutches for when no one was around, so where could they possibly be? She would understand if Tony had taken them, or if Clint had tried to use them and lost them.

But you looked guilty.

“Y/N?” Carol tried again, and you looked at her out of the corner of your eye. “Where are your crutches?”

“I… can neither confirm nor deny the location of my crutches,” you stated, sounding an awful lot like Tony when he was trying to get away with something. “But they may have been thrown out the window.”

And the truth comes out.

“How did you expect to get around?” Carol asked as she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I…,” you paused and, with a sigh, dropped your head. “I didn’t think that far.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Carol sighed. She should have been more disappointed but, knowing you as well as she did, it wasn’t really a surprise.

She knew what she had to do.

“Come here,” Carol said far softer than she had intended. Not that she wanted to be harsh, but she was going to have a talk with you later about not throwing things out of windows.

You squinted your eyes at her until she held her arms out, and you quickly relaxed again. She bent down and slid her arms under your back and your knees, being careful not to jostle your cast too much. When she stood up you quickly wrapped your arms around her neck and let her start carrying you.

“This is so romantic,” you whispered as you buried your head in her neck. The feel of your breath on her skin tickled.

“Don’t get used to it,” Carol shot back, but she couldn’t stop herself from smiling when you shook with hushed giggles.

When she reached your shared room, she was about to just toss you onto the bed until she remembered your leg. So instead she walked over and set you on your side of the bed, helping you arrange yourself so you could get settled. Since you were already in pyjamas - and had been since you got out of the medical wing - she only had to get herself changed and turned the lights off before climbing into bed.

“Carol?” You whispered after a few minutes of hearing nothing but the fan.

“What?”

“My cast is itchy.”

“You’ll just have to get over it,” she sighed. She didn’t even open her eyes; it was too dark to see anyway.

“But it itches really bad.”

“Where?” She conceded.

“My knee.”

“Baby, you can’t even reach your knee,” Carol explained even though you knew that already. “You’re just going to have to ride it out.”

You groaned, but otherwise went silent again. And Carol thought that would be the end of it for the night. She would get some sleep, you would get some sleep, and you could both relax tomorrow. You both needed it, and maybe you could both talk a few things out. Something you both needed.

“Carol?” You whispered again, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah, baby,” Carol mumbled.

“I have to pee.”

Carol sighed. This was going to be a very long night.

[mostfacinorous]

Stoki Whumptober Day 13: Breathe In, Breathe Out [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12]   

Steve had retreated to the rooms Tony had assigned to him back at the tower. Bucky was next door, washing the grime off while Steve reviewed the tapes that SHIELD had provided of Loki and Bucky’s total destruction of the Hydra facility that had held them. 

He didn’t know how to feel about it. 

On the one hand, the samples they’d taken from him were almost certainly destroyed, and that particular nest of assholes-- specifically the ones who had tortured him and Loki-- had been wiped out. But it was supposedly a SHIELD hospital. How many innocent people had been collateral? 

SHIELD was still working on figuring it out. 

It made Steve feel sick to his stomach. And when he thought back to before the carnage, how Loki had talked him out of his fugue-- 

It was hard to breathe. He could remember all too well the way Loki had looked and acted, aloof, cold, like turning on a switch, he was suddenly just as bad as he’d been at the start, before their uneasy truce and his sometimes occasional good deed that the Avengers tried not to look too far into. 

Steve tried to stand, feeling his throat getting hot and itchy-- almost like he was sick, or going to vomit, or getting ready to cry-- or all three, all at once. 

It felt, really, most like an asthma attack; something he hadn’t felt since gaining over a hundred pounds of muscle and speed healing. 

He collapsed to the ground, hand going to his neck as he felt his airway constricting. 

Panic bubbled up through him, and he choked on nothing, looking for help. 

“Captain Rogers, I wanted to apologize--” 

Loki walked through the door as though he hadn’t been chained up fifty floors below, last Steve saw him, like he belonged here and knew his way around. 

At the moment, Steve didn’t care; he’d never been happier to see him. 

Loki looked shocked, but rushed to his side, and he felt cool, almost cold hands sliding over his throat, looking for the source of the problem. Steve felt his eyes closing. 

“CALL STARK.” Loki demanded, and Steve heard Jarvis respond. He cracked his eyes open and saw a golden light forming under Loki’s hands, flowing into him, and he tried not to be scared-- Loki was helping, wasn’t he? It felt like it. Steve felt a thin stream of air going into his lungs. Not enough, but something. 

And then the door was being broken in, and Tony was aiming his repulsor at Loki, again. 

“The Captain is suffering some kind of delayed effect from his time with Hydra. We must get him breathing, or he’ll die.” Loki spoke quickly and flatly, but some of his concern was still audible. Steve didn’t have time to ponder that. He sat up as best as he could-- and how had he ended up halfway in Loki’s lap?-- and nodded at Tony frantically. 

Tony moved to the wall, opened a panel, and like magic an oxygen tank and mask appeared. 

Tony crouched down and fitted it over Steve’s face. 

“Later, we’re gonna have a talk about how you got out of your cell.” He warned Loki. 

Loki didn’t answer though; his eyes were fixed on Steve. 

“It isn’t enough. We need to open his throat; we need to get air past the inflamed tissue.” 

Steve saw Loki casting around, and he saw when his eye lit on the desk. Loki lunged for it and came back gripping a pen. 

“Woah woah, hold up, you can’t perform an emergency tracheotomy with--” Tony started, but Loki ignored him again and simply murmured an apology before slamming it into Steve’s throat. 

“Fuck.” Tony said, and quickly pulled the mask off, ripping the tube that fed into it out and feeding it through the new hole that Loki had made. 

Steve felt his lungs filling with air, and felt when Tony removed the tube a bit to let the air out. 

“Okay Steve?” Tony asked, and Steve held up a thumbs up, not sure how long they were supposed to do this. 

“Alright. Manage his breaths, I need to go to work on this inflammation. If all goes well, we’ll have you breathing on your own in short order.” Loki was glowing again, and his hands were on Steve’s neck, but this time he didn’t tense at all. 

“How the hell do you know all this?” Tony asked, following directions and giving Steve air and space to let it out again. Steve could feel himself exhaling through his mouth, and he wasn’t losing consciousness, but it was still markedly weird. 

“You think my spells are only good for exploding buildings?” Loki shot back, never shifting his focus from Steve. 

“I have no idea what they pumped into him, but he is reacting severely and badly. It would behoove us to figure it out before such a thing can be weaponized. If he is doing this poorly, imagine yourself, or the Widow…” Loki’s speaking tapered off, and Steve saw him frowning. 

“Yeah?” Tony asked. “And how are we going to do that? Supposing I believe you and this is from Hydra and not you trying to play hero by solving a problem you made, you blew up that whole place! How are we supposed to learn anything from--” 

Steve felt a weird squeezing sensation in his throat, and then felt something moving up and out of it, and into his mouth. He opened up, and Loki floated a liquid out. In the next moment, Steve felt his airway opening back up, and sat up, pulling the tube out with one hand while he plugged the hole in his throat with his other. 

He could feel his healing already going to work on the puncture, but his voice was still creaky when he spoke. 

“That was some fast thinking. Thanks.” He looked between the two men at his side, and wondered, briefly, how the hell they’d come to this. 

Loki shook his head, and retrieved the glass from Steve’s counter, depositing the liquid into it. 

“Here’s your sample to examine. I think the Captain could use some rest.” 

“Steve.” Steve croaked. “You can call me Steve.” 

Loki tilted his head, face unreadable. 

“Steve, then. Let’s get you to bed, Steve.” 

Tony made a strangled noise, but didn’t move to stop them.

[capsized-heart]

Lady Liberty and The Captain / Part One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (1940′s Brooklyn AU)

Summary: You are a rising young star and the newest breakout actress in Hollywood’s Golden Age! When war finally descends on the west, your reputation as America’s Sweetheart finds you cast in a promotional picture alongside Captain America himself.

Yet, he looks eerily familiar, like your Stevie from childhood…

Word count: 4.7k+

Warnings: fluff!!

A/N: hello, everyone!!!! I hope you’re staying home, warm, and safe during these crazy times. I’ve been snuggling with my doggie and continuing with my university’s online classes in my final semester..absolutely crazy how things are rn. I hope this new story can help brighten up your day just a little bit.

First of all, I just want to say thank you💖💛for all the love that old and new readers alike have shown this blog recently. I’ve been writing on this platform for a little less than a year and I never thought l’incendie would blow up as much as it has. You guys are amazing. I’m really excited and eager to share new pieces and hope you enjoy the content I have coming! Please don’t hesitate to pop in and say hi, or shoot me a message. I’ve really enjoyed connecting with readers and would love to know your thoughts on my fics, or just to talk about fandom stuff! Timmy included! PAHAHA

So, this chapter is gonna be a part of a mini-series for a 1940′s writing challenge and I’m using the prompt of wartime romance! This will probably be split into two or three parts and I will tag the host as soon as the last chapter goes up, I’ll most likely make a masterlist in the end as well. Reader has a name in this fic, but hopefully the choice of name will make sense later on :D

As always, feel free to drop a ask/message if you’d like a tag in the next update.

ENJOY!

THE NEW YORK TIMES

Film: ‘Apple of Discord’, Lola Swanson’s Dazzling Debut! 

By NICHOLAS WATTS                                                                                                                      September 1, 1943

----------

The film drama from the original screenplay written and directed by Andrew Campbell opened to a roar of applause and acclaim at the Radio City Music Hall yesterday evening. Apple of Discord is a reimagining of the myth and Plato’s allegory, focusing on the tumultuous, profoundly elegant life of a young noblewoman during the Trojan wars.  

The film’s frontrunner and leading lady is Hollywood newcomer, young and fresh-faced Lola Swanson. Swanson’s performance is so thoughtful, so unfaltering, so intelligent and controlled that it is hard to believe this is little Lola’s long awaited motion picture debut. And what a debut this is! 

Starring opposite Hollywood veterans Sean Schultz, Kash Dennis, and Gracie Smith, this star-studded cast packs punches and sizzling chemistry and yet, Swanson does not fizzle out but confidently holds her own, demanding your attention in every scene, and rightfully so. Watching Swanson in this picture is watching a major actress in the making. 

Born and raised in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen before moving to Brooklyn to pursue acting, some may recognize Lola from her daytime television roles in Insanity and Passion, It’s a Date! and as Jessica in Jessica Davis Returns.

Now we know these roles were preparing Swanson for the debut of the decade.   

“APPLE OF DISCORD” is now showing at the Radio City Music Hall and Cinema 2. Tickets at 25 cents. Running time: 139 minutes.

★★★★☆

——

APPLE OF DISCORD, written and directed by Andrew Campbell; director of photography, Laszlo Kovacs; edited by John Wright; music by John Barry; released by Universal Pictures.

----------

The newspaper trembles hard between your fingers, threatening to tear its edges. Pulse pounding, ears ringing. You can’t stop smiling. You feel like crying. 

You reread the words again and again, the words written by legendary film critic Nicholas Watts, the man you’ve only dreamed of making an impression on, that he’d someday see you in a picture. And here he’s written a glowing review of your major motion picture debut. 

You erupt in a fit of giggles and screams, twirling around the small space of your apartment in a swirl of nightgown, pinned curls. A neighbor, Mr. Krisinski, you think, pounds on your wall to shut you up. 

It’s still early morning and you had gone downstairs at first light to buy a paper from a newsboy. Outside your window, the streets of New York already yawn and bustle with morning commute. The movement of people, gleaming automobiles against the red brick buildings and muted gray of Manhattan. Warm sun washes over it all, your heart brimming and full, mirroring the glow of golden dawn. 

You feel on top of the world. Maybe you’ll finally make it here.

Your phone rings. You rush over to the mint blue rotary telephone on your bedside table, snatch up the receiver before Mr. Krisinski can break down your door with all the racket you’re making.

“Hello?” You say into the mouthpiece, cradling it between your hands. You feel breathless, high strung and buzzing, like you’d just downed a whole case of Coca-Cola, whirring with the taste of sugar and success, bubbling with starpower. Maybe it’s Kash or Gracie calling to congratulate you. Hell, maybe even President Roosevelt.

“Lola! It’s me. Have you read the paper?” The cool voice of Peggy asks you through the receiver. You quietly laugh at your own fantastical expectations. Of course it’s Peggy. Punctual, collected Peggy. 

Peggy Carter is your talent agent and manager at MGM. Peggy had snatched you up while you had been working as a background actress on Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca, so hopeful and beholden just to be in the presence of such respected artists, willing to stay the extra hours even after the other girls had gone home when realizing they wouldn’t be seen in the shot. It hadn’t been your first time on a hot set, you were used to the itchy costumes, long hours of endless waiting, and the empty stomachs, but no way you were going to miss a chance to see Ingrid Bergman and Madeleine LeBeau up close. 

Back then, only a few years ago yet a lifetime away it seems, Peggy had been a casting assistant, seeing your dedication and marching right up to you between takes to hand you her card. On the back, written in smooth blue ink, a time the next morning for an audition at MGM Studios in downtown New York. Eight o'clock sharp. 

You didn’t sleep at all that night after you wrapped.

She’s worked at getting you into audition rooms and meetings for years, pushing you onto writers, production assistants, riggers, directors. She had secured you an audition with Andrew Campbell after “accidentally” leaving your headshot in his mailroom and later calling his assistant with threats of stolen property. MGM’s new fresh face had been penciled in for a side read the following week. 

Fierce, ingenious, and your own bright star, you’ve risen through the ranks and fought your way up with Peggy at your side. 

“Yeah, Peg. I have it here in front of me. This is...absolutely nuts.” 

“Not really, you were brilliant in the picture, darling. But it’s a comfort to know Watts has finally replaced that cotton in his brain with some sense.”

Another laugh from you, twirling the telephone cord around your finger.

“Let me have this one, Peg.”

“If you insist.” 

You hear the rustling of newspaper from the other end. You can practically see Peggy sitting at her desk, perusing the paper over a morning cup of coffee, her hair curled, makeup and nails all scarlet red and perfect. The golden placard glittering on the frosted glass of the door. 

Margaret Carter, Casting Director.

“I’m calling to tell you about an offer we received this morning from Paramount. I think you should take it.” 

That rush of giddiness burns bright again in your veins, pulse skyrocketing. 

“Paramount? Geez, what did they say?”

“They want you for a promotional picture that’s being produced by Senator Brandt. Brandt is hoping to boost the homefront’s war bond sales with a little starpower from you and from Captain America. You’ve seen his posters, haven’t you? That costumed bloke?”

You have. Plastered everywhere and looking like an absolute buffoon. Nice physique, though. 

The disappointment that settles in your stomach is ugly and cold, like a fruitless pit, hard, rough, a sour taste in your mouth. It’s stupidly childish, yet your own expectations for your first movie, first box office hit, for that very first taste of the promised fame and fortune of success, begin to blink out. Expectations you’ve held on to since you were a little girl, since you realized this is the type of work you want to do for the rest of your life.

You’ve managed to impress Nicholas Watts, the most cynical film critic in all of Hollywood, and this is your big break? A Paramount picture featuring you and a tights-wearing mascot?

Peggy is practically asking you to star alongside Mickey Mouse.

“Is that all they offered?” You respond. You wince at the demanding, ungrateful tone. Afterall, showbiz has hardened you to go after what you want, to take and take because this lifestyle does not guarantee anything. You’re told no more than you are yes, the constant rejection having molded you into a diamond tough girl, glitzy and solid, unbreakable, beautiful. 

But how many girls would kill to be in your place?

“The only sensible deal. They also offered you the role of Violet for It’s a Wonderful Life, and Ruthie in The Grapes of Wrath.”

“What?! Peggy, contract me for those instead!” 

“Well, I’m not going to. And you listen well as to why.”

You twist your lips together. Peggy’s voice filters clipped and disapproving through the phone line, the way she always gets before she offers you damned good advice. 

“Not just Watts is impressed with your work, Lola. You’re finally turning heads and for all good reasons. Anyone can get in front of a camera if they have the right look. But you’ve shown them that you have the look and the raw talent. Critics are saying you’re rivaling Judy Garland, darling. And you’re telling me you want the part of a lousy love interest? A secondary daughter? All because the pictures have big names behind them and people may go see it?

“No,” you mumble.

“No is right. You know better than anyone that people expect young stars to burn out fast so they can take their place. It’s all business. If I put you in for those roles, we’d be playing right into their hand. We’d use up all your potential in one summer. The public would get sick of seeing your face in every big picture. We have to earn their affection, darling. It’s slow and tame and not always glamorous, but this deal is smart.”

You listen, silently.

“Morale is low. War is when people turn to familiar pastimes and simple pleasures. To treat themselves, to take their minds off all the grizzly headlines. Captain America embodies all of that and more. If we take this, I promise you, Lola, that people will remember you as the girl who got them through the darkest times. This will do wonders for your career years down the line. And then, if you still want to play Violet, I’ll phone Frank Capra myself.” 

You close your eyes and draw in a breath, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

“Well, it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Wonderful. I’ll phone Paramount now. We’ll be in touch.” 

--

Growing up with poor Irish immigrants for parents, the rare moments you could afford to splurge on luxuries, you spent them at local cinemas and theaters with your brother. Any day was a good one when you and Samuel bought tickets for a noon screening, the cheapest showing of the day, scraping together pocket change to split a popcorn if you were feeling extra special.

And reclining in a nearly empty theater with refreshments and goodies between the two of you, you’d watch the silver screen with hope in your mouth and stars in your eyes. In here, it no longer mattered how little money you had, or the discrimination your family faced, or the war in Europe, or the meager apartment you’d go home to, lucky if the electricity and heating had been paid for. In here, nothing else mattered but the visual stories. 

And you realized that you wanted to help tell them. You wanted to be in front of the cameras, to embody characters and personas and let audiences worldwide empathize and identify with your performances. 

You’ve loved playing make-believe since you were a little girl, having never really grown out of it. You could do it, you think. Dangerous dreams, perhaps, but what child doesn’t hold this wish within them? To see their name in lights and to be admired and commended, but most of all, to provide for their family?

 How hard could it be?

**

At sixteen, you land your first speaking role. It’s pathetic. You’re working on set as background, per usual, only this time, the director picks you out from the crowd and gives you the line of, “Good morning, sir.” You’re to look off camera as the actor playing Kent entered the scene and you would then say your line. 

You’re stupidly excited. Three simple words. You’ll be uncredited, of course, but your face would finally be seen! With butterflies fluttering in your stomach, the scene resets, Kent takes his mark, the cameras roll, and you deliver.

The scene is cut from the final reel. 

**

You pound the pavement. You scour newspapers and flyers for casting calls, you phone agencies and playhouses, you save up to get your picture taken on glossy photo paper. You keep looking. You keep working in background until you can land a steady role. 

Then, you finally get one. A miniscule part of a friendly neighborhood girl on a TV drama for CBS. You only have mere minutes of screen time, but the checks that arrive in the mail from Columbia Broadcasting System after your first few episodes air say otherwise. 

You open a savings account. You plant your paychecks and watch them grow into a comfortable sum of money. You land another guest starring role for a daytime soap, the secretary of the title character. Combined with your parents’ salaries from your mother’s sewing and your father’s work on the railroads, you become the main breadwinner.  

You move your family out of Hell’s Kitchen, out of your cramped, dark apartment. You sign a new lease under your new stage name and move to Brooklyn together. 

**

Brooklyn is slightly cleaner, but the familiar hustle and bustle, the noise of shopkeepers and dialects and children and cars is comforting, grounds you in your roots. When your CBS drama wraps months later with your last check in the mail and you’re looking for your next gig, your brother works odd jobs to help shoulder the burden. Brick laying, chimney sweeping, milk and mail delivering, Samuel becomes no stranger to any and all work, so long as it pays. You become a typist on the side as you wait for auditions and callbacks. 

Samuel tells you his aspirations to be a poet, a writer. He hasn’t said a word to your parents, but he shows you the small bound notebook he carries with him, leafing through pages of prose and verse. You encourage him to submit his work to newspapers, publishers. He gives you a shy smile, says he’ll consider it as soon as you get your motion picture debut. You shake on it. Together, your already close bond of brother and sister grows stronger as you each work to support your art.

**

You’re waiting for Samuel to finish his shift so you can catch a late showing of His Girl Friday, a warm September day when you first meet Bucky Barnes down at the wharfs. He’s tall, lean, and glistening with sweat when he rounds out of the warehouse with an armful of crates and nearly knocks you off the pier.

“Hey, watch it!” he snaps. His eyes flash like the water around you, blue and cold and dangerous. Brown locks curl with perspiration against his forehead, the sleeves of his workshirt rolled up over his shoulders, the exposed skin of his throat and arms flushed and tan. 

Embarrassed, you try to steady him, to which he growls in annoyance and spins out of your reach. He makes a great show of bearing the weight himself, grumbling as he sets down his load. You don’t miss the way the muscles in his back flex and dip. It isn’t until he slowly stands back up, wiping his palms on his khakis, that you get a good look at each other.

The hostility in his eyes softens ever so slightly, simmering into a look that cinches your chest tight when his gaze travels shamelessly up from your kitten heels to the curves of your lips and cheek. His breathing is still labored as he surveys you and you can feel heat and color blooming against your skin. When his eyes finally settle on your face, you can’t decide whether you want to slap or kiss him. 

“You lost or something, honey?” He asks with a whisper of a smile. He strolls in a lazy half-circle in front of you and moves to go back up the ramp to the warehouse. Then, he pauses and turns back to you.

“Have we met before? I swear I recognize you from somewhere.”

This delights you deliciously, that a handsome young man you’ve met by chance has seen your work. Not glamorous, acclaimed roles by any means, but recognition nonetheless. You bite the inside of your lip to suppress your smile and give him a coy, bashful flutter of your eyelashes.

“If that were the case, I’m sure I’d remember you.” 

He grins wolfishly, pleased, and takes a step closer. “Yeah? Think you’ll let me take you out for dinner tonight?”

“She’s got plans with me, Buck.” Samuel’s voice carries across the water. Your brother emerges with wooden boxes and sets them between you and Bucky in a huff, as if he’s implementing a physical barrier, both childish and endearing. Bucky glances at you and Samuel.

“Are you two..?”

“Steady? No. She’s my sister.”

Bucky snorts and his eyes find you again, glittering in the evening light. “You never told me you had a sister, Sammy. And such a looker too..”

“Makes you wonder why I never brought her up,” retorts Samuel and gives him a playful shove, traps him briefly in a headlock. “At least Steve wouldn’t ogle.”

“Stevie would get a nose bleed and pass out.” You hear Bucky grunt back. Samuel moves as if to dump him into the drink and Bucky pinwheels, scrambling. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

Satisfied, Samuel releases him and socks him in the shoulder for good measure. Bucky stumbles, looking boyish and smooth despite his shirt and hair all disheveled. 

You’ve seen his type in casting offices all across New York; bold, alluring, and charismatic. It’s a look and type you’ve longed to act opposite of someday, as all young starlets dream of, but a look that simultaneously sparks the feminine temptation that shivers between your breasts. You wonder if Bucky would look the same in a dark bedroom, with him on top of you and your fingers running over his back…

Bucky grins toothily when he catches you staring and shoots you a wink. None of those movie star hopefuls hold a candle now to his rugged, spirited charm.

Samuel guides you back up the pier so he can punch out his time card and the two of you can be on your way. And as you’re about to set foot on solid ground, you hear Bucky call out to you.

“What’s your name, honey?” 

Samuel sighs and shakes his head. “Cripes.” He mutters to himself. Before Samuel can stop you, you laugh and turn back to the water with a fresh and girlish aire, warmth and excitement whispering through your veins, young and naive and sixteen.  

“Dolores!” You give him your full name, your real name. For once, you don’t want to be Lola Sparks. You want to be your natural, honest self, the girl who deserves young love and joy and an untroubled adolescence. The sound of your voice rings clear and strong, the diva that you are, and Bucky’s mouth curves upwards.

“See you ‘round, Dot.” 

**

Much to Samuel’s displeasure, you tail your big brother around the docks like a lost pup whenever you have time. And being a C-list actress and a part-time typist, you have plenty of it. You loiter with the excuse of bringing sack lunches, waiting on Samuel and Bucky at the edge of the warehouses. It’s lonesome and bores you to no end being all by yourself, until one afternoon when someone is already waiting at your spot by the pier.

Small, skinny as his own shadow with a fringe of blonde hair, he leans hunkered and folded within himself, timid and seemingly conscious of how he occupies space. His jacket droops over his shoulders, eyes downcast even as you approach. He has a sketchbook in his hands, concentrated as the pencil moves across the page in fast, gentle strokes. You see an impressive likeness of the piers and Bucky’s distant figure in charcoaled lines.

“That’s really something.” You say.

He jolts so hard the paper tears and he crumples it into his fist in a single motion. “Huh?” he answers. When he looks to you, you realize his eyes are a pretty shade of teal. He flushes, petrified, the tips of his ears coloring pink. You feel horrible when he goes to pocket the ball of paper.

“I’m so sorry for scaring you,” you breathe. Gently, you offer your palm to him. “If you’re not keeping it, do you mind if I have it?” You ask softly. A few seconds pass and he shakes his head before placing it in your hand. You unfurl the paper, carefully smooth it out as he watches you from the corner of his eye. 

Shyness is a barrier of art you’ve known all too well, from your own experiences in audition rooms to your brother’s reluctance to find a publisher, you understand that sting of insecurity better than anyone. So, you let him watch you as you admire his work, let him know of his talent and let your actions speak for you. You smile and slip the drawing into your purse. 

Then, his stomach grumbles audibly, almost comically loud. He folds his arms around his stomach, so tight you’re afraid he’ll snap in half. You quickly reach into one of your paper bags and hand him a sandwich wrapped in cellophane and a can of lemonade. 

“Here, let’s trade.” 

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I can’t accept..” he starts. The timbre of his voice is surprisingly gallant and sure, pleasant, sweet. You have a gut feeling that the world has been taking advantage of that kindness his whole life, scaring him away from genuine compassion, that everything must have a catch. It makes you press harder.

“I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do for sneaking up on you.” He eyes you warily and again that feeling of regret washes over you. “Consider it payment.” You smile. 

Finally, he takes Samuel’s lunch from you and unwraps the sandwich. He eats quickly and quietly, draining the lemonade only minutes later. Perhaps it’s his bony statue, but you feel happy to see this stranger eat.

When he’s finished, he wipes his mouth and turns to you. His lips, pretty, pink, part as if about to speak, yet no words leave him. Instead, he stands frozen with that transfixing blue-green gaze keeping you still, lingering. 

That is until a stream of brilliant scarlet red dribbles down his chin and splatters onto his dress shirt. He pinches his nose, doubling forward and his flustered complexion matching the blood spilling from his nostrils.

“You must be Steve,” You laugh lightly and quickly hand him your handkerchief of cream yellow lace and embroidered flowers. You help steady him as he keeps his head tilted down. “Bucky’s told me all about you.”

Steve groans and presses the handkerchief to his face, blushing all the way down to his neck. 

**

Steve returns your handkerchief days later with an embarrassed hush, carefully cleaned and laundered. It smells of lavender and clean linen and the image of him working the fabric between his thin fingers with soap and suds warms your heart. 

You tell him it’s his. He blooms and keeps it neatly folded in his breast pocket. 

You and Steve quickly grow close in the hours you spend together waiting on Bucky and Samuel. You pack extra lunches for him and sit by the piers chatting, skipping stones as Steve sketches the Brooklyn skyline day in and day out.

“Draw me!” you tease. “Isn’t that the request that all artists want to hear?”

But surprisingly, he does. He always draws you and Bucky and Samuel with striking, intimate familiarity. His sketchbook gradually fills with portraits and pictures of you, sketches that could put your very headshot to shame.

**

After their usual shifts, the four of you head to the drugstore for your ritual of sodas and sundaes. Two pairs, brother and sister and brothers by blood enjoying a rare wartime treat. With the rations on sugar, it’s a special and memorable circumstance just to be together and sharing something sweet.

It’s there, at your corner booth in Wolfe’s Pharmacy over ice cream, that Bucky opens up a paper for that night’s television network schedule and sees your name. 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Dot,” he says. “What do others call you?”

Defeated, you twist your lips, hesitant to break the short spell of normalcy you’ve had with your new friends. Samuel sips at his Coke with a silent grin. 

Time for the truth to come out.

“Well, ‘doll’, by Stevie,” you giggle and toe Steve’s foot under the table. Steve shyly shrinks back into his seat. “But CBS calls me Lola.”

Bucky’s jaw drops. 

“Get out of here. You’re pulling my leg..”

“I absolutely am not.”

“Sammy, tell me she’s pulling my leg.”

“She’s not.”

Two pairs of brilliant blue eyes dart between you and your brother. Bucky’s face breaks into an open smile, laughing. Steve lurches forward. 

“Have you ever met anyone famous?” Steve prods with a hint of that honest, innocent charm.  

You wrinkle your nose sheepishly. “Mason Cook?”

“Who?” Bucky asks around a mouthful of sundae.

“Exactly.” Samuel snorts.

“Well, I’m sure he’s very talented.” Says Steve.

You swipe his maraschino cherry and let the stem dangle between your lips. “At least Stevie believes in me.” 

“Dot, honey. I saw your pilot episode. If anyone’s a fan, it’s me.” Bucky feigns hurt, hand to his chest. 

You stick out your bottom lip before sucking in the stem, working it into a tight knot in your mouth. “Are you still gonna be when your girl is signing autographs with John Wayne?”

You place the knotted stem on your napkin. Bucky nearly chokes. 

“I better be.”

Samuel coughs. Steve giggles. 

**

You thank your stars that your secret doesn’t change anything between Steve and Bucky. They treat you just the same; as Samuel’s baby sister who tags along with the boys. The teasing, the fleeting looks all unchanging. 

Girls, you’ve unfortunately realized, are catty and mean. You’re competing for roles, after all. But with Bucky and Steve, your first taste of homecoming since moving to Brooklyn, you don’t have to worry about silly competition, or fame, or being the best in the room. They keep you level-headed, reminding you of your girlhood and life’s simple pleasures.

Bucky drives you and Steve around town in the company truck on weekends. Hopscotch and jacks on brick roads and warm nights, watching sunsets until the sky blushes peach and mango yellow at Coney Island. 

A Saturday afternoon on Rockaway Beach, a vacation for you all after a draining week of work and auditions when Bucky promises to win you a stuffed bear when he sees you eyeing the one on careful display. 

“Buck..Bucky, give it a rest, we can try the next one.” Steve chides.

Another plastic ring pings off the neck of a glass bottle. Bucky curses, rings his hands together and slaps another dollar onto the counter.

You and Steve trade looks. Bucky’s been at it for ten minutes. At this rate, you know you’ll be walking on the train tracks home tonight.

So, you and Steve huddle close and cheer him on. Do it for our doll! says Steve. Finish it so you’ll stop wasting money, you dolt! you cry. Hell, even the vendor finds it humorous and joins in.

And when Bucky wins that grand prize and you’re handed a teddy bear as big as Stevie, you hoist it on your back, careful to not let it touch gravel or dust as the three of you walk in line with the train tracks later that evening.

Paradise, a sheltered haven from the broken landscapes and realities that the European newsreels broadcast home in grim black and white. 

**

True to Bucky’s word, they become your biggest supporters, helping you run lines and monologues and accompanying you to auditions. Bucky’s not bad for a scene partner, and Steve’s awareness of emotion and character motivation is impressive.

The attention you receive from casting directors and auditionees doesn’t hurt your chances either, lanky Steve and smoldering Bucky wishing you luck before stepping into the green room.

You book a drama. Then, a short film. Then another. You call them your lucky charms. 

And when your humble little short film “premiers” at the corner cinema, squeezed in between an empty noon showing of a cartoon rerun, Steve and Bucky whoop and holler when your character is shown on screen. They throw popcorn and gumdrops, jostle you by the shoulders. Bucky even runs down the aisle and mimes kissing the projector screen.

“That’s our girl! That’s our Dot!”

The usher threatens to throw you out. Steve tells him you’ve paid good money for your tickets and you’ll stay and watch as long as you please.

The following week, you’re scouted by Peggy Carter. 

Your world, your career will never be the same.

[artificialqueens]

Vicks VapoRub-Me (Trixya) - DenDenMonMon

Of Lovers, Friends and Everything in Between. Part 6.- Unwell

Title: Vicks VapoRub-Me Category: M/M Summary: Unfortunately, he has never eaten knives before, but he figures it would feel similar to this. Notes: Massive disclaimer, this is by far not my best work. I woke up one day feeling like absolute shit, so it felt appropriate that I portrayed exactly that, that’s why I decided to take on this prompt. Seriously felt like dying and couldn’t even function properly, so I kinda gave up on this; then Miss Corona decided to come visit and I didn’t really feel like writing a sickfic at the time. Anyways, it took me months to finish this simple one shot but here it is. I hope you enjoy! (because I still feel like dying). -Monkey Written: Feb 21st, 2020 - April 25th, 2020

Vicks VapoRub-Me

 “I am so sorry, Pete,” he lets out before sniffing yet again. “You know I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t bad. I seriously feel like absolute shit.” He moves the phone away from his face as a sudden sneeze escapes him.

He catches the end of Pete’s sentence when he puts the device back to his ear. “…worry,” he assures. “I’ll let everybody know, and we’ll continue shooting on Monday, how does that sound? You just stay home and rest up, okay? Have you talked to Trixie?”

“Not since last night.”

“Okay, I’ll call her. Keep me posted. Hope you feel better.”

He pronounces some grunts of agreement before disconnecting the call.

He’d known something was wrong since the night before. He’d been out late, having ice cream with Amy. The air had been cold, but it felt good against his constantly overheated skin. They’d walked back to his apartment without rushing, enjoying the cool California weather.

As soon as his head hit the pillow later that night, he found himself regretting that little stroll. His nose was stuffy and he had trouble swallowing. He’d sent his complaints to Trixie through text messages, but had also stated how his body was always on his side and he hadn’t gotten a cold in ages. The itchiness in his throat had kept him awake, but Trixie, who wasn’t suffering the symptoms, had fallen asleep mid-conversation.

He grabs his phone, with the sole intention of letting Trixie know about the development of his state. The string of blue bubbles is overwhelming. A countdown of how many hours of sleep he would’ve gotten, if he fell asleep right then, had been sent every hour.

He closes the conversation and throws the phone on the empty space next to him.

Maybe if he showers, he will get to feel better. Cleanse his body of all toxins, or whatever. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Until he throws the covers away, that is. The temperature of the room is colder than he had expected, or maybe he’s running a fever, because the chilled air makes his skin tingle as soon as it touches it. With a deep sigh he turns around, grabs the covers and turns himself into a blanket burrito again. It’s time to take a nap, put his body into low power mode and let it fight whatever it is that’s making him sick.

He sleeps for an hour, or three, or six, he doesn’t know; but he’s suddenly awakened by the doorbell sounding incesibly.

“Jesus. Go away!” He screams into his pillow, sinking deeper into the mattress. The person doesn’t do as they are told, and the bell is heard again. “This better be a major fucking emergency.”

This time he doesn’t make the same mistake as before. He grabs the blanket at the top of the pile and wraps it around his shoulders. Still mumbling curse words is that he reaches the door. He opens it without asking who is on the other side, but is ready to give them a piece of his mind for waking him up. The concerned features disarm him on the spot.

“Oh, my God, Katya. Are you okay? You look horrible!”

“Well, good morning to you too, you fucking bitch,” he pretends to be offended as much as he can, but his body is still not responding properly.

Trixie makes his own way past Katya, carrying several plastic bags in each hand. “Good morning? Girl, it’s almost four in the afternoon. I’ve been calling and texting you. When the messages didn’t show delivered I got worried, then the calls were not connecting. I decided to come see you.”

Katya looks around, as if the device would magically appear somewhere around the living room. “I don’t know where my phone is. It’s probably dead somewhere.”

After dropping everything on the coffee table, Trixie walks back to Katya, who hasn’t moved from his spot next to the door. “I brought you some food. Pete told me you were not feeling well, but this seems, like, super serious.” He grabs Katya by the hands and basically drags him to sit on the couch. “How are you feeling?”

“Well, you-you…” A sneeze interrupts his speech. Trixie reaches inside a bag and takes out a box of tissues before a second sneeze escapes Katya. “Thank you. Now, look away, this is not going to be pretty.”

Trixie laughs but does nothing to divert his eyes as Katya blows his nose. He even offers his hand for Katya to place the used tissue. Katya simply makes a face of disgust and puts it on the table in front of them.

“So, is it like a cold,” Trixie inquires. “Or what is it that you are feeling?”

“You know, it’s so weird. Whenever I move, it feels as if part of my body moved and then it took a second for, like, my other half to catch up. I don’t know how to explain it.”

He doesn’t have to, before he even finishes his sentence, Trixie is already nodding. “Those body aches are signs of a fever. Hold on.” Once again, Trixie starts going through the bags in front of him. “I didn’t know what you had so I stopped by the pharmacy and bought a bunch of shit. I know the lady sold me a thermometer.”

“Is it rectal, mother?” Katya asks in a watered down version of Maureen’s voice.

“Oh, my God,” Trixie says between giggles, finally finding the thin tube. “Glad to know the cold hasn’t affected your sluttiness. Now open.”

Katya does as he’s told, parting his lips as Trixie puts the instrument under his tongue.

“According to this thing, we need to wait a minute and a half,” Trixie informs him as he puts the instructions aside. “Okay, now, hear me out.” He starts speaking more to himself, to fill the silence around them, as he takes his purchases out of the bags. “I went to the drug store to get you, like, cough drops or something for the flu, you know, just in case. When I was there I remembered what happened to my uncle Steve, you remember him, right?”

With the glass tube still in his mouth, Katya shakes his head.

“Yeah, you do. He went to rehab. I’ve talked about him several times. Anyways, when he came out of rehab he had this thing for, like, NyQuil and stuff. He couldn’t even see cough syrup ‘cause it was, I don’t know, triggering, I guess.”

Katya can’t help but smile. The way Trixie speaks with his hands, as much as he does with his mouth, will always be fascinating. He mumbles something unintelligible around the thermometer, then tries to muffle a laugh.

“Shut up! It’s not gonna work if you are talking!” Trixie warns, waving a finger in front of him. “As I was saying. I called Valentina. She’s always bragging about how Mexicans are the best at home remedies, and she gave me some useful tips. That’s why I brought you chicken broth, ‘cause apparently soup only works in movies. She told me to get a shit ton of Vicks VapoRub, and that you should put it on your chest and the sole of your feet. Now, she mentioned something about wrapping your feet with newspaper, but I guess a pair of socks…”

The rest of his rambling gets immediately lost to Katya’s ears. Maybe it’s the fever, or maybe it’s the lack of sleep, but Katya has never felt more loved or taken care of in his life. His eyes water as they analyze the intensity with which Trixie is speaking. He is so worried. He’s dropped everything to be there for Katya; went out of his way to not only buy him drugs for his sickness, he took in consideration Katya’s sobriarity.

Almost without thinking about it, Katya leans forward and drops his head on Trixie’s shoulder. That’s enough to stop the rambling. Trixie’s hand goes up and caresses Katya’s unshaven cheek. The room is completely silent, their breathing synchronizes after a few seconds and soon that’s the only sound filling the air around them. It’s comfortable, it feels like home.

Suddenly, Katya doesn’t feel so sick anymore, his body doesn’t ache as much, his lungs are pulling oxygen in again.

“Let me take a look at that,” Trixie says quietly, not really wanting to interrupt the moment but needing to check the thermometer. He removes it from Katya’s mouth, and puts it up against the light, that’s when he realizes. “I don’t know how to read this thing! Don’t they sell like electronic ones? Shouldn’t this thing say something like: yes, you are hot, or no, you ain’t dying, bitch, you ain’t that special?”

Katya takes the thermometer in his hands, doing his best to breathe as he laughs and coughs at the same time. “It’s ninety… ninety-nine and a half, maybe? That’s not bad. Fever, I believe, starts at, like, a hundred. Anything higher than that is, like, really dying.”

He says it as a joke, as a way to light up the mood, but Trixie’s face turns somber. “Ninety-nine and a half is basically a hundred. So you do have a fever, don’t you dare die on me, you idiot.”

“I’m fine. I do feel like taking a shower, though. That can bring down my temperature, plus, I’ve been sweating a lot.”

Trixie nods his head. “Okay, you go do that, I will heat up the food. You think you can eat?”

Already standing up, Katya agrees. “Yeah. Warm soup would feel nice down my throat. I have never eaten knives before… unfortunately… but it feels like that’s the only thing I’ve been eating.”

“You know what else could feel nice down your throat?” Trixie tries to joke, but laughter makes it hard for him to even finish the sentence.

Katya stops cold on his tracks, turns around and points a finger at him. “Hey, if you are not planning on putting your huge ding-dong in my mouth, don’t you joke about that.”

Lifting his hands in surrender, Trixie walks away, occupying himself in the task of heating up the food for his sick friend.

The shower is quick, Katya doesn’t feel like standing under the spray of freezing water, or at least that’s how it feels against his hot skin. The drops leave a tingling feeling as they travel down his body, hopefully taking germs and viruses away with it. When he enters his bedroom, it feels as if his heart has dropped to his feet as well. The lights are off, all but the lamp on the bedside table. Trixie walks in with a tray in hand. There’s a bowl that probably has the broth in it, a glass filled with juice, another one with water, and some containers that surely hold medicine in them to make him feel better.

“Get in the bed,” Trixie commands, pushing his chin towards the unmade covers.

Katya doesn’t even question it, he unties the wet towel and throws it on a chair. The sheets feel cool as he places them around his lower half. Just when he’s feeling himself relax, he’s startled by Trixie’s hand on his chest.

“Don’t you ever touch me,” Katya says more out of reflex, doing absolutely nothing to remove Trixie’s fingers from his skin.

With a small eye roll, Trixie continues on his task. “Shut up, you big baby. I need to put this VapoRub on your chest to, I don’t know, open up your lungs or something like that.”

That’s when he sees it. Trixie sees the corners of Katya’s mouth slowly curling into a smile he knows very well. It is a very telling smile. Katya knows his thoughts are not socially accepted, yet he will proudly express them. As soon as the blindingly white teeth are in full display, Trixie lets out a sigh as he dramatically drops his shoulders.

“What-what now?”

With lifted eyebrows, Katya uses his eyes to make Trixie look down, towards his bottom half. The sheets are slightly lifted and Katya laughs as soon as the ‘oh, wow’ is pronounced, indicating Trixie understands what’s going on.

“Bitch, I’m literally putting medicine on your chest. This can’t possibly be turning you on.”

“No, no, no,” Katya quickly corrects him. “Getting a boner is not an equivalent of getting turned on. It’s just a physical reaction to human touch.”

Trixie sits on the edge of the bed, ignoring the response of Katya’s body, and carries on with the task. “When were you last touched by a human?” He asks with a twist of his lips, trying to make it sound sarcastic, and expecting Katya to bring up a weird story of how he was last touched by a demon or something of the short.

None of that happens.

Katya looks away, almost ashamed. Almost. Shame is not part of his vocabulary. Yet, there is no other word that could describe the somber air taking over his features. There is a sigh before he looks back at Trixie. Something immediately changes. His eyes are a shade darker than usual, they look straight into Trixie’s soul, and he can’t take it. He has to look down, to the container of medicine still in his hands.

“Hey,” Katya speaks, softly, almost in a whisper. Trixie nods, acknowledging he’s heard him, but still not able to look up. “Thank you,” Katya finishes. The tone of his voice is deep, laced with something that Trixie doesn’t dare to figure out.

He shrugs a shoulder. “No problem,” Trixie assures Katya, toying with the blue jar. He doesn’t elaborate, he wants to make the weird cloud above them go away. He presses two fingers into the scented gel before running it against Katya’s skin.

Trixie tries to concentrate on applying the medicine into Katya’s chest evenly. His hand travels from one pec to the other slowly. His fingers make sure to lightly touch one of the bugs, permanently drawn on Katya’s shoulder, before making his way to the one. He does his best to ignore the deep stare of his friend burning the top of his head, he doesn’t pay attention to the uneven raising and falling of the chest he’s touching. He really wants to, he is really trying. It’s useless.

Soon, he finds himself licking his lips, he feels the throbbing in his pants, he loses control of his hand. Without even thinking about it, he takes more medication but his fingers land on Katya’s stomach this time. His fingertips trace the toned abs, his nails scratching slightly. He goes lower and lower until his hand disappears inside the covers.

It burns. It really burns. When the ointment reaches the delicate skin, Katya closes his eyes. He wants to open them, he wants to see Trixie’s hand going up and down on him. He wants to have a good look at Trixie’s face as he pumps him; but he’s too weak. His mind is fogged with fever and lust. He is struggling to pull air in when his lungs are still not fully working. All he knows is that Trixie’s soft touch is taking care of the throbbing of his lower half, just as he has been taking care of his sickness for the last hour or so.

He has to do something, as a thank you. He blindly pats down the mattress, finds Trixie’s legs, and the bulge between them right after. Slowly, he opens his eyes, just to find Trixie’s stare.

“Brian,” Trixie whispers, no other word is pronounced but all motion stops. “I’m sorry,” he says, releasing him with a heavy exhale. “I shouldn’t have done that. You are sick, you are not feeling well.”

“So what?” Katya sounds almost angry. “It’s not like we are kissing. Surely a cold is not dick-to-hand contagious.”

Trixie stands up, maybe some physical distance could work in their favor. “That’s not what I meant, bitch. I just… I don’t know. It feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

Katya sits up, making sure the covers don’t fall and add awkwardness by revealing his erection. “Hey, listen. Nobody is taking advantage of anybody. If anything, I’m taking advantage of your good heart to fuck you. You have been such an amazing friend and, honestly, the only way I know how to communicate is sexually. I kinda sensed this was where things were going. I’m sorry. I know you have made it perfectly clear, right from the start, that it couldn’t happen. I need to respect that.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Trixie taps his foot softly against the floor. “What if…” he trails off, his eyes avoiding Katya again. “What if I want something to happen?”

“You do?” Katya doesn’t do anything to hide the excitement in his voice.

Trixie nods. “I do. But not like this, though.”

“Oh, no! God! Not like this,” Katya agrees.

A small smile creeps into Trixie’s lips, before he goes around the bed and climbs next to Katya. “Why don’t we wait until you feel better and revisit the subject?”

Katya lays back down and faces him with a giant grin on his face. “I feel better already.”

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (10/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,731

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence

masterlist

a/n: Here’s where it gets a little more interesting.  Let me know what y’all think!

The call came in the middle of the night.

The first mission since the Final Battle against Thanos.

Which is why you found yourself zipping up your uniform at four in the morning.  You’d been awoken by F.R.I.D.A.Y. with orders to be ready to go in an hour, and honestly, if it was possible to kill an A.I., you would’ve.  You’d forgotten what it felt like to be dragged out of bed with no sleep to save the world.

Or rather, a part of it.

As you pulled on your thigh holsters, your eyes fell on the picture frame on your vanity.  Taking a deep breath, you walked over and picked it up.  Your fingers gently ran over the face behind the glass.

“Hey, Nat,” you muttered, voice cracking a little. “We’ve got a mission that I’ve gotta leave for in—”  You checked the clock next to your bed.  “—twenty minutes.  But it’s weird.”  You swallowed as you felt your throat tightening up.  “It’s my first mission without you.  And I just keep thinking that you should be here.”  A laugh tore itself from your throat, though it felt hollow. Fake.  You were trying to fight the tears away, though it wasn’t going very well.  “You should be here anyway.  And I know if you were here right now, you’d tell me not to cry, but I can’t help it.” You wiped your eyes, sniffling.  “I don’t know how to do this without you.  I know that Bucky and Sam and everyone else will have my back but—it’s not you.”  You stared at the photo for a long time, an overwhelming feeling of emptiness in your gut. “Sam says it might help for me to talk to you.  He suggested I do it at your grave, but I don’t know if I could do that,” you said, thinking back on the therapy session that the older man had finally roped you into.  “If you were going to haunt anything, it’d be us. Not some slab of marble.”

“Agent L/N, Agent Wilson wanted me to remind you that you have fifteen minutes until take off,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said.

Huffing, you took one final glance at the picture. It was a selfie the two of you had taken on the way to one of Tony’s fundraising galas.  You were in your fancy gowns, hair and makeup done better than it ever had been before.  Her bright eyes glittered like emeralds.  You two were happy.  It was a rare moment where you didn’t have to worry about the world possibly ending.  “I’ll be sure to be as safe as I can, but you know how our job can be,” you told photo-Natasha, wincing as you realized just how much she knew.  She’d given her life for it.  “I’ll talk to you later.  I love you.”

Even though Sam’s therapy had helped slightly, you wanted to ask him if he was seeing one himself, if he was doing anything to heal.

The two of you were incredible at pushing your feeling under the rug, after all.

Most of the team were already gathered in the hangar, sleepy-eyed and a little irritated.  None of you had expected the first mission to come so soon after everything, and had hoped for another few months of getting to sleep in.  You’d thought you’d at least have until October, if not November, but you wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Good morning,” you mumbled as you approached the group.

“Nothing good about it,” Wanda snapped, a little too harshly in your opinion.  But it was clear by the look on her face that she hadn’t had her coffee and had probably stayed up way to late the night before.

Probably crying about Vision.  You knew that she had hoped that he would’ve come back with everyone else when the Snap was undone and had been devastated when he hadn’t. After all, she’d been one of those to turn into dust.  For her, she’d lost him just months before, not five years ago.

Sam just smirked as he clapped a hand onto the redhead’s shoulder.  “Cheer up, Wanda.  We’re lucky this mission is only going to take a few hours at most.”  He looked good with the shield strapped to his back. There was a small twinge of pain in your heart at seeing the familiar piece of vibranium, but you were more proud than anything else.  He deserved the shield, deserved for the world to see how amazing he was.  

You crossed your arms over your chest, willing your body to wake up long enough to make it onto the quinjet.  If you could just make it to the bunks, then you’d be able to grab another two hours or so of sleep.

“You gonna make it?”

Jumping, you turned to see Bucky standing beside you. You’d been so lost in your own little world that you hadn’t even realized he’d arrived.  The black Kevlar stretched over his chest made your mouth water and you quickly turned your eyes away.  “Yeah.  ‘M just tired.”

He raised his eyebrows as he watched you for another long moment.  His blue eyes were as skeptical as ever as they searched your face.  “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, giving you that look that told you not to argue with him because he’d call you out on it before you could blink, “that this is your first mission without Natasha.  How.  Are. You.  Feeling?”

You shrugged as you watched the ramp of the quinjet lower.  Rhodey was flying today, since he had the most experience flying a plane.  Plus, he still had limited use of his legs since the fight at the Berlin airport.  It was the best way for him to stay involved with the Avengers while not putting himself into unnecessary danger.  “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m feeling.”  Ignoring his eyes on you, you started to head for the jet.  “But it’ll hit me later.”

“How are you feeling?”

You looked up just as Natasha slid into the seat beside you.  “Shouldn’t you be flying this thing?” You asked, even though the smirk on your face made it clear that you weren’t serious.  You always enjoyed her company.

“This thing flies itself.  Plus, Steve’s keeping an eye on it,” she said.  Her flaming red hair had been tied into a ponytail. Her suit fit her in ways that you wished yours did, but you were still the rookie.  You got a standard SHIELD agent uniform.  It was itchy and ill-fitting, but you’d cried when it’d been given to you, unable to believe that you were actually being accepted into the little rag tag family.

“I’m nervous,” you admitted after a long pause. Rubbing your hands on your pants, you tried to ignore the hammering in your heart.  You got a little quiet, eyes dropping to the ground.  “What if I mess it up?”

Nat shook her head, nudging your knee.  “You won’t.  You’re just as good as everyone else on this mission.  You have just as much training.  It’s just…”  She bit her lip, trying to find the words.  “For a different team.  For the good guys.”

“It’s weird, being one of the ‘good guys,’” you said, amusement lifting the corners of your mouth as you leaned back against the wall of the quinjet.  The others on the jet aren’t paying attention to the two of us, too busy talking to each other or ‘getting in the zone’ for the mission.  “Granted, we never thought we were doing anything bad with the Red Room. Just maybe not right.”

She snorted, her nose scrunching up.  “I’m happy we can laugh about it now.”

“We definitely weren’t then.”

“We were just trying not to get murdered,” she reminded you.

And maybe it was a little fucked, that the two of you were joking about your time in the Red Room.  The both of you knew that Sam would most definitely get onto you for using humor to cope with what the two of you had been forced to go through, but hey, you’d taken comfort where you could get it.

“Besides,” the redhead said.  “We get better healthcare here.”

Steve looked up as you burst into laughter, covering your mouth with both hands as you snorted.  There was something in his blue eyes as he watched you from his seat.  Leaning his elbows on his knees, he asked, “What’s go you cracking up?”

“Nothing,” you said as you tried to get a handle on yourself.  Your cheeks were red from laughing, your chest heaving.  “Nat’s just being dumb.”

“Steve here would know exactly how great our benefits are,” she drawled with a lazy smirk.  “It’ll cover his hip surgery and his dentures.”

The blond rolled his eyes, a pout on his pretty pink lips.  “I’m not that old,” he grumbled as he leaned back.  His thick arms crossed over his chest, blocking the white star that adorned his uniform.  “At least not physically.”

“Says the man who’s in bed by nine every night,” you said.  The teasing gave you a little reprieve from your nerves.  You could pretend for just a second that you were back at the compound, in the gym or the living room.  The three months you’d spent with the team so far had been the best three months of your life.

Though there was one person you wish was there.

And you knew it was ridiculous, that you were thinking of him in that moment.  But part of you wished you could’ve seen him.  Could’ve made some joke that would’ve sent him rolling.

But that didn’t matter.

He was a part of your past.

“Hey,” Steve said, snapping you out of your trance as he sat next to you.  In your moment of thought, Natasha had slipped away.  Probably back to her seat in the cockpit.  The man beside you smiled comfortingly as he placed a hand on top of yours where it rested on your thigh.  “You’re going to do great.”

“Auntie Y/N!  Auntie Y/N!”

You turned, confused, to see Morgan running towards you.  She was still in her pajamas, her hair mussed.  Pepper was chasing after her with exasperation painted all over her. It was probably one of her most common emotions now-a-days.  “Hey, baby girl,” you said as you came back down the ramp.

She launched herself into your arms, wrapping herself around you.  “Promise me you’ll be safe?” She asked, her voice wobbling.

And that’s when you realized she was crying. “Oh, Morgan,” you hummed as you held her close.  Your eyes closed as her tiny hand tried to fist into the thick spandex of your uniform. “I’ll be home by tonight, okay?”

She pulled away then, her brown eyes glittering as she pressed one of her plushies to your chest.  You hadn’t even realized that she’d been carrying it.  “Daddy will keep you safe.”

Brows furrowed, you looked down at the toy, only for your heart to break.  She was giving you her Iron Man plushie.  “What’s this for?”

“Nothing bad can happen to you if my daddy’s protecting you,” she said, her face set with determination.  It would be adorable, if it didn’t hit you just how sad it was.

No one should have to be afraid that their loved ones wouldn’t return home.

Eyes welling up with tears, you pulled the mini Stark into another hug.  Your face burrowed in her dark hair as you tried hard not to cry.  “Thank you, baby girl.  I’ll hold onto him, okay?”  You squeezed onto her for another long moment before letting her go.  The little girl’s eyes swimmed with worry as you said, “You should go back to your mom now, okay?  I’ll be home by tonight, alright?”

Pepper huffed as she finally reached the two of you. You could tell that she was trying to appear much stronger than she felt as her eyes took you in.  “Come on, Morgan,” She said as she picked the four-year-old up, setting her on her hip.  “Back to bed.”

But the two of you knew that she most likely wouldn’t be able to sleep.  Not until you and the rest of your team were home.

The older woman locked you in place with a steely gaze, though you could see the fear behind it.  “Don’t be stupid.”

“I won’t,” you said, nodding to her once before heading for the ramp.

The others were already in the quinjet, settling in for the three hour flight.  Sam looked up as you walked up, the ramp closing behind you.  “You ready to go, darling?”

A sad grin spread over your lips as you held up the little plushie.  It was soft in your hands, still warm from Morgan hugging it so tightly.  “I have our protection detail, now,” you said.

The silence that enveloped the people around you was palpable.  Tense.

“Well,” Wanda said after a long moment, “I’m happy we have someone looking over us.”

Two and a half hours later found all of you gearing up.  The only sound in the air was that of tac suits and shoving guns into holsters. You looked at the gun in your hand, running your fingers over it in an almost loving manner.

“That Nat’s?” Bucky asked, his voice low enough that the others wouldn’t be able to hear him.

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, nodding as you brushed your thumb over the spider that was engraved into the handle.  “Figured if I can’t have her here with me, I’d at least have a part of her.”

“Good,” he said, his hand resting on your arm.  His touch was soothing, even if there was Kevlar and spandex between the two of you.  His sea blue eyes were locked on you, his dark hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck.  “She’d be proud of you.  I know I am.”

And fuck, that meant the world.  The entire time you trained with him in the Red Room, you’d been longing for praise, for recognition.  And knowing that he was proud made you feel like you were seventeen again.

“Can you two stop staring into each other’s eyes long enough for us to get a game plan?” Sam asked, shoving the former Winter Soldier.  There was a teasing glint in his eyes as he looked between the two of you, causing your cheeks to go a bright fire engine red.

Wanda pulled on her worn, red leather jacket. She clung to that thing like it was a lifeline.  Like it was a part of her identity.  “What have we got?”

Rhodey pulled up blueprints of a building on his tablet, throwing it up into the air in a hologram.  Stark tech, of course.  It was always the best out there.  “We’ve got reports of children being kidnapped from the local towns.  Rumors of experiments being done in an old abandoned shoe factory.”  He tapped on a spot in the hologram, blowing it up.  “Wanda and Sam will take the front entrance.  Your focus is getting all the children out.”  He then blew up the blueprint again before hitting a spot on the opposite side.  “Bucky and Y/N, you’ll go through the back entrance.  Your focus is getting information.  Find whatever hub there is in there and get everything you can.  If there’s a new set of bad guys running around, we need to be two steps ahead of them at all times.”

You drew your bottom lip in between your teeth as you approached the back entrance of the old factory.  It was a beaten-up loading dock, the garage doors left hanging half open. “Don’t you think it’s a little weird that there’s no kind of security?” You asked as your eyes scanned the area around you.  Bucky already had his gun at the ready as he walked ahead of you.  “If they’re kidnapping kids and conducting experiments, you’d think that they’d want to have some kind of guard.”

To his credit, he seemed to agree, even if he didn’t call in your suspicions on the coms.  “If this is some new kind of group, they might not realize how imperative it is to treat their bases like fortresses.”

But as you got further and further into the factory, you got more uneasy.  There was no sign of life except for the occasional rat.  Everything was covered in dust.  Broken glass and wood littered the floor.  There were signs of people breaking in, but it was more than likely a few homeless people looking for shelter.

“Have you two found anything?” Wanda asked, your com crackling.

“We haven’t found any kids or anything,” Sam added.

You looked to Bucky, both of you seriously considering turning back and leaving.  “No,” you said, eyes locked with the man ahead of you.  Something in your gut twisted, but you weren’t going to blow a mission just because of a bad feeling.  

Natasha would tell you to trust your gut.

“But we’ll keep searching for another ten minutes,” you said, steeling yourself.  “If we can’t find anything, we’ll leave.”

“Could be some wild goose chase,” Bucky said, irritation clear on his face.  He looked so menacing in his Winter Soldier garb that it kind of shocked you.  But also, it was kind of nice knowing that only you and a few others got to see how soft he actually was.  He paused as he noticed the door that led to the stairwell, nudging you and pointing to it.

It was the only part of the place that wasn’t covered in dust.

“Someone’s been here,” he said.

The two of you headed for the stairwell, and you let out a huff of air.  “Can we talk about how shitty it would be for us to have been dragged out here only for it to be a false alarm?  The lack of dust could be from a homeless person,” You said, still dreaming of your bed. It had taken the entire flight for your body to wake up, and the first thing you were planning to do when you got back was fall right back into it’s warmth.  “First call since the Final Battle.  Only for it to be nothing.”

“Thought we’d have longer,” he said as he peeked through the door leading to the second floor.  He led you through the door, and the two of you found what seemed to be just another abandoned bunch of machinery.  “I figured—”

He was cut off by a figure in all black jumping at him.  He’d been hiding behind a column, clearly biding his time until the two of you got there.

“GRAB HER!”

You went into battle mode as four more of those black-clad figures appeared.  It all felt like a blur as the two of you fought back against your attackers.  It was a frenzy of uppercuts, jabs, and roundhouse kicks. “Wanda, Sam—any chance you could get to the second floor?” You asked as your thighs wrapped around a man’s head, twisting until you threw him to the ground.

A scream tore it’s way from your throat as you were grabbed from behind, your arms twisting until you couldn’t move.  Thrashing, you tried to force yourself out of their hold, but it was to no avail.  The cold metal of a knife pressed against your throat and you froze.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted as he noticed your predicament.  There was a bang that resounded through the air and the man holding you crumpled to the ground, his grip on your arms disappearing.

Your heart pounded against your chest as you stared at the men that littered the floor around you.  Their bodies were twisted at unnatural angles, blood pooling on the ground below them.  “J-James—”

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. “It’s okay.  You’re safe,” he said, rocking you back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered as tears pricked your eyes.  “I-I just. Froze.”  At that second, all you could think about was how that knife felt against your throat.  How scared you were to die.  “I couldn’t think.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, smoothing your hair down.  “Anyone else would’ve reacted the same way.”  Bucky leaned back, his eyes searching yours.  “Can you walk?  We’ve gotta get back to the others.”

“Yeah,” you said, getting to your feet with a sigh. Your muscles already ached from the hits you had taken.  You looked at the abandoned factory around you with a new light.  “It was a set up,” you said, brows furrowing as the two of you headed out the front entrance.  “But why?”

Everyone was deathly quiet on the quinjet, too afraid to speak.  The weight of what had happened weighed on everyone’s minds as they became more and more aware of the fact that it wasn’t some new group of villains for your team to take down.  No, it went much deeper than what you had originally thought.

“Are we not going to talk about the fact that for some reason, a bunch of goons just tried to kidnap Y/N?” Sam asked, fury lacing his veins.  His hands were clenched at his sides.  The Captain America shield had been tossed to the side, a little recklessly.

It would appear that Sam and Bucky’s protectiveness over you had only increased since coming back from the Snap.

Bucky was sitting beside you, a blanket thrown over your shoulders while you held Morgan’s Iron Man plushie close to your chest. “Those guys weren’t some new group. They were experienced,” he said, a growl in his voice.  His thigh, pressed against yours, was bouncing anxiously.  “Took us a lot longer than it should’ve to take out those men.”

“Who the hell could it be?” Wanda asked, eyeing you from where she was standing.  Despite the fact that you weren’t much younger than her, she saw you as the baby of the group.  The one that needed to be protected.

Even though Peter was still a teenager.

“I know who it is,” you said.  Everyone’s eyes turned to you, confused.  You wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter. Your eyes met Bucky’s, and he immediately knew where your mind was going.

He sighed, running his hand across his face. “HYDRA.”

[ladybugsfanfics]

Seven Days [1/7]

→ Pairing: prince!Loki Odinson x pirate!reader 

(eventually prince!Loki x pirate!Steve Rogers x pirate!reader)

→ WC:  3.1k

→ Warnings: Smut, some blood gore, idk, awkwardness, nightmares, (countless) sexual innuendos

→ Summary: Prince Loki has run sick of not feeling welcome at the palace and asks to join you and your life forever. You give him seven days to try the new life, seven days to realize how much he loves you. And in those seven days, he learns to know you, and himself (and the first mate) a little better… In the end, he only has one question left to answer. Will he stay?

A/N: I’m so excited for this, and it’s finally here. This was originally a part of @nastybuckybarnes​ writing challenge but that ended in september so I think that ship’s sailed (still tagging you tho, i’m sorry). anyways, i hope you like it as much as i do ^_^

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

PROLOGUE

His cloak flutters as the wind brushes past him. It nips at his exposed skin and nearly drags off the hood covering his face. He wraps the cloak tighter around him, tells his rapidly beating heart he’s making the right decision. 

The night life of Asgard is full, he notes, as he walks into the market square. Most of the booths have closed shop for the evening, yet people walk in hushed whispers and loud yells across the cobblestones. Heels clank against the rough surface, his own along with everyone else’s. The air smells of booze and saltwater, of sweat and perfume. 

He walks past an open inn. Loud noises of music, games, and drinks clattering against each other in celebration fills the open streets. He rushes past, the inn being too close for someone not to recognize him. 

Moments later, the port welcomes him. The booths and a few inns exchanged with taverns and ships lining the docks. Seawater fills his nose as he grows closer. The sounds of earlier fades into the background to leave space for the louder noise of drunk sailors and maids having their fun. A smile tugs at his lips at the sound of the ocean splashing against the stones of the dock. 

A deep breath gives him the courage to walk past the numerous amounts of people around him. He avoids eye contact, keeping his head low as he weaves through the crowd. The wind tugs at his hood again. Trembling fingers pulls it back over his head. His heart beats faster, making its presence in his rib cage known. 

Finally, he sees it. 

In the dark of the night, the ebony wood that lines the ship mixes into the dark blue of the water. The masts rise into the air, sails wrapped around them waiting to be let loose and feel the wind push against them. His eyes scan the people, seeing a few walking the gangplank onto it. 

One person catches his eyes, standing at the helm. The shadow moves along the railing, looking out at the sea. Hair blows in the wind, creating the image of a captain ready to get back on the water. 

His breath hitches at the sight, and he moves his feet faster. Boots clank against the stones, a rhythm he doesn’t mean to make. He stops by the gangplank, waiting for the acceptance to be let on. 

You smile as you catch his eyes in the dark. Not the typical teasing smirk that usually spreads across your features when you meet. Not the happy one you sport when you tell him you love him. Not the sad one you have when you let him know it’s time to leave. 

No. 

This one is special. This smile lights up in your eyes, tells him to take those few steps aboard. Your smile is one he hasn’t seen before. It covers all your emotions. The happiness of him coming. The disappointment of him coming. The excitement for the coming seven days. 

He takes the last step onto the ship. His boot connects with the ships wood, making that one sound he has been dying to hear. Your hands are clasped behind your back. You stand straight and, despite the smile on your face, the authority reeks of you. 

He likes this new image he can see. 

He doesn’t regret it one bit that he asked the question. Seven days is what he has to prove that he can survive on a pirate ship. Seven days to prove that he does love you. Seven days to prove that, even if it’s hell on Earth, it’s hell on Earth with you and he wants to spend every moment in your presence. 

Seven days to prove himself worthy.  

 DAY ONE

Compared to what Loki is used to, everything about the little food he got tastes stale. He drowns the bread down with a glass of wine, and it still leaves his tongue dry and itchy. He’d gotten an old apple at the side, too. ( “A little something on me since it’s your first day,” was what the first mate had added when the man placed the apple next to him. He’d given him a tight, fake smile and patted his back a little hard.)

The apple tastes nothing like apples are supposed to. The usual juicy and sweet bite he expects is bitter, dry and soft. His first reaction would be to spit it out and demand another, but he can’t do that now. He swallows the bite, pinching his eyes shut at the sour taste, and takes a sip of wine to drown out what lingers on his tongue. 

And then he repeats the process until the whole apple, save the core, is gone. His shoulders slump and he takes the last of the wine in one big gulp, in a desperate attempt to completely rid of the dry aftertaste of the apple and the bread that remains in his mouth. 

“Easy there, bud,” says a voice behind him, “wouldn’t want you to down everything on the first day.” 

Loki turns his head. Behind him stands a male clad in a loose shirt and a pair of pants―no shoes. The man has unusually well-groomed, brown hair and a goatee. He smiles at Loki, a lopsided smile that doesn’t really tell Loki anything other than let him know this man might not be of that much importance. 

“I’m Tony,” he says, “most people ‘round here call me Stark.” 

“I’m Loki Odinson, the―” He cuts himself off before he says his title. Not only did he get on this ship to escape that life, it also holds no authority. Maybe he should have dropped the Odinson? It would be an easy connection. 

Tony nods. “I know, everyone knows. Welcome aboard Vicious Storm, prince. Don’t expect special treatment.” He smiles, or smirks? “Or, maybe you should?” 

“Stop bothering him, Stark.” Your voice drags Loki’s attention away from the man in front of him. You stop at Loki’s side, a small smile on your lips as you divert your gaze to Tony. The man does a salute, which has you roll your eyes. The smile stays, though. “Go do something useful.” 

“Will do,” replies Tony. He smirks as he walks down to the other end of the ship. 

Loki looks to you. “What’s in that direction?” 

You widen your eyes, as if you realised something. “Oh, you don’t know where things are yet.” You shake your head. “Down that end you find our surgeon, Dr. Strange. Would recommend saying hi to him every once in a while, though the man doesn’t talk too much with anyone but Stark.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know, he doesn’t really want to be here.” You shrug. “But, that’s not why I’m here now. You done eating?” 

Loki nods. 

“Good.” You nod. “Come with me. Gonna introduce you to some people, though I hear you’ve already met Rogers?”

Loki makes a grimace at the sound of the first mate’s name. “It is not something I would like to repeat.”

You chuckle. “I’m not even sorry when I say that that’s gonna be hard.” You take Loki’s hand in yours, dragging him up from where he sits and with you out into the sunshine that bathes the main deck. 

You walk over to the end (it’s the rear since it has the wheel, right?―Loki notes to learn more about what things are called). In a huddle stands five people, talking and laughing with each other. You cough to get their attention and they all stand up straight.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, a frown coating your face as your gaze drags over the five people saluting you. 

The first mate relaxes, shooting you a smile (and winks at Loki). “You said to have manners. Ain’t this manners?” 

“This,” ―you gesture at the other four who all relax back into normal postures― “is not what I talked about.”

Rogers smiles. “Sorry, I tried my best.”

You roll your eyes, but an amused smile plays on your lips. Loki finds he rather likes the look in your eyes, only he wishes it wasn’t directed at the first mate―he tries to drown the sting in his heart at your playfulness with him, but he can’t deny the jealousy that comes with you being close to someone as good looking as Rogers. 

“Anyways,” says one of the other men, “why’d you ask us to meet you here?” The male is bald, with a dark complexion Loki hasn’t seen with many other’s of the crew. He noticed a few, but for the most part, there are crew with the same pale, white skin as he himself has.

“Yeah, I want to introduce you.” You nudge Loki a little closer to you and the group, hand still holding onto his. He’s grateful to rely on some of your strength. Being in a different environment than he’s used to makes for interesting jabs at his pride and confidence, jabs he hadn’t thought would come when he’d asked to join you. 

“Loki, this is Wilson. He’s our pilot.” Loki hides his surprise as the man holds out a hand for him to shake―the first one to do so in the little time he’d been aboard the ship. He takes the man’s hand, giving a curt nod to the smile the male sends him. “Bet you’ll get along, at least a little.”

The next person is a male with longer, brown hair that flows around his head and lands past his shoulders. Loki notes that one of his arms is metal, but he decides not to comment and makes a mental note to ask you later. “Barnes.” He doesn’t hold out his hand, but gives a nod which Loki returns. 

“Welcome aboard Vicious Storm, my prince.” The red-headed woman makes a mock-curtsy, looking up at him through her lashes with a bright smirk. The men around her snicker. Loki makes no reaction. 

You roll your eyes. “Mature, Nat, mature.” 

Nat stands up. She gives Loki a more genuine smile, which he returns with a tight-lipped one (that gives away his ‘poker’ face). “Call me anything but Romanoff and I’ll make sure you regret it.” 

Based on her tone, Loki believes her. “Noted.”

“Clint,” says the male next to Romanoff and holds out a hand for Loki to shake. The man, though with a slightly lighter brown shade, has the same styled hair as Tony. Clint also has a goatee, though less prominent. Loki takes the man’s hand and shakes it. He returns the grin Clint gives him, though a little hesitantly. “We’ll be best friends, promise.”

Loki glances at you, and you roll your eyes with a small smile. Of the four he’s been properly introduced to, he has to admit he likes Clint the best. 

And then he turns to the first mate, who eagerly holds out his hand for Loki to shake. “Steve Rogers,” he says, a wicked grin coating his (stupidly handsome) face―jawline covered with a full beard that suits him very well, and longer, blonde hair slicked back (he looks too well-groomed for a pirate). 

Loki, who was raised with manners, takes Rogers’s hand and shakes it. The pressure is slightly harder than Wilson’s and Clint’s, but surprisingly lighter than Loki expected. Rogers leans in, the wicked grin still on his lips. His breath is hot on Loki’s ear. “Please, call me Steve,” he whispers and pulls back. 

You and the four other people raise your brows at the first mate’s behaviour. Loki tries to steady his beating heart (to be honest, Steve gives him a ...weird and almost frightening vibe). 

“Okay,” you say, “that was… I don’t know what that was but I ain’t gon’ ask either an’ now we’re gon’ go before more happens.” You tug on Loki’s hand―the one that has been holding onto his this whole time it’s weird you haven’t pulled away by how clammy it has gotten―and Loki swallows the lump in his throat as he pulls his gaze away from Steve. 

As the two of you walk, Loki takes a glance back at the group. Steve looks after you and Loki, and the other four whisper with each other whilst looking at Steve―had that behaviour been that odd? Loki vows not to be alone with the first mate.

Ever. 

 ---

He’d noticed the smell when he’d first stepped on board the ship. The mixed stench of human sweat and rotting fish, an odor that gets a little better at the main deck where the breeze filled with the smell of sea can take away some of the vile one that hurts his nose. 

It’s first now, bored to death as he leans against the railing trying to tame his queasy stomach that he really notices it. Loki can’t say it helps very much to how he’s feeling. 

He swallows the little that makes its way up his throat, though quickly regrets it as it only heightens the feeling and he leans over to rid himself off it. His throat hurts as he uses his sleeve to wipe away the excess. 

“We’ve all been there, buddy.” Clint pats his back and nods. “Heck, most o’ us are still there. Does get a lil’ better, but everyone’s emptyin’ their guts every now and then.”

Loki swallows―something he quickly regrets―and rubs his temples. “I have to admit, when I asked I thought the worst part would be the blood and gore, not… sea sickness.”

Clint nods. “Trust me, thought so, too.” He gives Loki a tiny smile. “But instead o’ this, what’cha say to a round? Got some mates up there, bettin’ some good money. And I’ll give you somethin’ to wash that taste down with.”

“A round of what?” 

A mischievous glint lights up in Clint’s eyes. “A round o’ whatever.” He winks. “Won’t give up an opportunity to beat Rogers, now would you?”

Loki nods. “He’s playing?” 

Clint nods. 

“Well, lead the way.”

They make their way to the helm (Loki asked you what the back with the wheel is called, the answer; the helm). Where he got introduced to some of the crew earlier in the day, is now a group―bigger than the five he was introduced to―sitting in a ring. In the middle he sees a pair of dice. 

“Ey, look who decided to join.” The first mate smirks in Loki’s direction and makes room for him to sit down next to him. “Time to place our bets, gentlemen.” Steve winks at Loki and looks onto the crowd around him as Loki sits down in the space made for him.

Everyone holler out a number between five and nine. Loki keeps his mouth shut, not sure what they’re playing. Steve picks up the dice and rolls them, creating a total of seven. A few men groan and move out of the circle to stand and watch. 

The remaining men holler out another set of numbers. Steve rolls the dice again. Five. Two of the men move out of the circle. There are five men left, each holler out a number. Steve rolls; eight. Two men remain in the circle. They give each other a wicked grin, and yell out a new number. 

Steve rolls the dice. As they spin around on the deck, the silence is deafening. The wind brushes past Loki, nipping at his cheeks. It makes his hair flap around him, annoyingly slap his face. He tucks it away, eyes still glued to the dice that come still on the ebony wood of the deck. 

Nine.

Both men groan and glare at Steve, who shrugs with a smirk. “Hand it over, boys.” His voice is cocky, too arrogant for someone surrounded by a gang of annoyed pirates. But, Steve himself is a pirate. And the men pay up, putting down different sets of things in front of Steve. 

The first mate picks some of the things, putting them in his pockets and then pushes the rest of the heap into the center. “Play me for it?” 

Loki is well aware of the little glance the male gives his way, as if the question is directly meant for him. He nods as the men come back to form a new circle. Everyone hollers out a number. 

Steve rolls the dice. Eight. Loki keeps his place, though he suppresses the smirk he wants―so he doesn’t have that good a poker face, this is rather a game of luck. 

They holler out a new number. Steve rolls. The dice spins on the deck. Stop. Six. Loki can feel the tug of his lips as he lets his shoulders fall down. 

They six men seated in the circle holler out a new number. Steve throws the dice; eight. Loki can feel the glares stare daggers in his back; already heated by the scorching sun the glares only add to the feeling of finally being somewhere else. 

They’re three men left now. All three yell different numbers. Steve rolls the dice. One lands quickly at a four. The other spins, and spins, and spins. It loses momentum and Loki can see the number it’s going to land on; one. Subtly, he flicks his wrist, giving the little extra it needs to fall on the two he needs. 

All eyes land on him as he lets the smirk color his face. Steve shakes his head, though if Loki doesn’t see hallucinations he believes he saw the hint of an amused smile before the man went back to his rather teasing look. 

“Who won?” 

Loki perks up at the sound of your voice. 

“Your toy,” replies Steve, though nothing layers his voice as Loki would have thought. 

As he sorts through the pile of garbage they played about, Loki can feel you roll your eyes behind him. He smiles and, finding something of value, he leaves the heap and stands up. He turns to you raising a brow in his direction. 

“Having fun?” you ask.

Loki smiles. “I will be in a moment.” A little ‘ooooh’ goes through the crowd of men as he takes your hand and tugs you with him. Newfound energy can do a lot. 

Also, he would rather have you in his arms where he can trade the rotting stench he’d forgotten a little with your smell. He wishes to trade the sound of grown men groaning at losing a game designed for them to lose, to the sound of your voice hoarsely and breathlessly whispering his name. 

So far, he’d made the right decision. 

[amandaoftherosemire]

Bulletproof -- Part Nine

Fandom: Marvel/College AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader, Platonic!Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,153

Format: Series (Complete)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ only!, language, angst, fluff.

Summary: The aftermath and your escape. Steve comes home to an odd scene. The next morning you share a very little honesty.

A/N:  Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter! I can’t express how much I appreciate it. I seriously squeal in delight every time. I don’t know if you guys will like where this is going, but if you want to yell, I’m always here for it.

Banner by @hellzzzbelle

Part Eight here

Part Nine

"Okay," you said, a little while later. Your voice was a little shaky, but you'd just gotten your breath back. Encouraged by cuddly Bucky and the happy hum of contentment he'd made when he'd pulled you close, you went on. "Okay. That's a lot to unpack.” You sighed happily at the sound of Bucky’s snort of humor. “First: Fair enough. That was worth some fuss.”

Bucky's snort had broken the tension that started to gather as the heat dissipated. His next statement swept it away entirely. "Babygirl, that was a new PB and you know it."

You laughed out loud. "Did you really come in your jeans during a tickle fight with me when we were fourteen?"

"Hand to god," Bucky answered. "We were in our downstairs den. I had to run upstairs and change when your hand brushed against my dick and I went off like a rocket."

You were silent a moment, and Bucky thought you might be upset. He opened his mouth to apologize when you said, "I remember that," and the warm amusement told him he needn't bother. "I was doing it on purpose, rubbing all up ons and trying to get you going."

"Dirty girl," he rumbled into your neck, making you snicker. He laughed and went on, "My turn, but I don't know what to ask first."

You unconsciously snuggled back, the heat of his body soothing as your skin cooled, and scoffed out a laugh. "Dude, can you start small, give me a minute? I think you almost literally fucked me stupid."

"How can I say no?" Bucky sounded as smug as you'd ever heard him and you were sure that if you turned your head, he'd be wearing that sexy smirk at panty-dropping levels of cockiness. The bastard had the temerity to not even have a punchable smug face. No, he had to be hot as hell even then. Insufferable.

You really wanted to see it.

He made a grumbly noise when you wiggled to get him to loosen his hold, but he let you go without further protest. When you turned in his arms to look at him, he smiled again and cuddled you close. Wanting to see that smirk, you slyly nipped at his bottom lip.

"So," he said with the beginnings of a half-smile, "what data did you gather about those itchy fingertips?"

Your heart ached a little in gratitude for the time you needed to gather yourself together. You'd never had an experience like that, hot and intense and raw. You'd never let anyone else that close. You were starting to worry that your bulletproof vest might have a fatal flaw.

"The data collected so far supports the hypothesis that it is your skin that is making my fingertips itch."

Bucky gasped, and the laughter hiding under the mock shock made inexplicable tears prick at the back of your eyes. "Oh no. How do we fix it?"

"Well," you said, hiding the pain loving him caused you behind humor, going into the lecture mode you'd always favored for him, "it seems that there are some ways to alleviate the itching. Keeping all that yummy skin covered, for example, but which seems a crime."

"I like where your head's at." Bucky chuckled, and there was that smirk you were looking for. You didn't know why, but it made your heart flutter.

"Or I can touch you,” you purred, your eyelids lowering flirtatiously. “That takes the itch away immediately."

Bucky loved it when you did this coquettish flirty thing. He'd never seen it until recently, either with him or anyone else, and it felt like something special, something you only did for him now that your relationship had changed when the two of you reconciled. How could he help but adore you when you had such pretty ways of teasing him?

"I am happy to offer myself up for therapeutic purposes," he stated firmly. "I mean, since I’m the catalyst for the reaction, I should also provide the cure."

"Wow, Bucky!" You didn't know why, but something made you need to tease him, even as your body was still warm and vibrating from the things he'd done to it. Sarcasm lit up your face and tone. "You're ever so brave! How will you bear up under this burden?"

Bucky laughed. You simply lay there, smiling like an idiot at him. Until you'd seen him in the throes of ecstasy, you'd thought this was Bucky at his most beautiful. His was head tilted back a little, his mouth wide, eyes crinkled, guard down, heart on his sleeve. You used to live to make Bucky laugh like this. You were starting to worry that you'd never really stopped.

When he calmed a little, he focused in on the smile on your face. He would swear he saw worlds in that smile. "Mouthy wench," he grumbled, smacking your ass very lightly and making you squeak, to his delight. Then his face grew serious and his hand lifted to trace the line of your jaw and brush his thumb over your lips. Looking into your eyes, he confessed, "I'd do anything for you, babygirl."

"Even let me get all up ons." Your heart was fluttering in a kind of rapture, the moment so close to the romantic fantasies you’d once lived on. You had to joke, to tease, lest the silly wounded thing think you were allowing it free rein to dream again.

Bucky smiled, but melancholy touched the corners of his mouth. Your determination to keep things light seemed a gentle rejection, but a rejection nonetheless. "Because I’m a gentleman, thank you,” he retorted, making you chuckle. “And you're welcome.”

You laughed outright at that, and the way it lit up your face made his breath catch in his throat. He wondered if you knew how unbelievably beautiful you were when you laughed like that. There were times like this when you looked so open and free that he could fool himself that there wasn’t a world of complications standing between the two of you.

Unable to resist that beauty, that joy, and desperate to forget everything he didn't understand and couldn't control, he leaned in to kiss you again. This time, however, he kissed you with warmth instead of heat, tenderness instead of temptation. You kissed him back, caught in a storm of sensation and emotion that you hadn't been prepared to deal with.

Bucky didn't kiss you like a one-night stand, or even an FWB, but as a lover. You'd never been kissed like this, with passion but not persuasion. He was kissing you only to kiss you, not as a prelude to anything else. With soft lips and sweet sighs, Bucky worshipped your mouth with his own. Your heart ached a little and you pulled away, feeling the flaws in your bulletproof shield.

"I should go see if Gamora's back." The murmur was soft and uncertain, and Bucky could tell immediately that it would take almost no effort to convince you to stay, at least awhile longer. If he could convince you to stay forever, he would.

"Why?" he asked, his voice a temptation. Denied your mouth, he traced his lips along your jaw, enjoying the smooth line there and the sweet-salty taste of your skin still slightly dewed with sweat from what you'd brought to each other. He was already getting hard again. "I didn't think we were done." Sliding his thigh between yours and running his hand up your spine to pull you closer, he buried his face in your neck, sucking and kissing the skin there. He growled into your ear, "I'm not done yet."

You arched your neck to give him better access, then shifted so that your pussy came into contact with his thigh, grinding down on it. "No, you're right," you breathed, fisting your hands in his hair and making him groan. "I'm not done, either."

"Babygirl," he murmured, tilting his head back to look into your face, his expression serious, "I fucked up. I wasn't thinking and I forgot to protect you."

You laughed a little, breathlessly, as you hadn't been thinking clearly either. Fortunately--, "It's not all on you; I forgot, too. But it's not the end of the world; I'm on birth control."

"Still, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I'm clean. I haven't been with anyone since the last time I was checked."

A quick flash of confusion flickered across your face and Bucky wondered at it. Did you really think him so promiscuous? "I do go days, even weeks at a time without getting my dick wet," he snarked.

"Could've fooled me," you muttered, a touch of petulance to your tone that had Bucky's eyebrows winging upward in surprised delight.

"Y/N," he said your name in a voice both stern and yet pleased, "were you jealous?" The question was made flirtatious by Bucky nuzzling your mouth and nose with his as he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, but the corners of your mouth were twitching. He was so damned pleased with himself; you couldn't stay mad at him. Bastard. "Fuck you, Bucky-bug."

He hitched his leg up a little, bringing it into firmer contact against your cunt, and still sensitive, it sent a shimmer of sensation through you. "Mmm," the vibration of his lips against yours tickled and prompted you to nip at his lower lip. He chuckled, "You know, babygirl, if you'd offered to replace any woman who has ever walked through that door, I'd have kicked all of them out without a backward glance."

You were speechless, utterly baffled. If he'd wanted you so damn bad, why hadn't he ever said anything? Then his metal hand was cupping your breast and his thumb was brushing over your nipple, the sensation seeming to shoot directly into your core. You were having a hard time thinking straight again, and figured you had a lifetime to figure all of this out. You'd only promised yourself a night for losing yourself in him. You shoved everything else aside but the reality of being tangled up in Bucky.

Both of you needed a break from the intensity of your first time together. Instead of sobs and demands, you laughed and sighed, exploring one another with soft hands and the occasional ticklish giggle. Slowly this time, you came together with warmth and humor, old friends learning how to play together again. The play may have no longer been innocent, but the need for fun had remained the same.

When you lay, sweaty, sticky, and panting, on your back next to Bucky, who was equally winded and satisfied, you lifted your arm in the air and offered your palm to him. "Good game," you stated with approval, a laugh trembling underneath.

Bucky snickered, then laughed outright, lifting his opposite arm to give you five as he cackled. "Thanks. You, too." He couldn't stop chuckling, too delighted with you. No other person of his acquaintance had your talent for making him laugh.

"So." He turned on his side to face you, one eyebrow winging up. "The arm."

"Oh my god." Your hands flew up to cover your face. You had been really really hoping he would let that go. You had known better, but hell, hope is free. Your voice a little offended, a little snotty, you retorted through your hands, "Okay, it's not 'the' arm; it's that it's your arm."

You heard his breath catch and the next thing you knew, Bucky was gently pulling your hands away from your face. His eyes were blazing with something that looked a lot like love when he took your mouth in a kiss that seemed to carry his heart and soul with it. His hand reached up to cup your face, and the tenderness with which he brushed his metal thumb over your cheek made your throat ache.

When he pulled back, you opened your mouth to joke, to stop this from getting any deeper, any closer to the edge of the abyss, but his mouth was on yours again, his tongue surging smoothly between your lips to caress yours. Your heart was pounding in desire, but with an undercurrent of fear; this was entirely too much like lovemaking. Sex you could survive.

Being cherished, however, could prove fatal.

Too bad you couldn’t resist it once you’d had the first taste. Bucky’s hands skimmed over your skin reverently as his mouth drank from yours like a man dying of thirst. At the same time, you felt like he was pouring everything you’d ever wanted into the kiss, into you.

Though he only murmured words of affection and praise, his mouth, his body, his hands moved over you with something so close to love it made your throat ache. Your hands were buried in gentle fists in his hair, your mouth soft and generous under his as you forgot yourself and gave yourself up to what he was giving you.

Bucky wanted to give you everything. He wanted to tell you what this night had meant to him, how happy being with you had made him. He could tell you weren't comfortable hearing it, so instead he worshipped you with his body. Since you wouldn't let him tell you how much he loved you, how blessed he felt as he slid inside you once more, he poured everything he felt into the glide of his hands, the movement of body against yours. As he rocked you both to climax, he tried to show you with everything he had what you wouldn't hear.

When you came, it was a soft, shuddering quake of ecstasy that pulled him over the edge with you, spilling inside you with a low groan of your name.

Bucky rolled to his side, taking you with him to hold you close. He kept whispering sweet words of praise and appreciation, but the ache in his voice gave away the depths of how he felt.

“Sweet babygirl, do you know what you mean to me?” His arms tightened as his eyes burned into yours. “You’re everything, you know. I lo—"

Your hand seemed to move of its own volition, coming up to press gentle fingers against his lips, stopping him before he said something you couldn’t live through. “Shh.” Your eyes were a soft plea. “Please, don't.”

You closed your eyes against the tears that wanted to fall at the hurt in his voice. "Don't what?" he asked, his heart breaking, but needing to hear you tell him you didn't love him back so he could let you go once and for all.

Because you didn't know what he needed, instead, you gave him as much of the truth as you could. "I have never had a night like this one." Your voice was an aching sigh and sent a spear of hope through him. Your next words dimmed that hope but couldn’t entirely kill it. "Please, don’t offer up excuses or rationales or apologies or promises." You leaned forward, nuzzling his mouth with yours until it softened. You sank in with a hum, trying to tell him everything without words.

You wanted him to know how much you loved him, how much this night meant to you. You didn't want him to feel guilt or worry, wanted to ease his mind. When you pulled away, Bucky's eyes were glittering with an emotion you were afraid to name. Your voice hoarse, you implored, "I don't need them. And I don't want them."

You couldn't help it; you needed to adore him for the way he'd tended to your body with such tenderness. You kissed him gently, at each corner of his mouth, his cheeks, his eyes, his temples. “Just let it be. Please." You came back to his mouth and poured your heart into kissing him with all the love you’d been holding back for over half your life.

Bucky, lost in the slide and tangle of lips and teeth and tongue, had an epiphany. You loved him as much as he loved you, wanted him with the same fervor, but you didn’t trust him. His heart hurt a little, but he didn’t blame you.

When you pulled away, breathless, he leaned forward to nuzzle his mouth against yours. “I have never had a night like this one, either.” His eyes were eminently soft as he silently vowed to show you how much he loved you, for all you wouldn’t let him say the words. He would prove that you could count on him. He purred, “For once fantasy couldn't hold a candle to reality.”

Your heart kicked and you mentally swore; you were becoming downright addicted to that purr. His understanding, his kindness, had another chink forming in your bulletproof wall. You couldn’t help but adore him for being so sweet and giving. You chuckled and decided to stroke his ego a little. “Oh my god, right!? That was amazing! Fuck!”

Bucky laughed a little and made self-satisfied grumbling sounds as he tightened his arms and nuzzled into your neck. You smiled as you snuggled in closer. You knew you shouldn’t, knew allowing yourself to bask in the fantasy would only hurt more later, but you couldn't resist the sweetness you'd found here.

You'd expected the heat, even a little of the debauchery, though you hadn't known how filthy his mind and his mouth was, but you had been utterly taken aback by the tenderness he'd shown you, the depths of his affection for you. He'd been about to let his tongue run away with him, to tell you he loved you, and not in that 'we've been friends most of our lives' way. You'd seen he was caught up in the moment and you'd had to stop him. You couldn't bear to hear those words only to have him regret them once his skin cooled.

You tried to ignore the niggling thought that the Big-L 'love' that had almost dropped from his lips was in actuality an armor piercing round.

In nothing but your skin and a shredded bulletproof vest, you snuggled deeper into Bucky's embrace, seduced by the warmth and tenderness there. Bucky held you like you were infinitely precious, like he'd prefer to never let you go. You closed your eyes and took a moment to breathe in the scent of his skin, memorize the feel of his body against yours as you pretended that you could stay here until morning, wake with his face the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes.

You wanted to keep going, to dream a world where you made love in the early morning light, then made breakfast in the kitchen, stealing kisses as you passed each other. You were afraid to continue, certain if you allowed yourself to hope, you'd only end up breaking your heart and destroying everything you had with futile wishes for something that could never be.

You'd vowed to keep him, no matter what. If you had to lock your heart away, and just enjoy this one stolen night, then that's what you'd do.

But you could hold him close a little while longer…

A long time later, you reluctantly extricated yourself from the tangle of Bucky's limbs. He didn't hold you, but you could tell by the way his body moved against yours that he wasn't asleep. His arms had tightened for a fraction of a second before he’d allowed you to slip away.

You sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, not entirely certain your legs would hold you. Your thighs were still quivering, but it was your heart that made it difficult for you to stand. You wanted to crawl back in with Bucky more than you wanted your next breath, but you weren't certain you'd survive if you did.

"Time to man up and dip out?" Bucky's voice was remote, yet not necessarily cold. You frowned, not sure how to deal with this calm distance. You didn't like it but couldn't really put your finger on why. You wanted to poke at him, get him to stop, but you weren't sure of your own shield. You felt fragile, as though the slightest touch and you'd shatter.

"No harm, no foul, Buck." You bent to grab the underwear you'd dropped next to the bed. As you slid your legs in, you shot Bucky a wink and a happy smile over your shoulder at him. His eyes were glittering again, and you could swear you saw hurt and anger in his gaze. You couldn't stand it.

Bucky had made you feel cherished, as though you were the center of his universe. You had never felt more gorgeous than you had in his arms, under his hands. Nothing had prepared you for the way he would tend to every inch of your body and soul, making you feel like golden light should be streaming out of every pore. You couldn't bear the thought that he didn't feel the same.

Feeling oddly shy, considering everything you'd done and let him do to you, you snatched up your dress, only turning to face him when you had it on. He hadn't moved, still watching you with that inscrutable look on his face. Relenting a little, you sat on the edge of the bed, your body turned towards where he lay still wrapped in the tangle of sheets. You smiled softly as your eyes traveled over him. Naked, tousled, and sated Bucky Barnes was an image you wanted to imprint on your memory.

Bucky couldn't help the corner of his mouth lifting in response to the hot look you were giving him. He may have thoroughly satisfied you, but you still didn't look like you were done. He understood why you were leaving, easily grasped the message you were trying to send. You wanted to keep this light and meaningless. If that’s what you wanted, he'd accept it, but he didn't have to like it. Still, he knew he'd take you on whatever terms he could get you.

"Bucky-bug!" The endearment had a new connotation to it, but his heart still trembled, nonetheless. "You look so worried! You don't have to. This was everything I wanted." You slid further on to the bed, leaning forward to brush your mouth against his.

Bucky's hand came up to cup your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as you kissed him again, sweetly. "Is this all you wanted?" he asked against your mouth, his voice full of the promises he'd give you if only you'd allow it.

"This was, like, a fuckton more than what I wanted really, so I should probably quit while I can still walk." You shot him that shy, sultry smile again, and he considered trying one more time to convince you to stay by making love to you again. Then your words rang a dim bell and jealousy curdled in his gut. You'd said something similar about Thor once.

Bucky's hand fell away, hurt that you wanted this to mean nothing more than a hookup, but abundantly aware of the irony of that. "If you're sure, babygirl," he offered, hoping you'd relent and let him speak.

You thought you understood what he was offering, thought he was allowing guilt to prod him into offering more than he had and making promises he couldn't keep. You adored him for it, for being willing to try, but you'd learned your lesson. You wouldn't destroy what you had by yearning for what couldn't be. "I'm sure I can't take any more," you murmured sultrily, surprising yourself by continuing, "at least not tonight."

At the breathy suggestion in your voice, Bucky's grin flashed and you mentally cursed. You knew you were already in over your head if you were already walking back your determination to make this a one-time thing. He was entirely too tempting for your libido, and simply too sweet for your heart. You had to get out before you fucked up any worse than you already had.

Bucky was grinning at you, delighted to see the indecision on your face. Only one night and he was already addicted; the suggestion that you felt the same was enough to banish the worst of the bitterness that had settled over him as soon as you had begun to make your escape. Smirking, he folded his hands behind his head. "Are you sure you're okay, doll?" he taunted when your gaze snagged on the shift and play of muscle.

You shot him a laughing smile, figuring he had a right to his cocky attitude on this one occasion. "I'm not okay," you said as you stood. When the smug started to fade from his face, you went on. "I'm pretty sure I'm glowing; I'm so much better than okay." You paused at the door to wiggle your fingers at him, snickering at the arrogance that cloaked him once more. "Sleep tight, Bucky-bug."

"I'd sleep better if I had you to cuddle." His voice was a temptation, not least of which because he sounded absolutely sincere. Part of you wanted to give in, to climb back in there with him and pretend that this was the beginning of everything. Since you wanted that more than was wise, you knew you had to go.

"Somehow, I think you'll be fine. Night, sweetie." Your voice was warm with affection but rich with the ache of that temptation.

As you turned to walk away, Bucky answered, his voice a rumble. "Good night, babygirl." Something about the tone of his voice shivered up your spine and stopped you in your tracks. The simple words carried all the weight of both an invitation and a promise. Your heart both raced and trembled.

On light feet, you spun around. "Oh, Bucky! I almost forgot." You leaned over the bed to take Bucky's grinning mouth in a long, warm kiss. When you pulled away slightly, you whispered against his mouth, "Thank you." With a final affectionate kiss, you skipped out the door, pulling it closed with a flutter of your fingers, to the sound of Bucky's chuckle.

Bucky lay awake in the dark a long while, reliving every moment of the night he'd been fantasizing about since puberty, as you'd put it. Though you had put limitations on your relationship he didn't want, he understood. After the things you'd said tonight, he understood that you wanted him, but you didn't trust him. He hoped that if he could convince you that you could, you might let yourself love him. He knew if you could, the two of you could be amazing together.

He determinedly put Steve out of his mind. Bucky had given Steve years in which to act and he'd chosen someone else. If he wanted you, he should have said something to you long before now. How could Bucky be expected to refuse your offer of only everything he'd ever wanted?

Except now he wanted so much more. He didn't want you for only a night. He wanted you for forever.

All he had to do now was convince you of that.

With a vicious curse, Bucky pushed out of bed. He snatched a pair of sweats off the floor on his way to the kitchen, dragging them on as he went. He wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon since the only woman he wanted in his bed had insisted on skipping out the door, so he didn't see any reason to stay where the scent of you could torment him.

He glanced in the fridge and sighed a little in relief when he saw Steve hadn't finished off the orange juice. He'd have been willing to drink the vodka in the freezer straight if he had to, but he saw no reason to punish himself when he could get drunk on screwdrivers instead. Snagging a pint glass out of the cupboard, he filled it half-way with ice, then half-way again with vodka, finishing off with the OJ. Shrugging to himself, Bucky took both bottles with him into to living room.

By the time he got there he was already well into the drink. He grabbed a piece of the cold pizza and the remote and sat back to brood.

By the time you reached your front door you were a trembling wreck. All you wanted was to go to your room without having to face Gamora, but thanks to your little ‘locked out’ bullshit, which hadn't even been necessary, you were going to have to deal with her.

The door swung open, and you sagged in defeat. The little redhead had one eyebrow raised and an amused half-smile curving her lips.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Natasha murmured in a voice rich with sympathy. With a sigh of defeat, you let her enfold you. She led you to the couch where Gamora waited, her face unreadable but her eyes tender. You gave in and told her and Natasha the whole truth about what happened. Both Gamora and Nat noted that you omitted any personal details, especially how you felt about it.

Though you were honest, you weren't open, and as soon as you could you escaped to your room. Once there, you sat in your bed, your arms wrapped around your legs, forehead on your knees.

Now that you were alone, your heart started racing again at the memories flitting across your mind. Your skin heating, your breath speeding, you flopped back onto your bed and grinned at the ceiling like an idiot.

Whatever the consequences, no matter the pain you'd endure as a result of what you'd done tonight, you couldn't regret it. Not only the best sex of your life, Bucky had made you feel beautiful, sexy. Loved.

Against your better judgement, and regardless of how you scolded it, your heart steadfastly jumped in excitement. You felt bright, and feather light, like you were on the verge of something new and full of possibility. You had planned to make this a one-night stand, a one-time dive into something you'd always wanted, but thought would be bad for you, like death by chocolate. Now that you'd had a taste, however, you didn't want to stop.

As you lay there, remembering the look on Bucky's face, the softness in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch, you felt once more that ray of hope shine through. This time, though, you decided not to snuff it out at the source, but to let it settle into you. Based on the things Bucky had said, the way he'd treated you, there seemed to be potential here for more than you'd ever believed.

Maybe you were rationalizing; you didn't care. You weren't going to put limitations on anything between you and Bucky anymore. If you could have a night like tonight, what else could you do together, be to each other?

Steve was humming under his breath as he unlocked his apartment door. Peggy Carter was, without a doubt, the most incredible woman he'd ever met. She was smart, funny, no-nonsense, and the way she smiled at him made Steve's palms sweat and heart race.

A half an hour before, at her front door, she'd given him the hottest good night kiss he'd ever had the fortune of receiving, then sent him on his way with a slow smile and an invitation to call her tomorrow.

He wondered; how early was too early?

He cursed, viciously, when his foot came into painful contact with the lump he recognized belatedly as his best friend laying on the living room floor in between the coffee table and the television. Said lump cursed in protest, the sound an incomprehensible slur of sound. Steve raised exasperated eyes to the ceiling.

"What the hell, man?" he asked as he bent to roll Bucky over on to his back, noting the empty beer and liquor bottles littering the table next to him. "How drunk are you?"

Bucky looked blearily up at Steve and felt a wave of guilt and remorse overwhelm him. For all his irritation with Steve, all his rationalizations, he still felt like he’d betrayed his best friend. "Shit, Stevie. I fucked up." He'd already been marinating in liquor and his own guilt, going over it all in his head again, seeing how many ways he'd hurt you and how easily it all could have been avoided. He closed his eyes and rocked his head back and forth, hearing your words in his head again, I spent a week in the hospital, and you didn't even send me a fucking card. "I've fucked up so much."

Steve frowned in concern and tried to slide an arm under Bucky in an attempt to assist him to his feet. "Okay, let me help you."

"No, no, no. I shouldn't have." Bucky haphazardly pushed at Steve, guilt choking him once more. "I'm sorry, man." He gripped Steve's upper arm with his metal hand and looked deep into his friend's eyes with the intensity of the repentant drunk.

Steve had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes. "Come on, buddy," he said, and started to lift under Bucky's shoulders. "Can you stand up?"

"Don't help me," Bucky said, petulant, but he scrabbled to get his feet under him. "I don't deserve it."

Steve chuckled. "And people say I'm dramatic. Whatever you did, I doubt it was that bad." As he spoke, Steve heaved Bucky to his feet and helped him to the couch.

As he settled back, Bucky threw his arm over his eyes, thinking about the way you'd slid into his lap in this exact spot earlier that night. "I couldn't say no, you know?" He was remembering how lovely you'd looked as you rose over him, your eyes glowing with desire, your lips curved in a siren smile. "How could I say no?" he whispered as his arm went limp and fell to his lap. He spotted Steve's confused face out of the corner of his eye and the righteous fury from earlier came roaring back. "Wait, this is your fucking fault! Where the hell were you?"

Steve laughed a little at the sudden change in Bucky's demeanor. His friend was thoroughly tanked if he was moving through emotions like this. "I don't even know what we're talking about," he shot back.

Bucky pointed an accusatory finger at Steve, scowling deeply. "If you hadn't been off in that fucking shirt, I wouldn't have had my hands full with her, now would I, Steve?" Steve looked down at his shirt, then up again to ask who Bucky was talking about, but Bucky was going on in a slurring singsong. "She's just so beautiful, and funny, and smart, and sweet. How could I help myself?"

Steve snorted, and this time didn't bother to restrain the eye roll. "Who are we talking about again?"

Bucky sighed out your name as he let his head loll back against the back of the couch. Steve's eyebrows furrowed. He'd run into Gamora at Howlie's; she'd told him Bucky was with you tonight. Steve didn't know whether to be happy that you and Bucky seemed to be figuring things out, or terrified that you were going to end up destroying one another.

Bucky was going on, his voice a murmur, but the absolute devotion in his tone was crystal clear. "She's perfect, you know? I didn't mean to…"

"Didn't mean to what?" Steve asked when the rest of the sentence was not forthcoming, but he doubted he was going to get anything else out of Bucky before morning. The next moment, Bucky let loose a snore and had Steve grinning against his will. "Typical."

Bucky opened his eyes the next morning to a full military drumline practicing in his skull. The sound of Steve rattling around in the kitchen wasn't helping, but Bucky could smell coffee and was hoping for breakfast, so he wouldn't yell for Steve to shut the fuck up.

As he sat up and put his head in his hands, burying them in his hair, he ran over what he'd done and said the night before, trying to remember what exactly he'd said to Steve. The two of you hadn't even killed one six-pack when you were together, so he had been stone-cold sober when he'd been with you. Thankfully, all of those memories were clear as a bell. He'd have never forgiven himself if he'd forgotten even a moment of his night with you.

He couldn't remember exactly what his conversation with Steve had entailed, however, and he couldn't help but be a little worried. He would like to talk to you before he tried to explain anything to his best friend, but he was concerned that he might have already told him more than was warranted. Steve could infer plenty from very little information; he was sweet, not stupid.

Steve walked into the living room in pajama bottoms and a too small t-shirt he'd had for years and raised an eyebrow at the top of his friend’s head. He set the glass in his hand down on the coffee table in front of Bucky and sat next to him, speaking briskly but not unkindly, "Drink."

Bucky looked at the red liquid in the glass and hoped, "Please tell me it's a Bloody Mary."

"Like you need more liquor," Steve scoffed. "It's the Romanoff Special, tomato juice with a splash of bitters."

Bucky lifted wary eyes to Steve's face. "The Romanoff Special has a raw egg in it."

Steve's lips twitched. "I skipped that part." He laughed when Bucky immediately leaned forward and snatched up the drink. The bitters would have enough hair of the dog to take the edge off of his headache. Or so he thought until Steve spoke again, "You want to explain to me what you meant last night?"

Bucky paused a moment, considering how he wanted to respond. He didn't remember what he'd said, but he did remember what he'd done, so it made the question an extremely loaded one. "Fuck if I know," he said, opting for confusion. It wasn't a lie.

Steve narrowed his eyes at the pause but decided to play along. "Apparently you did something you shouldn't have and it's my fault because I should have been here."

Bucky opened his mouth with no idea how to respond when the sound of the front door opening stopped his voice in his throat. Only one person besides the two of them had a key.

"Stevie!" Your voice sang out, cheerful and sweet, making Bucky's heart skip and his stomach tighten. "Gamora drank all our coffee! Can I have some of yours?"

Steve's face shifted into exasperated amusement. He knew what you were up to; you'd threatened to do exactly this if he didn't report on his date with Peggy before you got impatient. "It’s just me and Bucky."

"Aw, man!" You didn't look into the living room, even though you'd heard Steve's voice coming from there. When he hadn't texted you back this morning, you'd hoped you'd be walking in on him making Peggy breakfast. Since you weren't… "Fine, then I’m actually taking some of your coffee so you can explain."

As you poured yourself a cup of coffee and doctored it the way you liked it, Steve watched Bucky drink his hangover cure and try to look casual as he nervously awaited your appearance.

When you did appear, sipping your coffee, his Adam's apple bobbed as he choked a little. He found the tank and shorts pajama set you were wearing bafflingly sexy. Gray jersey knit edged in pink lace on you was more alluring to Bucky than any other woman in silk.

His gaze caught on the curves of your breasts under that soft looking lace, so he didn't see the look of consternation on your face as you took in his bedraggled appearance. "Jesus, Bucky-bug! The hell happened to you?"

Bucky didn't answer, his voice locked in his throat at the sight of you like this, wishing this was the first morning of something more instead of whatever the fuck this was. He didn't know what to say or how to act when you seemed so unaffected by something that had shaken him to the core of his being. Steve chimed in when the silence stretched and you looked to him, confused. "He was tanked and incoherent when I got home last night."

You scowled and your lip curled in bemusement. "That’s weird."

"Especially since Gamora said he was supposed to be hanging out with you."

You sat on the chair next to Steve's side of the couch and crossed your legs casually. "I’m not on trial here," you said calmly and with a raised eyebrow for Steve. It was taking everything you had not to crack and freak out, because you'd expected Bucky to be in his bed, not sitting on the couch looking worse for wear.

Bucky made the most fleeting of eye contact with you, and in it you saw a lot that gave you hope, but a lot that made no sense. You tilted your head in confusion at the guilt and… resentment… you could see there. Bucky broke your gaze to chug down the rest of his drink. When it was gone, he set the glass on the coffee table and got up, walking out of the room without a word.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on around here?" Steve sounded fully done with this shit. It didn't happen often, but occasionally Steve moved into this command mode and he became even more stubborn and difficult to manage than normal.

You shot back, exasperated, "I don't know! We watched Disney movies and ate pizza." Steve's face softened, and so did your tone. "I thought we had fun. He was sober and laughing when I took off." You shrugged a little and dipped your head as you took a sip of your coffee. That last image of him naked in sheets you'd tangled together popped into your head and made your blood heat.

Steve knew your face even better now that he'd spent countless hours focused on it, either during your sessions or as he worked on the final paintings. Though he could see you weren't lying, he could also see you weren't being entirely honest. "I feel like there's a lot you're not telling me."

"Maybe you don't need to worry about me?" you said, sweetly, with a winning smile.

Steve didn't smile back. "Maybe I'm worried about Bucky," he replied sternly.

The smile fell immediately from your face. This was not what you had been expecting but based on the odd circumstances you'd walked into this morning; you couldn't say you blamed him. "We're working it out, Steve," you confessed, softly. "I know you want to help, but I think we've got to figure this out for ourselves." You smiled again, the corners of your lips curling gently as you tried to both reassure and remove any sting from your words. "But if Bucky wants to talk to you about it, that's up to him."

"Okay," Steve smiled back this time, though he still looked worried around the eyes. "Will you talk to him?"

You smirked a little, but with a touch of exasperation. "I was already gonna. I wanna know why the fuck he was drunk when you got home, too. I meant it when I said I thought we had fun."

You took another sip of your coffee, then stood, setting the half-full cup on the coffee table as you went. You saw no reason to let this fester. You’d come to the conclusion that's what had gotten you all into this mess in the first place. Letting things fester and go unsaid. You weren't going to be able to change all of that overnight, but here seemed a good place to start.

You knocked on Bucky's door with your habitual rap and called softly, "Bucky-bug?" There was a longer pause than you expected, but the door swung open. You couldn't help but notice he still hadn't put on a shirt and all that skin was making your fingertips itch again. If he'd looked a little less surly, you'd probably have taken him up on his offer to cure that particular affliction. You smiled and let your gaze wander over those muscles a little but kept your hands to yourself. "Hey sweetie. You okay?"

Bucky noticed your eyes wandering and glanced down at your hands. You were rubbing your fingertips and thumbs together and he wondered if you were being more literal than flirty last night. The reminder that as cool as you may appear this morning, you'd burned like the sun for him last night took the edge off his temper. "Yeah, just hungover."

He turned and walked back to sit on the edge of his bed, but left the door open in invitation. You took him up on it but closed the door behind you. You leaned against it as you looked him over, trying to pin down what exactly was wrong with him this morning.

"Are you feeling guilty about this?" you asked with a touch of incredulity. You couldn't believe that was it, but he looked sad and sorry. "We’re grownups," you went on, teasing him gently, "We can do what we want."

Bucky couldn't stop the chuckle your sly, sultry look caused, nor the hardening of his cock. He'd seen that look too many times the night before. That laugh had you moving toward him. Instead of sitting next to him on the bed as he expected, however, you turned and slid onto thighs, to his delighted confusion. "It's not that, babygirl," he answered as he welcomed you into his lap, amazed when you linked your arms around his neck and focused on his face. "I loved every second of last night with you," he breathed, tempted by your mouth so close to his.

You grinned cheerfully. "I know, right? Fan-fucking-tastic." Bucky laughed again as you tilted your head to rest it against his shoulder but still look up at him. "So, what's the problem?"

Bucky was caught in your eyes, in the sweet expression on your face. Last night you had been closed to anything he could bring you except the physical. This morning, however, he felt like you'd opened, like he could give you more and you'd accept it. He took a deep breath. "Is that it?" he asked, his voice an aching rumble. "Am I supposed to pretend it didn't happen? Am I supposed to pretend I don't want it to happen again?" As he spoke, his head dipped until his mouth was once more a breath from yours.

You neither moved forward nor away, uncertain what he was asking. "I don't know." You shrugged. "I'm trying to figure it out. Wanna help?" The last you said with your sultry smile and the glide of gentle fingertips over the back his neck.

Bucky shivered as goosebumps erupted over his skin at the feel of your hands brushing over him. "What about Steve?" he whispered.

You squinted up at him, confused. "What about Steve?" Thinking about it, you figured Bucky was right to wonder about his reaction considering how protective of you Steve had been in the past. You shrugged again. "If you want, we won’t tell him."

Bucky's hand was sliding up your outer thigh and you couldn't find a thing you didn't like about it. "He didn’t just ask?" he rumbled, and you could tell that being close to you was as exhilarating for him as it was for you.

You smirked, then shifted your hips slightly as though you were trying to get comfortable. Bucky groaned a little in his throat at the feel of your ass rubbing against him. "Of course, he did," you grinned. "But this is between you and me." You paused a moment. Lifting your head, you looked him in the eye and gave him a lightly challenging smile. "I asked him to let us work it out for ourselves."

Bucky smirked back, enjoying you. The challenge on your face made his heart race, both in excitement and hope. Maybe winning you back, despite how he'd fucked up, wasn't the pipe dream he feared. "If that's what you want, babygirl."

You gave him a sudden smacking kiss and hopped to your feet, breaking the sexual tension in the process. "I want you to stop being such a drama queen and come have coffee while I grill Steve about his date last night." You stomped to the door as you spoke in mock exasperated tones and opened it, holding it for him with a flourish.

Bucky laughed and got to his feet. "Yeah, I can get in on that."

"I thought you might."

Bucky stopped in front of you to wrap his deliciously brawny arms around you in an almost chaste hug, if not for the erection pressing against your stomach. "How are you even more beautiful today than you were yesterday?" he murmured in your ear.

You shivered a little and hugged him back. "You're still a little drunk?"

Part Ten here

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[hopelessromanticspoonie]

To Keep You Safe

Title: A guy like you should wear a warning

Chapter: 6/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E (later on)

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions!

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Language, making out

~~~

Thanks to my speedy healing powers I was able to leave the infirmary the day after Loki’s late-night visit. I was still prescribed extreme amounts of rest and a moderate amount of painkillers, so I used the time when the others were busy working or training to unpack the boxes from my apartment and truly decorate my suite. Now that I wasn’t working myself into the ground each day, I had hours and hours to kill. If I was going to be staying here a while, so it might as well feel like home.

I had more in control of my powers so I allowed myself the luxury of putting out my small potted succulents and aloe plant onto the windowsill, having retrieved them from Pepper’s office after she had nabbed them for safe-keeping ages ago. I wanted to replace the duvet with mine from home, but moving up from a meager full-sized bed to a king meant that wasn’t going to work. It was easy to order another through F.R.I.D.A.Y., and a simple plush forest green duvet cover arrived promptly. Steve helpfully reassembled one of my bookshelves for me and put it up next to the couch in the sitting area. I finished that off by filling it to the brim with my extensive book collection.

The last bits of personal memorabilia were my drawing supplies. I hadn’t touched them in years, truthfully not since I began distracting myself after New York with work, but I had little else to do in my free time. I wasn’t allowed to train yet, and my job as Tony’s assistant had already been filled by someone else. Plus, I can only watch reruns of The Office so many times. So, my sketchbooks were scattered across my coffee table, with the one currently in use on my bedside table when I wasn’t lugging it around as I puttered about. A pouch of charcoal was always alongside it, along with a black-stained once-white towel to wipe off my hands.

So, in the interim of getting injured and being allowed to train, I drew. I now had a designated spot on the couch parked in front of the TV that was left open for me to curl up beneath a black blanket, to avoid stains, and draw as I socialized. My sketches started as complete and total trash from my lack of practice, but after a few attempts, my friends went from looking like misshapen cartoon characters to actual people on the page. If you squinted and tilted your head a little. And allowed for artistic license. But it was a work in progress like everything else in my life.

One surprising figure who kept appearing in my sketchbook turned out to be Loki. Whenever I was out of my room, he seemed to be as well. Keeping to the shadows and himself, but still present. His penetrating gaze drilled holes into the sides and back of my head as I went about my day. When I’d look up to catch his eye he stared back unabashedly with that same look of puzzlement that he had worn during our last conversation. Because even though he had been my new shadow, he never approached me, and I couldn’t even begin to think of what to say to him. 'Hey, so, you totally saved my life and now we don’t seem to hate each other and I don’t know what that’s about or what to do about it. So, what’s up? Stalk much?' That didn’t feel right. So I just left it be. If he wanted more answers so that he could wipe the curious look off of his face, it was very clear that he knew where to find me. Even if I couldn’t see him, like when I went on walks with Thor or Sam to keep my strength up while I healed, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I felt his eyes upon me.

And each night, when I would wake screaming and sobbing in bed from visions of the Hydra men I had slaughtered, he was there. After the first night when I sent my trusty ole rock flying at, and then through, his expressionless face and learned that it was just a projection, it became routine. I’d wake up shrieking, drenched in cold sweat, and there would be an illusion of the Trickster God sitting on my couch watching over me. Never talking, never approaching me, just keeping guard over me with a steady gaze. Even though he wasn’t physically there, I knew that he was just on the other side of the wall, having woken from my cries and sending his doppelganger to me. Some tiny part of me took comfort in knowing that I wasn’t alone, and it was that part that I clung to as I fell back to sleep each time. That part only grew with each occurrence of his reliable appearances for my night terrors.

Should I have been more creeped out by it? Probably. This could go into stalker pasty vampire territory real fast. But I was so desperate for any sort of comfort that I began to search for him immediately after I was wrenched from my haunting dreams, a sigh of relief huffing out of my mouth when I saw him sitting at his post. It wasn’t good for me in the slightest to become so reliant on his steady presence, but it helped too much for me to put an end to it. What was it hurting? Besides our sleep schedules, of course. But mine was damned either way.

So, with little else to do, I drew him. If he could be a creep, so could I. I kept him in the corner of my eye whenever I would sit and sketch. And through my workings, I continued the exploration of the distant but oh-so-present god that I had begun in the infirmary. My fingers became familiar with the sharp lines of his cheekbones. The harsh angle of his jawbone. The slant and curve of his lips from the ever-present smirk. My eyes knew the breadth of his shoulders and the lean yet defined muscle filling out his standard button-down shirt. His long, spindly fingers were familiar to me not only from touch but now sight as well. And it was easy to fill my pages with his exceptionally well-proportioned figure while carrying on with everyone else. They got uncomfortable as the subjects of my sketches, but Loki was unwilling to talk to me to voice his opinion. As the only one to do so, he became my easiest muse.

~~~

After two weeks of rest, recuperation, and doodling, I was finally allowed to return to my training sessions with Nat and Wanda. And even in those, Loki lingered at the fringes. At first the others took notice, just as I had long ago, and waited for him to take action or say something or do anything to give a reason for his continued presence. It was one thing to always be about in the living room or grounds but harder to explain when he was always fifteen steps behind me. But when nothing happened and no explanations were given they tuned him out as I had learned to. If he wanted to be the ghost of my life, that was his prerogative. I needed to get my ass back in shape.

This was made all the more apparent as Nat slammed my body onto the training mat for the fifteenth time during our latest training session. My back was becoming far too familiar with the dark mats that cushioned my repeated falls.

“Knock the wind out of ya?” she asked, smirking down at me and offering her hand to help me up.

With a gasp and nod, I took her hand and allowed her to yank me gracelessly to my feet. I braced my hands on my knees, taking deep breaths and blinking the stars from my eyes.

“Tony talked to us and we all agree. We’re not leaving you as unprepared as you were before. So, catch your breath, because we’re not done yet,” she declared, holding out my reusable water bottle for me.

I drank heavily from it and even poured some on the top of my head, relishing the ice-cold water on my sweaty body.

“Then bring it on,” I tossed my water bottle to the edge of the mat. “I haven’t had my ass kicked in enough different ways yet.”

And Nat seemed to take that as a challenge. In the next hour she pinned me, tossed me to the floor, and put me in various holds until I tapped out probably 20 more times. At least.

“Good job, Jen. You lasted longer than I expected,” she praised me, tossing a towel on my prone form on the floor.

After she slammed me onto my back for the final time getting up didn’t seem like it needed to happen right away. The floor and I were good buddies by now and I just wanted to spend some more quality time with it. I groaned wordlessly, swiping the towel from my bare midriff and throwing it over my face. My entire body hurt, but my shoulder was the worst of all. An itchy, burning sensation pulsed with my heartbeat beneath the gnarled mess of scar tissue just to the right of the strap of my sports bra. I scratched at it absentmindedly before standing up, throwing the towel around my neck.

“I mean it. You’ve been out of commission for almost three weeks. It’s hard to get back into it, especially with the God of Ghostliness checking you out the entire time,” she teased.

“Oh no, that was definitely not what he’s doing. He feels guilty and he’s just keeping tabs.” There wasn’t a universe where Loki, Prince of Asgard, would be eyeing me for that reason. “Plus, he probably gets a sick thrill from watching me eat dirt over and over again.”

“I know I do,” Nat joked, linking her arm through mine as we walked out of the gym toward the building housing our rooms. “But really. You’re wearing a sports bra and tight leggings, all hot and bothered from getting your ass kicked, and grunting and huffing and puffing. It’s definitely some guys’ thing.”

I rolled my eyes, not dignifying her speculations with a response besides that. I was an unknown to Loki, that was all. He was such an intelligent person that he probably didn’t like not understanding something, and he just hadn’t figured me out yet. Once he was satisfied with whatever mystery of my character that he was trying to solve he would go back to slinking around the Compound on his own.

That didn’t explain his almost-nightly visits to my room after my nightmares, but I had long ago concluded that I wasn’t going to understand his motivation for that, either. Probably something along the lines of wanting me to shut the hell up so that he could get some sleep. That sounded more like his style.

Nat pulled me out of my thoughts with her suddenly enthusiastic tone. “Hey, before I forget, Sam and I were thinking of heading to the city tonight. Maybe hitting up a club and getting some,” she paused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, “frustration out. You should come. After all, you did say you like dancing.”

“I was kidding! Tony asked me how I was feeling while I was in a hospital bed with a hole in my shoulder and brains falling out of my skull and I’m a sarcastic smartass when I'm tired! That doesn’t count!” I exclaimed, laughing as she pulled me toward the stairs. My jelly legs quickly redirected us to the elevator.

“Doesn’t matter. You haven’t left this place in over a month. You need to get out. You’re coming. After dinner you’re coming to my room, I’m throwing you into the slinkiest dress I can find, and we’re hitting the town.”

By that point we had reached the main living room, and she pushed me toward my door for a much-needed shower.

“It’s happening!”

~~~

True to her word, after we’d all eaten dinner I was dragged into Nat’s room. There wasn’t even time to protest as the assassin plopped me down onto her bed, aiming a stern finger at me before going about her diabolical plans to dress me up like a doll.

She went through her clothes like a madwoman, picking out dresses and holding them up to me, then frowning and tossing them aside onto a rapidly-growing pile of provocative frocks. I didn’t blame her for the struggle considering the differences we had. She was a bit bustier and curvier in all the right places than my taller, boxier frame. With my bigger hips, smaller ass, and longer legs, half of the dresses were tossed aside simply because we weren’t looking to get me arrested for indecent exposure.

Finally, after several minutes of searching and a mountain of rejected dresses, she shoved one into my hands. “This is it, I know it,” she exclaimed, shoving me toward the bathroom to change.

I stumbled inside and closed the door behind me, holding in a groan. Whatever she picked I knew it had to be far more risque than anything I’d ever choose for myself. But she got one thing right from the start: the color was my favorite: a deep emerald green. I didn’t see any sequins or sparkles, so that was a bonus. Mimicking a disco ball had never been high on my list of wardrobe choices.

But as soon as I put it on, after first running to my room and back to grab a strapless bra, I knew it wasn’t happening.

The high halter neckline of the dress revealed my fair, only slightly muscular shoulders, and as such, the twisted mess of raised pink scar tissue I wasn’t too keen on revealing. Following the dress down, more of my pale skin was revealed by cutouts on either side of my waist just above my hip bones. I only ever showed my midriff when I was working out, and that was because Tony seemed averse to air conditioning in the gym. This was a lot of skin. Plus, it was a dress and I just really didn’t want to wear one.

“Nat, this isn’t going to work,” I whined through the door, staring at my body critically in the mirror.

“Lemme see, Pebbles!”

Sighing heavily, I opened up the bathroom door and padded out into the bedroom. I even did a little twirl to prove just how much the dress did not work for me.

“I think that Tony is right about the Poison Ivy thing, especially in that dress. Damn, girl!”

“It’s too much, Nat!” I covered the fair skin revealed at my waist to the best of my ability, crossing my arms over myself.

“No, you look stunning! He’s not going to know what hit him,” she gushed, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to a vanity in the sitting area of her room. She pushed me down in front of it and began fussing with my hair.

“But it isn’t too much?” I asked quietly.

“Trust me, you’ll knock him dead,” she promised, twisting my hair into a bun on the back of my head.

Him?

~

One hour later, I looked myself over in the mirror while Natasha quickly got dressed, surveying her handiwork.

After existing in the dress for a while, I begrudgingly admitted to myself that it wasn’t the absolute worst. I still felt a little uncomfortable with how tight it was, but I was given some relief and breathing room with the slight flare of the skirt out from my hips. My dark brown hair had somehow been thrown up into a simple bun with just one long gold hair clip, a feat of epic proportions considering just how much hair I had. A delicate gold arm cuff resembling a snake wrapped around my bicep on my right arm, hopefully distracting from the scarring above it that wouldn’t disappear behind the dress no matter how much I tugged at it. My ever-present thumbprint necklace was completely hidden by the high neckline and collar of the dress. And to complete the outfit, much to Nat’s dismay, I snagged a pair of chunky black ankle boots from my closet. If I was going to be dragged out for a night on the town, I was not going to do it in the scary-high black stilettos she had offered to me. Breaking my ankles would probably put a damper on the evening.

At least my makeup was within my comfort zone. With subtle winged eyeliner, heavy mascara, and berry red lips I still looked like I tried without resembling a clown. As Nat said, 'You, but better.' I think it was a compliment.

“Oh! One last thing,” Natasha cried, popping up from finishing her makeup at the vanity and dashing out of the room. She reappeared moments later with Tony by her side.

“Damn, Poison Ivy. You look fantastic. I didn’t even recognize you.” Tony sauntered over to me, wrapping me in a brief one-armed hug before pulling back and holding out a polished wooden box from behind his back. “I know you may be feeling antsy about tonight, so I sent out for this.”

I blushed at Tony’s compliment and took the box over to the vanity. “Y’all really want that nickname to stick, huh?” I asked, rolling my eyes as I opened the surprise gift.

“It’s an obsidian dagger. It’s made out of volcanic glass, so you should be able to control it with your powers if you get in a tight spot. And that’s a thigh holster. It should work over or under your clothes. The leather is reinforced on the inside, so you can't cut through it. But be careful. That thing is sharp as hell.”

I stared at the beautiful, semi-translucent black dagger and holster nestled in the red velvet inside the box. With a flick of my wrist, the dagger slipped from the sheath and flew into my waiting hand. The blade itself was about the length of my hand, and the handle just long enough for me to comfortably grasp it.

“It’s perfect, Tony, thank you,” I beamed, pulling everything from the box and carefully sliding the knife back into its sheath.

Natasha snapped out of admiring the weapon from afar once it was put away and pushed Tony toward the door. “Now shoo! She needs to strap that thing on and you need to go home to Pepper.”

“You kids have fun! The car is waiting out front! Do something I would do!”

I rolled my eyes with a smile at Tony’s shouted parting words before looking back down at his gift. It was beautiful. And he was right. The heavy dread that had settled in my stomach lightened slightly with the promised protection of the deadly weapon. The slim holster easily slipped up my leg and under my dress, which was just long enough to cover it. When I stood up and looked in the mirror, the extra swing of fabric around my legs concealed it. I had been concerned, since, once holstered, the set-up ran from slightly below my hip bone to the middle of my thigh on the outside of my leg.

“Let’s go, Trouble,” Natasha called, leaving the bathroom and shoving her feet into a similar pair of stilettos to what she had tried to force me into earlier. She was stunning in the classic strapless little black dress that clung to her every curve. I don’t know how she thought I was going to get any attention from whoever the mysterious ‘him’ was that she kept referring to when I would be standing next to her drop-dead gorgeous ass.

We both grabbed our bags on the way out of her room, mine a tasteful black leather square clutch on a long, thin gold chain and hers a bright red clutch with black straps to match her heels.

As we left her room, we saw the third member of our party. Sam was waiting for us dressed to kill in a brown leather jacket, white t-shirt, and dark jeans. He was the embodiment of looking cool without trying too hard.

But to my surprise, another man was waiting for us in the living room. I stopped dead in my tracks when I took in Loki leaning casually against the arm of the couch. The slim black pants, dark gray button-down shirt, and fitted black blazer looked like they were made for him and him alone to wear.

Oh. Him.

The arrogant smirk he normally wore fell from his face as his piercing green eyes blazed a path down my body, lingering on the golden snake bicep cuff and cutouts. The offhand comments Nat had made and her very particular styling choices suddenly made much more sense as I watched Loki eye me appreciatively. I was going to kill her and her meddling ass, assassin or not.

She pushed me toward Loki before walking over to Sam and casually slipping her arm around his waist so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. I stumbled slightly and turned to glare at her, wishing that that dumb green box had given me face-melting laser powers right about now. When I turned back around, Loki was standing just inches away and was offering me his arm with a mischievous smile.

“You look absolutely divine,” he murmured, taking my left hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm.

“Thank you.” I blushed for the second time that night and lowered my gaze to the floor in front of us.

We followed Sam and Nat silently down the stairs, Loki’s arm tightening to trap my hand securely against his body as we descended together. While my dazzling friends in front of us chatted away excitedly about tonight’s plans, I couldn’t get over my shock to think of anything to say to the prince escorting me to the back row of the waiting black SUV. He took one of my hands in his, the other resting politely on the middle of my back as he helped me inside. After I was settled on the rich leather interior, he went to the other side and gracefully slipped in next to me.

Sam and Nat piled into the row in front of us, letting the driver know that we were ready to go. I fumbled with the seatbelt, my hands shaking and missing the buckle once, twice.

Along with the shock of Loki’s presence on our outing, I was suddenly very aware that this was the first time I was going to go out in public since getting my powers. I thought I had a good grip on them, but what if I didn’t? Would wherever we were going have anything around that I could accidentally use against someone if I got hurt? What if I lost it and used my new dagger on someone? Loki's steady hands covered mine and helped me on the third try, bringing me back to the car and making my breath hitch in my throat.

I pulled away and angled my face to look outside. My heart was threatening to jump out of my chest. Not because of how pleasant his cool fingers had felt on my warm skin, but because I was anxious about being around so many people again. Yep. That’s it. I kept my eyes trained outside the heavily tinted windows for some time, listening to Sam and Nat without actually hearing what they were saying. Anything to focus on besides Loki’s leg that pressed into my own each time we were jostled by the car.

After a few tense minutes, I cleared my throat and blurted out the one thought that wouldn’t stop nagging at me. “Why’d you come?”

Loki’s eyes met mine and held them prisoner in his own with their intensity. “To keep you safe.”

And that was that.

~~~

We pulled up to a stop outside of a busy club, a long line curled around the side of the building as people waited in the chilly September air to be allowed inside. After accepting Loki’s hand to help me out of the car, I stifled a groan at the thought of waiting in such a line with just the short dress I had on to shield me from the cold. Neither Nat nor myself had thought about the weather when she was playing makeover.

But I had not realized the power of who I was with as I trailed behind my friends. Loki, Sam, and Nat strolled confidently up to the bouncer, Nat flashing him a jaw-dropping smile and Sam slipping him an even more jaw-dropping collection of bills. With a satisfied smirk and leering eyes ogling Nat’s ample cleavage, the giant of a man waved us inside.

The thumping bass assaulted my ears after we stepped through the door behind the bouncer. The smell of sweat and mixing colognes and perfumes made me crinkle my nose. Multicolored lights flashed across the club, just light enough to illuminate the undulating dancers in the middle of the room without being so bright that they felt self-conscious. Along the edge against the brick walls were various couches scattered here and there, left in shadow to afford those resting from their revelry a bit of a break from the pandemonium.

Nat didn’t seem to notice any of it as she let go of Sam and grabbed my arm instead. She yanked me from Loki’s grip and led me to the nearest of two dark wooden bars. I looked back at Sam and Loki briefly before I was swallowed up by the crowd. The former was already moving in on a very attractive woman, and Loki remained standing tall and proud where I had left him, alabaster skin changing colors with the flashing colored lights around him. His piercing eyes tracked me until I was out of sight. I turned my attention back to my friend, following in her incredibly steady footsteps for her mile-high stilettos. We both leaned against the bar and she flagged down the bartender.

“Vodka cranberry please, make it a double!” I shouted, hoping that the bartender could make out what I was saying over the almost deafening music. I couldn’t even hear what Nat ordered and she was right beside me. She placed a large bill in his hand after our two drinks were in front of us and shouted something else that I couldn’t pick up.

I grabbed mine and took a drink, grateful to discover that he had heard my order correctly. I didn’t have time to savor the drink, as Nat caught my attention by holding up a shot of clear liquid in front of me suggestively.

“No! I can’t hold my alcohol!” I shouted, shaking my head dramatically at her and attempting to push the liquor back in her direction.

She leaned into me, pushing the shot back into my hand. “Yes! What have you got to lose?”

With a groan, I accepted the shot and hastily poured it down my throat, wincing at the burn of vodka that I felt all the way down to my stomach. I chased it with a sip of my drink. It was a smart move for my taste buds, but not necessarily my liver. Too late now.

Her drink now in hand, Nat grabbed my free hand with hers and pulled me out onto the dance floor. I could see Sam off to the side, getting very familiar with the woman he had approached earlier. Loki was nowhere to be found, but he had to be close. He wouldn’t come all this way just to leave. He was most likely off taking advantage of the inebriated patrons and the dark surroundings, God of Mischief that he was. This was probably his twisted version of a candy store.

I felt the shot working its way through my system, warming my body and loosening up the strangled tightness that had gripped my chest in the car earlier. I could feel the power coursing through my veins, but it wasn’t hard to tamp it down and focus on the buzz in my head instead. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all. I allowed myself to give in to the infectious anonymity of the pulsing darkness, laughing and dancing with Nat.

Several songs and one more drink later, I was working my way passed tipsy and toward drunk, and I needed a break. I gestured toward the bar, but Nat shook her head and closed her eyes while she kept on dancing. It didn’t hurt my feelings any. She deserved to let loose just as much as I did and I didn’t need babysitting just to go get another drink and take a load off for a minute. I pushed my way through the crowd of sweaty bodies to the bar and plopped down on a barstool.

I pressed a bill from my clutch into the bartender’s hand when he came around to me, asking for another vodka cranberry. He went off to make my drink, and once he was back and the beverage was lightly grasped in my hand I closed my eyes for a moment to focus on catching my breath.

A cool hand settled onto the exposed skin at my waist and an arm stretched across my back. I opened my eyes to see someone plucking the drink from my hand before retreating quickly.

“What the fuck?” I swore loudly, whipping around to see Loki looking at me over his shoulder as he sauntered away, my drink held tauntingly in his slightly raised hand. He slipped into the crowd and I was just barely able to make out the top of his head among the throng of dancers.

I hopped off of the barstool a little less gracefully than I would have liked. I was at least grateful that I was able to pick my way through the crowd without stumbling into anybody despite the alcohol in my system.

While it had been easy to find him when I had been removed from the crowd thanks to his height, once I was surrounded by people I lost him. A growl of frustration passed through my lips. The God of Mischief was a real pain in my ass.

“Lose something?” The words were passed to me over the din of the club through smooth lips pressed against the shell of my ear.

I turned around to see Loki watching me with a smirk on his lips and mischief glinting in his eyes. I tried to be quick and snag my drink from him, but he lifted it higher so that all I succeeded in doing was looking like an idiot.

He stooped down to speak lowly into my ear again. “Your drink for a dance, little one.”

“Are you serious?’ I shouted, glaring at him as he pulled away. The quirk of his brow signified that his proposal was indeed very serious.

I contemplated just going back to the bar and getting another drink. It wasn’t like I didn’t have the money, with what Tony paid I could retire today and live a modest, but comfortable, life. But it was the principle of the thing that mattered. He was throwing down the gauntlet and I was just stubborn enough and drunk enough to pick it up.

I shrugged my shoulders in light acceptance of his terms and he closed the distance between us to place a large hand on the small of my back. I draped my arms around his shoulders and made sure to press back against his hand as I rolled my body to the beat that reverberated through my boots from the floor.

His pale skin was the perfect canvas for the colored lights to saturate as he stared down at me moving against him. I couldn’t help the smirk of my own as he pulled me closer to him until our chests brushed. I blamed the alcohol and exercise for the cause of my heart beating erratically in my chest and my uneven breaths. It wasn’t the darkening of his eyes as my hips rolled against his. And it was most definitely not the solid muscles that flexed against me with each twist of his body. Nor was it the wolfish smile that pulled on his lips as his hand skated across my back to grip onto the exposed feverish flesh on my side.

He used the leverage he gained from this new position to turn me around so that my back was to his front. I felt every angle of him against me as he pulled me flush against him, from his rigid chest curling into the back of my bare shoulders to his hips grinding deliciously against the padding of my ass. The hand not holding my drink rested on my flat stomach, keeping me against him as we moved together to the pounding bass. My arms reached up above me so that my hands could resume their place around the nape of his neck, consequently opening my body up to him for his perusal.

Surprisingly, he didn’t take advantage. His hand remained stretched across my soft stomach, holding me to him, but the other moved down around me until my drink was poised in front of my lips. Emboldened by the heady mixture of alcohol and his masculine scent surrounding me, I tilted my head forward enough to down what was left of my cocktail after he had seemingly taken his own drinks from it if the low level of liquid was anything to go by. The glass disappeared from his hand, which was now free to trail across my jaw and hook on my chin, turning my head so that his nose brushed against my cheek and his breaths panted out against my sweat-dampened skin.

“You have had your drink. You are free to go.” His words were at odds with his hand, which held me captive against him by digging pleasantly into my hip.

We had fulfilled the bargain that he had given me. I danced with him, and he had given me what remained of my drink. But it sounded like too much work to go find Nat, Sam was most definitely enjoying time with some random beautiful woman, and I had to admit that Loki was an amazing dance partner. Why would I leave him to go dance alone, or worse, have some random brute grind up on me and try to cop a feel? I knew, well kinda, what to expect with him, so I just laughed in response and dragged my nails against his sensitive skin at the nape of his neck.

Over the pounding music, I felt more than heard the rumble of his chest at my actions, and the sound sent chills through me. His large hands took to roaming over my body as we danced, never staying in one spot for too long. Dragging from the outside of my thighs to my hips to brush across my stomach to reach up and trail down my upraised arms and back again, leaving fire in their wake.

I shut down the logical part of my brain that told me that I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. That this was Loki, the god who hated me and was nothing but his own needs. Future me could worry about that. Right now I was too engrossed in the exhilarating movement of his body against mine to do anything about it. Especially when he ducked his head so that his lips trailed across my bare shoulder. It was intoxicating.He was intoxicating.

“What do we have here?” he purred, voice velvet sin behind me. His hands had stalled their movements on the outside of my legs, and one hand toyed with the edges of my dagger over the fabric of my dress.

I turned around in his arms and moved my hands down to rest against his chest. “Insurance,” I smirked up at him.

He chuckled darkly and looked positively sinister as he loomed over me. “Plan on using it?” he asked, his groping fingers reaching behind me to gather a healthy amount of my backside in their clutches.

I smiled sweetly up at him as I released him to reach behind me and take his hands into mine. “Only if you don’t keep your hands to yourself,” I replied, slipping out of his grasp and walking away.

When I peeked over my shoulder for his reaction, he was where I had left him, watching me stroll away with a predatory gleam in his eye that sent a rush of heat through me. The logical side of me had disappeared some time ago, sent away by the sensual roll of his hips against mine, so I shot him a wink before slipping through the crowd toward the edges of the bar, one of the dark leather couches calling my name.

What the hell was that wink?

I found an empty couch in the shadows and perched on the armrest, taking care to keep my thighs firmly closed together and my skirt draped over the lethal weapon I was hiding. Wouldn’t do for anyone to see anything they shouldn’t. It was much easier to breathe now that he wasn’t holding me so tightly to him, and I bowed my head as I focused on cooling and calming down.

“You need to rehydrate.” The words came from above me as a pale hand holding a glass of water slipped into my field of view.

Like any intelligent woman who had had alcohol in public before, I knew better than to accept a drink that I hadn’t seen made. I lifted my eyes to Loki, expecting to see the same lascivious expression on his face as I had last seem him, but only finding a light concern furrowing his brow instead. But he wasn’t looking at me. He straightened up while I watched him and turned partially around to stare off into the crowd. When he turned back to face me, an urgency had taken over his features.

The seriousness of his expression cut through my buzz and I stood up as quickly as I could manage from my awkward position on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

He seemed to grapple with something for a moment as he searched my face, indecision in his darting eyes and twitching fingers. When it appeared that he had made a decision, judging by the forced exhale through his nose and his hands reaching out to steady themselves on my waist, he stepped closer and stooped down so that our foreheads were almost touching. “Do you trust me, little one?”

My hands immediately went up to exhibit a light pressure on his chest, keeping him from getting any closer as I studied him. There wasn’t a smirk, mischievous grin, or pleased smile on his face to indicate that he was trying to trick me. The hunger that I had detected in his eyes earlier had been wiped clean and replaced with anxious sincerity. It was startling to see him change so abruptly.

Did I trust him? I mean, he hadn’t threatened to stab me in several weeks, so that was an improvement. And I sure as hell had been dancing with him just a few minutes ago like I did. I had picked to dance with him instead of going at it alone because I knew that he wasn’t going to be a creep about it. But trust implied something deeper. Built on a bond and respect and a mutual understanding. I wasn’t sure if I had that with him. He wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important, though. And it must be, to cause the visible tension in his body.

“Um, I guess so. Sure.” That was the best answer that I could give him. He was going to have to take it or leave it.

“Then trust me in this and do not hit me.”

“Don't hit-”

My words were swallowed by his lips swooping down onto my own. I froze under the suddenness of it. When I didn’t respond to his ministrations he dragged his lips from my mouth to my ear.

“I’m in contact with Sam and Natasha. They believe that Hydra has tracked us here and is searching for us. Public displays of affection make people uncomfortable. We can disappear as another amorous couple seeking our pleasure in the shadows,” he explained quickly.

Nat had told me about that tactic. It was a common one, easy to execute if you had the wiles or knew your partner in a mission. I certainly didn’t have the first, but I had a bit more of the second now than I did at the beginning of the evening. If Nat thought that it would work now, and Loki agreed, who was I to argue?

He was waiting, tensed, for me to decide the next course of action. He was allowing me the option of going along with the plan or backing out. The very notion that he wasn’t going to force me into an uncomfortable situation after I had shown hesitance was one that I wouldn't have expected from him. He was known for taking what he wanted and begging no forgiveness, not for politely doling out options in times of distress.

My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gathering the smooth material into my palms. I tilted my head back enough to look up at him and traced the elegant contours of his face with my gaze, taking in the unexpected kindness that warmed his bright eyes. I tilted my face up to him and closed my eyes before bridging the small gap between our lips in a searching kiss.

I wasn’t sure what I expected kissing him to be like, I hadn’t truly thought about it, but it wasn’t this. His lips were so soft and tasted of vodka and cranberries as they worked expertly against me. His hands splayed out against waist and pulled me until our bodies were pressed together from hips to chest. The contact, so easy to facilitate earlier on the dance floor, was now much more charged and it coaxed a gasp from my throat.

That small noise seemed to awaken something within him, and the gentle exploration of my mouth turned more passionate, his tongue snaking out to tease the seam of my lips and beg for entrance. I granted it willingly and melted into him. My body moved on its own accord as he stoked molten flames beneath my skin. My fingers released their grip of his expensive shirt to wind around his neck and tangle in his long black hair. I lightly scratched at his scalp, remembering his pleasure at it while dancing, drawing a low groan from him that shot straight to the heat that was pooling in my lower belly.

His long body surrounded me. He walked us back until I was trapped between his body and the wall, pinned by his leg slipping between my own. When I wrenched my mouth away to gasp for the air that his embrace had stolen from me he took it in stride and moved his scorching lips to caress the delicate skin of my neck.

Just as soon as his tongue snaked out to lave against the pulse that was hammering in my throat, he froze, his once-relaxed muscles tensing against me. His hands left my body to press against the wall on either side of me as he towered over me. As if he could make me disappear behind his lean frame.

“We have to move. Now,” he panted, taking my hand in his and pulling me quickly behind him as we fled the relative safety of the shadows.

He led us to a metal exit door and we spilled outside. The chill of the air soothed my flushed skin and helped clear the haze that had settled over my mind. Loki held my hand behind his back as he looked around the dark alleyway we found ourselves in. The faint bass from the club stopped, and two gunshots reached my ears through the thin door behind us. Screaming patrons poured out of the front of the club. Thankfully they ignored our dark figures pressed against the rough brick wall.

“It’s Hydra. They discovered Sam and Natasha. We need to leave.” He kept his death grip on my hand as he pulled me deeper into the alley and away from the entrance.

“Don’t take another step.” A voice pierced through the screams, shooting ice-cold fear through my veins.

Loki turned around and pulled me with him, keeping his body between me and whoever had spoken. I peered around his shoulders to see two men slowly approaching us, guns pointed at Loki’s head.

Hydra had found us.

[underoosweb]

Could I request a clintxreader with either injury and tender care or flu/sickness and lots of fluff? Thanks!

I got you

"Fuuu..." Was all that came out of your mouth, you knew this was going to happen when you felt your throat become itchy a couple days ago but you chose to ignore it. You rubbed your throat and sighed, you shook your head, nope the flu was not going to win. You made your way to the training room, you were training with Clint today, you knew you had to hide that fact that you felt gross. Opening the door, you were met with Clint's blue eyes. His face lit up, walking towards him, you smiled.

"Hey, babe."

"Hey," you wrapped your hands around his waist.

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" You asked with a smile, Clint scoffed

"In your dreams."

"Bring it on."

Clint had been trying to pin you down for 30 minutes now, Every time he got close, you managed to slip away, but you were starting to feel worse. You were drenched in sweat, shivering, headaches and breathing heavier than normal. Clint stopped when he noticed you shaking.

"You alright?"

"Y-yeah, why?"

"You're shaking."

"I'm fine."

"Ok, so that means you're not fine. What's wrong?" He said, crossing his arms

"Nothing," you lunged at him, he grabbed you and pinned you down, straddling your hips, pinning your arms above your head, he placed one hand on your forehead

" Jesus, babe, you're burning up." You tapped his arm to let go of your hands and quickly covered your mouth, coughing up a storm and wheezing.

"Alright, time for bed." He said, lifting you and carrying you. You started to whine and protest, but he just ignored you. Clint asked Steve to open the door and he placed you gently on the bed. Clint tucked you in

"FRIDAY?"

"It seems that Y/N has the flu, a fever of a 101."

"Thank you, FRIDAY."

"Tattle- tale." You said, voice scratchy.

"I'm going to be right back ok?" You nodded and rolled over, closing your eyes and welcomed sleep.

You felt the bed shift and lips press against your forehead, you opened your eyes and saw Clint sitting on the edge of the bed

"How you feeling?"

"Ughhh..." You croaked out, Clint let out a chuckle

"That good huh? I made you some soup and brought crackers with water." You sniffled and coughed

"Thank you." Clint placed the breakfast tray in front of you, you really didn't feel like eating. Clint grabbed the spoon

"Open up," you took the bite

"Good?"

"I can't taste anything..."

"Well at least you won't be able to judge me on my horrible cooking skills." He laughed and gave you another spoonful

"If I get worse cause of your terrible cooking skills, I'm kicking your ass." You said taking another spoonful

"Oooo, feisty. Sounds like you're getting better already." He smiled, you rolled your eyes. You reached for your water and chugged the whole thing. Clint smiled at you and continued to feed you, halfway through you couldn't eat anymore

"One more bite?"

"I'm full,"

"Alright," he moved the tray to the dresser and placed his hand on your forehead

"You're not burning up anymore,"

"Mmmm,"

"How about a bath?"

"I don't want to get up,"

Clint stood and made his way to the bathroom, you heard the water run, you snuggled into the blankets even more. Clint appeared and lifted you up, he sat you in the toilet

"My little burrito." He said laughing, you smiled weakly, blanket wrapped all around you. The water was filled and full of bubbles, he unwrapped you from your burrito form, stripping off your clothes. He picked you up and placed you in the tub. He stripped and got into the tub behind you, your back against his chest, you turned slightly, resting your head on the nape of his neck. You felt his lips on your forehead. He grabbed the lofa, cleaning you, he washed your hair and massaged your back. You could stay like this for hours.

"We got to get out before the water gets cold." You whined, he stood, drying himself, wrapping the towel around his waist. He helped you stand, getting out of the tub, he grabbed the towel and dried you off, he wrapped the towel around your body. You made your way to the bedroom as Clint drained the tub, you looked through the drawers, pulling out some underwear, putting them on. Clint changed quickly and looked for your favorite onsie, you smiled and thanked him when he handed it to you. He placed you on the couch, combing through your hair and blowdryed it. You smiled, making your way to the bed, he laid down next to you, pulling you to his chest.

"Yay, cuddling" you mumbled against his chest

"Movie?"

"Please?" Clint put your favorite movie on, you looked up at him

"What did I do to deserve you?"

"You're just lucky, I guess." He shrugged and smiled

"Seriously, you're so good to me."

"Well, I got the best girl in the world." He looked down at you and placed a kiss on your lips

"You're going to get sick."

"Worth it." He mumbled against your lips, placing another kiss upon them.

---------

1 week later

"Babe!"

"Coming!" You turned and made your way into the bedroom

"What's up?" You looked up and saw Clint, surrounded by tissues, nose red, throwing a coughing fit.

"You got me sick."

"I told you if you kissed me you were going to get sick," you said, sitting on the bed, placing your hand on his forehead, he grabbed it, bringing it to his lips

"Totally worth it," he smiled