#You know how Steve from Blues Clues in no way intended for that to be his life but he ended up being the perfect fit????

[nosferatufaggot]

If Magnus Scheving rebooted Lazytown, this guy could be like a Number Eleven. Sportacus's successor.

And funnily enough, someone had a similar (non Lazytown related) thought.

No cuz look at this other video he'd genuinely be a 10/10 Sportacus.

[howdoyousleep3]

Pairing: 3DWD/Bunny Baby Rating: Mature Word Count: 2.7K Tags: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Power Dynamics, New Relationship, Confession of Feelings, Origin Story, Groping, Office "Sex", Orgasm Denial, Teasing, Age Difference, Size Kink, Yearning (oh the yearning, the chase!) A/N: Woke up one morning thinking about them, couldn't stop myself from pouring it all out into a doc. I don't think about their beginnings enough. I hope you enjoy. ❤️

Bucky suspects something is amiss when he feels more eyes on him than he’s used to as he walks into the office after lunch. 

Truthfully, he’s used to eyes on him wherever he goes, but he’s not used to the silence. 

Hmm. 

He carries on down the hallway towards his office, unbothered yet curious. He quickly stops to check in with Pepper, confirming their outing with their newest client to the nearby fabric district. Bucky is grateful she seems as excited as she is; it’s always thrilling to take on a new client and start a project from the ground up. 

He turns and heads towards his office, fully intending on spending the next hour he has before their outing ensuring his deliveries and meeting times at the Romanoff house later tonight are squared away, when he stops in his tracks. 

The second and final clue that something is amiss. 

He’s embarrassed to admit it, to recognize it. 

Steve is here. 

Bucky can smell him. That overwhelming and intoxicating smell of masculinity, of ruggedness. Cinnamon, sandalwood, citrus; it drives Bucky insane that he can’t pinpoint what the notes are. Steve has claimed he doesn’t wear a cologne. Bucky calls bullshit. 

Nobody smells that good, naturally and without any help. 

Nobody. 

The smell of Steve in his office building, on his floor, nearby, immediately puts him on edge. He wills his knees to keep him upright even when his body and mind want to cave immediately. There’s no way Steve is here. Bucky must be imagining it, his subconsciousness conjuring up the smell in his mind in order to distract him, in order to force Bucky to think of Steve when he’s convinced himself he doesn’t want to. 

No, he won’t be distracted by a crush, by a one-night-stand. 

He reaches for his keys, opens his office door with ease— 

And nearly falls to the floor. 

Steve is here. In his office, standing at his office window seemingly admiring the view of the city just outside it. 

What is Steve doing here? More importantly, how did he get into Bucky’s office? 

When Steve turns to look at him, expression riddled with proud mischievousness, Bucky immediately takes pause. He can’t let Steve think he has the upper hand even though he’s surprised Bucky at his place of work. He can’t let Steve’s sweet talking ways and his rugged sex appeal chip away at Bucky’s self-control and boundaries. 

This is unacceptable. 

But Christ, Steve looks good. 

He looks better than good— he looks sexy as hell. 

His beard is neatly trimmed, his hair infuriatingly windswept. He looks as if he’s come off the farm after a long day's work: well-worn jeans, a navy blue henley that clings to the bulk in his arms, a pair of reliable boots. A leather bomber jacket with a sherpa collar is tossed carelessly across one of the chairs opposite of Bucky’s desk. The ensemble’s sticker price would send Bucky reeling into a coma, but one would never know it. 

He’s certain Steve doesn’t even know how much his clothes cost and that’s because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have to care. And the thought of Steve not caring about price tags is enough to ratchet up the arousal Bucky is trying uselessly to ignore. 

Stay strong. 

“Hey, Bunny…” 

Fuck. 

Bucky’s willpower clings to its existence. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, steps into his office, and closes the door behind him. He ignores Steve’s pet name for him even though it digs under his skin in the hottest of ways. Nobody has ever given him a pet name. Bucky doesn’t do pet names, is too strong-willed and confident for them. No partner has ever babied him or given him sweet names or worshipped the ground he walks on. 

Steve did it from the moment they locked eyes. 

Bucky sends out feelers for his willpower, questions if it even exists when it comes to Steve. 

“What are you doing here?” is all Bucky can damn near choke out. He steels his spine and walks to his desk, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. 

When he chances a glance up and over at Steve, he nearly whimpers. Fuck, he’s so sexy, Bucky can barely stand to look at him. 

Steve shrugs. 

“I was in the area, thought I’d stop by.” 

A lie, one that Bucky can call him out on. 

“No you weren’t. There’s nothing around here that would interest you.” 

Steve chuckles and the noise goes right to Bucky’s groin. 

“You interest me,” he says matter of factly, pushing away from the window. “Thought I made that pretty clear, Buck.” 

Bucky swallows audibly, makes a show of turning his computer on. 

Yeah, pretty fucking clear. The older man has all but professed his love for Bucky, sent him endless gift deliveries, whispered his affection and awe into Bucky’s skin, laid himself bare and—

Stop. 

No sex, don’t think about sex with Steve, god. 

“How’d you get in here?” Bucky presses, ignoring the hot press of Steve’s presence against the line of his back.

He can sense Steve’s easy grin even if he doesn’t chance another look up at him. 

“I sweet talked my way in. I’m pretty good at sweet talkin’. Ain’t that right, Bun?” 

He doesn’t think Steve understands the power of his sweet talking ways, even as he jokes about it. 

Bucky thinks he’s sweating, can feel the drops of it pooling in the curve of his lower back, can feel it on his upper lip. It’s embarrassing. He can command a boardroom, lead a design team, walk confidently through rooms, homes, exhibits he himself has designed. He’s confident, overly so, is bossy and demanding and overbearing. 

And here he is crumbling under the mere words of Steve Rogers, a man ten years his senior who has been relentlessly chasing after him ever since their first date. 

This is what Bucky gets for sleeping with Steve on their first date. But fuck, who could blame him? 

Bucky feels as if he’s going into heat. 

When Bucky turns to admittedly flee from his office and demand security come take Steve from it, he runs right into the familiar wall of packed muscle. The older man doesn’t even hesitate; he grabs onto Bucky confidently and purposefully. 

“It’s easy to get what I want, Buck. I’m a man who’s used to getting what he wants,” Steve murmurs, a mitt for a hand cupping the back of Bucky’s head, the second pulling Bucky snugly against his front by his lower back. 

When their bodies meet, sex is all Bucky can think about. 

“That’s why I’m so frustrated with how difficult it’s been to get the thing I want most,” Steve tells him, his voice taking on a gravely edge that damn near sends Bucky under. “I appreciate a good chase, I love good back and forth. But goddamnit, Buck— what the fuck are you makin’ me wait around for?” 

Bucky feels the burn of shame in the form of a blush build on his neck.

The thing is, Bucky doesn’t have a good answer and he’s ironically afraid to admit that he’s scared. This isn’t traditional, this isn’t normal, what he shares with Steve. Their age difference is surely to be frowned upon, Steve’s position as a CEO will surely make it seem to others as if Bucky is just wanting into his pockets. 

More prevalent and more difficult to admit is that Bucky’s not used to Steve’s treatment of him. 

He doesn’t think he’s deserving of Steve’s treatment. He doesn’t know what to do with his attention and his affection and the way he wants to surround Bucky with an endless flow of devotion. 

Steve’s fingers tighten in his hair and Bucky all but moans, bringing his hands up to curl his fingers into the front of Steve’s shirt. He wants to curl his lips up in a snarl when his fingers find their way into the fuzz just underneath said shirt. 

“I won’t have you denying us something good because you want to be stubborn. I won’t have you stopping us from having each other because you’re afraid.”

Bucky does what he does best when he’s backed into a corner— push. 

“I don’t want you,” he weakly attempts, the words making his gut churn and his throat burn, his body rejecting them immediately. 

Steve smiles, crowds Bucky further against his desk. 

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me, Bunny,” he turns and whispers into Bucky’s ear, their bodies curling tightly together. Steve easily pulls Bucky into him, a hand on his nape and now an arm around his lower back, reminding Bucky what Steve does to his body. 

Just the presence of Steve, the press and bend of their bodies together, does something to Bucky that he’s never experienced with someone else. 

When Steve squeezes at his nape, pulling Bucky’s attention upwards, the older man’s exhale sounds like a groan. 

Bucky’s vision blurs when he feels Steve’s growing and impressive erection dig into his belly. 

“You’ll learn not to lie to your Daddy over time,” Steve tells him, breath hot on Bucky’s mouth. The title goes right to Bucky’s own growing erection, arousal shooting through his body hot like lightning, his mouth dropping open to let a whine easily slip out. 

“You may try to lie to me now, but your pretty little body can’t lie to me, oh no. Sweetheart, your body can’t lie to me. Just look at’chu…”

Bucky is finding it more and more difficult to remember why he’s spent weeks denying Steve another chance with him. Steve’s hands feel like magic on his body, like Bucky can drop the facade and feel. And once Bucky’s eyes lock with Steve’s ocean ones, they drive that point home even further— 

Let go. 

Unsurprisingly, Steve sees the internal waver. 

“There he is,” Steve coos, deliciously pursing his lips around Bucky’s bottom one. “There’s who I’ve been chasing.”

Steve presses another hot kiss to his mouth, Bucky’s knees buckling. 

“Who I’m done chasing.” 

Another long and hot kiss that Bucky helplessly moans into this time. 

“Who I want.”

Just when Steve dips his tongue into the next set of kisses he gives Bucky, he trails his lips down the column of Bucky’s neck, sucking his way down it. Bucky doesn’t even fight the way his eyes roll back into his head.

“Want is an understatement— I’m damn near obsessed. You may be afraid to show your true feelings or give into this, but I’m not, Bun. I can’t stop thinkin’ about you. Everything I do in a day I wonder what it would be like to do it with you by my side. When I go to sleep, I want you there. When I wake up, I want you there.” 

“Steve…” 

“When I touch my cock, I want you there. Fuck, do I want you and your tight, little bunny ass there.” 

It’s as if he’s lost all sense of himself as Bucky hears those words. He curls his fingers around Steve’s thick neck at the same time he moves to wind his legs mindlessly around Steve’s stocky waist. He knows Steve will hold him, that Daddy won’t let him fall, and he’s proven right when Steve does just that with a heavy exhale. He gathers Bucky easily up into his hands, obviously appreciating the feel and weight of Bucky in them, before sitting him on top of his own desk. 

“Christ, I miss you, Buck,” he tells him in between kisses, hands holding onto either side of Bucky’s face. “Tell me you miss me too, baby.” 

Bucky’s moan grates against the front of his throat. 

“I miss you,” Bucky murmurs, reaching for Steve’s tongue with his own. “I miss you so much, Daddy.” 

Steve groans into Bucky’s mouth. 

“Fuck yeah, missed that. Missed the hell outta that. Lemme hear it again, Bun.”

Easily, eagerly.

“Daddy…” 

Bucky lets out every ounce of pent up want and need he’s been ignoring over the past weeks and pours it into that word. He digs his fingers into Steve’s shirt, yanking at it until his hands meet the warm skin of his stomach, pulling at the older man until Bucky’s hands slide easily around to his muscled back.

Steve’s skin is so shockingly warm it forces another moan out of Bucky’s throat.

As someone who runs cold, he misses that warmth. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ brat,” Steve mumbles between kisses before he’s smirking. “We’re gonna have so much fun together.” 

Bucky is more than ready to let Steve fuck him on his own desk, in his own office. The thrill of being chased by someone he’s so wildly attracted to combined with the surprise of him showing up at Bucky’s office to confess his feelings has Bucky feeling like a live wire. His dick is so hard his balls ache, Steve’s hands on his body coaxing noises of pleasure out of him that others are sure to hear. 

If they saw Steve walk in though, they shouldn’t be surprised by what’s happening in here. 

He turns his cheek and bites at Steve’s bearded jawline, reaching for the older man’s belt buckle, fingers digging into his zipper to feel the pushback against the metal. 

“You got a party tonight?” 

Bucky is too distracted by the feel of Steve’s thick cock beneath the denim of his jeans to register his question. 

It’s a bite on Bucky’s own chin that pulls him back into his brain. 

“What?”

“Don’t you have a Christmas party tonight?” 

“How…how do you know about that?” 

Steve’s teeth catch Bucky’s bottom lip between them. Bucky’s toes curl in his dress shoes. 

“Pepper told me about it.”

Of course she did. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8.” 

What? 

Bucky’s vision may be blurred, but he’s certain Steve is pulling away, suddenly widening the gap between them. His dick aches something fierce between his legs, yearning for Steve’s touch, Steve’s mouth, Steve. 

“What?” Bucky asks, unable to hide his breathlessness, running a hand down and over his mouth. 

Steve’s reached his jacket now and he turns to Bucky, slipping his arms into it. 

He barely looks affected by their office rendezvous at all. 

“I’ll pick you up at eight at your place. Make sure you pack a bag; you’re comin’ home with me tonight.”

Bucky resists the urge to collapse back onto his desk. 

“Are you…are you insane?” Bucky huffs, doing nothing to disguise his annoyance at being left in his office to deal with his own erection. He watches through half-lidded eyes as Steve walks back over to him, stepping between Bucky’s spread legs and reaching for his throat. 

“You thought I’d come in here, profess my love, and give you my cock?” 

Bucky’s neck goes lax at the word love, but he curls his lip anyway. 

“Yes?” 

Steve chuckles happily into his last set of smacking kisses before squeezing at the fingers around Bucky’s throat. 

Fuck. 

“Daddy’s got a lot to teach you.” 

He gives Bucky’s cheek a light smack. 

“You make sure and wear somethin’ pretty for me, you hear?”

Bucky doesn’t argue. His heart slams against his ribs. He hears Steve at the door of his office. 

“I’ll have what I want you to wear underneath it sent over.” 

Bucky not-so-slowly collapses backwards onto his desk, chest falling and rising rapidly, dick throbbing in time with it. 

“I’ll see you soon, Bun. Don’t ignore my calls.” 

And just as surprisingly as he showed up, Steve’s gone, leaving Bucky a damn near hyperventilating mess atop his once pristine desk. 

With too much to think about, Bucky focuses on settling his breathing, on easing the ache in his dick without the time or place to take care of himself. When the absurdity of the situation hits him, when the full force of his crush on Steve makes him kick his feet where he lies, Bucky giggles. 

And once he starts, he can’t stop. 

Steve was right— they’re going to have so much fun together.

[mitz-prompts]

prompt: will is a children's tv actor

an AU where, instead of going into law enforcement, Will accidentally became an actor on children's television. like, think Steve from Blue's Clues. aimed at the 2-6 year olds.

his personality is the same as canon when he's off camera, but on camera he fakes it for 8 hours at a time.

the best parts of will being on kids tv is that

he would be genuinely very good at it because empathy brain lets him understand children better than others

he's very expressive when he wants to be, and he could be very expressive to communicate on tv

he would still think about serial killers all the fucking time and he would be absolutely terrified of anyone finding out about that. (as opposed to canon where everyone kinda already suspects that the guy who thinks about killing all the time is probably fucked in the head)

hannibal watching the tv show obsessively and super embarrassed about it because it's literally children's tv

there's a tiny part of hannibal that feels like watching his "friend" Will on the tv soothes the ache of his lost childhood

he thinks about how mischa would have loved this show and he cries.

you know how kids tv actors talk to you like they're in the room with you and you're their special friend??? yeah just drop kick hannibal in the heart

i dont know if this works for peter bernardone specifically because he's canonically pretty mature, but if hannibal is treating regressed and formerly-violent patients in the bshci, will could come visit because he keeps getting fan letters from them and he's the only children's tv actor who would actually give that demographic the time of day

will being just as friendly and engaging with the developmentally disabled adults as he would be with kids.... yeah

will probably does end up seeing hannibal for therapy because he (accidentally on purpose?) tracked down the minnesota shrike and confronted him when the fbi took too long to get there. or something. like i'm picturing will still falling into the canon plot beats by virtue of being interested in serial killers still.

hannibal lies about why he's so familiar with will's tv show... he intended to entirely fabricate an imaginary child but then his mouth started talking and suddenly he was describing his daughter mischa, oops

i can see will being like, sort of interested in Hannibal from the start of their interactions (however the hell they cross paths in the first place) but Hannibal definitely seems very adult and their relationship is very adult and... hannibal just seems so put together that will feels a little bit alienated from him. but the way hannibal's face lights up when they talk about the show, and how Will relates to the children through the screen.... Will thinks that at least he can vibe with Hannibal on the level of Hannibal's paternal love for mischa

then he finds out the truth and its like oh? shit. my boner. because hannibal just wants a friend in the most pure way even though he can't admit to it out loud. and its like the perfect mirror for Will who can't admit his darker edges and has to keep a clean veneer.... hannibal has a darker veneer but inside wants something wholesome too

[cappadocius]

Iniquus Veritas

Back at the turn of the century, Steve Jackson Games' Pyramid magazine would publish short articles by a creator named Alice Turow. These articles were, essentially, SCP articles a good seven years before the SCP Foundation was invented, although they often left things more obviously open-ended than an SCP, since these were intended for tabletop roleplaying. I liked several of them so much I immediately slapped them into Word Docs, because even in 2001 I knew how ephemeral the Internet truly was. I present the text of one of these articles in the hopes of help to preserve media I've loved. I do not own the rights to this, but I do not seek any profit, either.

Iniquus Veritas

The World's Most Depressing Album

by Alice Turow (pub. Oct 26, 2001)

"When you marry, know as you take the ring One of you will leave the other Or you'll die together in pain." -- "Aisle" (track 5)

The Album

It is unknown where Iniquus Veritas came from. It appears to be a normal compact disc, although the recorded surface is slightly more blue-green than other CDs. Perhaps this is a clue to its origin, or maybe it merely means that it is a copy or otherwise "burned" disc. There is a cover (a simple geometric pattern in red, blue, and burgundy repeated in unexpected ways) that is duplicated on the CD itself. The back of the jewel case lists the tracks, but no other information. In fact, there is no other "helpful" text anywhere . . . no liner notes, copyright information, not even a creator (or "band") name. (Strangely, the Compact Disc Database lists two versions of this: one with an artist name of Unknown, another credited to Anonymous. Comparing the CDDB entries reveals that both entries probably refer to the same album.)

What is known is that those who listen to its twelve tracks will find it to be one of the more compelling -- but depressing -- experiences of their lives. In fact, almost 30 percent of those who listen to Iniquus Veritas will take their own lives within a week of hearing it!

The effects of the album depend on being exposed to it in its entirety in a relatively short period of time. Thus, listening to half the album will be an affecting experience, but will not itself cause a listener to commit suicide. The definition of "relatively short" is unknown; it seems to be within a week, but there are reports of one person who carefully listened to it track by track over a month having "accidentally" driven off the edge of a cliff on day 30.

Multiple exposures to the album do not seem to increase the chances of it affecting a victim; if you don't succumb to it after the first time, it seems that you can listen to it safely. Although there seems to be some statistical evidence that those susceptible to its effects are often depressed and suicidal normally, there have been many exceptions . . . some startling. Regardless, the suicidal tendencies it instills do seem to be permanent; even if a victim is prevented from killing himself once, he will still try again given another opportunity.

Listening to the album in order does not seem to be necessary; putting the album in a CD changer on shuffle mode would be a good way of exposing someone to it unwittingly. Iniquus Veritas also does not require an active listener. Provided that the victim can actually hear it, the mind seems willing to process it even if the listener isn't paying attention. Playing the album over the Muzak system in a mall during the holidays would have disastrous effects. Distortion does seem to be a problem; blaring it out of a car stereo, for example, wouldn't have much effect on those far away, even if they could hear the bass.

More Secrets

In addition to the obvious effects, there are those who believe that people who don't kill themselves are somehow . . . changed. If true, to what end? Perhaps they are being reprogrammed for some other purpose (good or ill). Perhaps they are being "opened" for channeling of otherworldly beings. Regardless, unscrupulous agencies using Iniquus Veritas for the sinister purpose of undetectably eliminating enemies may discover that they have a much larger problem on their hands . . .

The album also has a hidden track. It may be accessed by rewinding to before the first track. The purpose of this hidden track is unknown. Perhaps it is an "antidote" for the mind-altering effects. Perhaps it enhances the abilities of the album to achieve 100% effectiveness. If the suicides are merely a side effect of a more sinister purpose, then the hidden track might be the final key to that plot. Maybe it merely contains clues to the album's creators . . . but that might still be incredibly useful to unraveling its mystery, or resolving the problems it creates.

Track Listing

1. "The Previous" -- A female vocalist sings almost inaudibly, positing regrets and incorrect decisions in this slow folk-like song. The violin and drums drown out most of the voices. One audible lyric goes, "If I could go back, I would. If I could go forward, I would. If I could go anywhere, I would." 3:17.

2. "Spinning Mobile, Toy's Key" -- An instrumental piece that begins as somewhat idyllic (if mildly off-key) stereotypical children's music, then transforms slowly into a more and more confusing cacophony. Random adult voices can be heard throughout the piece, sometimes laughing, usually crying or disappointed; the random snippets that can be understood seem to be directed at the listener. 3:46.

3. "Laughing At You" -- This track is a dance number, with a female vocalist playing off fears of adolescence. Part of the chorus includes "I thought you should know; it's all right. / We're only laughing at you. / Only seven years to go; it's all right. / We're only laughing at you. / And 10 years from now / when we think of you / we'll laugh." This song has somehow made it into the public, and is popular at many university radio stations. 3:41.

4. "Meeting" -- This instrumental track is best described as a sultry jazz tune performed by someone supremely unconfident. Just as the listener begins to feel a warm vibe, it will switch into a different (unsatisfying) key, awkwardly miss a note, or otherwise stop short of fulfillment. Compelling like a train wreck, at least a half-dozen times the listener will be disappointed, flinch, or cringe. 5:01.

5. "Aisle" -- A male vocalist's mild attack on relationships and marriage, wrapped around a fairly upbeat "pop" song. 3:05.

6."La Serpiente de la Sal" -- An alternative instrumental piece, with two slow atonal guitars working together, almost fighting each other for superiority. Different listeners may get into arguments over which guitarist was "better." 4:19.

7. "Live Faster" -- This is a breakneck vocal piece with piano. The female vocalist seems to be addressing the need to move more and more quickly as demands pile from all directions; she never seems to inhale throughout the song's 664 words. The climactic ending consist of the lyrics, "Maybe tomorrow maybe now maybe tomorrow maybe now maybe tomorrow maybe not." 2:21.

8. "Entitled" -- A simple seven-note drum theme repeated over and over. It starts slowly, then speeds up to an impossible performance. The theme is never made more complex, but acute listeners will note that individual notes drop out of the theme, until there are only three beats left of the original theme (the second, third, and sixth notes). 3:33.

9.  "Ter Pedes Electrum" -- A slightly manic techno song (just over 111 bpm) with the male vocalist singing in a low register. Although much of his vocals cannot be made out clearly, it seems to be nonsensical Latin sentences. One translated lyric consists of "Horse ditch relax superstitious evenness relax Charles." 3:44.

10. "Staccato Unspoken" -- This is a piece of orchestral music, which seems to be performed by cello and flute. Slow and melodic, it feels melancholy. Classical scholars will generally feel that the music feels like it's "missing" something; the lower notes of the cello combined with the flute's higher register seem to create a vacuum where another instrument should go. 5:58.

11. "Is It All?" -- An a cappella piece performed by both vocalists, with perhaps other voices, or themselves overdubbed. It seems to take the voice of a person about to die, questioning what they have (or haven't) done while they struggle with the problems of aging. One part goes, "I should have seen more sunsets (Is it all?) / I should have written a book (Is it all?) / What happened to my skin? (Is it all?) / No regrets, tepid look, violin, is it all?" 2:11. 12. "Until" -- The first forty-five seconds of this track sound like a cross between a happy funeral dirge and a fast, improvisational xylophone solo. The last two and half minutes consist of silence, with (what sounds like) a heartbeat punctuating the silence every so often -- between 20 and 50 seconds. It ends with the faint sound of breaking glass. 3:15.

[heliarosewrites]

Chapter 16 - Brain Damage

Ever since you had entered the training rooms and Wanda had been brought to you, your powers had bloomed. Being in her presence made you power somehow stronger. You never used them unless to show Wanda how to do certain trick. She was inexperienced, but maybe the strongest wielder you had ever met. A theory you had made was that her magic rubbed off at you. Similar to the way you could sense other people wielding their power, like Frigga and Loki.

The word Gyðja reappeared in your mind several times over the last weeks. Why? You had no clue.

It had been six weeks since Loki had left you. And you hadn´t spared him a thought, except when you laid in bed and found you never could fall asleep. When you did though, you found yourself stretching and searching for him on the bed, but of course he wasn´t there. He never would be either. Not again. 

Your daily life now consisted of training with Wanda and the rest you would either spend in your room or in the common area. A couple of weeks ago Steve had shortly returned after he apparently had had a run-in with his old friend Bucky, which everyone thought to be dead. Steve´s visit had however resulted in a couple of awkward run ins and you caught him looking at you when you sat reading or spoke with Wanda in the common room. You hadn´t thought much of it at the time, but as you had watched a movie on the TV in your room where the love interest stared at the protagonist for most of the time when they were together. It wasn´t much of a creepy stare, it was romantic…

However, it had made a knot tie in your stomach. You had never intended to lead him on. It was too soon. You liked Steve, but it wouldn´t be fair to him when you hadn´t gotten over Loki´s rejection. It appeared that no one had noticed he had even been here in the first place, which you found suspiciously strange and wondered if it had all happened in your head. Being locked up like this would be reason enough for you to imagine things like that. 

Also, you had tried to contact Thor, but he never answered the phone or your emails. Sending letters was not an option, and you had nothing important to tell him, except for his brother’s return. Even though it felt wrong you felt like you had no right to tell Thor about it. Loki had to tell him himself that he had cheated and lied once again. 

Now the room you and Wanda trained in had been completely emptied and you had ordered for a few blocks of concrete to place in the room. Without question it had been brought. “You can´t be serious” Wanda said in her accent. You found it sweet. “Of course I am. We have done all the small things. Now this is the next step” you said as you removed your Jacket. Beneath it you wore dark blue tights and a white singlet. You hadn’t bothered to braid your hair and it hung in a loose ponytail. Wanda rolled her eyes. “Show me what you got” you said and stepped to the side. Wanda shot you a glance before she moved her hands before her. Red energy erupted from her hands and the concrete did in fact move easily. “Not bad” you said as you walked over so you had a better angle. But you knew she had been right. This would be easy for her, so you had a few surprises up your sleeve. 

“In reality though, there would be people surrounding you” you said as you picked up the pad that Nat had showed you how to use. You tapped the square and from your upper right you heard shots being fired at Wanda. “Are you kidding me?!” she screamed. She didn´t have to know they weren´t real. The blocks fell to the floor as Wanda backed away. “Don´t you think this is a little extreme?” she asked. You shrugged. “Better to be prepared than learn it the hard way” you said. Wanda was still catching her breath. 

“Let´s go then” she said and to your surprise she took her stance once more. “That´s the spirit” you said before you got another idea. “Have you ever controlled gas forms?” you asked. Wanda frowned. “Smoke, damp?” you asked. “I knew what you meant” she said and scowled slightly. “I was just asking” you said. “Leve the blocks” you said before you flicked your wrist dark grey smoke erupted from the centre of the room. “Is this you?” she asked. You shrugged and folded your hands together. “Let´s see what you got” you repeated. The smoke could be poisonous, of course it wasn’t. This was just an illusion. But Wanda didn´t know that. “Are you trying to kill us?” she said before she covered her mouth. “Possibly” you shrugged again. Wanda rolled her eyes before her eyes glowed red. She cast energy leading the gas upwards towards the small hatch in the ceiling. “Good!” you said. 

“Let´s add another element” you said as you picked up the pad again. You pressed the square and the fake bullets shot around Wanda, they were just going to hit around her, not actually attack her directly. She had almost gotten all the smoke out when you noticed the monitor had started to fire the shots towards you. You knew they weren´t real, but Wanda didn´t her hand flew out as a bullet came right at you. You felt yourself getting lifted off the ground and the look on Wanda´s face told everything. She had misjudged the force she needed to get you out of the bullet´s way. The smoke behind her disappeared as your focus had gotten lost. And then you felt pressure on the back of your head before a crack sounded and everything went black. 

A loud ringing sounded in your ears, and you heard nothing except for mumbling voices. You could fix this you thought and tried to use your magic. But you couldn´t nothing happened. You couldn´t move your arms. As you tried to focus the energy under your skin nothing happened, it felt like it was gone… The ringing didn´t stop and you tried to open your eyes. Bad idea. Everything was so blurry you couldn´t even make out who was standing before you. The light made your head hurt even more. 

Before you could even take another breath, you were sent back to unconsciousness. 

The ringing hadn´t disappeared as you felt yourself coming back. You tried to open your eyes but closed them quickly. Your hand clutched slightly an to you relief it did. Your mouth was dry and numb. Something was wrapped around your hand. Not something. A hand. Everything around you was extremely blurry as you opened your eyes. You fought to have them stay open. And slowly it adjusted. The one sitting beside you was a girl with long auburn hair. Her eyes were bright blue and paired with a pair of dark circles under her eyes. She said something you couldn´t make out. You only heard mumbling through the ringing. Where had you seen her before? You knew you had seen her but you couldn´t place your finger on who she was. 

Finally, the ringing lowered. “Who are you?” you asked once you had cleared your throat slightly. The girl´s eyes widened. “Who am I?” the girl said before she answered “Wanda.” It didn´t ring a bell. “I´m sorry, but do I know you from somewhere?” you asked. The girl´s eyes started to water. “I didn´t mean to make you upset” you apologized. You moved forward but searing pain shot through your head, and you leaned back again. 

You closed your eyes before opening them again. The girl, Wanda wasn´t there anymore. Now you were alone, and the light was low making it easier on your eyes.  Suddenly a man appeared. A knot formed in your stomach. He appeared from behind the shadows in the corner. His black hair curled around his ears and on his shoulders. He wore fine clothes. Fine Asgardian clothes, you realized. His blue eyes almost glowed when the low light reflected off them. 

“Who are you?” you asked as you moved further to the opposite side of the bed. Your body ached, but the fear rushed adrenalin through your system. 

The man stopped. 

He looked frightened. Sad. His eyes were watering. “What have they done to you?” he asked. “Nothing” you answered quick. Who had done what? You wondered. He reached out his arm and you flinched. He stopped. 

“You truly do not know who I am?” he asked. “I´m sorry” you apologized. “Don´t” the man said. His brows tugged slightly together. “Do you remember who you are?” he asked. You scoffed. “Of course I know who I am” you said. “Then who are you” he asked. You were about to answer but froze as nothing came to mind. Your eyes shot to the man´s. “I-“ you started but had nothing to say. 

The man stepped closer to you. “Please, don´t be scare of me” he said. “I don´t know you” you said. You could see the words hurt the man. He stepped closer to you. He reached out to grab your hand but you retreated it. Your head started to hurt again and you pinched the bridge of your nose. The man sat down on the bed. He was extremely close to you. But if he was here he probably could be trusted. He laid a hand on your cheek. The pain went away but you felt extremely drowsy. What was he doing to you?

And then like lightning from clear sky, as if a curtain had been drawn open. “Loki?” you said. You felt an extreme pull towards him. You couldn´t believe your eyes. All the strength you had to contain yourself disappeared and your arms instantly flung around his torso. “You lied” you said as you buried your face in his chest. His hand moved to the nape of your neck. You couldn´t remember much. Only that he had lied. What about you weren´t sure. 

“I´m sorry” he said. “I´ll bring you home” he said. “Isn´t this home?” you asked. “It most certainly is not” he said before he kissed the top of your head. “My head hurts” you said. Whatever he had been doing was wearing off. “I know” he said. “Please bring me home” you almost begged. You didn´t know what home was. Where it was. But Loki made you feel safe. 

Loki´s arm reached around your back and the other slithered under your knees. You reached around his neck but figured you didn´t have to. Even though he was so lean, he was stronger than one would expect. 

“I´ll keep you safe” he said before a tunnel of light consumed the both of you. You felt as you were being pulled in all directions and your head hurt even worse than it had before. The ringing returned in your ears, but not as violently as before. Finally the pull stopped, but returned again for a short while. You opened your eyes and they quickly adjusted. Loki looked straight ahead as he carried you towards something. You watched as his hair bounced slightly at his balanced steps. Without even noticing you had reached up and twinned a piece of his hair around your finger. The corner of his mouth tugged slightly upwards. 

“I can´t remember anything” you muttered. “Just you…” you added. “We will fix that” he said as he put you down on the bed. It was so soft it felt like you laid on a cloud. “But right now we sleep” he said. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You didn´t expect the bed to dip beside you. But it did. You weren´t tired, you had slept for who knew how long. 

“What if I can´t sleep?” you asked. You rolled over and turned to face him. He was smiling to himself. “You should rest” he said before he looked over at you. “I´ve rested enough” you said. There was distance between the two of you and you didn´t know if you had ever been so close to him before. What you remembered was only his name and the safety it brought. Now tension bloomed both inside you and between the two of you. 

“Loki?” you said. He hummed as he turned slightly to face you. “What exactly are we?” you asked. Loki looked almost unsure. “You really hit your head, didn´t you?” he said. His hand traced the arch of your eyebrow. You felt a warm tingling sensation where he touched you. 

“We were engaged. But I messed up” he said. “I never should have left you” he said. “I thought I knew best, but I clearly didn´t” he added. “I don´t understand” you said. He moved slightly closer to you. “I thought I was protecting you by removing myself” he admitted. You frowned. “Why would that help?” you asked. Loki didn´t answer. 

Loki rolled over to his side. You were so close you could feel his breath on your lips. Your eyes tilted downwards. They lingered on his lips before they returned to his eyes. 

Your hand moved and cupped his cheek. You lifted yourself slightly off the mattress, but Loki beat you to it and his lips met yours as you leaned against the soft pillow. Fireworks went off in your head, as well as in the rest of you body. Loki´s touch made your headache go away. You melted into him and his touch and soon he was placed in between your thighs. His tongue graced your bottom lip before he entered your mouth. His hands roamed down the sides of your upper body. Your hands tugged on his shirt. His lips left yours and the slight headache returned. You had your eyes closed. “Are you alright?” Loki asked. “Yes” you lied. “Don´t lie, Gyðja” he said as he brushed your cheek with his thumb. No, this wasn't right... He wouldn't call me that...

The room started spinning and your ears started to ring violently.

Your eyes opened quickly. All you could hear was your heart pounding in your chest. The walls were lit by a golden light. It only took you a few more seconds to realize you were the source of the light. Your skin was like a sun, but it wasn't warm to the touch. Mesmerized you sat studying your hands. What is going on? you thought.

The door sprang open. In came Steve. He stopped once he looked at you. But he didn't look away. You weren't blinding.

Then the nausea hit.

You bucked over and puked all over the bed.

Steve rushed to your side. He gently grabbed your arm and your shoulder on the other side helping you out of bed. He whispered something but you couldn't make it out.

"I'm sorry" you muttered as you felt uneasy. You shook lightly.

"No, it's fine, y/n" he said. You didn't dare look up at him in case it would make you more uneasy.

"No, it's not" you said as he walked you into the bathroom. He understood you were still not well. You knelt over the toilet bowl and felt Steve's hands gently tie back your hair.

The tiles were cold against your knees

A new rush of nausea hit you and you bawled into the toilet. As you did so your skin glowed lightly, as if you had no control over it what so ever.

You heard new footsteps enter the room.

"I'll take it from here" Tony's voice said. Nothing happened for several seconds, until Steves footsteps was heard exiting the room. Your eyes were fixed at the bottom of the porcelain bowl.

"How are you doing?" you felt Tony's hand on your shoulder. You turned around and sat on the floor. Your hand flattened against your stomach as you tried to adjust yourself on the floor.

"Been better" you said as you noticed how sore your body was. Tony's eyes gleamed slightly.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked. "Wanda accidently hit me" you answered.

"Good" he said as he approached you. You flinched and he stopped slightly before he knelt down beside you.

"There's something I need to tell you" Tony said. "Do I have brain damage?" you half heartedly joked.

Tony let out a surprised chuckle.

"No" he said suddenly more serious. "You were out for six days" he said. You looked at him. "We ran some tests, the results weren't giving us any answers on why you still didn't respond" he said. "It has been around seven weeks since... Well since Rei- Loki left" he said before pausing. "And?" you asked. Your mouth was dry. "Noticed you weren't tied up to anything in your room?" he asked. It was true, you hadn't been.

"You're not hurt, y/n" he said and swallowed.

"You're pregnant"

[egoludes]

satisfaction guaranteed.

summary: your super soldiers hear there’s a new contender in the bedroom; they intend to learn all about it.

pairing: stucky x reader.

notes: ok, i’ll admit it - this is so outrageously self-indulgent and fully inspired by a recent, um, purchase. i was hoping to get it out in time for valentine’s day, but then work kicked my ass - so consider it a delayed love letter to y’all heh. my apologies in advance to the manufacturers of the sex toy featured here; please don’t sue me? borders from deathlyrph!

warnings: nsfw / 18+, threesome, sex toy, implied & light overstimulation

He doesn’t mean to listen in - scout’s honor.

There just isn’t much that Bucky’s super soldier hearing misses and the raving of some very giddy --- and very drunk --- Avengers is nowhere near that list. He’s actually pleased to hear the way you, Natasha, and Wanda are carrying on when he rounds the corner. Missions have been taking a toll lately, keeping everyone on the team on edge and up late. You, in particular, have been distant, putting on a facade that never quite reaches your eyes, and he and Steve have been on wit’s end trying to perk you up.

The ladies, it seems, have it all figured out.  You’re laughing freely for the first time in weeks, and Bucky’s grateful that no one (particularly Sam) can see the way the sound makes him utterly lovesick. His adoration keeps him still a few seconds longer, basking in how free you seem, but he doesn’t intend to stay much past that. In fact, he’s a half-step into leaving when he hears it:

“So, wait -- have you tried it yet? The Satisfyer?” 

Confusion brings him to a full stop. Satisfyer? 

That feeling only grows, knitting his eyebrows, when you’re the one to answer with an emphatic, and damn near dreamy “Yes.”

Bucky’s an intelligent man and the name alone is a pretty effective context clue. Still, he doesn’t really put it together until Wanda squeals and Nat (who he can see in his mind’s eye, clear as day, leaning into you with that cheeky smirk) pushes you for more.

“It’s kind of...overwhelming,” you continue, pausing to refill your glass, “but in the best way. Like in a ‘How did I ever masturbate before this’ kind of way. My knees literally buckled when I got up after. Can you believe that? Buckled! I was fuckin’ woozy! ” He can tell you’re animated just by the way your volume starts to rise and whatever you’re doing must be endearing because even Natasha is chuckling.

Bucky still loves it, don’t get him wrong. In fact, he adores you excited like this, especially after all the darkness lately. But, there’s something genuinely puzzling about so much excitement around a sex toy. He hadn’t even known you’d bought something new. When had you tried it? Where were he and Steve?

His thoughts start to swirl, intrigue and curiosity mounting in a wave that he pushes past with a step, then another, as he reminds himself that he has somewhere to be.

No chance he’ll be forgetting about this, though. 

Steve hears about it from Bucky. 

Secondhand stories can be tricky; full of exaggerations and misunderstanding. But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t believe it. He just doesn’t comprehend the implications of it until he experiences it for himself. 

That happens on a Saturday afternoon. 

You’d been tense in training, taking hits you’ve dodged a thousand times and fumbling moves you’ve done twice that. A bad bout typically doesn’t do you in, but Steve can tell by the way your attacks grow more and more stilted, that you’re overextending just to make blows meet. 

It gets so bad that he breaks one of his few cardinal rules -- never pulling rank with you or Bucky outside of missions -- to get you out of the spar, and your frustration with it is as clear as the exhaustion that sags your limbs. You’re out the door before he can apologize, or explain.

An hour later, he’s showered and changed, seeking you out in your corner of the compound with peace offerings at the ready. This time, they come in the form of your favorite snack and a promise to spar with you himself the next time you’re scheduled - no holds barred. 

But, when you pull open the door at his knock, he’s surprised to see that he may not need them.

You’re completely...sated. The tension you’d had in your shoulders when you left the gym is nowhere to be found and in its place is a sheen of satisfaction. It’s all over you: in a dopey smile, lidded eyes, and the faint whiff of your cunt he gets when he leans into you.

In an instant, he puts two and two together, and Steve feels his body warm at the realization that you’ve just finished touching yourself. And not just that: it had been so good that your entire mood’s flipped and you’re beaming at him, no walls or reservations.

He makes his apology all the same, though, and your smile widens as you reach for him and the snack in a tease: “Better not back out on that fight, Captain.”

He grins back, pleased you’re feeling better, but making a mental note to speak to Bucky as soon as you let him go.

I think we need to check out this ‘Satisfyer’.

They ask you about it on Valentine’s Day.

You’re running on the high of a beautiful evening: dinner in DUMBO and drinks in Brooklyn Heights. The latter -- a couple cocktails for you, white wine for your boys -- finds you buzzing as you let them into your room back at the compound. You feel eyes on your hips from behind, heavy gazes that sear the curves, and you sway pointedly, smiling at the sharp breaths that follow. 

You know where the night is going ---- know the way a good date makes them handsy. So the attention is no surprise. Neither is the cool press of metal to your back and the kiss to that spot under your ear. “Bed, pretty girl,” Bucky drawls against your skin, intent pressing -- and growing -- against your hip as he settles against you.

Steve rounds you from the other side, not touching but so close you can feel the rise of heat from his body. You look up just in time to catch him watching you back, blue eyes darkening with each step into your bedroom.

Your dress is easy work, pooling at your ankles with a few good pulls, But, Steve and Bucky take their time with everything else. You’re in something special, after all --- pretty lace and dewey colors that deserve an extra look, an extra touch. They’re on you the moment it’s revealed to them, thumbing the fabric with murmured praise through the lips all over your skin. 

The daze it sets follows you all the way to the mattress where you lay back against Steve’s chest (still clothed, to your chagrin) with his arms settled around you. His hands end up bracing your thighs, naturally at first, then deliberately as Bucky starts to kiss trails up and over your calf. With the latest string of missions, you can’t remember the last time you had their mouths on you and the anticipation as Bucky’s creeps closer is almost crippling. Your body tenses with each point of contact, eyes lidding as they watch him rise, inch by tortuous inch. 

“Sweetheart.” Steve’s voice pulls you out of your focus with a rumble you can feel in your back. “We wanna try something new with you tonight.” You turn just enough to watch him, answering with a hum to urge him on. “Can you tell Buck,” he continues, dipping to run his nose along yours. You feel tiny when he bears down on you like this, and he can see the way it affects you just in the flutter of your lashes. “--where you keep your ‘Satisfyer’?”

What?

In a split second, you’re sobered up, no hint of the lust or buzz that’d been following you for most of the night. Bringing toys to bed isn’t new by any means, but they have never, ever referred to one by name like that. Nor requested it specifically. It’s so startling that you don’t know what to say for a moment, mind utterly blank until you feel Bucky’s hand tighten around your thigh to bring you back.  “You -- my what?”

“Satisfyer,” Steve echoes, hand resting on your tummy. From below, you can feel Bucky’s eyes burning into the side of your face, expectant. “Buck’s heard you mention it before, and we’d like to know what all the fuss is about. ---- If you’re willing, that is.”

You look back and forth between them, mouth gaping for a second before you swallow your shock down whole. Two super soldiers can be a lot to manage on their own -- adding a toy that’s knocked you on your ass a few times over now seems like a very dangerous game. But, you can feel Steve hardening against your back and can’t deny the slick that’s seeping through your panties at the thought alone. So you nod, lip pulled between your teeth, and direct Bucky to the left side of your bottom drawer. 

When he’s back between your legs, it’s with the rose gold toy in hand. The mere sight of it makes you clench; something he doesn’t miss when he’s that close to your core. “Someone’s excited,” Bucky muses, brow arching before his gaze returns to his hand. The Satisfyer is unlike any toy he’s ever seen, shaped more like some alien gadget than a vibrator, and no amount of Google sleuthing could’ve prepared him for what it feels like in person. The smoothness of it in his hand, the unique curves along his palm. You bite back a giggle at how intently he inspects it, turning it over this way and that to get used to its weight.

“Hmm.. that’s definitely different,” Steve chimes in, as focused on the toy as Bucky is. It isn’t hard to work out how it’s used from the design alone, but what they’re still itching to know is what it does. How it unravels you so well, until your knees buckle even. And it doesn’t take long for that anticipation to trump their curiosity and you’re brought back to the moment when Steve ducks his head to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin there as he smooths hands down your inner thighs. He draws his palms back and forth a few times until they suddenly still, and he’s holding your legs -- and you -- wide open. “How about we give it a go, pal?” 

Bucky says nothing in return, but he probably doesn’t have to. The toy clicking to life is enough, a rhythm that fills the room with anticipation. Your tummy tightens at the sound -- another reaction neither man misses -- and the tension stays put, coiled tight until the Satisfyer closes over your clit.

The first pulse knocks air out of you that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ones that follow unfurl you, melting your anticipation in favor of a soft, thrumming pleasure that coats you head to toe. It’s odd, having someone else use it on you, but in a good way. The best way. 

You surrender to it, relaxing into Steve’s hold as Bucky holds you open with two fingers.  So far, that’s no different than normal --- you’re always this pliant for them, putty beneath their fingers once they get to work. But, tonight, they’re greedy. Tonight, they want more from you; want whatever this toy has been able to draw out in their absence.

Bucky kicks things up a notch, turning the pulse up two speeds. The change is subtle to them, clicks coming just a smidgen faster and louder. For you, it seems to make all the difference. Immediately, you react, back arching up from its place against Steve’s chest with a sound that makes the Captain purr behind you.

“Mm...must feel good,” he notes, a hand gliding along your tummy until he can palm your breast. “Can you tell us, sweetheart?” He punctuates the question with fingers around your nipple, tweaking lightly.

Your lips part, but no words follow; not at first. It’s like your body and mind are disconnected, static in the places where they usually go together. The fuzziness is welcome, but hard to speak through, and it’s all you can do just to whine when Steve gives your nipple an urgent pinch. Bucky joins in with a cool finger pressing at your cunt, the light whirring from his arm giving you something concrete enough to focus on. ‘S good,” you finally pant, twisting to tuck your head into Steve, “so good.”

Bucky huffs out a chuckle and your entire body goes tight; with his face so close, you can feel every breath. “That mean you’re gonna let us finish you up, just like this?”

It’s a rhetorical question --- has to be, the way he presses the toy tighter to your clit. Still, you answer with an eager nod, legs widening some as if to give him the go ahead. “Please, Buck, ‘m close already, it -- right there, I-I’ll--” Your pleas are pretty, a desperate melody, and they appease every base instinct Bucky has. He’d wanted to keep you on edge a little longer to explore the toy more, but he’s a sucker for his girl; always has been. You win him over without even trying. 

Steve isn’t far behind, cock leaking in his dress pants seeing you so desperate. He hasn’t gotten his hand on the toy yet, but even he seems to feel its effect. The hand that isn’t cupping your breast spreads over your tummy, delighting in the way the flesh underneath tightens and spreads. You’re certainly close --- he knows your body as well as you do. And the thought of it makes him hungry, makes him press teeth into the skin behind your ear as he urges you on: “Go on, honey -- make a mess for us.”

Your peak comes fast after that, punching you in the gut with its intensity. The first wave of orgasm runs right through you, leaving a tremble in its wake, and your hips twist instinctively to escape the toy. Bucky, however, isn’t so forgiving, metal curling around your hip in a vice. Ride it out, he seems to say with a dark, lidded glance from between your legs. 

You whimper in response, head tipping back against Steve’s chest as you fumble for purchase in the warmth of Bucky’s free hand. 

Something tells you this will be a long night. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t see straight.

Your first orgasm had been gradual, as tentative as the men watching this new toy work you. But, after that, it’s like a flip switches in Bucky and Steve, making them greedy for as many more as they can get.

The second one isn’t long after the first. Bucky turns the Satisfyer up to the highest setting, the other end of the spectrum that you hadn’t even gotten a chance to try on your own yet. The first contact lights fire through your sensitive body and you’re on the brink in just minutes.  Toes stretching and curling into the sheets by Bucky’s hips, you’re practically squirming with need and it only takes one good twist of the toy for you to crumble all over again. They give you a break after that, but most of it is spent kissing you too long for you to catch your breath.

You don’t mind that too much, though.

The third orgasm is Steve’s fault. Ever the strategist, he starts thinking through the ways they can play with frequency and angle to make you cum again. You don’t notice it in your foggy comedown, but he’s fished his phone out and flicked through to a page he’s looked over more times that he cares to admit. And when Bucky settles between your legs to get you going again, he finally speaks up. “Buck, I found this review online---” Both you and Bucky turn to him, curiosity in the way you gape, but he’s making a face back that’s loud and clear:  ‘do not ask’. “---that said they were able to cum in a couple minutes with this alone. Had some interestin’ suggestions about how, too.” He grins around a Brooklyn drawl, that handsome face stirring something in you when it looks so devious. “You think we can get our girl finished faster than that?”

They pull it off -- embarrassingly easily at that -- and it’s in the pale of that third climax that they finally, finally press inside you. 

Your cunt is soaked, supple and warm around Steve as he sits you down over his cock. After so much play, the stretch is nothing, a pleasant burn in the pit of your belly that makes your eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell us how you feel,” Steve asks for the second time that night, his voice strained around the effort to keep from fucking you. Even if you’re taking him well -- easier than ever before, in fact -- he’s cautious not to lose his head, no matter how much he wants to. 

No matter how much the urge to plow you into your mattress dizzies him.

Your eyes are still closed when you respond, tongue over your dry lips as you part them with a needy sound. “S-Still good…,” you sigh, mind swimming. You want to move, start to move in a mindless search for some friction. But, the rocking doesn’t last long, stuttering to a stop when you hear the toy click to life  and try to focus through the haze of your pleasure with eyes darting for answers.

You find them in the smug grin on Bucky’s face as he palms the Satisfyer in one hand and works his cock out of his pants with the other. “What,” he purrs, voice lilted in a taunt, “you didn’t think we were done with this yet, did you?”

Oh yeah --- this’ll definitely be a long night.

[peach-and-bugs]

❤️Fallen Star - Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader (she/they pronouns)❤️ Marvel canon divergence

Ch 1 ❤️Chapter 10❤️Ch 11

Fanfiction master list

Summary: You don’t remember much of what happened during the experiments, or before them honestly. Your mind seems to be protecting you from that somehow. You’ve been on your own for a year now and you can’t recall what normal life used to be like. Now, everything is mixed up and you’ve somehow been taken in by a group that calls themselves the Avengers. It’s a good situation, but it still has its challenges. However, you don’t expect the quiet girl that never talks to you but is always around for some strange reason to be one of those challenges. -❤️- (y/n is a former HYDRA experiment that was assumed to be a failure when she encountered the mind stone, but what HYDRA didn’t realize was that they were given the ability to morph her inner being into the form of light, aiding in her accidental escape. Now, after a year of running from people who had no clue they should be looking for her, y/n has been taken in by the Avengers.)

Warnings: cannon complacent violence, guns, explosions, death

Word Count: 4,391

A/N: And after yet another month+ long break from writing a chapter, we're back! This was one I was both excited about and dreading writing because I wanted to get it right. but anyway, it's time for the civil war era, which is one of my favorites and I intend for it to be quite angsty, so buckle up (also I finished and I'm posting this around 3:30 in the morning, so please ignore mistakes for now.) As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! ❤️

Fallen Star Tag List: @blackxwidowsxwife @fleet-prodigy @lattayhottay16

Wanda Maximoff Tag List:

General Tag List:

-❤️-

Months had passed by faster than you would have expected. You'd started spending more and more time at Wanda’s side, so much so that the others had begun to notice. Wanda would confide in you more often than not and you took the time to listen to whatever fuzzy thoughts she needed to expel with a warm presence. In turn, Wanda continued trying to help you regain the memory of your former life. But recently, you'd begun to seek her out simply for her company. 

Some afternoons you'd spar together in the gym, or you'd relax in Wanda's room, watching an old television show together or just talking into the night. Now, however, you were lounging together in your room. Wanda had been dozing on and off after a long session of morning training with Steve. She currently buried her face in one of your pillows with both arms wrapped around it, her breath moving in and out of her parted lips. You let her rest and flipped through a book Natasha had suggested you read. It was an old murder mystery, which wouldn’t normally be your thing, yet you found it quite interesting this time. 

You had to look up from your book when you heard a chuckle. Wanda had left the door wide open when she’d come in and flopped beside you, and you hadn’t bothered to get up and shut it. So now, looking up, your eyes meet an amused pair of blue. You scowled your brow, despite the smile that tugged at your lips as you shut your book.

“She seems comfortable,” Pietro leaned against the frame of your opened door, arms crossed in front of him.

“Shouldn’t you also be in bed, Piet?” you asked, arching a brow. Wanda had been updating you regularly about his condition and by your understanding, he had only been cleared for supervised activity. A walk along to your room didn’t seem to fit that definition. He shook his head and laughed lowly.

“Wanda worries about me too much,” he sighed and turned his gaze to her at your side, smiling fondly. “You know I’m older, right?” he asked, looking your way again. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

“You have mentioned that at least once before,” the Socovian snorted, continuing to smile. “How’s the recovery coming along?”

“I would have thought Wanda would keep you posted?” 

“She has, but I want to know what you think,” he tilted his head with a curious hum, then sighed after a beat. 

“Yaknow, I’m feeling better. I can walk and eat. I feel ready to take care of myself. But sleepy over there…” he paused, watching Wanda again. “She worries,” you nodded with him, eyes glancing down at her as well. She sighed against the pillow, holding it ever so tighter as she took in a long breath. She appeared to be smiling and you couldn’t help but wonder what she might be dreaming about. 

“It’s just what she’s used to, I guess,” he sighed again, running a hand through his hair, which had gotten considerably longer since his accident. “And I hate that she’s gotten so good at it,”

“It’s in her nature,” you murmured, looking back up at him. “When we had our little run-in, she was so worried about hurting me and she didn’t even know me yet,” you mused fondly. 

“Now she’d helped me recover what I lost. Not because she has to, but she wants me to have that back, I guess,” Pietro sighed again and nodded.

“Wanda values those better parts of our childhood. She wants you to have that too,” he paused, chuckling. “She talks about you a lot,” you blinked, surprised by the comment, only he turned his attention back to Wanda before you ask what he meant. The redhead began to stretch beside you, crunching her face as she reached her arms forward. Her fingertips blindly brushed against your arm as she did so, but you made no motion to notice. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting yours as you smiled her way. 

“Hi,” you said, failing to suppress the grin forming on your lips. She of course did not incline that her brother was just by the door and you knew she wasn’t going to be as pleased as Pietro was.

“Hi,” she managed, her voice groggy as she snuggled up with the pillow again as her eyes began to focus after blinking slowly. It took her a second to recall where she was and when she looked up at you again, the faintest pink tinted her cheeks. She sat up promptly, scooting a space away from you as she cleared her throat. “Sorry, I didn't mean to -” she started till her eyes caught her brothers. 

“Pietro! You’re not meant to be up,” she began to scramble off of the bed, marching toward him with outstretched hands. The taller twin began to laugh as she pestered him with questions. “You can’t be walking around without supervision! What if you fall-” Pietro laughed as she began to shove him from the door. 

“I told you!” you called from your seat as he began to walk away with her. 

“I didn’t wanna wake you, Wan. You looked so cozy,” he said with a bright grin as Wanda’s scowl grew into something made up of embarrassment rather than just her initial annoyance. She glanced at you only for a second and you gave her a tiny wave before forcefully shoving her brother down the hall and back to his room. 

“Bye Pietro!” you called, craning your neck to peek out of the door from your bed. You leaned back into your bed, taking up your book again in your lap, but you couldn’t quite seem to get back into it. Instead, you kept thinking about what Pietro had said.  

“‘She talks about you a lot,’” repeated in your head and you couldn’t contain the smile that formed on your lips. Only when you realized, you groaned, flopping on your back and covering your face with your hands as you bit the inside of your cheek. All this time with Wanda had started to make you feel different. 

You knew what it could be, but you weren't going to admit it. Not to yourself and certainly not to her. Besides, what if it was just a silly, fleeting thing that you got over? Or what if she didn’t feel that way- Your bumbling thoughts were interrupted by a chime from your wall.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/n. Natasha and Steve have called for a meeting in the briefing room. You will be there in 5 minutes,” you arched a brow in confusion, sitting up to check if Friday had been right. Sure enough, briefing room, five minutes. You sighed and got out of bed, stretching as you walked out of your room and shut the door behind you. 

-*-

“Alright, the gist of it is that we have a lead on Rumlow,” Steve explained as Natasha pulled up a photo on the room's big screen. You sat at the table with Wanda and Sam, but Vision didn’t seem to be attending. “Now we’re not sure what he’s after. Some chatter says he’s planning to hit the police station in Logos, but again, we’re not certain about anything,” you raised your hand and he nodded towards you.

“Was Rumlow that guy that you kind of…” you paused, gesturing with your hand “dropped a building on, for lack of a better term,” Steve took in a breath through his nose and scratched the bow above his lip.

“Yep. indeed he was. Thank you for the reminded, y/n,” he finished, turning back to the presentation. Wanda, who sat just diagonally across the table from you made a face and you shrugged. “Wanda, you’ll be running visuals with Natasha while Sam and y/n are our eyes in the sky,” you glanced Wanda’s way instinctively, then back at Steve without another word.

“We’re leaving now. Whatever’s happening is going down in the morning and we’ll make it just in time so go suit up,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand. You got up promptly 

“Will Vision be coming?” Wanda asked and you stalled at the door, waiting for her to catch up.

“No. we figured he’d stand out just a touch,” Natasha interjected as Steve left the room. “Stealth is the priority here,” Wanda nodded then left with you without another word about it. 

“Why’d you ask about Vision?” you interrupted the silence as you walked with her when curiosity got the better of you. She shrugged as you turned down the hall to the compound elevators and pushed the down button. 

“Just curious maybe,” she looked up at the blinking numbers above the elevator. You watched her carefully, trying to catch something you could be missing. “We haven’t had a full team mission yet. I thought maybe this could be it,” she stepped into the open elevator as she finished talking. You hadn’t noticed the doors open, you were so focused on her. You rode down in silence beside her, leaning your lower back on the wall as you snuck glances at her. She’d taken out her phone and was typing quickly. Assumedly texting Pietro to let him know what was up, you guessed. 

“Have you been to Africa?” Wanda asked just as the doors opened up.

“Hm?” You hummed then shook your head. “No, I haven’t. At least I don't think I have,” you said with a slightly smug smile, enjoying your one joke about your memory loss just a little bit. Wanda’s eyes widened slightly and she shied away, a slight flush coming over her complexion again.

“Sorry. That must have slipped my mind…” she mumbled, walking with you to the gear room. You laughed and shook your head. 

“It was funny! Don’t worry about it,” you assured her with another shiny smile. “But no, I not sure if I’ve been or not,” you pulled the door open, gesturing for her to go in before you. Sam was practically ready to go and was sat fidgeting with some of Redwing’s code before heading out. 

“Move it, bird brain!” you called in a joking manner as you walked in behind Wanda, the door shutting with a quiet clock. Sam arched a brow with a lopsided smile as he tisked. He finished with Redwing and tucked him away, making a face as he passed you and you in turn stuck your tongue out at him. 

“Nice, y/n. Very mature,” he called as he pushed the doors open with his back. 

“Says the guy who started it!” you yelled back. You heard Wanda chuckle from her locker and you turned to see her shaking her head. “What?” you asked, though you smiled, knowing what she was probably going to say.

“You’re never mature with him,” she commented, pulling out some of the more “undercover” attire she suspected she might need given her surveillance assignment. 

“Yeah, I know. But Sam’s hardly serious,” Wanda hummed, moving to a more secluded changing room to get dressed. “Don’t forget the baseball cap!” you called to her as she left. You heard her chuckle under her breath and imagined her shaking her head again.

-*-

You landed in Lagos when it was still dark and Steve ran down the plan once more for you. Around five, you moved into your positions. Steve was hidden in a hotel room that overlooked the police station while Wanda and Natasha took up seats at a small cafe just across the way. You sat with Sam on the roof of a taller building, also facing the station. 

“All right, what do you see?” Steve asked over coms, his question targeted Wanda. While this was a very real mission, Nat and Steve had professed that this would also be treated as a team-building exercise of sorts for the three of you. You watched Wanda from above, though her face was obscured by an umbrella as well as the hat, which she’d worn per your suggestion.

“Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target,” Wanda observed.

“There’s an ATM in the south corner, which means…” Steve was stalling, wanting Wanda to come up with the answer herself rather than telling her.

“Cameras,” right on the money. 

“Both cross streets are one way”

“So, compromised escape routes”

“Means our guy doesn't care about being seen, he isn't afraid to make a mess on the way out,” he stalled in his breath, considering possibilities. “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute” 

“It's also bulletproof,” Natasha interjected, “which means private security, which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us.”

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right?” you had to refrain from laughing over coms. Sam noticed and shook his head with a smirk as your smile turned to a scowl at the sight of him.

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature,” Natasha added. You could see her sipping her coffee and imagine her eyes shifting behind her sunglasses.

“Anybody ever tell you you're a little paranoid?” Sam asked upper coms. Now it was his turn to shoot you a grin. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the street.

“Not to my face,” you could hear the smirk Natasha was keeping concealed in her voice. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“Eyes on target, folks,” Steve interrupted now, ceasing the conversation altogether and focusing up once more. “This is the best lead we've had on Rumlow in six months. I don't want to lose him,”

“If he sees us coming that won't be a problem. He kind of hates us,” you nudged Sam’s shoulder, getting him to knock it off when strange movement on the street caught your attention along with Sam’s

“Sam, see that garbage truck?” you exchanged a mutual look with Sam and nodded “Tag it,” doing as he was instructed, Sam released Redwing from his back with the click of a button. The little camera robot hovered for a moment before it was flown down to provide visuals of the truck. You leaned close to Sam to get a better look from your perch.

“Give me X-ray,” with a click of a few buttons, you watched as he grimaced. 

“That truck’s loaded for max weight. And the driver’s armed” Sam turned to you and you nodded. You both knew it was time to get going, so Sam started up his thrusters and you got your powers working, warming them up for a quick getaway.

“It’s a battering ram,” Natasha added with a breath.

“Go now,” 

“Why?” you heard Wanda ask as you all began moving. 

“He’s not hitting the police.'' With Steve’s order, you jump into action with Sam, both diving to the ground with you at the front in a move you'd been practicing for some time now. Just before you hit the ground, you reached up and Sam grabbed your hands. Normally, he would have strained himself flying like this, but strangely, when you activated your powers, they helped you both grip on to one another, making the move possible in short inclinations.

Moving quickly, he managed to turn around and sort of launch you into the air in a corkscrew motion to give you an added boost. Unlike Wanda, you couldn’t quite support yourself in the air with your powers. So ratchet than flying, you'd learned to use your powers like a jump boost of sorts, which helped run across spread-out roofs like you were now. And Sam’s help gave you some additional air that you wouldn’t have been able to get otherwise. 

Sam ducked back into the city once he knew you'd had been set up to get hold of Steve and you kept running towards the scene. You could see the truck speeding up now and it Tapppeared to be heading for a building with writing that reads “Institute of Infectious Disease” on the outside. Your stomach dropped with a familiar kind of dread for what they might be after. 

You arrived a little late and watched as Steve was launched from the air, similarly to how you had been, and began sparing with men on the ground. You made your way to the roof with the familiar clanging and wooshing of the Captain's shield echoing below you. You landed on a bridge-like part of the roof with one last boosted jump and skid across the gravel lining, alerting the two men with rather large guns to your existence.

“Hello boys,” you said with a smug smile. Guns began to click and with a pound of your fist into your open palm, you manifested a sparkling gold shield in front of you. You charged forward, bullets rickshaw till you fully ran and slid across the roof and between the two men, getting behind them long enough to knock one off his feet. You worked to deflect the other one’s attacks till you hit him square in the chest with an extra powered punch. 

“Body armor, AR-15s. I make seven hostiles,” Steve said over crackling coms. Sam appeared on the roof as you continued to fight the first of the men. You could hear the other one begin to get up but didn’t have the time to worry as Sam handled him. Hitting your attacker square in the jaw as well as with an uppercut to the ribs seemed to do the job and you turned to Sam with sweat trickling down your brow. You moved over to him and gave him a knuckle bump as he nodded with a heaving breath.

“I make 5,” Sam said over coms. 

“We make 5,” you clarified, moving on to the next wave below. You stopped before jumping down and looked up for the familiar sound of Wanda’s magic as she flew overhead, landing on the main level as she left a red pulse in her wake. She quickly manifested a shield similar to your own (which you'd helped her learn), blocking a barrage of bullets till she could grab her attacker and fling him backward with her magic.

“Sam,” she called and your partner flew down, knocking into the flying guy with his wing and slamming him to the ground. 

“Four,” he said as he walked off. 

“Do you need to count!” you called just before jumping from the roof, cushioning your landing with a pulse of your magic that kept you on your feet. With the outer ground floor secured you had a moment to breathe and did a short jog over to Wanda. You grabbed her shoulder gently and smiled. “Hey, you alright,” she nodded with a quick smile of her own and you gave her a curt nod, squeezing her shoulder just before turning back to the mission. Looking up you saw Redwing scanning the building and taking a headcount of the remaining hostels in the area. 

“Rumlow’s on the third floor,” he reported when the drone had finished up. Steve nodded and turned to Wanda, looking right in her eye to assure her attention. 

“Wanda, just like we practiced,” He barked as he walked, pointing at her as he looked up at the building.

“What about the gas?” the Sakovian asked from beside you. 

“Get it out,” Steve’s fast-paced walk turned into a sprint as he jumped onto the roof of one of the parked trucks. You watched as Wanda strained, using much of her efforts to lift Steve quite high and guide him through one of the large windows that walled off the third floor. once he was through, another wave of hostels moved in from where the truck had crashed. 

“I’m covering you!” you yelled as gunfire rang out, pressing your back to Wanda as you made ye another shield, only bigger to cover the both of you. Wanda leaned her back on you as she focused on moving the gas, using you as a way to physically relieve some of the pressure from using her magic so much. Periodically you managed to send a blast into one of the men shooting when they got too close, but your effort was primarily working to keep both Wanda and her shield up. 

“Rumlow has a biological weapon,” you heard Steve over the coms ad Wanda dispersed the gas into the air. 

“I’m on it,” Nat’s voice rang out now. You kept an ear out for anything of pertinent importance or orders over the coms but focused your attention on Wanda. She’d keeled over, hands on her knees as she worked to keep her breath regulated. You came up beside her gently, tentatively rubbing circles in her back with your palm. 

“Hey, talk to me,” you murmured. “You ok?” you asked. She nodded, eventually standing fully as she caught her breath. She smiled at you, though it appeared weak as her chest continued to rise and fall at a pace that felt to fact. 

“Let’s take it easy,” explosions began to ring out from behind the building and Steve sounded over coms again. 

“Sam. He's in an AFV heading north” Wanda turned to you, reaching out her hands. You shook her head, knowing what she was trying to do, but she relented, grabbing your hands and wrapping them around her shoulders. With little to no warning, she pushed off the ground and you had no choice but to hold onto her tight. She focused her energy to round her feet and in her right hand as her left came up to wrap around your waist, pressing you close as she flew you in the same direction as same. 

“Wanda, this in no way taking it easy!” you yelped over the rushing air around you. Wanda only laughed in response and you could feel it reverberate in her chest with the proximity between you both. You held on a little tighter after that. 

“I got four, they're splitting up” you heard Sam yell in person rather than over the coms from his perch on a tin roof as you landed in the market with Wanda. Bistanderds scattered from your landing spot and you promptly apologized as Wanda continued, dragging you along in the chase.

“I got the two on the left” you spotted Natasha running over the hoods of taxies down a different street of the market. As you moved inward, you watched Steve do the same till he dove into a crowd. 

“They ditched their gear,” he started. You stopped running for a moment with Wanda to listen. “It's a shell game now. One of them has the payload” you didn’t see it, but you heard the explosion followed by the collective screaming from marketgoers as Steve was attacked. Wanda tried pulling you through, but with the sudden divulgence into chaos, it was difficult to get any kind of opening. Especially since you were going in the opposite direction of practically everyone else. 

“We need to get to Steve!” Wanda insisted as she continued to try and move. She went to try and fly you both again, but you pushed her fist down, stopping her for the moment. 

“You're tired, Wanda. We’ll make it, just give it a moment,” She stared into your eyes as people swarmed around you but gave in with a nod. You took the lead this time, guiding her through the frantic crowd to the clearing that appeared to be forming around Steve. 

You pushed forward, trying to get some kind of visual. When you did, you realized he was soloing with Rumlow and you felt your heart sink. You moved faster, shouldering and elbowing your want though as anxiety began to pulse through your throat. The realization that you could be too late didn’t hit you till you skidded to the edge of the crowd, finally in earshot of the scene. 

Rumlow smiled menacingly up at Steve, who had a frozen look on his face as if he had just seen a ghost. His face was coiled and burned from their previous encounter and you stood, petrified as he spoke, your grip on Wanda’s hand tightening as your eyes widened. 

“He said to me, ‘Please tell Rogers. When you gotta go, you gotta go.’” his grin curled as his brows furrowed in a crazed delight. “And you're coming with me,” you noticed the bomb vest too late, only when he pulled out the trigger. 

“Steve!” you screeched, beginning to move forward as there was a burst of orange light around Rumlow only to be forced to the dusty ground by Wanda’s hands as she reached out in front of her. Steve turned in a mixture of amazement and horror, similar to your expression as Wanda began to contort her hands and arms, groaning at the strain of heaping the explosion contained between the walls of her magic till Rumlow was shot into the air. Only she couldn’t hold it long enough. 

He exploded right beside the windows of an office building, multiple stories high. Wanda knelt to the ground, the hand covering her face moving to her mouth in horror realizing what she had done. Steve stared wide eyes up at what was now a burning hole and slowly reached for his earpiece. 

“Sam… We need… Fire and Rescue… on the south side of the building. We gotta get up there…” he asked between panting breaths. You remained frozen in place due to shock and the rushing adrenalin that pounded in your ears. Wanda practically collapsed to the ground, tears burning her eyes as she swallowed a sob. 

Only that shook you from the frozen staring and you moved. You practically fell again as you scrambled to your feet, your suit dirtied by the sandy ground as you took her into your arms. You wrapped one arm over her chest, the other over her head as she began to cry. Sirens began to blare in the distance, honing in on the three of you. But all you heard was the mingling of Wanda’s trembling cries and your shaking, hushed whispers as you tried to soothe her. You went as far as obstructing her view of the damage as you promised her that it was a mistake.

[aion-rsa]

Steve from Blue’s Clues Reminds Us Why Children’s TV Matters

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

What makes a great children’s TV show? 

Is it the colorful aesthetic of the world on-screen? Is it the funny voices of the cartoons and the playful interactions they have with one another? It’s all that but it’s also more. Good children’s shows understand that young ones are intelligent enough to grapple with concepts like right and wrong, friendship, family, and what it means to be creative. Kids are far more shrewd than adults give them credit for, therefore making a program for an age group that we have been out of touch with for decades presents a myriad of challenges. 

Once in a while there is a show that understands all of the above and for kids who grew up in the late 1990s and early 2000s, there was nothing like Nick Jr.’s Blue’s Clues. Hosted by Steve Burns between 1996 and 2002, the program follows a rigid format in which the host and Blue (the canine namesake) help the audience figure out a puzzle presented at the onset of the episode with clues littered throughout the fictional world. Paw prints mark the objects that hint to what was trying to be figured out, and the tone is simultaneously lenient and encourages challenging thought-provocation that respects a child’s level of intellect and their desire to problem solve. 

Blue’s Clues wasn’t the first children’s show to attempt to merge what is happening on the screen with a prodding of viewer interaction; Sesame Street is the forever original in that category. Because the window of time the show ran in its first iteration was so short, the kids who watched it felt it belonged to them. Other similar outfits transcended many generations, but this one was inherently tied to Gen Z. 

When Burns left after six years, that version of fun was altered. The show continued with Donovan Patton playing Steve’s cousin, Joe, but his style didn’t connect with Steve’s generation nearly as much. Steve felt like a cool pseudo-parent, someone who we respected and listened to while knowing that we could turn him off after 30 minutes and take a break from any hindrance or concept that maybe hit a little too close to guardian-speak. 

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

What hurt was that Steve’s absence, while valid (he went off to college), confused the young audience and they were left to wonder whether we did something wrong. Now in their mid-20’s, the fans of the show got a major surprise answer earlier this week when Burns posted an update video on social media for the 25th anniversary of Blue’s Clues. 

So about that time Steve went off to college… #BluesClues25 pic.twitter.com/O8NOM2eRjy

— Nick Jr. (@nickjr) September 7, 2021

The brilliance of the clip is that Steve Burns is still in character as “Steve” and still speaking the way he did to us when we were kids, with his hallmark verbal traits like pausing after a statement to give time to respond and asking open-ended questions that make the person on the other end think and process. The topics being discussed are obviously much more mature though. He addresses how far we’ve all come in the last two decades and references jobs, school loans, and families. Twitter users appreciated his candor and awareness of us being grown-up, tying childhood to adulthood in a very raw and realistic manner. 

Wow we all needed this today pic.twitter.com/8ENN6TVH0F

— philip lewis (@Phil_Lewis_) September 7, 2021

And also Steve knows how hard it is … pic.twitter.com/O5EJJlx5mj

— 𝓐𝓹𝓪💬 (@trshafaa) September 8, 2021

That’s why Blue’s Clues was so special. It interacted with its audience knowing that the little tykes behind the glass are going to be adult men and women with a variety of joys and hardships in their futures. The show fully intended to form a lifelong relationship between the characters and the viewers, one that would endure and be remembered long after it had come to an end. 

It respected the mental capacity of the children watching as people who have fluid development tracks rather than concrete beings who are recycled as they age. No one group of kids is the same as the next one. It’s why the show is so niche and profound for this specific age group and was pushed into major viral territory by the zoomers with this acknowledgement from Steve. It should be noted that the show was rebooted as Blue’s Clues & You! in 2019, giving a chance for the current youth to experience the same feelings of fulfillment and joy as the previous ones.  

Original Blue’s Clues watchers are adults now but still have the ability to be transported right back to childhood in the blink of an eye. The innocence is gone, but we got to where we are because of shows like Blue’s Clues that prepared us to solve problems, make friends, and enjoy the nuances and humor in every situation. The human lifecycle is universal, but the further we get from childhood the more we unfortunately act as if we never had formative years. 

It was so heartwarming to see both Steve and the audience come together as one and recognize that this was a show that profoundly touched those involved, and we will still reminisce about it in another 20 years! 

The post Steve from Blue’s Clues Reminds Us Why Children’s TV Matters appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3zYc0YP

[widowsofchaos]

Pretty please do #51 with Steve Rogers.

Sweet Dreams

summary: the Captain has only eyes for you.

pairing: darkish!Steve Rogers x black!reader

warnings: mention of alcohol, drunk reader, dark yet soft yandere Steve, somnophilia, vaginal intercourse. dub non-con. Requested prompt 51: “Are you trying to seduce me? Depends. Are you seducible?”

a/n: Finally writing for my fav Captain. <3 requested from this prompt list. shoutout to @punani for helping with the “isn’t this your dream, princess” line for the smut. Thanks so much, boo. <3 xoxo T

do not repost my works!

“You’re doing it again, pal.”

A gruff chuckle could be heard behind Steve - earning a grumble under his breath. The greenery that swirled in his oceanic orbs blackened, and dilated into inky madness; his thick brows peering over his muscular shoulder.

Staring, gawking -- admiring.

“I’m not doing anything, jerk.”

“Punk, please–” an airy snicker, “I know you like the back of my metal hand.” Another snicker, “Even after over seventy years, and you still can’t talk to a dame.” Bucky took a quick gulp of Asgardian ale, his upper lip sneering in satisfaction.

Fueling his mischief.

“Shut it, jerk.” A forced chuckle slipped from Steve’s pink lips, finally facing his long-time companion, grumbling at his best friend’s smug grin. Clicking his jaw tightly, not willing to admit it.

No one can read Steve like an open book like Bucky can.

No one ever.

Brotherly adoration manifested in sibling bickering, always prodding and pushing each other’s buttons.

“Go talk to her.” Bucky’s stormy baby blues searching for a familiar Nubian beauty among the obnoxious faceless crowd that’s festering within the extravagant Stark party.

In his view, he found you sitting on the couch next to Sam, adorable tipsy giggles escaping you. Friendly coziness, you were resting your head on Sam’s shoulder. Now aware why his best friend is fuming at the ears.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” A huff of breath escaped through Steve’s flared nostrils. Denial beating against his fractured mind like a Cherokee drum.

A smirk grew slowly on Bucky’s chiseled bearded jaw, he tsked, his eyes focusing back on Steve’s face, “Alright. Good to know.” Bucky deadpanned — with a touch of a tease, deliberately taking small sips, never wavering his eyes from Steve.

Steve’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “I’ve been meaning to ask Y/n out anyways...” Steve snarled at Bucky. Bucky leaned over, wagging a finger in Steve’s face.

“I’m gonna dunk my dick in her–”, grinning placidly. “Jerk!” Steve roared in a raspy hush at Bucky, punching his metal arm repeatedly, rearing metal meeting Steve’s swinging knuckles.

Tears were forming in Bucky’s eyes as he belly-laughed, doubling-over in his stool— Bucky’s snorts was gaining other party goers’ attention.

Steve’s entire face was reddened – resembling a cartoonish bull fuming — quickly realizing that confused, and amused eyes were zeroed on the super soldier duo.

Nervously his dilated eyes scan over multiple faces, incoherent apologies slip from his lips, only to stumble upon you chuckling, giggles fumbling over your manicured fingertips muffled your lips.

Steve quickly tore his gaze away, his forearms crossed on the marble counter. Sulking and hiding himself against his arms; like an angry toddler.

Muffled embarrassment could be heard within Steve’s arms, his choppy groans and breaths fogging the transparent counter glass, an amused guffaw hissed through Bucky’s teeth.

Patting Steve’s sculpted shoulder blade, “Twah. Don’t worry about me, Stevie. Because tweety over there would probably beat me to the punch. Have you seen the way he gawks at her?” A sing-song jab.

Push. Shove. Goating Steve to grow a pear, hit a nerve for him to finally snap. Knowing full aware that Steve deserves an ounce of happiness – two men forced out of their time, lost possible futures due to out-of-control occurrences, but now?

Why not try to make a new future finally by their own hands? Take what they want. Bucky and Steve deserve it after everything they knew was ripped from them.

Steve’s blonde-head short up, “Don’t say that!” A raspy bark, but no bite — not for Bucky at least. A wolf ready to chomp a particular bird’s head off.

“Then ask her out!” Bucky jabbed his finger in Steve’s chest. “I’m tired of you moping around, staring at her like a sick puppy.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“All that pining -- just get your dick wet already, Stevie.” A harsh cough caved through Steve’s throat.

“Jesus -- what’s with you tonight?” He grinned at a howling Bucky, a swell of relief but mild humiliation bubbling at the pit of his stomach.

Right before his eyes is a vision from the past, this is the closest Steve has witnessed Bucky to three sheets to the wind in a long time -- a cocky sailor-mouthed Casanova slurring flirty innuendos in a dame’s ear, promising necking behind the church, and a call back that will never occur.

Or the curious sixteen year old, who snuck miniature polaroids of stag porn; claiming it’s from his father’s stash -- gawking chuckles, and bashful gasps stifled in the silent night -- two curious boys beyond their years.

It’s refreshing. Bucky, the one last link to Steve’s past that reminds him of home. Bucky is his home -- but now, there is a beautiful being--not more than five feet away from him--who he yearns to create a garden within her heart and soul; you.

A grin slowly faltering to a genuine solemn smile, “You deserve it, Steve. You deserve her.” There he is. An emotional chameleon, faux cheeky ego veneering battle scars, years thick of abuse, and loneliness -- a molded machine guising a little boy. A flicker of vulnerability sheens in Bucky’s eyes, tittering hope of an old soul.

Steve opened his mouth to succumb to his natural instinct of denial, but Bucky cut him off, “Stop it.” A soft demand, gesturing his hand for Steve to shut it.

“How long are we going to suffer?” a swallow, “Reminiscing on what could’ve been. Imaging years after the war, getting married with kids. The all-American suburban dream.” He was getting misty-eyed.

“A pipe dream -- I’ve finally come to realize that it was never intended for us.” Bucky croaked, laughing it off as he downed more mead.

Steve sniffled, projectile vomit churning -- those aren’t his dreams anymore -- at least, not for a lost era. Those late-night thoughts ending with day-dreams buried in a tear-soaked pillow.

“I used to think if I dated Sharon -- I could regain a piece of Peggy back. Fulfill that hole in my heart.” Remorse, and disgust gurgling inside himself, “But -- I know that wasn’t right -- for either of us.” He stammered, his index finger tracing the rim of his glass.

“Peggy wasn’t the one for me. I just got attached to the first woman who saw me as myself -- she saw beyond the swarny loser.” Steve snorted, his throat constricting.

“You were never a loser.” Bucky spoke tenderly, “A loser wouldn’t have accomplished all that you did.” Bucky gripped Steve’s shoulder, a squeeze of reassurance.

He mumbled a thanks Buck with a curt smile. Steve hung his head a bit, gulping the last drops of his beverage.

Attached. What a silly word to describe the Captain’s past affection for Peggy Carter. He looks back to a time where he would’ve gotten on knee for her, and proposed.

Propose the promise of a better life together, with a bunch of rugrats running around, and saving the world.

Now? It’s a memory. The past. He’s learned to let go, accept his life for what it is -- despite having no choice in the manner. A man out of his time, adapting to the 21st century -- with its entertainments, trends, fashion, and evolved society.

Don’t even get Bucky, and himself started on food. Both men have engorged themselves on cusicines, vowing to never eat plain boiled meals again.

Steve’s genuinely thrilled that times have changed with more liberation for marginalized groups -- people being treated as humans, and exercising their rights.

But if anyone asked Steve Rogers what was the first thing he enjoyed since he got out of the ice? He would say you. Without a doubt, you have brought a light in his life -- a light he has been searching his whole life.

Your strength, poise stature, your sweet voice -- always following his orders on the battlefield, but stood your ground, a perfect dance of partners.

Your beauty is unmatched, classy, but never a prude. Sexy, intelligent -- he can go on, and on.

Steve leered over his shoulder again, his eyes focusing on you. Your head was still perched on Sam’s shoulder, Steve huffed.

How he desperately itches to snatch you off of Sam, and just cradle you all night. He sighed, rubbing his temples, “Hey Buck, I’m gonna take off.” Steve stood up, stretching his muscles, “Awh already, old man?” Bucky teases, snickering. “Goodnight, jerk.” Steve laughed, lightly punching Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve began trekking towards the elevator, passing by buzzed individuals. “Stevie.” A familiar seren voice beckoned him, followed by pitter patter. He turned a little too fast, but he didn’t care. It was you.

“Steve!” a slurred glee shrieked out of you, arms extended out to engulf the sculpted Herculan -- ensnaring him tightly around his neck, curious fingers twirling his combed angel-hair, his ears were forming red. A shiver crawled down his spine -- your touch is intoxicating. Your scent -- mouth-watering.

Quickly stilling your swaying, rubbing your face against his broad chest, “How are you?” your words muffled against the tight fabric, “I missed you.” A surprised huff left Steve, searching for Bucky, only to see his friend wiggle his eyebrows suggestively from the distance.

Ever so the gentleman, he didn’t dare lower his hands to a tantalizing region, locking his grip on your waist, “I’m okay, doll.” He chuckled, “How are you?” Sweetly shifting your body against him by the guide of one forearm on the nape of your back -- petting your curled dome, and swiping wild curls from your doe-eyes.

You hummed, squinty hooded-lids, a blissed placid smile, it's a bit goofy -- adorable nonetheless.

“S’good, Stevie.” Your head bobbled a bit, stifled giggles biting your lip. You lazily titled your head towards the elevator, then sloppily turned back to Steve.

“Where ya’ going, Stevie?” You pouted, and Steve just wanted to trace your bottom lip -- dig his thumb between your lips.

“I’m just gonna head to bed.” Steve’s babifyed his tone, “Sleepy too.” You murmured. Steve internally awed, as your head leaned back on his chest.

“C’mon, doll. Let me help you get to bed.” Steve chuckled. “Oh, how about I put you to bed, Cap--tin?” You slurred, stretching his formal title with a pause -- your eyes fluttered for a second, lazily jabbing his bicep with your finger.

Steve’s ears were dusted pink, shocked at your flirty attitude, catching onto your teasing manner. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Steve’s brazen confidence soared for a momentary lapse. A bit disappointed that most likely, you won’t recall any recollection of tonight’s event.

“Depends. Are you seducible?” You cheekily lightly smacked your lips, with a pout. Steve desperately wants to kiss that pout forever. But he restrained himself.

“Let’s go, Y/n.” He smiled sweetly. Steve lifted you more upward, guiding your feet so you won’t fall on your face.

Walking into the elevator Steve pressed your numbered button, his eyes caught Bucky, who wiggled his eyebrows, mouthing hushed words just for Steve’s advanced hearing, “That’s my boy.” Steve rolled his eyes playfully.

-

During the journey in the elevator, you fell out like a light. Steve carefully hoisted your limp body in bridal style. Steve gazed at you happily, the slope of your nose, your spidery lashes, ruffled curls -- how your breasts heaved under your purple sun-dress.

The ding of the elevator alerting Steve that you both are on your floor, interrupting Steve’s haze, he grumbled a bit but he began walking out towards your room.

Steve gracefully walked to your room, not even paying attention to his steps, focusing on your peaceful sleepy face. The path to your room is already memorized.

“FRIDAY, open Y/n’s door.” Steve pecked a lingering kiss on your forehead, “Of course, Captain Rogers.” The lock of your bedroom clicked open. Steve made himself home, a natural occurrence of him.

Strides towards your bed, gingerly placing you on the bed. Steve gulped, his fists straining at his side; his eyes stared up at the ceiling, counting to five.

Reprimanding himself; reminding himself that he should leave you be. Just like the times before.

But one look at you, and he’s a goner. He has to just touch you — oh God, please.

Shaky palms reach for the hem of your dress, grazing your skin as he perched the fabric upward. Savoring the smoothness against his fingertips.

Toned curves and planes of soft-scented, smooth sepia flesh; his heartbeat drumming out in a rapid rhythm, serene sleepy smile rests on your face. Pouty heart-shaped lips -- Steve’s cock twitch at the mere idea of slipping his veiny dick in your warm mouth, your slurping tongue gagging on his swollen balls.

But not yet. The scenery isn’t fitting -- next time.

Gingerly kneeling on your carpeted floor, Steve delicately seized one of your ankles, pinched tips toying with the leather straps; leisurely unclipping the sandals, he licked his bottom lip.

A wolf playing with its food, favoring the image of an anxious boy unwrapping his prize.

As his nimble fingers unlatched the straps off, steadily he tugged the sandal off, silently placing the shoe on the floor -- he repeated the exact action with the other foot.

Steve internally awed at your dainty feet, a small whine restrained by a tight-lip smirk. Hiking his clutch on your ankle, peppering modest kisses on the tips of your toes.

He couldn’t help but to worship you.

Hosting himself upward, tenderly repositioning your leg against the mattress.

Limbs spread eagle, your forearms perched above your dome like a mid-froze ballerina, the hem of your dress hiked up -- bundled, and wrinkled -- to your navel, exposing your lace thong.

A shuddering groan crawled up his throat,swallowing thickly, calloused fingers skate past the terrain of ankles to legs -- thumbs rubbing, savoring -- to waist, kneading slightly but only to flinch away.

Scared to break you, as if he’s too broken to handle your beauty properly. Steve grew the confidence within him, and quietly began removing your dress off your body.

His fingers sneak underneath the cotton dress, slipping it up towards your chin; clutching one arm to maneuver the short-end sleeve off.

A small groan vibrated in your throat, but you remained in a drunk slumber. Steve’s breath hitched, fearful for you to awaken with him hovering over you. To scare you off -- he just wants a taste.

To feel what’s his.

Presented before Steve was your bare essence; and he just wants to fall to your feet. All his sketches of your sleeping form doesn’t do justice, being able to view the entire masterpiece beyond hidden sketches.

“You’re so beautiful, doll.” He murmured, his lips foraging your chavlices.

You sleepily mumbled, a lazy smile curling just a bit. A lingering kiss on your hairline, Steve lowly hummed happily. Your bare breasts heave with your calm breathing, Steve littered your sheen skin with small kisses, a few kitten licks on your nipples -- the tip of his tongue swirling on the erected nubs.

Little whimpers, and moans swelled Steve’s cock. “My sweet little doll is so responsive … so sensitive.” Steve cooed. With much silent vigor, Steve unbuckled his pants, fumbling the fabric below his ass; just enough space to release his weeping cock.

His fingers hook your flimsy lace, tugging it by the side -- salivating at the mouth at your glistening mound. His thick fingers wrap around his cock, love taps by his swollen tip against your clit. You softly mewled in your sleep, a cute whine. Involuntarily your hips shifted, your body yearning for contact.

Steve tsked playfully at your impatience, “Even in your sleep, you need me.” Steadily Steve inserted himself inside your soft velvety walls, biting down on his lip to prevent a lew groan. He shivered internally, you feel heavenly.

Steve languidly thrusts, his fists crumpling your sheets underneath you. Slowly leaning half of his weight onto you, his light pants fanning on your face. Steve indents his elbow that was sunk just a bit in the mattress, trapping your head between himself.

“Isn’t this your dream, princess? Isn’t this what you’ve desperately wanted all this time?” Steve whispered in your ears, “Flirting with your Captain, naughty girl.” His fingers caressing your arms, soothing you back to a fluid state of sleep, a small loose smile adorning your face.

Licks his teeth, as he gently pushes his girth inside of you. Mumbled whines alert him, he shushes you, pecking little kisses on your cheeks while maintaining an agile insertion. Trembling slightly at the heavenly touch that is you, Steve hissed under his breath.

He preens as he finally is at a full brim. His pelvis against your vee, fully satiated between your thighs.

His heart pounding, snapping his hips slightly, your body jolts a bit underneath him. Steve’s chest tightens, as he pounds into you, the squelching wetness coating his cock.

His limbs twitches, struggling not to groan, or growl in pleasure. Steve’s head glides down to meet your heaving breasts, suckling onto the nipple.

Blinded by lust, he suckles, imagining it’s full of milk, a muffled grunt leaves him as he pictures you swollen with his child -- another on your hip. He rolls his hips, losing his control as the mellow pacing turns faster, more needy.

One day — one day, there will be a ring on your finger; and a litter of your own together. The Rogers — Mrs. Y/n Rogers; oh this is just beginning.

Eyes screwed shut, he keens to feel your rapid breathing spike, tremors shudder throughout your body. His golden hair is sweat slick against his forehead, a little pop from as he detaches himself.

Flickering the tip of his tongue against the nipple. Steve changes the angle of his cock, you jerk in your stupor, high-arch keen off the bed.

“That’s the sweet spot.” He hummed to himself. His voice scraped in a hush, “I can feel you tightening on me, doll.” It’s like a vice on his cock, blurry visions you dream -- his veiny cock pounding into you with no mercy.

“Steve …” You murmur, Steve leans more into you, a goofy grin of joy stretches on his face. “My sweet doll is dreaming of me. You can feel me.” Steve’s is over-joyed, his heart flutters, butterflies are rapid in his belly. You’re thinking of him. Pressing his chest against your breasts, “I’m going to cum, doll.”

Sneaky fingers snake itself between you both, rubbing your clit in circles, a breathy gasp escapes you.

“I love you.” Steve whimpers, painting your walls white -- not daring to let any ounce of cum escape. Biting his lips till it draws blood, preventing any roar.

His nose scrunches up, his muscles tighten. You exhaled, you slick dripping down Steve’s pants.

He kisses your lips gingerly, “Sweet dreams, doll.”

[midnight-lightning]

Beautiful danger

 Summary: He was the bad guy, the enemy. Everything around him just screamed ‘stay away from me’. A guy you would never fall for. But there was just something thrilling, something new and different, that nearly forced you to be near him. But you would never let him charm himself into your heart…right?

 Pairing: Loki x reader

Sometimes no matter how hard you try and fight it, the heart wants what it wants. And believe it, you had tried everything, to keep your heart away from him even though you knew it was already too late.

The first time you met was in New York. Or rather, during the time New York City was under attack by no other than Loki, the god of mischief himself. Somewhere throughout the whole fight you had gotten separated from the other Avengers and this was the exact moment you encountered him.

Considering the grey, dusty streets and buildings around, his green colours practically glowed, only his eyes were fitting the icy blue of his staff.

But the mere way he didn’t even blink when something exploded right beside him, the way he walked – proud of his achievements – showed, this city belonged to him, he owned it, and everyone should know that.

So of course it wasn’t very astonishing he didn’t seem to be concerned in the slightest way when you blocked his path.

You remembered the way Loki had eyed you sceptically, a slight smirk on his lips. “All the blood looks good on you,” he then commented. “It really brings out your eyes.”

“I’m giving my best, Bambi,” you answered dryly, going into a fight position.

Loki was visibly surprised, whether by the strange name you gave him or how bold you were, considering the whole situation.

“Don’t you know who I am, Mortal?”

Of course you had known. You had also known the moment he’d use his staff you were dead, but you didn’t want to show your fear, rather you tried to gain a little bit more of time, before things went all boom. So you answered daringly, “No, I tend to surround myself with people who aren’t so arrogant.”

Loki seemed to be taken back by your statement.

He tilted his head to the side, taking a further step towards you, a dangerous look on his face. “You know I could kill you in a mere second, Woman.”

“You could at least try, yup.” You nodded, not breaking the eye contact.

Again a smirk. “Who’s now the arrogant one, darling?”

Thank god, it didn’t take long for Steve and the others to arrive, because you alone wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

Though it was a tough challenge in the end you all managed to subdue Loki more or less and take him prisoner.

You were relieved. Everything seemed to be finally over. Tomorrow Thor would take his brother with him back to Asgard, against the will of shield, though.

But given your penetrate curiosity which had gotten you into severe troubles more than once, you couldn’t help but wanted to see the mysterious God one last time, before he would disappear into the universe again tomorrow. You tried to convince yourself it was only for Shield’s researches and commissions, but the truth was, Loki was definitely far too interesting and fascinating to just not take notice of him.

The moment you entered the large room of the hellicarrier in which his cell was located you knew he had already noticed you.

“It seems I am quite desired among the women of this earth,” he said, with his back still to you. “Though you do appear not as soundless, as your friend.”

Your friend? Oh, he must mean Natasha.

Slowly, and excessively over dramatic he turned around, of course with his usual cocky smirk on his lips.

”Do you as well strive for information of my intentions for this planet? Or have you merely missed my presence, mortal?”

Crossing your arms around your chest you took a closer step towards the cell and Loki. “No, I’m here because of my own investigations. Besides, I have a name, you know? Not ‘mortal’, but Y/N. Manners, love.”

Loki chuckled amused. “Well, Y/N, then. What is it that you hope to gain for you ‘investigations’?”

“What master do you serve?” you asked, to which he blinked somehow perplexed.

“What makes you think I have a master, love?”

“Well, I don’t know. You are a god, or something like that at least. So what is the point in attacking just an insignificant city of a small planet. What do you get from this? Unless…” you paused for a moment to think, during which Loki watched you carefully. A thought crossed your mind. “You can’t possibly cause all this chaos just to annoy your brother, right? That would be pretty insane.”

“Manners, Love,” he mimicked you mockingly, making you scoff. “Do not put your pretty nose into things you wouldn’t ever be able to understand.”

And thus your little bickering went on. You knew he was dangerous, otherwise he wouldn’t be stuck I a cell. But on the other side his mere presence put such a spell on you that you couldn’t help but glimpse every now and then a little more precise at him. Looking for something…human in him.

And Loki as well seemed to acquire a liking in this little conversation. Smirking mischievously every time he made you feel flustered.

It was kind of refreshing for both of you, still you kept your guards up. Loki wasn’t someone you should easily underestimate.

 OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

 Your third encounter should have been the last for a long time. It happened outside, shortly before he would be transported back to Asgard.

You stood outside next to Nat and Clint, when you suddenly crossed his eyes. You thought what or rather if he would have said something if it weren’t for his mouth mask. Instead he had tilted his head to the side, winked sheepishly, before he had just vanished together with his brother, returning back home.

Months went by without hearing anything about Loki. Though he had never really left your mind. In fact, you thought quite often about him. There was no doubt, he was an asshole. A quite manipulating, arrogant, dangerous asshole. But also a very charming and sassy one. And good looking, though it didn’t matter in anyway.

 Until one very cloudy day, on which you were on your way back home when it started to rain and you decided to go inside a café and wait for it to stop.

It had been really quite in New York this last time, in fact, you haven’t felt that relaxed and carefree in a very long time.

So it was fairly surprise, when he suddenly stood at the entrance of the café you were sitting in. The second you noticed him you immediately jumped up from the chair, nearly knocking over your coffee from the table, while you went into your fighting position, looking for a way to evacuate the customers.

Loki on the other side –surprisingly- lifted both his arms in defense, showing that he didn’t intend any harm.

There were exactly two details that made you lower your gun in confusion.

First, there was no smirk, not even the slightest clue of a smile on his face. Nothing. He looked completely calm.

And second, he wore a god damn black suit, and it made him look nearly… human.

The Loki from then would never lower himself on a level of a mere mortal.

So, there you stood, with an open mouth staring like an idiot at the God of mischief, while he slowly approached you. But it wasn’t only the black suit, which by the way made him… exceptional good looking, there was something else. Beside the lack of gel in his hair.

“We should sit down. People are starting to look,” he said, getting you back to earth. And oh dear god, even his voice was different. It didn’t sound as disdainful and cocky as before. There was a calmness in it, nearly a civility, that made baffled you.

Suddenly somehow embarrassed you cleared your voice, trying to gather yourself. “What- what are you doing here? Like on earth?” You let yourself fall back into your seat, still clearly astonished while Loki sat down across from you.

“Well, just a little mission between me and my dear brother,” he stated while he nonchalantly wiped some crumbs from the table. “You know, a nice family trip.”

He lifted his eyes and looked directly into yours. And then you noticed it.

“Liking what you see?” Loki asked and you were somehow relieved to so his smirk again. But you didn’t give it any attention, instead you squinted your eyes and watched him carefully. “You seem different.”

“Better, I hope?”

“Yes, that too, but – wait. I didn’t mean it that way.”

Loki decided to take part in your little game and moved his head a little closer to you. “Really?” He whispered mischievously. “Because your heart just increased by an unnatural amount of beats for humans. Am I making you nervous, darling?”

“Your eyes.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki leant back again watching you in utter perplexity.

“Your eyes. That’s what’s different about you. Do you wear contacts? Last time they shined in this incredible cold blue, but now they’re like…,” you searched for the fitting words. “Fanfiction green.”

Now that seemed to throw the god completely. “Fanfiction green?”

“Never mind,” you replied quickly, embarrassed at how easily you have let yourself get carried away. You glanced all around the café, not wanting to meet his eyes in this moment. “So… you’re done with conquering New York?”

Loki let out a husky laugh, that nearly made you nearly choke on your coffee. What the hell?

“No. I think this belongs now to my past.”

“So you’re a good guy now?” You glanced at him, taking another slip.

Loki lifted his eyebrow. “Of course not.”

And this simple, little statement made you laugh, for which you only earned a mocking look from the god.

 Talking to Loki was surprisingly easy. He was directly. Didn’t dread to speak openly – of course not, he was still Loki after all.

He still teased you, was charming as always, though you were surprised by the fact that the flirting had decreased. Instead he seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to you, asking questions or telling little stories himself. He was curious and sometimes you felt like you talked a little too much be he didn’t bother.

The hours went by way faster that you thought and hoped for. But the time to say goodbye still arrived, when the rain had stopped and the sunset begun to redden the sky.

You were standing outside the café, the cool evening wind brushing through your hair. You were watching the god of mischief carefully, something in you still waited for the moment he’d transform back into his old self, wanting to conquer the world again.

” Tell me what happened that made you change your mind. And your eye colour,” you urged him, once to satisfy your own curiosity and secondly to have a reason for all of…this.

Loki gave you an amused look. “It doesn’t matter. For your own good, Y/N, I hope we don’t meet again.”

Your heart faltered a little when you heard this. He was right, you knew that, but still. This evening was surprisingly very nice.

But your heart missed a beat when he suddenly reached for your hand.

“Though, it was a pleasure,” Loki whispered before he placed a gentle kiss on it.

You were way too surprised to react or to even say anything in this seconds and before you knew, he had let go of you and the moment was gone.

“Send Thor my best regards,” you just said.

“Definitively not.”

 And oh how this evening got stuck in your head!

It had been your fourth and most remarkable meeting and you just wished you’d stayed a little longer, gotten to know him a little more.

The whole night you tossed and turned around in bed, replaying your conversations in your head, cringing about small details you wished you had formed different or not said at all.

And the moment you imagined his green eyes or this little smirk or the way his lips felt on your hand, you knew you were in deep, deep trouble just by the way your heart jumped.

“Oh, Damn it, Y/N.”

Due to the lack of sleep the past night, the sun stood already high in the sky when you awoke. You sighted in defeat, relived that the endless dreams of green eyes and black suits were finally over.

Though it seemed like the dreams - or nightmares whatever you like better - became reality, when you arrived in the living room. You stopped dead in your tracks when you noticed literally everyone was standing there, surrounding Thor and Tony. And beside them, the source of your sleepless night.

“What the- “

“Y/N, good afternoon to you, too!” Tony exclaimed, turning all the attention to you.

You tried your best to not look crazy, but hell you just woke up and this whole situation IS crazy!

So you cleared your throat and tried for a forced smile. “What’s… going on?”

And ohh a lot went on. Good, old Tony announced that Thor as well as his brother would stay here for a while due to some specific things that needed to be done here on earth, which involved the future of Asgard or something along the line. Anyways Tony didn’t seem to like the idea of ‘reindeer games’ back on earth either but Y/N should have seen Thor, looked like he was about to cry. Said something about Loki will behave.

“And I’m still here, Mortal,” Loki interrupted to which Tony gave him his best bitch face before he turned to Thor. “He’s completely your responsibility, thunder man.”

He turned to leave and the rest of the people started to spread as well, leaving only you and Loki.

You glanced at him only to find him already watching you.

“Seems like we going to see each other more often in the future,” he said.

You sighted dramatically. “and here I was, thinking I’ve seen the last of your pretty face.”

“So you think I’m attractive?”

“I never said that.”

“Come on, Darling, we both know- “

That darling again. That damn darling. Frustrated you pressed your lips together when you felt the damn butterflies in your damn stomach.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

So here you were, falling for the devil. And you knew there was no way back since you were long lost.

Of course you spent more time together these next months, no matter if you intended it or not. You go for a glass of water, he sat there already, drinking tea. He gotten lost in Tony’s house, you’d be just around the next corner. You wanted to read, he was already in the library.

You spend your time reading, doing simply nothing, eating, or talking. And oh you talked a lot. You got to know more and more about him and his story, shared memories, though you noticed he still didn’t fully open up, he began to trust you, and you him.

One night you came home late at night and notice the light coming from the living room. You found him there sitting on a couch reading a book.

“It’s way past midnight, why the hell are you still here?”

A little surprised Loki looked up. And the moment he closed the book to answer you, you realized it was one of your favourite books! You rose your eyebrow in astonishment.

“I like the moral of the story though the concept seems a little dim,” Loki explained and moved a little to make you room next to him. “You’ve mentioned it’s one of your favorite books and I have to admit I like this one far more than these ‘fanfictions’.”

You stopped in your tracks, before you looked at him unbelievable. Did he really just-

“You…you- what?”

“Fanfiction,” he repeated once more. “Though I still have absolutely no idea what fanfiction green means- “

“You remember I’ve said that?”

“Well, it involved my eyes, after all, of course I’d remember that.”

That left you speechless for a while.

.

When you think back to the time you had fully accepted your feelings, there always occurs this one occasion into your mind. The evening, that turned into your favorite memories.

It had been an outstanding stressful and eventful week. You felt tired and exhausted so it was no wonder you hadn’t been careful enough and cut yourself accidently with a kitchen knife while you were cooking. It was a rather deep wound and you couldn’t help but let a small whimper escape while searching for a towel.

Not even a minute had passed by and Loki appeared in the room. “That’s a lot of blood. What happened?”

You remember the way he had looked at you, some way concerned yes, but there was also a bit of amusement in his disbelieve about your clumsiness. The way he had carefully placed your hand in his, before he gently bandaged your hand, carefully trying not to hurt you anymore.

You had looked up and met his green eyes. And again you had the feeling that he was looking right into your soul, into your heart. Your faces were only inches away. For a mere second - you thought you just imagined it - his eyes flickered to your lips.

“You know,” you whispered, biting your lip nervously. “If someone told me I’d ever be friends with the god of mischief…”

“So we’re friends now?” Loki said under his breath.

Immediately you stumbled upon your words, not wanting to appear in the wrong way. “What? Oh, I mean unless you don’t think so we do- “

Your entire body froze for a second. The kiss was so soft you couldn’t believe this was the same man you had fought against so long ago.  

Your unharmed hand slowly found its way into Loki’s hair, while his hand wandered down to your waist, holding you like his dear life dependent on it.

So here you were, kissing the man you’ve sworn to never fall too. But sometimes the heart just wants what it wants. And there were no forces in the world that could stop it. 

When you slowly removed from each other, your forehead still against his, you weren’t able to open your eyes for a few seconds afterwards, afraid that the moment would just vanish.

You felt Loki’s cool breath on your lips when he said with a still hoarse voice, “I think we should revise the exact definition of ‘friends’, Darling. “

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter one - Steve x Reader

chapter one: the enemies 

series summary:Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: You and Steve unfortunately reunite for the first time in five years.

warnings: swearing!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: alright fellas, I am back with another longfic! this one is a summer camp au. this chap is mainly exposition but it’ll flesh out in the next chapter. hope you are ready to go on this ride w me!

===

Steve isn’t quite sure what he signed up for.

“Steve, you have to,” Dustin pleaded with him a month ago. “There aren’t enough counselors, and if there aren’t enough counselors, then there’s no camp.”

Steve rolled his eyes, bit his heart was sympathetic. “Why is that my problem?”

Dustin sighed, frustrated. “Because we’re best friends, and you’re supposed to help your friends when they need it.”

Steve rolled his eyes again as he contemplated the scenario. Steve had gone to camp when he was younger, but it was nothing like Camp Know Where. Steve’s parents had sent him off to a summer camp that some other Hawkins parents sent their kids to. Tommy H. had always gone, as well as some other boys Steve grew up with. He enjoyed his time there – it was always pleasant and fun. Just a boy doing boy things with his shitty friends. But Camp Know Where had a purpose. Steve didn’t know the first thing about science. Dustin said that could be used to his advantage - Steve wasn’t so sure.

“What’s in it for me?” Steve asked, unpeeling an orange as he leaned against the kitchen counter in his apartment.

“The camp is right on a lake,” Dustin began. “It’s a great spot for swimming and kayaking. You don’t know shit about science, so this is an opportunity to learn. And some of the camp counselors are babes.”

Steve snorted. “What are they, forty-five?”

“Uh, no? They’re your age?”

Steve’s brows shot up at the mention. “You’re saying there are babes I have a chance with there?”

“They’re apparently not your type, ya know, since you hate nerds.” Dustin shrugged his shoulders, but Steve was still very, very interested.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And, anyway, you can lead the sports and adventures and hikes and stuff, if you don’t like science. And it’s a nice way to get away from Hawkins for a few months.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Is it paid?”

“You get a stipend of two hundred a month.”

Steve nearly choked on his orange. “Two hundred dollars a month?!”

“And your food is paid for. So is your laundry and housing. It’s free.” Dustin grinned smugly at Steve, and Steve held his hand out.

“You got a deal,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Steve went through a phone interview and Dustin wrote him a glowing recommendation. And here he is, a month later, driving towards Michigan with Dustin in the passenger seat and multiple suitcases in the back. Steve was required to come two weeks early to learn the ropes, while Dustin was allowed to come early because he was a designated Camp Leader, along with Suzie and some others.

“They call us the ‘Know Everythings’,” Dustin beams.

“Sounds like they’re trying to call you smartasses,” Steve responds, staring absentmindedly out the windshield. Dustin’s smile drops and Steve’s widens. “Don’t worry, Dusty-bun, your girlfriend likes it.”

Dustin slams himself back against the seat, looking out the window. “Should’ve never invited you.”

“Too late.”

Steve was excited beyond the nerves. He had needed some type of self-intervention and introspection after the last three years. He needed a way to mend the emotional scars that the Upside Down and Nancy had left. Dustin had said there were a lot of authors and poets who wrote about the healing power of nature. Steve’s not sure it’s legit, but it’s more hope than he’s had in a while. Robin had also insisted it would be good for Steve to get away from town and try to find himself. So Steve is going into it with an open mind, trying to fight his negative side with suffocating positivity.

==

You, on the other hand, knew exactly what you’d signed up for.

You had gone to camp when you were younger, too. Except you hated that camp with a passion. Each summer, you’d cry to your parents as June rolled around. You didn’t want to go back to that stupid, hot, ridiculous camp, where a certain group of boys made your life hell. But your parents insisted it was good for you, and they sent you until you were too old to go. In a way, they were right; the camp had taught you to stand up for yourself. It gave you the confidence and self-love a lot of people didn’t have. But you certainly wished you’d found all of that in a healthier way - not because boys would steal your clothes when you were swimming at night, leaving you to walk to your cabin naked.

So, you signed up to help out at Camp Know Where two years ago because you loved science and the outdoors, and you wanted to facilitate a healthy self-love journey for the campers. You wanted to help teach them how to be themselves, to love themselves, to stick up for themselves. And, truth be told, nerds need that kind of reassurance. You’re a nerd – you’d know.

You came to camp two weeks early to help train the new counselors. You didn’t get the list of names, but if you had, you would have run away as soon as your eyes landed on Steve Harrington.

==

It was, by all accounts, a beautiful June day. Not too hot, not too cool. The breeze rustled the leaves and the waves of the lake lapped the shoreline. Not a cloud in the bright blue expanse above the camp, which was buzzing with Camp Leaders and trainees. You stood at the entrance, helping direct people to the registration table. You were excited to see some of your favorites again – especially Suzie and Dustin. They’d been campers you bonded with last year, and you were ready to see them again.

Suzie came by first, adorably excited to see Dustin when he arrived. “He said he’s bringing a friend to help be a counselor, do you know them?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” you remark. “Do you know their name?”

“Steve, something? They’re pretty close.”

The name Steve had always left a bitter taste in your mouth, so you visibly cringe. Suzie’s brows furrow but you assure her you’re fine. It can’t be that Steve. There’s no way the Steve you knew at Camp Golden Rays was about to come here, to a nerd-infested camp, to help out with kids. No way.

You continue to greet campers and new counselors as they come. During a lull, you lean against the picket fence that lined the entrance, looking out at the parking lot. You see a nice BMW come into view – it’s not one you’d seen before. Must be someone new, you think, pushing yourself up off the fence to greet them.

The first person you notice is Dustin, easily recognizable despite the hat covering his curly hair. He’s taller than the last time you’d seen him – kids grow up so fast. You smile brightly, happy for him to finally arrive, but your smile plummets comically as you see the next person step out.

It’d been 5 years since you’d seen Steve Harrington, and his hair had grown out and his body had toned, but it was unquestionably him. Steve, that stupid, smug bastard. That idiotic jerk who used to smack your lunch tray and trip you. That moron who all the girls swooned over and excused countless times for shitty behavior.

Here he is, at Camp Know Where – a place you never thought you’d ever see him.

Of course, Steve doesn’t know who you are, at first. His concussions had clouded his memory, only remembering bits and pieces. It takes work for him to remember who people are, or what things happened. Most of his memories of Camp Golden Rays are intact, but he had severely repressed his shitty tween behavior. As he approaches, all he really thinks about is that Dustin was right, there were babes here.

“Y/N!” Dustin calls out, running awkwardly with his trunk to come hug you. You hug him, but your eyes stay on Steve, who beams at you as if he didn’t ruin your whole life.

“Look who it is.” Your voice is cold and monotonous.

Steve stops dead in his tracks, confusion twisting on his face. What now? he thinks. This isn’t the first time he’s forgotten who someone was. But then it hits him, and the realization nearly sweeps him off his feet. Regret, remorse, guilt, and anger rip through him as he remembers you. You, who he used to shove. You, who he used to laugh at. There’s still a part of him that feels that hatred for you, deep down, and he tries to shove it away.

“Jesus Christ,” he says under his breath, before loudly saying, “Hi, Y/N.”

Dustin’s brows knit together, and he looks between you two. He can assume that you both have a history. Steve probably stood you up or something. Slowly, he asks, “You two…?”

“Nice car,” you quip. “Daddy buy that for you?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Steve responds, dragging his feet towards you. There’s a lot of things he wants to say – that he’s sorry, that you look really good now, that he’s changed. But it all rests at the base of his throat. His mouth opens and closes a few times.

“Can someone please explain?” Dustin says.

“You’re friends with this asshat?” You ask Dustin, gesturing to Steve. “Like, actual friends with him?”

“Guilty,” Dustin says sheepishly. He’ll fill you in on Steve’s growth later. “Let’s go find Suzie, Steve.”

And despite your apprehension towards each other, you and Steve share the same thought – This is going to be a long summer.

===

taglist (join here!): @harringtown​ @heart-eye-harrington​ @rosecolouredboi​ @comedy-witch​ @lovesong-remastered​

[nemobookaholic]

FrostIron Part 1

So I volunteered to write a FrostIron fanfic for @belligerentmistletoe , please let me know what you think. I’m always open to honest critique.

I hope it is going to be as much fun to read as I had writing it. Please excuse any typos or weird phrases, I’m not a native speaker.

Had to split it, cause I’m unable to write less than 6k it seems 🙈 I have to remind everyone, that I don’t own any rights to the characters. You read that on your own responsibility. Its a ship, so I don’t have to tell you what can and probably will happen. No violence to it tough. Enough talki-talki, enjoy.

LokixTony

We are at an alternative Timeline, in which Loki joined the Avengers, after he came to earth together with Thor. Thanos never interfered, so we find Loki wandering the Avengers Tower.

All the halls looked the same to him. He lost orientation some time ago, yet he would never admit that. Not to the people who crossed his path, with their ghastly looks and the mistrust they didn’t bother to hide. And when Romanoff and Barton turned the corner, he slipped into the next door hastily.

Loki found himself in a big room with large windows and a bar in it. The light was dimmed and in front of the counter he noticed a figure leaning onto it. Loki stepped closer to see who that was, it turned out to be Stark. And because the god had no other plans he decided to join him.

“I’m still waiting for that drink,” Loki said, sitting down on a barstool next to Stark.

The mechanic was staring at an empty glass, playing with it, as if he would think about what decision to make.

“Your bad, I stopped drinking a long time ago,” Tony answered after a while, as if he would just realise the presence of the god.

“Then why do you look like you would yearn for one?”

“That’s none of your business,” Tony said, turning away gazing out the window.

“Hard day, hmmm? May I help myself to a drink?” Loki asked politely and Tony nodded absent minded. The god made his way round the counter to get himself a glass, which he filled with whiskey. He sat back to his former place and sipped from his drink now and then. The two men sat in silence for some time.

“You know that nearly the whole crew was against having you in the team?” Tony interrupted the quietness.

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Loki shrugged his shoulders, “what is your opinion on the matter?”

“Hmmm,” Tony started playing with the glass again, “to be honest, I’m not happy either. But as I have experienced it myself, I know that people have the capacity to change.” He scratched his head, “I think you deserve a second chance. Anyway, that doesn’t mean I would trust you,” he admitted.

“Fair enough,” the god emptied his glass. “So what made you hide in here? Did Rogers ask for a private conversation?” Loki chuckled.

Tony groaned, “it’s my fathers birthday.”

“And you have no ambitions to get to see him?”

“He’s dead. Steve’s friend ensured that and like you, he’s part of the team now.” Tony dropped his head into both his hands, “seems like everyone deserves forgiveness, even mass murderers. No offence.”

“I’m sorry for your loss Anthony,” said Loki. If Tony would have looked up, he would have seen that the god wasn’t.

“No need to be sorry. Howard was an asshole,” Tony slammed his fist onto the table.

“Then why do you even bother?” Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Would you not, if someone killed your parents?” Tony mumbled the words to his glass.

“I would give everything to get my mother back and to bring revenge for her death. For the Allfather? I would send a letter of appreciation,” Loki smirked. “Unfortunately I have to send it to myself.” The god wasn’t in full control of his facial expressions and for once more they proved him a liar. Tony gave no reaction to it, so Loki felt encouraged to go on. “He was a miserable father most of the time. You know, kidnappet me from my realm. Promised me a throne that he never intended to give to me,” the longer he talked, the more agitated he got. “I never understood why he took me away from my home in the first place. To make me feel like a freak, once I discovered my true nature?” Slowly the illusion slipped away. His skin turned blue, the eyes red. When he realised he had unmasked himself, he turned back to his human appearance in an instance.

“In the end he was just an old man full of regrets,” Loki ended his monologue.

Tony let out a loud snore.

“Anthony?”, Loki asked in surprise.

“He’s asleep Sir,” a bodiless female voice informed him.

“Thank you for pointing out the obvious,” Loki rolled his eyes, “well, I’m sorry my story seemed to bore him that much.” The god jut his chin forward.

“If that’s a comfort Sir, he was tired the whole day. The fight with Miss Potts made it even worse,” Friday explained.

Loki slid down the barstool and stepped towards Tony.

“Can you explain to me how to find his bedroom?” he asked.

Friday gave him directions, while Loki lifted Tony into his arms. He just hoped that nobody would see him. Not because he would be ashamed of carrying another man, but because of the general distrust that was brought to his person.

The AI woman followed him, to assure that her boss would make it back to his room safely. Not even a humanoid person trusted him, if that wasn’t good news!

Carefully the god placed the fragile human into the sheets. Loki kneeled down to untie Tony’s shoes and placed them on the ground.

He even ensured to pull the blanket over the mechanic's body.

Loki hesitated a second, somehow he liked Stark. With a soft touch to his fingertips he brushed some stray hair out of the other man's face.

Loki turned away and made his way back to the bar. He felt the urgent need for a bottle of wine, or better two.

***

Tony opened his eyes, because the sun was beaming directly into his face.

How did he even get to bed? He couldn’t remember.

“Friday, please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid yesterday night?” he asked into the void.

“No sir. But I’m afraid your company has,” she answered.

“My comp—oh fuck! I was with Loki, wasn’t I?” he didn’t bother to wait for an answer, “where is he now?”

“Shop floor,” was the hesitant answer.

“You let him in?!” Tony flared.

“Mr. Laufeyson has been very charming,” came the snippy answer.

“How could he charm you, you’re not even a real person,” Tony grumbled.

“But he treated me like one.”

“Remind me to look over your coding,” he said.

“Yes Sir.”

Tony made his way through the maze of floors on the Avengers Tower until he reached his sanctuary. When he stepped inside his feet shoved a bottle on the ground. It slid away, crashing into more empty glass.

“What the fuck?” he raised his arms in disbelief.

The scene was like a bad comic. Loki lay in the middle of the room, surrounded by wine bottles. The gods head popped up when he heard Tony enter.

“Aaaanthony,” he beamed at the new arrival.

“Are you drunk? I didn’t think it was possible, according to how much Thor can drink,” Tony slapped his hands onto his cheeks and let them slide down his face.

“He had about twenty bottles Sir,” Friday informed him.

“Twenty?!” Tony looked onto the mess on the floor, “and why did he drink them in here?”

“I couldn’t find the corkscrew,” Loki babbled.

“And so what? You decided to use a hammer instead?”, Tony shouted, which made Loki twist his mouth in pain.

“It was a screwdriver to be accurate,” Loki corrected him.

“How did that even work?” Tony was shaking his head, “anyway, don’t you have a place to go back to?”

“Of course, it seems like I’m the guest who stayed too long. My apologies, I’ll leave immediately,” Loki pushed himself back onto his feet. Not without some effort to keep his balance.

“If you give me the address, I can call you an Uber,” Tony offered, without hiding the annoyance in his voice.

“No need for that,” Loki assured, pointing at his boots.

Tony looked at him, as if the god had lost his wit.

“Darling, would you mind opening a window for me?” Loki asked the ceiling.

“Not at all Sir,” Friday answered. Instantly one of the big windows slid open. Meanwhile Tony had crossed his arms, watching the scene in disbelief.

Loki clicked his heels together like little Dorothy and started walking on thin air. His seven league boots had proved great benefit to him over the years.

“Those god’s and their magic stuff,” Tony mumbled to himself jealously, looking at the god’s back. “Uh-oh,” he gasped, the second Loki reached the window. The god had stepped way too close to the ceiling, but as he had turned his head to give a superior smile towards Tony, he didn’t see the mural. His head collided with the wall and he fell over backwards. With a nasty sound, Loki smashed onto the ground.

“Oh for heaven's sake, Thor is going to kill me!” The mechanic ran to the god’s side, checking if he was fine.

“Vital signs stable Sir,” Friday informed him, “I scanned his body, it’s nothing but a cut on the forehead.”

“Fucking drunkard,” Tony had troubles not to slap Loki while he was already on the floor.

“Ouch—where did that mural come from?” Loki said with a raspy voice.

“It was there all the time you jerk,” Tony was rolling his eyes.

“Maybe I better take that Uber?” Loki rubbed his forehead, smearing blood all over it.

“First of all, we need to look after this cut,” Tony commanded.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to bother you any longer Anthony,” Loki said, getting up again.

“You stubborn…” Tony began.

“It will heal,” Loki interrupted him.

“Yes, after you spilled blood all over the floor,” Tony grabbed him by the shoulder. With one fast move he had sprayed something onto the cut. It cooled the throbbing wound in an instant which took Loki by surprise.

“What was that?” Loki asked.

“Something to close the cut. Now tell me where your brother is?”

Loki was shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know.”

“Didn’t he tell you where he wanted to go?”

“No—by chance I would think he’s stalking Miss Foster again,” a smirk appeared on the god’s face.

Tony hid his face in his hand, he had no clue Thor expected him to play babysitter. “You can stay if you want to,” he sighted.

“I’d prefer to sleep in my own bed.” Loki was brushing his bloody hands on his pants.

“Fine, I’ll drive you!” Tony snapped at him.

“Please, I don’t want to be a burden for you. I’ll find my way back home on my own,” Loki bitched back.

Tony ignored him, “Friday, make sure the Audi is waiting for us.”

“Yes Sir.”

***

Loki’s flat was surprisingly ordinary. Tony would have expected it to be an opulent palace with shiny gold statues showing the god’s counterfeit. One could almost call it minimalist. There wasn’t even much furnishings but a sofa opposite a TV and a big bookshelf covering the wall next to the door. That’s all Tony could see when stepping in. There was a corridor to his right but he felt uncomfortable exploring it without permission.

The polite god had had a feeling that there wasn’t any chance to get rid of his Nanny, so he asked Tony in.

Loki offered him a place on the sofa, but the mechanic disliked sitting down, he preferred to browse the bookshelf.

“Make yourself at home, please. The kitchen you’ll find next door, if you want something to drink. If you could excuse me for a while, I need to have a shower now,” Loki said, disappearing down the corridor.

Tony was fascinated by the books, some of them were written in languages he had never seen before. But also there were many classics he did know, like Shakespeare (at least it must be familiar to Asgardians, as they used this sort of language), Dante, Goethe and many more. Tony randomly grabbed one of the books and pulled out an old, leather bound copy of the Norse Myths.

‘Why would Loki want to read his own tales?’ Tony wondered. He made his way to the sofa and sat down, flipping through the pages. He found notes, scribbled in a child like writing to the side of the text.

One said: ‘After studying Shakespeare, I wonder if he used Valstagg as a role model for his Falstaff? Utter fun.’

Tony was frowning his brows. He had read the Myths before, yet he was interested in seeing them through the god’s eyes, so he started from the beginning. At some point Loki came back in, bringing with him two freezing cans of Coke. He handed one to Tony, when he sank into the pillows next to him.

The mechanic didn’t even bother to look at him, missing the fact that Loki was wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Loki sipped his drink, watching Tony with some interest. After a while he placed the can onto the small table in front of him and let his body sink deeper into the sofa. Loki’s head tipped over to the back, leaning against the wall. He had dark spaces underneath his eyes, the twenty bottles had taken their toll him. Loki fell asleep.

Tony wouldn’t have realised that either, if Loki didn’t sink onto the mechanics shoulder.

“Hey,” Tony tried to push Loki away with one hand. With the effect that Loki’s head landed in Tony’s lap, what made him look down at the god.

“Sweet Jesus, couldn’t you find a T-Shirt?” Tony shifted uncomfortably. Never had he imagined the guy would be so heavy. There was no chance to free himself. Tony sighted, finally he made himself as comfortable as possible and read on.

He was absorbed by the story, when, without his doing, Tony’s hand found its way into Loki’s hair, running his finger through it. The mechanic did that quite a while, until Loki turned around facing the opposite side. Tony got aware of what he was doing. Shocked, he stared at his hand.

Did he just pet another man?! And why did it feel so natural?

He shook the thought off. That was all because of the fight with Pepper, he told himself. He should phone her and apologise. But at this very moment he had no intention to do so. His attention was focused on the god in his lap. Observing Loki’s face this close for the first time, he realised how young he looked. That there was some sadness to it, but also an innocent peace in his sleep.

Tony felt the urge to trace Loki’s cheekbones with his index finger.

Trying to resist, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. The light was fading slowly, when Loki opened his eyes again. He looked surprised about the delicate situation he found himself in.

Tony was bowing over him, with his face so close that Loki could feel the other man's breath on his cheek.

“Uuuhm, Anthony?” he whispered.

That woke Tony from his rigidity, he shied back.

“You wouldn’t wake up…,” he tried to explain, yet he couldn’t help but stare at Loki’s lips.

What the fuck was wrong with him?!

“I need to pee,” Tony stuttered just to get away from Loki.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the god sat back up.

In an instant Tony was on his feet, heading towards the bathroom. It wasn’t a lie that he had to pee. The Coke wanted to leave his system.

Fiddling for his zipper he froze.

That couldn’t be true! Did he build a tent in his trousers for a guy who once tried to kill him?

Even worse, did Loki realise he had?

Tony felt panic creeping up his chest. Taking some huge effort, he fought the panic down, forcing himself to empty his full bladder.

The mechanic flushed the toilet, turning around to wash his hands. He splashed cold water to his face, tearing out his hair with wet hands.

Tony was desperate about his unusual behaviour. How had Loki managed to charm him? It must have been a spell, there was no other explanation to this awkward situation.

‘I am a straight man, I am a straight man, I am a…’ Tony kept repeating his Mantra.

Well of course there had been some experiments in College, but nothing that ended up to be serious.

When he found he had cooled down, he went back to the living room.

“I just got a call, I need to leave,” he told Loki, staying away as far as possible. He turned towards the door, his fingers already on the door handle, as he felt the god’s hand closing on his wrist, holding him back.

“Uhm, you’ve been my first guest…and, I…thank you for visiting my place,” Loki said, looking at the floor.

Tony opened his mouth in surprise. This day couldn’t get any weirder.

“Thanks for having me,” Tony replied with a little smile, “I really have to go now,” he insisted and Loki let go of his arm.

***

Stark had been in such a hurry to leave, that Loki wondered if he had done something wrong. He was laying on the sofa again, breathing in Tony’s scent that was still lingering there. It reminded the god of machine oil and iron with something fruity to it, but Loki couldn’t figure out what it was.

Did Stark intend to kiss him?

Loki couldn’t tell. The only thing he knew was that he would have allowed him to, this very moment. He wanted it as he saw Tony’s eyes resting on his lips. That’s what worried him most. What would Thor say, if he’d know?

Probably something like: “I knew Stark first,” that made Loki laugh deep down in his throat.

At times he missed his brother, yet he knew why Thor left him here. The god of thunder wanted Loki to get along with everyone on his own. And Thor had to care for New Asgard of course. But they had agreed not to give away too much about it right now.

Loki was the one to stay in New York and keep an eye on the doings of the Avengers.

Yet he wanted to be with Tony for very different reasons.

The mechanic dominated his thoughts and made a new desire grow within him. One he wasn’t sure he ever felt before.

[johnkrrasinski]

ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰

Chapter 3: Fall from Grace 

full masterlist // series masterlist

Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader

Word count: 3,639 

Warnings: smut, kidnapping, stalking, slight bondage. (MUST BE 18+)

Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.

a/n: chapter three is here!! they are finally going to start their festive, but steve is gentle enough to at least take things slow. things will grow more extreme in future chapters and i hope you’re ready for that. for now, let’s just enjoy, (lowkey) altruistic steve, yeah? enjoy! please leave a like and comment. 

The next morning, you were woken up by a gentle caress on your hair, with a pair of striking blue eyes greeting you. Not that you had any clue whether it was actually morning. It could've been 3 PM in the afternoon for all you know, but the man before you; Steve Rogers, as he declared his name last night, confirmed it by rolling the words on his lips; "good morning."

You tried to sit up, but you remember that you were still bound in place since last night. He sat by the side of the bed, and he asked; "did you sleep well last night?" You didn't know how to answer that, so you nodded aversely. He smiled, not the menacing smirk that he displayed several times last night, but a suave one, like he was gratified by your sated rejoinder.

"I brought breakfast. You must be starving."  You turned your head to your right side and a saw a small table standing next to you, containing a plate filled with scrambled eggs and bacon, the smell was so mouthwatering that your stomach grumbled at the absence.

You whined and pulled your hands scantily, hoping that it was enough to send him the message. "Oh shit, sorry." He made light of the situation and he moved slightly forward to uncuff you. You sat up and tried to take off the gag but he abruptly blocked your hands from proceeding any further.  

"Let me do it." It was supposed to sound thoughtful as if he was lending a helping hand, but the glare in his eyes expunged the sentiment away for what he acutely implied was; "you don't get to make that decision of your own, little girl."

So you let loose your hands and yield into him to perform the task instead. You never cherished your freedom more than at that moment. You instantly contorted your body and grabbed the plate. You ate like you were a famished vagrant. You moaned at how succulent the meal is.

You ate in silence and he just sat there as he watched you gobbled up your food. The sound of the room was only generated from the clinking sounds of the metal fork hitting the silver platter.

When you were repleted, you put down down the dish and you drank the glass of warm vanilla milk on the tray. You gulped half of the glass and put it back on the tray. You didn't realize the remaining splotch of the milk had stained your upper lip milky white.  

Steve cleaned it with the stroke of his thumb tenderly and he wiped it on his jeans. He didn't waste any second longer as he spoke up; "today, we are going to start our training. We'll go over the rules and learn the basics. We will see how much we can wrap today, and then we'll carry on tomorrow."  

He got on his feet and picked up the tray from the small table, and he continued, "while I prep, you can take a shower."

Take a shower? Does this mean he was going to take you upstairs and let you use his bathroom? That's a good start, maybe, you might find a way to escape through the window or scream for help.

But your vision was cut short by his next instructions. He pointed at the direction of the staircase, but not specifically at it, but rather towards something underneath it; "you see that door over there? It's the bathroom. You can shower there."

You hadn't noticed that door before until it was pointed out.  You had only been here for, you assumed, less than 24 hours, there were a lot of things you had yet to discover. After all, your first night here was restricted; you were bound on all fours and the dimmed bulb on the ceiling could only provide so much.

"I'll give you an hour to be ready for me. I expect you to be all cleaned and fragrant when I come back." He leaned down to your level and spoke composedly. "When I'm back, I want you on your knees, with your hands placed neatly on your thighs and your chin down to the ground, understood?"

You nodded. Ever since you got here, it seems like you had lost your ability to form a sentence, you could mumble a few primary words, but you still felt so caged inside despite not being restrained any longer.

"Words, sweet girl. I want you to use your words."

"Yes."

He raised his eyebrows and made a questioning look, you didn't seem to get to hint, so he proceeded; "yes what?"

Your brain quickly recalls last night's events, where he told you that you may call him sir at "certain times" and you immediately knew that this was the moment he implied.

"Yes... Sir." With that, you earned a murderous smirk on his face as if he was amused by the way the sound of the epithet rolled off your lips.

"Good girl. I'll see you later." He left a kiss on your forehead and fled; passing the staircase, off he go.

You folded your knees and tucked them under your chin. What kind of rules was he planning to go over with you? Is he ever going to let you go? And most importantly, are you truly safe with him?  

Steve took off from the basement and locked the door behind him. He was amused by how obedient y/n had been so far, he quickly learnt how naive and innocent you were. He was going to have it easy when it comes to molding you into his favorite possession. The girl he had fantasized about for months; you were nearly there. You just needed a little more disciplinaries.

He calculated in head that in a few weeks, you were going to be innately capable of performing his orders. If he wanted you on all fours, with your head pressed down on the mattress and your hands tied tidily on your back, as he pounds vigorously into you, then you were going to do so, with only a single cue.

Yeah, he'll get you there. He just needed patience and perseverance.

He stripped himself off his navy blue plaid shirt and his worn-out jeans. He also pulled down his boxer and put them into the dirty laundry basket as his lengthy cock sprung free. It wobbled as he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the lights; the rustic interior came into view. There was a single, broad rectangular mirror on his right side, over the Pecan brown ceramic sink. The tile that topped the cabinet sink resembled the colour of its owner's hair; deep brunette brown.

On the left side, there was a single wooden framed window that was shut due to the windy weather that caused the fallen leaves of the trees to enter his cabin uninvited.

He diverted the shower curtains and climbed into the giant bathtub. He swiveled the shower faucet and let the warm water wash over him. His thoughts migrated to his discoveries last night. He had stolen her phone and her other personal things and stash them in the top racks of his closet.

While she was unconscious, she pressed her button onto the fingerprint passlock, and the screen lit up, displaying all of the menu icons. He looked through all of her social media one by one; her text messages, her Instagram, Facebook, emails, Youtube history, Google history, Google Play Books, and even her Amazon search list. He thoroughly scrolled through every app on her phone he could find, to dig deeper into her personal background.

From what he discovered, he hadn't learned much except; she was a nerd, the number of books she had yet to finish explained that much. Her history search revealed nothing much more than juvenile information, and the most recent ones were camping related info. She was on social media, but she didn't seem to have that many interactions cramming up her notifications. Her emails and text messages mostly consisted of professional matters with her, what he assumed, were her co-workers.

He also read several unanswered texts, saying sentimental things, such as; "I'm truly sorry for your loss." "I'll be here if you need me, call me soon!" "Do you need a friend? I can come over anytime! :)" "She was such a wonderful human being, she's in a better place now." "Stay strong, okay? Thinking about you here."

That made him curious. Why didn't she answer these well-intend messages? Who was this "wonderful human being" her acquaintance talked about? He didn't dwell on those futile questions for too long, he could ask her about it later, but now, he just wanted to learn more about his girl.

He clicked on the gallery icon and there was only a single file. He unfolded it, and the file revealed pictures that she took from the woods; the river, the trees, the scenery, etc. Then as he scrolled down further, pictures of an older woman surfaced. The older woman slightly resembled her. They both have the same eyes and that warm demeanor. Some pictures showed she was in a hospital bed, clad in a hospital gown. She looked pale and frail. He put the math together and concluded that this might be her mother, and that she was ill.

But her peer or whoever the hell that was, texted that she was in a better place now? Does that mean she was deceased? Is that why she came here all alone? To get away from her thoughts?

He'll learn the answers tomorrow, when she's awake, and when she's willing to talk.

After about an hour browsing through her phone, he decided that he had found enough. He decided to delete all her social media accounts and discarded her SIM card and the battery. Then he turned off the device and stash it back to where all her personal belongings were stored.

After he showered under the warm water and cleaned himself enough, he turned off the faucet and stepped out of the bathtub. He dried off his damp hair as he stared into the mirror, acknowledging his God-like, well-defined figure. His chiseled abs and bulky chest that could bring anyone in his way to their knees. He trimmed his unkempt beard just enough to keep it presentable. He brushed his hair until he was satisfied with how dashing he looks.

He stepped out into his room and searched through his wardrobe. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants and put it on. He didn't even bother putting on a boxer or briefs, for he knew it would go futile anyway. Nor did he bother putting on a shirt. So he walked into his basement, where his girl was kept; shirtless, and eager.

Let the games begin...

The warm water washing over you felt pleasant on your skin. You took your time in cleaning yourself up, as your minds keep drifting to the last 24 hours. Still, the remaining questions in your head were; where the hell were you? who the hell was this man? what the hell did he want from you?

You squeezed the bottle of the shampoo onto your hand and you messaged your scalp smoothly despite your restless thoughts. You had walked into the bathroom fifteen minutes earlier, and saw how complete the bathroom was.

It wasn't much, there was a single toilet and a roll of tissue glued around a wall-mounted tissue holder beside it. You also found many feminine toiletries such as; coconut shampoo, lavender body wash, vanilla-scented lotion, deodorant, toothbrush & toothpaste, razor, blades, shaving lubricant, soap bar, and nail clippers.

In the tiny cabinet sink, there were a few white towels and washcloths. Inside the drawer, there were a few tampons and pads. You truly felt like you were a special guest at a fancy hotel. The cramped bathroom was even a lot neater compared to your own in your apartment.

It makes you wonder... Did he plan all of this? If he did, how long had he been planning for this? Your own questions rose the shivers down your spine. You decided to shake it all away and stepped into the tight space behind the curtains.

You turned on the faucet and let the warm water stream over your skin.

After you were finished, you wrapped one of the towels in the cabinet, around your body. You used it to dry off your face and your hair, then you walked out to the room. You were glad that he hadn't come back yet, so it gave you enough time to get ready.

How... exactly were you going to get ready? You just realized he didn't provide you any clothes or undergarments. So you sat in your bed, still clothed in the towel until you were ready to follow his instructions.

You weren't ready to find out what he meant by "there will be punishments" as he casually stated last night, so you dropped the towel off your body and hung it on the hook behind the bathroom door.

You heard the faint sound of approaching footsteps and you sprinted to the center of the room and knelt. You placed your hands neatly on your thighs as he instructed with your head down, not wanting to stare at his face. Despite it was part of his orders, you were also fearful of gazing into this man's eyes.

The sound of the door opening reverberated through the room, and your hands shook despite being perfectly still on your thighs. Your lips trembled at the mighty presence making a grand entrance. The sound of the approaching footsteps grew harsher and in seconds, a pair of black mudded boots covered feet came into view.

"You listened to my orders well... Good. We are off to a good start. Alright, let's begin our lesson today. You can look up now."

You lifted your head to look at his face, and you trembled. Seeing this man from down here hit you differently. He was majestic in every possible way. You didn't know whether that made you feel safer or even more terrified. He was leaning on a small table pressed to the wall behind him, his hands holding his bodybuilder figure.

"First, I want you to address me as sir when we are engaged in sexual intercourse. You have learned my name but it doesn't mean you can call me by my first name whenever you like."

"Second, I don't wanna hear you talk unless I address you first. If you absolutely need to, you may raise your hand to let me know. The only thing that I wanna hear from that mouth is your compliance, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Third," his eyes darkened. There wasn't a hint of emotions on his face, nothing but stone-cold, hard-rock sobriety. Like a supreme commander, commanding his subordinates. "I expect you to submit to me, fully. Your body and your mind belong to me now. I am in control of the way it works and I am free to choose whatever I want to do to you. No refusal, no recalcitrance, no inquiry. Trust me, the less you resist, the easier this will be."

You were stiffened in place, cemented on spot. He demanded complete submission; a person you had never come across before, the pieces of equipment that were foreign to you, a territory you never had the slightest bit of idea existed... You were forced to yield and accommodate yourself into it. You bit the insides of your cheek to forestall the tears. He already had you impotent, like a wounded animal succumbing to its injuries. Resistance would be vain now. So you let him take the wheel. Even if it means, your temple would be driven by him.

Maybe... Just maybe, after you've pleased him enough by letting him get a grip of you, he might let his guard down and you might even find a way to escape.

But not now, you must work to earn his trust first. You just needed to brace yourself and have self-control. This man promised you that he wasn't going to hurt you, after all, maybe in exchange for a few sexual favors, you might obtain your freedom.

So you entertained him, by saying his two favorite words. "Yes, sir."

"Alright. Now, get on the bed and lay on all fours, like you did last night."

You got on your feet and walked slowly to the mattress. It wasn't a comfortable one. It only had one pillow and not a duvet. It made you miss your own bed dearly.

You laid on the bed, seeking the most comfortable position, despite nothing that would actually make that much difference. You were still placed in the center of the bed, with your head on the pillow.

Steve followed you behind, and he restrained you again to the corners of the bed. He got on top of you, caging your hips with his knees.

"Today, I'm going to teach you how it feels to cum. Fall apart as you give into pleasure... You're never going to be the same once I'm done with you."

He started with nipping the sensitive spot of your neck, followed by the soft caress of his fingers, slowly moving down to your lip, circling around the bud, as he began to collect the wetness there. He moved his head down to your breasts, as he sucked your left nipple with his lips. The feeling overwhelmed you, you had never done this with any man before.

To say you were inexperienced would be an understatement. You had never dated anyone, let alone sleep with one. Your thoughts were jumbled with the sensation, you wanted to push him away, but you were bound in spot, your brain is telling you to tell him to stop, but you couldn't.

His mouth is taking its sweet time, moistening your nipple, as the finger on your bud didn't stop, but rather going faster, rubbing you up and down, that elicited a faint moan from you. What is he doing? What is this feeling? You didn't know. But you let yourself get lost in the moment. Thrilled to let him enlighten you.

He released your nipple with a loud pop and he continued his wrongdoing, by moving down to your most sensitive area. He stared at your sweet cunt and unhesitantly dipped his tongue into it.  The lewd noises he was making with his mouth was making your head spin; you tried to block him out by sealing your thighs but he hindered you by wrapping his large hands around your thighs so tightly, you thought it might leave a red mark of fingers afterward.

His right-hand retreated to your breasts, to pinch the right nipple that was left ignored earlier. He groped you so fiercely that you shrieked from the pain. You shifted your head to the side to hide your pleasure, not noticing that his fingers had released your nipple to shove them inside you.

You threw your head back from the sudden intrusion. Your body felt electrified. The sensation was extraordinary. Him pleasuring you with his tongue was one thing, but his fingers stroking the sensitive spot inside you made you forget the dreary situation you were currently trapped in.

You lifted your head to look down at him, trying to figure out what was happening; you could see him engorging you with his eyes shut, as two of his fingers were scissoring inside of you. Your head was misty, and before you know it, your climax had washed over you. The sudden eruption of euphoria shocked you, as you give in to the bliss. You trembled from the unprecedented explosion your body made, as you panted harshly, ceasing you from moving.

Steve was exultant by his work, how he knew he had successfully taken the first step of breaking down your wall. How he managed to inoculate your brain with pleasure. His mouth and fingers had triumphantly turned you into an incoherent, cum-drunk mess, that you didn't even try to fight or resist him. It would be so much easier to mold you to a more advanced doll now.

He reached to your eye level and caged your head once more with his hands, as he alerted you from your post-cum bliss; "when was the last time you ever came that hard?"

You opened your mouth, with still uneven breathing, and answered; "I- I never..."

He squinted his eyes at you with a puzzled look. "You never what?"

You shuddered, cautious to not provoke him; “I never... Never done that before.” 

You were comfortable with being inexperienced, until now. Until this dangerous man, who had just violated you began to interrogate your personal life; what if your celibacy incensed him because you weren't exactly what he was looking for? What he instead of releasing you, he decided to murder you and bury your body in his backyard?

He sat back, between your spread, cum-drenched thighs, and incredulously asked; "you are a virgin?"

You nodded dubiously. You broke off the gaze on his eyes, to look at the rustic wall shielding you from the world. Then his hand grabbed your chin to your move head back so that you were looking at him again; "hey, it's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of. You are here so I could train you. We've got all the time in the world."

You didn't know how you should react to that; should you smile because of the fact that he wasn't going to murder you? Or should that frighten you instead because that means, one way or another, he was going to corrupt your innocence, and there's nothing you can do about it...

[samthemarvelfan]

See You Again: One Shot

Summary: 5 years after losing Bucky, you find yourself still trying to adjust to your not-so-new version of normal. One knock on your front door changed all that.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC, Steve Rogers.

Warnings: A bit of angst and then pure and squishy fluff.

A/N: Hi everyone! Okay so this one kinda got away from me a little bit (AKA its waaaay longer than I intended.) Still, I hope you like it all the same. 

Taglist:@iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @heartofagamotto @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!) Tags are OPEN! Just send an ask :)

Monday.

The sound and smell of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen. Your iced coffee was within an arms reach, using it to kick start your morning.

“Mama, I can’t wait til next year.” Your daughter said proudly, coloring at the kitchen table.

You smiled to yourself, tussling her hair as you put her plate of pancakes and bacon in front of her.

“And why is that, sweet girl?” You asked.

Maggie put down the yellow crayon she’d been scribbling furiously with. “Because Mama, then I get to ride the bus and go to school! Remember what you said? When I’m 5 I get to go to big girl school!” She held up a picture of a wonky school bus with a smiling girl inside.

A chuckle escaped you. “You’re so smart, baby. Do you remember everything I say?”

She nodded taking a big, sticky bite of pancakes. “Yeah. Most of the stuffs anyway. Can you put this one on the ‘frigerator?”

“Of course.” You hung the picture with a homemade play-doh magnet she’s made for you at summer camp last year. Maggie ate happily, as you played music and did the dishes. Mornings like these were your favorite, soaking in the happiness of your daughter before you had to head to work.

You were snuggled with Maggie on the couch, watching Blue’s Clues. She wiggled taking a sip of her apple juice; a treat in her eyes. Usually, you only gave her water.

“Mama, Blue starts with the letter ‘b’!” She shouted excitedly, turning to face you.

Her cerulean eyes lit up at you, looking for confirmation.

You released a shocked gasp, “Oh my gosh, it does! You’re so smart, Maggie!”

She smiled proudly, before turning back to the tv.

“Mama?” She called to you.

“Hm?” You said absentmindedly.

She looked up at you with big eyes once again, “My Daddy’s name started with a ‘B’, too.”

All at once, it’s as if time moved a bit slower. You try your best to hide your reaction from Maggie. “It sure did, baby girl. Well his nickname did, anyway.”

She let out a small giggle, “Oh jeez, I’m so silly, Mama!” She said, pretending to hit her palm against her forehead.

The smallest tears prickled your eyes, “Yes you are, baby. I love you.”

“Wuv you, Mama.” Maggie said, climbing onto your lap and giving you a wet kiss that still smelled of maple syrup.

Glancing at the clock, you notice the time. “Maggie, grab your bag and put your cup in it, Uncle Steve will be here soon.”

She squealed in delight. This was the routine, Steve comes Monday’s and Saturday's to spend time with Maggie, and you do some light office work down at the VA. It was only two days a week, but it made you feel somewhat normal.

As normal as could be.

Steve arrived at 10 am on the dot as usual. “Hey, Ella.” He said smiling, kissing your cheek.

“Hey yourself, someone is excited as al—“

“Uncle Steve!” You were cut off by a high-pitch scream and the pitter-patter of little feet running toward the door.

He crouched and smiled immediately, “Hiya, munchkin!” He scooped her into his arms, carrying her back into the house.

“I brought you a surprise.” He said as he held her.

She instinctively covered her eyes, “I won’t peek! I won’t!”

He placed her down, and pulled a small container of bubbles out of his back pocket.

“Wanna go to the park and maybe blow some bubbles?” He asked her with a smile.

She gasped, “Bubbles! Bubbles, Mama! Uncle Steve brought bubbles!”

You smiled at her excitement, “I see that, baby! Go get your shoes on quick!”

Your smile faltered slightly as Maggie ran to grab her shoes, and Steve noticed.

“You okay?” He asked, rubbing your shoulder.

You nod subtly, “She mentioned him this morning. Just wasn’t expecting her too—hell I never expect her too.”

He smiled, “She’s a smart one, that kid. Remembers everything.”

You smile in an attempt to push the pain away, “I’m always so impressed when she talks about him. It’s like she knows him, Steve. Even though she’s never met him.”

Steve heard the wobble of your voice. He sighed with empathy, before enveloping you in a hug. “He’d be so proud of you. You’re such an amazing Mom, and Maggie...” Steve said pulling back, you noticed the tears brimming his eyes. They must’ve matched yours.

“Maggie is everything good that Bucky ever was. Even more so because she’s half of you. God, she reminds me so much of him.” He smiled fondly.

You feel your lip quiver, “5 years, Steve. I can’t believe he’s been gone that long.” You wipe your eyes quickly, knowing Maggie will be back any second.

Steve cleared the tremors from his throat. “I know.”

“I just wish I got to tell him. I can just see the look on his face...he would’ve been so happy.” You imagine fondly.

“Mama! I got my...Mama? You okay?” Maggie asks, slowing down as she enters the room.

She walks up to you with arms up, and you hoist her to your hip. “Mama’s okay, baby.”

She grabbed your face in her little hands, and shook her head. “Mama sad...” she said quietly.

You kiss her forehead, and hold her to you close. “I’m was a little sad, baby, but seeing you made me so much better. I love you, Maggie.”

“I wuv you, Mama, and I wuv Uncle Steve.” She said happily.

“You do?!” Steve asked, tickling Maggie’s sides.

She laughed for a moment, before clinging to Steve’s neck. “Yeah, and I wuv my Daddy too. I bet he was so nice, Uncle Steve.”

That’s another thing Maggie definitely got from Bucky; knowing just what to say and when to say it.

Steve smiled, and pushed some hair out of her face, “Your Daddy was the best, kiddo. I promise.”

You looked at the clock once more, “Shoot! I gotta go, have a good day, baby!”

You kissed the crown of Maggie’s head, and kissed Steve’s cheek before handing her bag to him, “Lunch is—“

“In the bag.” He said smiling.

“Yeah. Oh and the sunscreen—“

“Little pocket on the front.” He said, handing you your keys.

“Right, oh and don’t let—“

“Don’t let her have anymore juice because she had some already. I got it, Els. Go.” He chucked, ushering you out.

“Okay, okay. Bye, guys!” You said happily.

While you knew talking about Bucky with Maggie was always a good thing, the missing him never got easier. Sure there were days you thought about him less, but he never really left your mind.

Not when the daughter you share is waking you up every morning with hugs and snuggles and kisses.

Bucky missed everything.

He missed the diapers, all those diapers. Her first laugh, and when she said ‘mama’ for the first time. He missed her learn to crawl and her first steps. Bucky never even got to heart her heart beat.

These were things you should have shared with him—memories you should’ve made with him.

You’d gone to therapy. You’d been walked through the stages of grief more times than anyone should have to be. Yet, the hurt was still there. It’s always going to be there, and that’s the life you’ve got to make work now. This—this is your normal.

Friday

“Maggie, don’t touch those cookies, little missy!” You shout from the living room.

She comes sulking out of the kitchen, “Mama you left them on the counter! I see them! They’re right there!”

You chuckle as you finish wrapping the vacuum cord back up to put away. “Yes I did, and they’re for after dinner.”

“That’s not fair!” She whined, fake tears being forced into her eyes.

“Maggie Jane I am in no mood for this. You can either sulk on the couch with no tv, or you can go play in your room until I say your spaghetti is done. Whatcha think?” You asked in your sternest mom-voice.

She wiped the fake tears, “Okay Mama, I go play.”

You bent down and smooched her forehead, “There’s my girl.”

Her feet padded down the hallway, and you made your way to the kitchen, putting on a pot for the pasta.

As you wiped down the counters, you felt something strange; like a surge of energy. The kind that is palpable, and makes your hair stand on end. It was hard to explain, but it was like suddenly the air was electric.

The kitchen lights dimmed four or five times before settling back to normal.

Goosebumps prickled your skin and you’re mind began to race.

“What the hell...” you whispered. “Maggie, you okay?” You called down the hall.

“Yes, Mama! I’m playing with my play-doh!” She responded happily.

Thank God... you thought to yourself.

After what happened 5 years ago, any time something felt off, no matter how small it seemed, you automatically assumed the worst.

You open the shades above your sink. The sun was shining bright—brighter than it had in forever.

“Huh...” you thought aloud.

Before you made the pasta, you sent a quick text to Steve, making sure he was still coming for his weekly dinner. After almost 20 minutes and no response, you figured something came up.

“Maggie! Dinner!” You shout, putting her plate and cup on the table.

She ran into the kitchen with delight, “S’ghetti!” She shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

You scooted her in closer to the table, before sitting in the seat beside her.

“Mama? Where’s Uncle Steve?” She asked taking a bite of her pasta.

You scooted some of the food around on your plate, “I’m not sure, kiddo. I think he might’ve gotten stuck at work.”

“Can we call him?” An innocent question from an innocent mind.

You shook your head, “No, baby. Well call him tomorrow.”

The rest of your evening was relatively calm, considering the unsettling feeling you’ve had since that episode in the kitchen. Maggie had her bath and 2 bedtime stories, and was now safely and soundly tucked in bed.

You, on the other hand, lay awake in your own, your mind unable to quiet the eerily familiar thoughts that something was wrong.

You still hadn’t heard from Steve, which is very unlike him, so you decide to text him once more.

Hey, haven’t heard from you. Weirded out by what happened earlier, idk if it was a power surge or what but now I’m anxiety city. Call me please, so I know you’re safe. Love you.

You sat with that for about an hour, before you eyes betrayed your mind. Your lids felt 1000 times heavier and you decided sleep would be a good idea since Maggie is a notoriously early riser on the weekends. You’ll call Steve in the morning, and if necessary, you’d send out a search party.

Saturday.

You’d surprisingly woken up before Maggie. This meant hopefully and hour or so to yourself, maybe watch a movie without animals that sing? That would be paradise.

As you padded through your living room with your coffee in hand, you jumped hearing someone scream outside.

You put the coffee down and quickly check on Maggie, still sound asleep. Her sound machine muffling the screams and cries from outside.

Peeking out the window, you see your neighbor crying on her knees. She’s holding someone, a boy, no older than 12 or 13.

“Miles?” You ask yourself. He was your neighbor’s son.

He’d also vanished 5 years ago.

“That’s...that’s not possible.” You whisper.

Then you hear it again, more cries. Cries of joy, from all around your neighborhood.

You fumble with the blankets on the couch, searching for your phone. You find it and quickly dial Steve’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

Your body is shaking as you hear the beep. “Steve, I-I don’t know what the hell is happening. T-There’s people who...I don’t know. I’m freaking the fuck out! Call me soon...please.”

A knock at the front door makes you jump. You slipped your phone into your pocket, and walked to it slowly.

With your hand on the knob, you hesitate, feeling your body screaming at you not to open it.

Another set of knocks, softer than the ones before had been.

You let out a puff of air, and swing the door open. When it revealed your visitor, you swear you could have fainted right then and there.

This couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be real.

“Hey, Sugar.” He said breathlessly.

His hair was in a bun at the nap of his neck, and he was dressed in a black Henley and sweats to match. His face was bruised and cut and the circles under his eyes showed whatever he’d just been through definitely wasn’t easy.

You felt like you were gonna collapse. The room was spinning and your vision went blurry.

“Y-You’re dead. You’re dead, James.” You spoke. What else could you say?

“Ella, you gotta sit down, your pale as a ghost.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you back into the house.

Bucky kicked the door closed, the sound of it slamming seemingly braking your trance.

“Let me go!” You shout, pulling away from him.

“Els—“ he starts.

You shake your head, “No...stop. You’re not real. I’m hallucinating or something.”

When Bucky first died, you saw him everywhere. Swearing to yourself, and your therapist, that you could still hear him—smell him.

He reached out and stroked your cheek, “I swear to you, Doll, I’m real.”

Your eyes stung with tears, “H-How?”

“It’s a long story. One that I promise I’ll tell you but I really just wanna hold you for a second.” He breathed.

You stared at him. Bucky was, for all intents and purposes, unchanged. He looked the same way he did when he vanished.

You on the other hand looked entirely different. The crinkles by your eyes were more defined, there were stretch marks on your belly from carrying Maggie, and those chronic bags under your eyes from raising her alone.

Bucky took a tentative step forward, before taking your face in his hands. He took you in for a moment, and then wrapped his arms around you. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He said into your hair.

You felt yourself melt into him, something you’d done so many times, it’s no wonder it happened so naturally.

“You always know just what to say.” Your voice was trembling.

You inhaled him. A lifetime of memories flooding your mind, along with all the pain you’d felt for the last 5 years. You shut your eyes tight, keeping the warmth of his body against yours. “I-I can’t even begin to tell you—“

“Shh, I know. Believe me, Els...I know.” He whispered.

You looked up at him. His cerulean eyes reminding you of all the life you’d lived with him, and of the one you’d loved without him. But Bucky was here, standing in the home you’d once shared together.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, “Buck, I need to tell you...” your voice drifted off.

Bucky brushes the hair out of your face, “What is it, Sugar?”

You shook your head, still having trouble believe this is real. “I just, I don’t know where to start, James...”

He kissed your forehead sweetly, his warm lips soothing your soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until this moment.

“Start from right now. I don’t know how to navigate this...but we can figure it out. To—“

“Mama?” Maggie’s small voice interrupted Bucky’s words.

You peek around his large form to see your daughter clinging to her stuffed piglet that shows all the signs of being well-loved for the past few years.

You sigh contently, “Good morning, beautiful girl.”

She quietly walked by Bucky, looking up at him as he stares at her in disbelief. Maggie held her arms out for you and you hoisted her to your hip.

“Ella...” Bucky says breathlessly, looking between the two of you.

He sees it immediately. The eyes that are mirror images of his own, the dimple on her cheek matching the one you have on yours.

You kissed her temple. “This is Maggie.”

A muffled sob sounded from Bucky’s chest, “Maggie...” he whispered happily.

She turns her head at the sound of her name and looks at him, watching him for a moment, taking him in.

“Does your name start with a ‘B’?” She whispered, fiddling with her stuffy.

Bucky smiles and let out a small laugh, “It sure does.”

Maggie turns back to you, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is that my Daddy, Mama?”

You squeeze her tight, blinking the tears away. “It is, baby.”

She wiggles to be put down on the floor, so you oblige.

Confident as always, she walks up to Bucky, and he crouches to meet her. “I’m Maggie.” She says, holding back a giggle.

Bucky smiles and strokes her hair, “Hi, Maggie.” He chokes out.

She spots the tears in his eyes and turns to you. “Mama? Is Daddy sad?”

Daddy

A word that was once so painful for you to hear her say, was now your favorite sound in the world.

“I don’t know, kiddo. Why don’t you ask him?” You say, crossing your arm comfortably.

She turns back to Bucky with her arms raised, and he scoops her up without a second thought. She places her little hands on his face and look at him, “Daddy sad?” She asks.

Bucky’s lip quivered, and he shook his head. “No, beautiful. D-Daddy isn’t sad.” You could tell he couldn’t believe he was saying that word.

“Daddy is so, so happy.”

Bucky has spent the day getting to know his daughter.

Maggie had shown him all of the pictures she’s drawn of him over the years. They’d had a tea party for lunch, and played with her play-doh.

You’d put her down for a nap, and Bucky washed the dishes from lunch. It all felt so routine, domestic...

Normal.

Bucky told you everything.

Thanos. The army. Natasha, and Tony. Oh God, Tony...Your heart hurt for him, and the thought he’d never see his daughter again.

“I’m so sorry, Sugar.” He said, sipping coffee from his mug.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Why are you sorry?”

He thought for a moment, before he grabbed your hand, entangling your fingers.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I made you do all this alone.” He pulled you close to him, so you were leaning against his body.

“I should be apologizing to you, I never even got to tell you...” you drifted off.

He turned your face to his, and put his lips on yours.

Passion wasn’t even an accurate enough word.

This was gratitude. This was fear, it was heartache and lust and yearning all wrapped into one.

This was love.

Bucky pulled away slowly, resting his forehead on yours.

“You’ve given me everything, Ella. Maggie...she’s--she’s incredible, and you made her that way.” The tears in his eyes finally spilled over, as did yours. “I can’t wait to get to know her.”

“I love you, James. I love you.” You said quietly.

Bucky stroked your cheek, “I love you, too.”

[earliebirb]

prompt: stevetony + accidental love confession during a fight? I'm loving your stevetony fics, thank you for sharing

Oh my God!!! The first prompt in my inbox and it’s from the lovely @ishipallthings !! What an honor. I have followed you for such a long time on Tumblr (at least on my other, messier blog, because this one hasn’t been around for a very long time) and to have you request a fic in my inbox is so surreal. Thank you so much for the prompt, I hope I didn’t disappoint you!

turning tides

steve/tony, hurt/comfort, getting together, 1783 words

When he wakes up, the first thing he sees is a mop of blond hair, the owner of which is seated in the visitor’s chair beside Tony’s bed, deep asleep with an arm pillowing his head.

Steve is back from his two-week-long, highly classified, solo mission. Tony missed him terribly. Steve is also still wearing his uniform, sans gloves and cowl, which is really weird. Surely he had time to change out of his uniform after the mission. What was the rush?

One of his hands is slipped into Tony’s. He obviously fell asleep with his hand holding Tony’s but his hold had loosened some time during his slumber. Tony resolutely ignores the way his heart flutters at the contact. 

Tony looks around the room. SHIELD medical, really? It isn’t like he is dying. At least, he doesn’t think he is. The last thing he remembers before this is the spinning sight of the workshop ceiling and the feeling of his forehead resting against the cool floor of the workshop. Then… nothing. 

Tony gazes at Steve, who has fallen asleep with his face tilted towards Tony, allowing Tony the rare privilege to indulge in his guilty pleasure of openly staring at Steve for as long as he wants to, getting his fill, at least until the guy wakes up. It’s probably a bit creepy, but sue him. He is in—

Tony pauses.

Fuck it. He has spent such a long time denying it to himself, it’s about time he admits it, at least in the safe and private confines of his mind.

He is in love.

There, he said it. Thought of it. Whatever. It doesn’t terrify him whatsoever. Not even a little bit.

Tony studies Steve’s eyelashes closely, gentle adoration blooming in his chest. He has the longest eyelashes Tony has ever seen, like beautiful blond waterfalls, casting dark shadows on his cheeks. Those coupled with Steve’s baby blues are absolutely a sight to behold, which probably explains why Tony has trouble breathing every time he has Steve’s full attention on himself. The thrill that runs through him every time Steve looks at him is addictive, has him turning greedy. He wants Steve’s attention on him and only him at all times. Tony tilts his head to admire the curve of Steve’s lips better, slightly ajar in his sleep. He can’t help but smile at the sight. Steve looks so peaceful and innocent when he sleeps. Tony feels like he could look at him forever and never get bored, always finding new details to marvel at without fail.

Tony reaches out to trace the straight line of Steve’s nose with his finger when Steve stirs. Tony withdraws his hand quickly, like a child just about to touch a boiling hot kettle before being reprimanded. 

Steve’s eyes blink open slowly, squinting as they attempt to adjust to the light shining just above the bed. Tony watches silently, waits for Steve to find his bearings.

When Steve’s eyes finally meet Tony’s, they widen with surprise when he realizes that Tony is awake.

“Tony,” Steve says with an exhale, standing up from his seat, “you’re awake.”

“I am,” Tony confirms. Steve has extricated his hand from Tony’s in the process and Tony pretends that he doesn’t feel suddenly bereft at the loss of warmth.

Steve stands there for a few moments, taking the sight of Tony in. Then, his back straightens. His eyebrows start to furrow, the corners of his mouth tugged down, the features of his face rearranging themselves into a scowl. 

Tony braces himself mentally. He knows what’s coming. 

Here we go again.

“I have told you, countless of times, that you need to take better care of yourself, Tony.” Steve’s jaw clenches, his voice heavy with disappointment.

“Steve,” Tony sighs, leaning back into his pillow as he closes his eyes, “can we not? I don’t have the energy to argue with you right now.”

Steve’s chin juts out stubbornly, inhaling deeply through his nose. Tony recognizes all the signs: Steve is not backing down.

Steve raises his eyebrows, leveling him with a glare. “Then muster some.”

Oh. Steve is angry angry.

First things first. “What happened?”

Tony has some inkling as to what might have happened, but it’s still good to know the details. 

“You passed out in the workshop out of exhaustion. Jarvis tripped the emergency alarm and the others brought you here. They told me just as my plane was landing,” Steve explains, his voice cold and clipped.

God, passing out due to exhaustion warrants a stay at SHIELD’s medical bay? What an overkill. Tony would like to stress again, that he is not dying. He just passed out from exhaustion and that can happen to anyone. Not everyone’s a supersoldier, Steve. Of course, since Tony values his life, he tries his best not to voice out his thoughts to Steve, who is still staring at Tony like he had insulted his mother.

“Alright. I’m fine now. I’m awake, see?” Tony gestures to himself with a smile. Steve’s expression remains stormy as ever.  

“You can’t keep doing this, Tony. When was the last time you ate anything? When was the last time you slept before you collapsed?”

The fact that Tony can’t seem to provide an answer for either of those questions is probably a bad sign.

“Why are you so dismissive of your own health? When are you going to learn to take proper care of yourself? God, it’s like you want to get sick,” Steve spits out, like the words had left a bad taste in his mouth, and that?

That has Tony’s hackles rising.

“Listen. I’m so fucking tired of you picking fights with me, telling me how to live my life? I don’t get why you’re so pissed off about everything I do all the fucking time. I can’t do anything right, can I? So I fainted, big deal. If Jarvis hadn’t tripped the alarm, I’m sure I would have come to eventually. I can just get some rest and then I’ll be fine. Why do you care so much? This had nothing to do with you. You weren’t the one who had to drag me to medical, anyway. Why are you so fucking worked up about it? I never asked for your concern, okay? I’m sorry if this event has inconvenienced you in some way.”

Steve drags in a sharp breath. His hands are curling into fists. His mouth is open and twisted in a way that suggests something like disbelief, his eyes turning red with tears. He lets out one long, shaky breath.

“And you think I asked for this?” Steve’s voice is breaking. Tony feels his heart plummet down to his stomach, panic rising in him. God, is Steve crying?  Whatever the fuck did he say that made him cry? Tony didn’t even say anything that was wrong.

Steve grits his teeth. God, that is definitely a tear rolling down his cheek. His eyes stay wide open, glaring daggers at him like he is trying to end Tony’s life with the force of his stare alone.

“I never asked to go insane with worry every time you get sick, or miss a couple meals in a row, or go without sleep for days on end, or get hurt doing something unbelievable reckless on the field.” Steve’s voice is trembling with barely restrained rage, rising in volume. Tony has never seen him so furious before.

“I’m sorry, okay, Tony? I’m sorry for caring about you. I’m so goddamn sorry for being in love with you but I don’t have a choice about that!” Steve roars, but near the end his voice breaks down into a sob, and, and—

What? 

Tony feels lightheaded. “...What?”

Steve is still standing there, tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, shoulders heaving up and down as he pants with exertion. He is still looking at Tony like Tony had personally ripped his heart into shreds, which—

Tony wasn’t even aware that he had Steve’s heart in his hands to begin with.

Tony swallows as he tries to wrap his head around this new, unbelievably absurd concept. Tony has always been in love with Steve. This is a fact. Not the other way around. Of course not.

Steve is not in love with Tony.

Tony looks at Steve, who is now frozen, eyes still locked on Tony.

Is he?

“…Steve?” Tony asks, whisper-soft, and he loathes the sliver of hope that slips into that one syllable.

Steve staggers back reflexively, like Tony’s utterance of his name has a force so powerful it knocks him backwards.  Then, he shakes his head, looking down at the floor.

Ah, okay. See? There is no way Steve is in love with him. Tony must have mishear—

“I’m sorry, Tony. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I mean— I knew that you must have… known, and you were just being nice about it, but… I never intended to bring it up. Please forget what I said,” Steve says to the floor, his voice sounding distant and polite and Tony absolutely hates it.

“I didn’t know,” Tony blurts out.

That makes Steve look up, tentative and unsure. “You… didn’t?”

“Not a clue.”

Steve pauses. He lets out a sigh as he closes his eyes, bowing his head once again. His long eyelashes are wet with tears, Tony notes.

“Well, now you know. I’m sorry.”

There is a pregnant pause in the room, neither of them knowing what to do with this revelation.

And then, after what feels like eternity:

“Steve?” Tony calls.

Steve looks up.

“Come here for a second?”

Steve shuffles on his feet hesitantly, his fight or flight instinct coming into play. He looks like he is weighing paradoxical options in a battle fought within: that getting physically close to Tony right now is simultaneously a viscerally compelling and undeniable need and also the last thing he wants to do. Eventually, however, because he is Steve and Steve will always, always be more lionhearted than Tony could ever hope to be, he approaches Tony with the air of a man accepting certain death. Once again, he finally finds himself back at Tony’s side.

Where he belongs, Tony thinks, and something unfurls deep in his chest.

Tony looks up at him, his hand reaching up to gently wipe away the tear stains on Steve’s cheek. Steve is still looking at him like he’s a ticking time bomb.

Tony gathers all of his courage and takes a deep breath, looking straight into Steve’s impossibly blue eyes.

He bites the bullet.

“Kiss me.”

When Steve’s lips meet his, it feels a lot like coming home.  

[judylicious]

“I’m glad we both have found back to you.”

     ____________________________________________________

Preamble: Sooo... our BluesBrothers Discord Server made me do it. I wrote my first very own fanfic. 😊 It has gotten a lot longer than I intended it to be, so please bear with me, if there’s not too much going on in part 1 but part 2 will follow asap :)

      ____________________________________________________

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader (chapter one)

Word Count: 2.060

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies.

Warnings: none

The story takes place before the movie and before Jake went to jail for sticking up a gas station.

It was one of those afternoons Kelsey spent at the Soul Food Cafe at West Maxwell Street. She was sitting at her “regular” table at the window, sipping a cup of coffee and listening to those beautiful tunes from John Lee Hooker and a few other musicians who were performing outside in the streets. Occasionally she took a look at the opened book in her lap but couldn’t seem to focus on anything she read. If only he would stop staring.

Across the room 2 guys were seated dressed like Hasidic diamond merchants, black suit and tie, black hat, black boots, they even wore their dark sunglasses inside. Kelsey wondered if she had seen them before, surely they must have caught her eye. In any case one thing was certain. The taller one was permanently watching her. Although he was wearing his glasses she could feel his eyes on her and it annoyed the young woman to no end. She usually came her after work to relax and calm down but being watched certainly didn’t make that any easy. From the corner of her eye she saw the tall one getting up and walking over to her table. “Hiya, how are you doing? I’ve seen your face a couple of times before.” Slowly the girl turned her head from looking out the window to the man who, without asking, took the seat at the other side of the table. “Err… Hi, thanks I’m… doin’ good?” Was that a question? Get a grip girl “I spend quite a few afternoons here, that’s right. What about you?” As the man spoke the blonde girl took a closer look at him. He was actually kinda cute, well, from what you could see under all those black accessories. “Same here. Me and my brother play in a band”, he said as he pointed to the shorter guy who still sat at their table but gave Kelsey a small nod. “The two guys in the kitchen are also in our band, they work here for some side cash.” She chuckled “Sounds like your band isn’t in great demand then.” He gave her back a little smile “You know some times are easier and some are tougher on us. It ain’t easy out there. But perhaps you’ve heard of us…? The Blues Brothers?” The girl shrugged her shoulders. “Well, one more reason to come by when we’re playing our next gig. This Saturday we’re at the…” He got interrupted by his brother, who was standing in the door, followed by a slightly pale, thin man with long, blonde and fluffy hair and a dark skinned, very muscular guy in a tight shirt. “You comin El?” “Yeah s-sure!” He assured the three men then turned back his attention to Kelsey. “Listen I gotta go, we’re on our way to rehearsal. Can I meet you again sometime? How about tomorrow, same time, same table?” And before Kelsey could agree or disagree the strange dressed man was dragged on his collar and out of the cafe by his brother.

“Jake we weren’t finished you know?” His brother sighed “I love you Elwood but you’ve been working up the courage to talk to that girl for what feels like weeks now. Thought you’d speed it up just a little once you finally did make a move.” Elwood looked shyly to the side “Yeah.. it’s just, you know I’m looking for something serious, that takes some time.” “I do. And I do want you to be happy. But I don’t wanna be late for rehearsal, everyone will blame me again, when it clearly was your fault.” Jake joked and gave his brother a soft bump with his elbow. The next day Kelsey left work, as she checked the time she still felt unsure about what to do. Usually she would go to the cafe but then again there could be that guy waiting for her. Was he even coming? Kelsey never agreed on meeting him again though. Did she even want to meet him again? He definitely was cute and I barely know any people in this city beside my coworkers, so why not? And so she found herself sitting at “her” table again, waiting for the man in his suit to show up. When the doorbell of the cozy dine up rang she was torn from her thoughts but greeted with a friendly smile by him. “I wasn’t even sure you’d come but here you are, I’m so glad.”, the handsome man spoke as he took a seat. “My name’s Elwood by the way.” “Hi, I’m Kelsey. Yeah you got torn away rather quickly yesterday.” “Sorry for that, today I’m all yours. We only rehearse on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. So.. you enjoy music?” “Oh absolutely. I adore jazz and blues and cannot do much with today’s music to be honest. I don’t know anyone who feels the same so this feels like my sanctuary. Did you grow up in Chicago” And so Elwood told Kelsey about the St. Helen orphanage where he and Jake grew up, how they became interested in music and founded the band. And Kelsey told him how she was raised in NewYork and only moved to Chicago a couple of weeks ago since she needed to leave NY and her past behind, to make a fresh start.

A couple of days later Elwood and Kelsey met for their 2nd date. They agreed on Kelsey picking him up right after rehearsal and they’d go out for dinner. Fortunately there was enough time for her to go back home after work and before her date. She took a shower and made sure to take extra care of her blonde, curly hair. Typical. When it matters those curls do what they want. She decided on her favourite dress, a black sleeved gown with golden ornaments, tied around her waist with a cute matching belt, ending just above her knee and a pair of black laced boots. Kelsey rarely felt self-confident. Over the years she did realise that she was pretty but her figure always made her feel unsexy. She wasn’t much overweighted but simply curvy, with a wider hip and some bigger thighs and butt. That dress though made her feel pretty, so she was satisfied with her look in the end as she left the house with a few butterflies in her stomach.

The young woman took a glance at the note the musician gave her and looked rather insecure at the building in front of her. No doubt this was the address Elwood had written down for her but this looked nothing like a place for rehearsal. Well, how does Bo Diddley state so well in one of my faves songs “Can’t judge a book by it’s cover” She started humming the tune as she entered the old, abandoned-looking building. Not having a clue in which room the band was practising she simply followed the sound of music and as she got closer and the sound become clearer she could identify the song. It was “Green Onions” by Booker T and MGs. Wow. She hadn’t heard that one for ages but she instantly started to feel the vibe. When she finally found the boys, their rehearsal had already came to an end. What a shame, I’d love to listen to some more songs, they sound quite talented. “Kelsey! There you are!” Elwood yelled from the other side of the room, raising one arm. The girl felt uneasy being on display but as she let her gaze wander through the room she noticed that aside from Elwood, Jake and one of the man she had seen in the cafe before no one else as giving her great attention. Most of the band members were busy with their instruments, they were either cleaning or doing some maintenance work on it. Elwood took a few big steps to catch up with the blonde girl “Hi, glad to see you!” He seemed to be pure excited for her to meet the guys. “C’mon I’d like you meet the rest of the band. You know, they became like family to me. Hope you like ‘em too. I know you will!” he said eagerly. “So you already know Jake of course and I believe you have met Blue Lou and Matt before.” “Yeah I have, nice to see you again.” Kelsey stammered. Wouldn’t say I “met” them but rather took a short glance at them. “Sure, we know ya’, a regular at our diner. 2nd table at the window…” Matt started “A chopped cheese and one big white coffee.” Lou finished for him. Yeah okay that’s crazy. The girl laughed nervously “Haha, alright, you scare me! Think I might order something different next time.” She then got introduced to Tom Bones at trombone, Donald Dunn at bass guitar, Murphy at keyboards, Steve at lead guitar and Willie at drums. One man was left, he was standing with his back to Elwood and Kelsey and seemed incredibly deepened in whatever he was doing, looked like the zipper of his instrument case was stuck. They approached him when Elwood continued “And last but not least of course we have Mr. Fabulous…” The man quickly turned around as he heard his nickname when not only his jaw dropped a few inches.  “Alan?” “Christ Almighty! Is that the McAllister girl? I didn’t know you where in Chicago!” “Well right back at you!” Kelsey grinned. “You.. two know each other?” Elwood asked confused. “Yeah, Alan was my trumpet teacher back in NY.” “Oh didn’t you tell me you had just started learning since you moved here?” “Err.. right, I.. err.. quit and picked up playing again”, Kelsey stumbled somewhat embarrassed. She felt strangely awkward admitting that she had quit at some point in front of Alan. She swore she could see some disappointment in the trumpeter’s eyes or perhaps it was the disappointment in herself. “Well if you need a brush-up I’d be glad to help.” Alan smiled. “Really?”, Kelsey bursted out and tried not sounding too excited as she went on. “I sure would appreciate that.” “How are Mr. and Mrs. McAllister doing?” That question caused a sudden change of the girl’s mood, Alan could read her facial expression immediately. “How about we catch up over coffee sometime? Guess you might be pretty interested how I ended up with these lunatics!” He laughed and gave Elwood a little flick against the brim of his hat. She gave him a little smile when Elwood grabbed her hand “Shall we?” Before neither one of them could say anything, he twisted her around, leading her to the door. “He really has a talent to kill the mood, hasn’t he?”  Elwood joked. “Nah, everything’s alright”, she assured the handsome man at her side but turned around to meet Alan’s gaze who was looking after her.

The trumpeter closed the door and threw his keys at the table, letting his instrument bag slide off his shoulder onto the sofa. He then grabbed a bottle of beer, a cloth and the tube of polishing creme from the drawer, unpacking his horn. He couldn’t believe he stumbled into her today. It had been ages. Back in NY her parents had hired him as her trumpet teacher. That was over 10 years ago, she was only 14 back then. A teenager. Not the kind of girl that stood out in the crowd to be honest but that girl today, that woman - looked nothing like the teenager from NY. She really had grown into a looker. He remembered how she used to straighten her hair when she was younger, what a shame after seeing those beautiful blonde curls today, she looked like an angel. That dress perfectly hugged her curves and loosening it up with those black boots suited her a lot. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, that smile simply didn’t want to disappear from his inner eye. We was torn out of this thoughts when he’d realised he almost put the entire tube of polishing creme on the cloth  - and into his lap. He sighed in annoyance and went to the kitchen to clean himself up. After getting rid of the mess, he made a couple of sandwiches and slumped in front of the telly… with a certain young woman on his mind.

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4