#and the compound stuff looks do easy

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hiii omg I love your stuff!! my eyeballs popped out my head when I saw you're writing for bucky I'm sooo head over heels for him. he look so fine in the new thunderbolts run😩

could I maybe request a lil bucky sneaking into your room at night in between his missions or smth for a quickie? 🙈 even though he's busy more than half the time, he still finds a moment or two to spend a heated moment with you; bc he misses you so much and can barely keep his hands off

tysm in advance omg omg

hii angel!! aah thank you sm🫠 tehe I know!?? love it, thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

FIFTEEN MINUTES.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count. 1115

warnings. 18+ only !! tiny bit of prep (f receiving) unprotected pinv, creampie. mdni

Nights at the compound were far from quiet; the constant opening and closing of doors, scattered footsteps, echoed voices - everyone on different sleep schedules.

You were in your room settling down for the night, lying in bed and listening to music, scrolling through your phone when you hear the sound of scuffling from behind your door - the silhouette of booted feet appearing under the gap. 

Unplugging your earphones, you sit up, noticing the familiar leather from under the slither of light. You fling off your covers and rush for the door, face lighting up when you see who is on the other side. 

"Bucky?!" you blurt out, clearly happy to see him. "What are you doing back so soon?" you ask, tone elated. 

His smile widens, grinning boyishly at you. "Came back before heading out again," he shrugs casually, speaking as if it were all that easy. "...was missing you," he admits, eyes diverting away bashfully. 

Your head tilts to the side, nose scrunching from his sweet confession. "I missed you," you widen your door, silently inviting him inside. "Only a little bit," you add, expression mirroring his.

Bucky steps into your room and shuts the door behind himself, closing the distance between you with a brisk step forward - leaning in to kiss you, soft and sweet. His hands settle on your waist, fingers sliding under the fabric of your t-shirt to feel your skin - flesh warm and comforting against his.

You rest your hands over the sides of his face, palms cupping his cheeks as the kiss grows more desperate. Carnal. "How long til you leave?" you ask, voice muffled against his lips, your words sounding needy. 

"Fifteen minutes." 

He walks you backwards, heading for your bed, his hands eagerly roaming you as he lays you against the edge of the mattress, slotting his lower half between your spread legs. He hovers above you, his cock growing hard and strained behind his pants, bulge nudging up into that warm spot between your thighs. 

"We can make that work," you reply, a slight whine to your tone.

He hums, far too entranced by how you feel against him to respond coherently. The rush of blood swelling to his cock, leaving his brain. Bucky peels from your grasp and stands between your spread legs, looking down at the lewd image of you - lips bruised and plumped, eyes half-lidded, t-shirt exposing the underneath of your pretty tits. 

He loved how you usually looked, but this was just on another level - you obscenely desperate for him and him only. Your eager eyes following his every move, looking over him like you couldn't get enough.

Your gaze hones in on his hands, watching him undo the button of his pants, his fingers slipping down the front, pulling his hardened dick from behind the waistband. You follow suit, urgently pulling down your pyjama bottoms and flinging them aside - leaving you in only an oversized tee, lying near naked under his fully clothed self.

His left metal hand takes hold of his cock, leisurely rolling it in his palm as his other reaches between your thighs - fleshed middle finger sliding up and down the slit of your pussy. Fingerpad circling over your clit ever so deliciously, mindlessly rubbing the sensitive nub.

"We don't have long, James," you say softly, hand reaching for his wrist, fingers wrapping around his meaty lower arm.

He slips off his jacket, revealing a black compression top underneath. He stands between your legs, blissfully unaware of how good he looks right now - tight, short-sleeved top, black combat pants pooling around his thighs, pretty dick exposed and on display. 

"Wish we had longer," he murmurs, itching himself closer.

"You're back in two days, right?" you say, instinctively adjusting your hips - widening your thighs to accustom his frame.

He pushes his head through the slick of your cunt, coating the tip in a soft, creaming sheen. He hums in response, his thumb resting atop his cock as he guides himself into you, easing through your fluttering walls. 

He leans over you once more, weight anchored on his hands either side of your head, dick sinking into you so nicely - just you taking him so well.

You reach up to cup his cheeks, holding his face in your hands as you maintain his gaze, your features growing pliant under his attention - eyes softening, brows knitting, expression mirroring his. You meet in the middle, lips clashing eagerly. 

"Can't you pretend to be sick?" you murmur against his mouth, speaking desperately.

He slowly begins to wind his hips into you, cock consuming you from the inside out. "I can try to get out of it," he replies, his voice hoarse and strained from the way you wrap yourself around him.

"Please do," you whisper, latching your lips back onto his - kissing him hard, moans muffling.

"Why?" he whispers back, a soft smile lining his lips. "Do you miss me?"

"No." 

"No?" 

You faintly shake your head, eyes playful and unconvincing. "No." 

He plays along. "Neither do I."

Bucky continues like that, fucking into you, his leisured pace growing rushed by the second, winding into you more ruthlessly than he would've liked. Usually, he would take the time to work you up - make love to you, kiss and touch and caress you, but with the minutes growing shorter and shorter, less and less, he had to switch it up. 

It doesn't take long for you both to cum, your climax hitting you hard; his cock almost choking you, repeatedly knocking the air out of your lungs. His release follows mere moments later, spilling his warm, thick load - sloppily pumping it into you. 

His forehead rests against yours, both of your breathing erratic, slowly beginning to even out. "Sorry, my love. I got to go," he whispers apologeticly, pressing a kiss to your hairline. 

Sweetly nodding as you push his stray hairs back, looking at him with a knowing expression he's grown familiar with. 

He kisses you once more and peels himself from you, standing back between your thighs - dressing back up. He looks down at you, eyes raking over you as if to savour the image, memorising you before he goes. 

Adjusting your t-shirt, you follow after him, the patter of your bare feet trailing after him like a shadow. He reaches for the handle and turns back to face you, his soft, gentle eyes filled with warmth. 

"I'll call you when I land," he smiles, speaking like he's reading your mind. 

"Be careful, yeah?" you reach up, meeting his initiation for kiss.

"I always am."

[unholyhelbig]

More Wandanat pls 😊

Title: Are you Avoiding me?

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word Count: 2935

Warnings: pet names, sexual situations implied, broken glass, and horrible spelling (I don't proofread).

Summary: It's becoming harder and harder for reader to avoid both Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff. Things only get worse when they're cornered in their lab.

[A/n: This is just a little drabble, that's been sitting in my drafts for months, nothing with too much sustinance! I've been distracting myself lately with Wenclair content instead of writing]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

There were thousands of mugs with Shield’s logo on the side that floated around the compound, changing hands between agents and the high-ranking Avengers. It’s why you felt less bad about dropping the one in your grasp to the floor. It shattered into dozens of pieces, and the rest of the pale coffee you were drinking seeped out of the wreckage.

“Ow! Why? Why?” Clint’s voice had turned to a growl by the end of his sentence. He had righted himself and gripped his own mug to his chest, leveling you with a glare that was much too vicious this early in the morning.

The words were trapped in your throat and you dropped down behind the kitchen island, pressing yourself close enough to the wood to become apart of the grain. If you could just hide long enough for them to wander away, then all would be well.

The archer glanced down at you, and then back to the hallway that passed the communal kitchen. Natasha Romanoff had her brow furrowed, lifting a sculped eyebrow at him. She had just come back from her morning run, a fine sheen of sweat coating her muscles. He gave her a shrug and that was enough encouragement to send her on her way.

You let out a long sigh at the sound of her footsteps retreating. “Don’t look at me like that, Barton.”

“I can look at you anyway I want to, you’re the one that would rather be on the ground than talk to Natasha.”

It wasn’t just talking to Natasha. It was looking at her too; breathing the same air as her, meeting her fern-colored eyes across the room and ceasing to have a tangible thought pattern. You were an Avenger, for fucks sake, an ex-KGB spy shouldn’t make you fumble the way that you did.

“It’s not that hard, y/n. She’s harmless, really.”

That was easy for him to say. You huffed quietly and picked up the broken pieces of mug before depositing them into the trashcan. Coffee would make you too jittery anyway. So, if you really thought about it, your nerves had done you a favor.

“She’s terrifying.” You said, reaching for an empty glass. You filled it up with tap water and tentatively took a sip. It went down clunky and cold. “And gorgeous.”

“A combination that renders you absolutely useless.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Clint lifted both of his eyebrows at you, not saying a word. He didn’t have to. And you didn’t need all of this judgement from him in the first place. He had been so scared of Natasha that he couldn’t bring her in, in the first place. He would tell it differently, but you didn’t stick around to find out.

There were other things that you had to do; like a mountain of paperwork and a few modifications to the Vibranium arm that had found its way onto your desk. A cold shower wouldn’t do you any harm either. And if your fingers were to wander? No one would know.

You flashed him the middle finger, abandoning all thoughts of nourishment for the day. Tony kept his labs stocked with bottled water and granola bars after some nagging from Pepper. That would hold you over until lunch and if you started to drift, there were plenty of electrical sources that would give you a low-grade jolt.

Most of the time, you kept your head down, earbuds in even if they weren’t playing music. It was easier not to get caught up in the fanfare of the Avengers. Most of them were human, and they made human mistakes even if they weren’t.

You answered your superiors and fixed any problems that arose with tech and machinery, sometimes even costuming. Those things were simple, cut and dry. Your feelings for Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff weren’t even slightly that.

There was admiration from afar, and Clint would even say a numbness that clouded your brain completely. That celebrity that all other agents produced around any of the spandex wearing heroes often evaded you.

But each time Wanda stepped through the doors of your lab to get a personal watch fixed, or once, a VHS player that had the scent of smoke and burning plastic. She’d jutted out her lower lip when a copy of ‘I Love Lucy’ was burnt to a crisp.

Despite your meager salary, you had found one at the thrift and set it outside her door without a word. Not a romantic gesture, Clint. You should have seen her face. It was something you’d do as a friend, a co-worker.

Your shoulder collided with something strong, yet soft. There was a small grunt released from the back of your throat. You got a mouthful of the scent of rain and vanilla tobacco. But strong hands were suddenly gripping your forearms, keeping you steady.

Your eyes widened and met with curious hazel ones. You thought you gave Natasha enough time to get back to her room. But here she was, in that tight tank top, sweat drenching the collar. She looked beautiful, the lights overhead hitting her.

Agent Romanoff reached up and pulled one of your earbuds out, letting it hang loose against your chest. “Doctor y/l/n, are you avoiding me?”

“Avoiding?” You laughed with a little too much force, compensating for the lost air by snorting and instantly regretting it. A light blush fell over your cheeks. She didn’t look mad, in fact, she looked quite amused. “No, no. I’m not avoiding.”

“So, what would you call ducking down behind the counter in the kitchen?”

“How did you…”

“I’m a superspy and you’re not exactly subtle.”

Yeah. You’d forgotten about that. She didn’t’ allude to the fact, simply continuing on her way and leaving you to your horrible conversation with Clint. But then she had waited in front of your lab, her own clearance not allowing her past the sliding doors without you in it.

She lilted her head to the side “Don’t worry about it, it’s actually rather adorable.”

The heat against your cheeks started to spread down your neck and to your collarbone. If she noticed, and of course she noticed, she didn’t’ say anything. But she released her hold, and you fought back a whimper of disappointment.

“What can I do for you, Agent Romanoff?”

“Us, actually.” She responded, eyes darting towards the locked doors. “I’d rather talk somewhere a bit more private, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely that’s alight. If this is about the Widow Bites that I redesigned then I can most definitely tweak them. We don’t want you to get a jolt every time you use them. Not that I’m saying you’re not skilled enough to avoid that,”

You kept talking as you swiped your card and it with a beep, walking into the instant familiarity of your lab. There was a coolness there for tactical purposes, but it washed over your heated skin and hopefully took some of the soft color away.

You started to flit around the lab, flicking on all the lights and the different purifiers. There was an experiment that Fitz was working on that needed a rotating heat source and that was turned on as well.

“If we remove the outer panel and with a little tweaking, we can make them non-lethal, heavy with stopping power. They can break up under the sub-cutaneous tissue-“

Again, you ran into Natasha. Her body was so warm and solid, stable compared to the way you buzzed about. The door had slid shut behind you, its frosted glass exterior shielding you from the rest of the world.

This time you didn’t’ rush to apologize, instead you pushed your glasses up to the center of your nose and stared at her in a comfortable silence. “This wasn’t about your widow bites. You said us.”

She nodded at you, suddenly seeming quite shy herself. You’d never seen her avert her gaze before and something about the reaction worried you. Your stomach was doing somersaults, flipping back and forth between pure panic and excitement. This was the longest you two had spent in one another’s space without you bolting from the room.

“For the past six months I’ve been involved in a sexual relationship with Wanda Maximoff.”

“Uh,”

It was the only word that you could muster. Thoughts that flushed your cheeks all over again ran through your mind; bare breasts pressed against each other, lips hungrily clashing, hands raking up perfectly toned muscles. Your eyes were hazy with lust, but you blinked it away just as fast as it had settled. Natasha ghosted a smirk regardless.

“It was purely sexual, we both needed to blow off some steam. I’m sure you know how that is.”

On nights when you needed to ‘blow off steam’, you went into the empty training room and ran for six miles before taking a stark cold shower to loosen your muscles. When you ran, you forgot about the dip of Natasha’s collarbone and the dexterity of Wanda’s fingers.

Now that you thought about it, there were signs that the two of them had something and why shouldn’t they? Subtle touches that led to more. The tenderness in Natasha’s eyes betrayed more. If she hadn’t noticed yet, you weren’t going to be the one to tell her.

“It was fun for a while, a supply closet here, the gym floor there. But going on month seven it’s almost losing its… spark.”

“I’m sorry?” You were cautious with your words, and she giggled, the Black Widow herself was giggling at you.

“I’m not so good at this.”

“You’re good at everything.”

She smiled “Wanda insisted that I come and talk to you first because you’re skittish. Moreso around her than me. She was upset when I told her you let me stay the afternoon in here last week, just watching you work.” 

Each move you made that day was languid. There was a nervousness to you that seemed to vanish when you could open up the back of a monitor and stare at the innerworkings. You were recruited right out of MIT, and though you had been offered more than one job, you jumped at the idea of working in the Stark tower, living here.

She worked her hand through her hair and sighed “see, not so good at this.”

“What exactly is this?”

Natasha furrowed her brow and a small crease formed between her eyebrows in response. You wanted to reach up and smooth it away with the subtle touch of your thumb. That part wasn’t complicated, not like people usually were.

So, you did just that, you touched the pad of your finger to her soft, warm skin and pressed until the tension started to leave her body. Natasha’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and moved your hand until you cupped her cheek. She sighed into the embrace; eyes closed for more than a single moment.

“I want you, y/n.” She mumbled against the palm of your hand, turning it to the side and delivering a single kiss to the pulse point on your wrist. You were sure that she could feel the quickness in which it thrummed. “So does Wanda.”

You were dizzy, suddenly glad for her hold on you. Months, close to a year, you had spent ducking behind counters and taking the long way back to your dorm. They were both stunning to an intimidating degree, to the point where it devastated you.

“Say something, please” Natasha whispered, voice breaking “I know this is a lot and you can absolutely decline. We can forget this conversation ever happened and you can go back to breaking coffee mugs.”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t want to go back to breaking coffee mugs. I think Clint is running a tab, and Mr. Stark isn’t exactly generous with our salaries.”

A grin spread across Natasha’s face. It was like being wrapped in a warm towel after a long day in the rain. You’d do anything to make her smile. You were in down bad, not that you’d admit it to Bird Boy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, not trusting your ability to vocalize anything right now. Her lips were on yours, soft and tender. She kissed you slowly, with purpose. The two of you savored the moment, a sigh of extasy escaping you, your arms winding around her shoulders, hers pressing against your spine.

Natasha broke the embrace, staring hazily at you. That cocky smile had turned into a wonderstruck and borderline goofy one. Have you broken the superspy? She’d certainly made you waver. You were effectively rendered silent.

“Oh, sweet girl, how easy it is to fluster you.” Natasha pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “But I fear that a certain witch is lurking just close enough for you to open the door.”

It slid open on its own with a dejected beep. You glanced down at the pocket of your lab coat, badge still attached. A small pout made its way to your lips but softened when Wanda stalked into the mostly empty lab, you felt your defenses lower.

The remnants of red twirled around her fingers- and god, you didn’t mean to stare, but they held a power to them. With Natasha slotted against your body, the primal scent of her, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Oh, how good they’d feel on your tongue.

A pink blush crept up her collarbone and at the tips of her ears. Wanda raised a perfectly sculpted brow at you. There was no doubt in your mind that your thoughts were loud enough for her to hear them. And somehow, you didn’t mind one bit. You’d never imagine being this bold with either of them, but the kiss with Natasha had left you heady, greedy for more.

“Have you been able to do that the whole time?” You panted out, watching the door slide shut once more.

“Well, yes. But I respect your privacy… to an extent. You have quite the dirty mind, don’t you?”

“I… you… no!”

You pulled away from Natasha, crossing your arms over your chest. If you weren’t careful, your glasses would fog up just by being in the same vicinity as them both. Sure, there had been a few times where you’d let your mind wander; images of Wanda shoving you against the wall, pinning your arms above your head.

Natasha taking you over the lab table that you made sure was meticulous in every single way each night before you left. The thought of them taking control was alluring, tantalizing. You thought all the time, too much about every move you made. You didn’t want to admit that you’d welcome not thinking at all, even if it was only for a few moments.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Wanda soothed.

“That’s why Stark keeps me in the basement.”

She’d gotten impossibly close. You could smell the lavender shampoo that often accompanied her. They were both taller than you, though, not by much. Your breath still hitched in your throat at her proximity. Wanda tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, lilting her head to the side in a way that made your knees feel unstable.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, and a smile moved across her lips. “You need to use your words, sweetheart.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Wanda.” Natasha wrapped her arms around your midsection, resting her chin against your shoulder. You felt the incredible warmth she provided, nearly sighing into it. “This is a lot to take in. Baby steps.”

You couldn’t tell which of the two held more control over the situation, but didn’t much care when you felt Wanda’s breath hot against your lips. She closed the distance and you kissed until it stung, until your lungs were begging for air. A desperate noise that you had never made before escaped you when she broke the embrace.

All the while, the calloused pads of Natasha’s fingers were running softly over the expanse of skin between your waistband and shirt. Her touch was so delicate and impossibly warm compared to the coolness of the lab.

Natasha hugged you closer, and you allowed her to. Everything about both women surrounding you screamed control. The darkness that settled over Wanda’s stare made a wetness pool between your thighs. You squeezed them together in an attempt of subtly.

It was like fooling a seer. They could read your body like an open book and you clenched your eyes shut but could still feel the grin that stretched across Natasha’s face in the crook of your neck. It would be so easy to give up control to them.

“Does anyone else have the key to your lab?” Wanda purred, her hand splayed on your chest in a startling grounding motion. Your eyes snapped open, hazy with lust.

You were breathless, stunned. “Just you.”

Wanda’s head tilted, her tongue darting out against her bottom lip. Chills pushed down your spine, Natasha’s hold tightening around your center. You were sure that you’d catch flame right there and wake up from this dream. But neither of them vanished when you blinked.

“Good. What’s your safe word, darling?”

Natasha’s grin was nothing short of wolfish. She squeezed both of your hips possessively, hauling you with a spy’s quickness onto the nearest counter. You nudged a white mug with a SHIELD logo on the front. It fell to the floor, shattered into a million different pieces.

 None of that seemed to matter.

[mrsbarnesblog]

Hi dear ☺️ could I ask for an imagine with Bucky where you can't sleep, so you walk around through the compound enjoying the silence. Just as you find a wide awake Bucky as well. You then just talk about senseless stuff till you find yourself in each other's embrace on the couch where he finally gets the guts to kiss you and tell you how much you mean to him. Eventually you fall asleep and the others find you both tangled together the next morning and are very happy for you 🙊

night

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: just fluff

Author's note: thank you for the request, love. this is my first attempt to write it, so I hope you'll be satisfied with it💘

Walking around the quiet and empty compound in the middle of the night was satisfying. No arguing, no screams, no laughter—just long corridors and free common rooms that gave you a place to distance yourself from thoughts and feelings. 

You have done it a lot lately. Since the missions were always unexpected and not always easy, your whole sleep routine got quickly ruined, and now you couldn't fall asleep at a proper time. 

Your feet in fluffy socks softly tapped on a cold floor when you headed towards the connected kitchen and living room, where the Avengers spend more of their free time. Humming some song that you heard earlier, you turned on the low lights and opened a fridge for an ice cream, too lost in your head to notice a figure sitting on the couch. 

You found your favorite one and scooped the whole spoon, quietly moaning at the flavor on your tongue. Still with a spoon in your mouth, you turned around and almost choked when you saw Bucky sitting a few feet away from you and intently looking at you. 

“Oh my god, Bucky! I almost had a heart attack!” Your free hand flew to the left side of your chest, trying to calm down your heartbeat. “What are you doing here?” You smiled at him, noticing that he was sitting in complete darkness and looked exhausted.  

“Nightmare.” He gave you a sad smile and moved to the side. “Wanna sit with me? I see you’re far from being asleep too, doll.” His nickname made redness creep onto your cheeks. You took another spoon and sat by his right side. 

“Yeah, my whole night routine is messed up, and my eyes won't even close.” You chuckled, not missing how Bucky’s eyes studied your face. He saw that you had caught him and quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the pint of ice cream in your hands. “I– um, do you want to talk about your nightmare? You know I’m always here if you need me, Buck.” 

Before you could even think, your hand covered his in a supportive gesture. Bucky was slightly taken aback, but the warm feeling at the fact that you had always been so nice and open to him blossomed in his chest. He slowly turned his hand over so your fingers slipped in between his, and gave you a soft squeeze. 

"No. We can talk about anything except for this. But thank you, doll.” He looked at you again with those soft blue eyes and a little smile on his lips. 

You were talking for at least an hour, discussing news in the compound and the book that Bucky had read recently. The ice cream pin was almost finished. You moved closer to Bucky, starting to feel sleepy, and put your head on his shoulder. He smelled so good and basically radiated that comfortable warmth, so you wanted to burry yourself in him. His low and muffled voice above your head worked as a lullaby on you, but you tried everything to stay awake and finally spend as much time together as you could. 

“Doll, you’re barely staying awake.” He couldn’t resist himself and placed a soft kiss on your hair. “You’re ready for bed.” The moment he started moving to stand up, you gripped his forearm, not letting him go. 

“No, Bucky, can we stay here for a few more minutes? Please? I really like talking to you.” You mumbled against his shirt. Bucky looked down at you, surprised and happy at the same time. 

“You do?” His lips curled into a smile, which he really tried to control but completely failed. You just slightly nodded, still holding eye contact with him. 

You both were silent for a few seconds, suddenly too lost in each other’s eyes, until Bucky couldn’t hold back any more and looked at your soft lips. You were so close to him, all sleepy and cute, that it was impossible to deny the fact that he had been hiding his feelings for you for too long. He could ruin everything, but it felt right to do so in that moment, so he just gave in. 

Your eyes instantly closed at the feeling of Bucky’s lips on yours. Pint had fallen somewhere on the floor when you emptied your hand to place it on his stubble cheek. The kiss was slow and sweet, as if Bucky tried to savor you as much as he could. His metal hand held the side of your neck, slightly moving you closer to him. 

You had never gotten butterflies from a simple kiss. It was exactly what you needed—what you craved for so long. You felt secure in Bucky’s presence, feeling like your body was flowing when he slowly moved his lips against yours. 

“Fuck.” He slightly pulled away and connected your foreheads. It was so intimate, like you two were in a bubble in your own world. “I wanted to do that for so long.” 

“Mhm.” You hummed with still closed eyes. Bucky’s thumb gently rubbed your cheek, and you leaned closer to his touch. “Me too, Buck. I thought about it more times than I can admit.” 

“You’re amazing, so pretty, and cute, and kind... Gosh, I don’t remember the last time I felt this way. Will you go on a date with me? If you don’t want to, it’s o–" 

“I want. I really do. I wish other people saw this side of you. You are so sweet.” You bit your lip, and now, without hiding it, you studied his face. Then, without a warning, he just hugged you, as if he were holding himself back from doing it. Your body melted into his, and you let out a satisfied sight, feeling so warm and secure. The sleepiness started to crawl back again, and your eyelids became too heavy to keep them open.

Still holding you in his arms, Bucky laid back on the couch and covered your bodies with a soft blanket that was nearby. You nuzzled into his neck, enjoying that overwhelming scent, and wrapped your arms around Bucky’s torso. 

“G’night, Bucky. I'm happy to be here with you.”

“Me too. Sleep well, doll.” He placed another kiss on your forehead, but you had already fallen asleep. 

Bucky felt happy. The aching feeling in his chest had finally calmed down, and he held the girl of his dreams right near him. 

He didn’t think that he would fall asleep—not after that horrifying nightmare, but the grounding weight of your hands and legs on top of him, your soft breathing, and the whole feeling of calmness that you had always surrounded him with made it’s job. Just in a span of a few minutes, Bucky was sleeping, holding you even tighter than before. 

“Am I seeing it right?” Tony froze in the doorframe, looking at the picture in front of him.

“What do you m–” Steve stood near him, true shock and disbelief written on his face. “How did that happen? Did they�� oh my god.” He whispered not to wake either of you up.

“Don’t tell me that you didn’t know about their feelings for each other.” Natasha gave him a cocky smile and snached a cereal box out of Sam’s hands.

“Hey! Give it back to me, Romanoff!” Sam tried to take it back, but after receiving that look from Nat, he just sat back in his place. “He looked at Y/N like a kicked puppy every time she wasn’t paying attention. Barnes finally made a smart decision.” 

“Can all of you just shut up and let us sleep?” Bucky covered your ears with a blanket and hissed at the people who were bothering you. 

“Sorry, buddy. I’m happy for you.” Steve whispered back with the biggest and brightest smile on his face, pushing his friends out of the room. 

“You’re m’ hero.” You mumbled from under the blanket, still mostly asleep. Bucky smiled, laying back in his place and wrapping his hands around you.

“Always for you, doll.”

[notroosterbradshaw]

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised. 

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand... 

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening. 

Ahh, sisters. 

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock. 

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before. 

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly. 

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.” 

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours." 

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today." 

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly. 

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy." 

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time. 

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…” 

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole. 

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world. 

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled. 

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times. 

The one per cent, he’s told you once before. 

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable). 

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again. 

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound." 

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him. 

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious. 

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.” 

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.” 

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him. 

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it. 

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip. 

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?” 

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.” 

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time. 

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.  

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging. 

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start. 

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up. 

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were. 

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come. 

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts. 

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him. 

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it. 

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too. 

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no. 

[ozwriterchick]

Back to Us - Chapter 1

Summary: Y'/n wakes after an accident to her Avengers team-mates. But something isn't quite right and only Steve and Tony can see it.

Characters/Relationships: Steve Rogers x Reader; Tony Stark; Natasha Romanoff; Other Avengers Characters

Content warnings: Mentions of an accident (no details yet); If I missed any, let me know

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Word count: 1030 (approx.)

Present Day, Stark County Hospital

The monitor beep droned on and on.  10 days they’d been waiting for you to wake up.

The Avengers were there as well, in the - thanks to Tony Stark - not so small hospital room which still seemed too crowded.  They were all praying that you would wake up soon.  Some were re-living their part in what had occurred and trying to work out if they could have done anything differently.

Others were thinking back over the last few years they had known you and re-visiting all the wonderful memories you’d made together.

Steve sat in the chair closest to the bed, his head in his hands as he tried to reconcile what was happening.  He was hoping that you would wake up soon.  The doctor had told them that your brain and body needed the rest and the longer it let you do that, the better it was all round.  Steve wasn’t sure he believed that but he put his faith in the medical experts that were looking after you 24/7.

All of a sudden Steve’s head shot up.  He was sure he’d just felt you move your hand.  Your hand that had been still for the last 10 days.  He watched and waited for it to happen again.  Just as he was about to give up in despair, your hand moved on the bed.

He called out your name, leading the rest of the Avengers to look up and also see your hand moving.  Next you gingerly opened your eyes, a little at a time, the lights glaring down on you making you squint after having them closed for so long.

“She’s awake, I’ll go get the doctor” Steve almost yelled, leaping out of his chair and heading out the door of your room.

You winced as he did so, your head hurting just a bit, you imagined from being asleep for so long.  You wondered how long you had been asleep and moreso, how you got here in the first place.

“Hey kid, how do you feel?” Tony asked.

“Like I got hit by a truck.  What happened?” you asked, looking around the room at all the expectant faces around you. “And what are you all doing here?”

Tony levelled his gaze at you, as if trying to decide how much to share right now.  His decision was easy really – you’d just woken up, you didn’t need to hear a lot of the gory details of what happened. 

“Never mind that right now, we’ll de-brief once you’re back at the compound.  You need to concentrate on getting back to 100%” he said.

The door to your room opened and you looked up to see Nat wandering in with a cup of coffee in her hand.  Your mouth salivated and you hoped she’d brought it for you but that hope deflated when you saw her raise the cup to her lips. 

“Hey Y/n” she said. “It’s good to see you awake.  Oh and sorry, doc says no coffee for you just yet” and with that, she downed the rest of the black liquid. “Don’t worry, when you can have coffee, I’ll get you a proper one, not this hospital stuff.”

You chuckled at her, your head still hurting just a smidge.  “How long was I out?” you asked?

Before she had a chance to respond, Steve returned with the Doctor, who greeted you with a smile on his face, and in his voice.  “Well, good morning sleepy head.  So, you’ve been in a coma since the accident.  It’s been about 10 days so far.”

You looked around at your team-mates in the room.  “Accident? Tony, what happened?”

“Let’s not worry about that right now” the Doctor said.  Turning to the others, “Ok, now that she’s awake, you all have to leave so we can run some more tests.”

Steve looked back at the Doctor and responded. “I’m staying.”

“Me too” came from Tony.

The Doctor shook his head and told them all again that Y/n needed some rest and that they could all come back later, once all the tests were run and that maybe he’d have some more information about her progress.

Tony rolled his eyes and said “If you insist Doc.  Y/n, we’ll be back.”

She looked back at him, with fondness in her eyes. “Yes, please go, do something productive.  I’m sure you all have better things to do than baby-sit me.”

Steve looked at you softly. “At least one of us has been here 24/7 since the accident.”

Noticing the change in his expression and voice, Y/n replied “Wow, I thought you all had other things going on in your lives.  I’ll be fine, right Doc?”

The Doctor nodded.  “Besides, sitting around here while I’m in and out of the room, having who knows what tests and being poked and prodded will be no fun for anyone, including me.  And if I know I’m keeping you from the important things in your life, I’d be very annoyed.” Y/n continued.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he listened to what you were saying and something clicked in his brain.

Steve started to protest “But Y/n, you are…”

“Ok Avengers, let’s go” he interrupted Steve.  “You too Cap.”

The rest of the Avengers say goodbye one by one and walk out, leaving just you, Tony & Steve in the room with the Doctor.

You could see Steve’s reluctance to leave, which was so like him, he really looked after his team in all areas of their lives.  “Captain Rogers, your watch here has ended, you can go too.  I’m sure you have some hot date to get to” she teased.

Steve exchanged a concerned glance with Tony who nodded slightly. Kissing you on the forehead, he left the room.

“I’m glad you’re awake Y/n” Steve began.  “We’ll talk more once you’ve had your tests.”  With that, he leaned in and you noticed a moment’s hesitation from him before he landed a kiss on your cheek and walked out the door.

You were left a little confused because that was a very personal gesture that you'd expect from Tony, but that was not like Steve at all.

Chapter 2

Tag List: @wolfbeanpotion

[chloessleepystories]

Rabbit Hole

Based on a true story

Zoe was slumped down in the back row of the classroom, scrolling through Tumblr on her phone instead of paying attention to the teacher. Like usual.

Oh, here’s a sexy picture to share. Here’s a gif to attach a few lines of dialogue to… She liked teasing the boys (and girls) online, and they liked teasing her. Especially when she was in class and couldn’t do anything about her rising horniness.

Oooh, a hypno story, her favorite. She checked that the teacher was droning on, and not looking her direction, and started reading. Just a couple paragraphs in, she knew it was a good one. She reblogged it to finish reading later, and to share it with her followers (her many, many followers… how had that happened?) and kept scrolling. Ooh! A spiral! Don’t get distracted… But uunnnfff, so easy to get distracted… to get drawn in…

She shook herself, sharing the spiral with a drooling smiley face, and moved on.

“I’m a little concerned, looking at your last batch of papers, that so many of you got to college without apparently learning how to punctuate a simple compound sentence, much less to fill it with original thoughts…” Miss Thompson was saying.

Zoe squeezed her thighs together, feeling the arousal spread through her body. She looked around. Nobody looking. Good. She knew she should be listening, should be taking notes, but all she could think about was her needy pussy.

The constant alerts from her phone kept drawing her back to the glowing rectangle in her hand. BUZZ. Another favorite blog had just shared something, Tumblr wanted her to know. BUZZ. Someone was tagging her in a pic of one of her favorite porn stars. BUZZ… 

She was powerless. She had to look, every time the phone buzzed. Every time Tumblr fed her more. She didn’t used to be like this, did she? She used to have, like, an attention span and stuff? Could leave her phone alone for a few hours? Now she was addicted… like she had conditioned herself to salivate at the buzzer. 

Or been conditioned, came a whisper. 

Been brainwashed. 

Cuntwashed.

Drippy cunt. Salivating pussy…

BUZZ. 

Ooh! a hot little gif that someone wanted her to see – “wanna ride me like this?” he asked, adding Zoe’s handle. Where was the teacher? Zoe knew she should scan for Miss Thompson again, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

BUZZ BUZZ. Three more guys wanting to talk to her privately. She was already keeping four conversations going…

This one, for instance, was telling her, in detail, what he would be doing to her if they were in a hotel room together right now. She was giving as well as she was getting, egging him on, hoping he was stroking to her words the way she wished she could be rubbing to his. This one was begging her to punish him, and reveling in her attempts to be domineering. And this one… oh, this one kept sending spirals, and inductive texts, drawing her ever downward (or trying to), making her sleepy, making her horny… making her a mindnumbed cockslave…

She tapped the little pencil symbol to make a public post.

“You guys are making me so horny!!!” she typed.

I’m supposed to be paying attention to the teacher right now but my tumblr feed is full of porn and 3 of you fuckers are having hot conversations with me trying to make me horny and IT’S FUCKING WORKING I’m sure my neighbors can smell me I’m so turned on I can feel how drippy I am goddammit I need to stroke I’m not gonna make it

That was a mistake, of course. As she knew it would be. The sharks smelled blood in the water, and circled.

“Just keep watching little slave. Soon you’ll be my little cock hungry whore”

“It’s just so nice to be able to turn off your brain for a while, ya know? Join me?”

“And when I say “horny bunny” you’ll have a powerful urge…”

“Mmm damn what a view! Your nice tight pussy wrapped around my cock feels so damn good. I’m going to enjoy fucking you hard, bottoming out hitting your womb”

“…And then one day you wake up and you’re an empty headed pink bimbo, with no thoughts in your dumb bimbo head but getting bigger tits and pleasing your Mistress’s pussy…”

Another public post:

Ogod now ur all piling on cumming our of the woodwork why csnt i turn off this app why do i keep lookin im not gonna make it im such a dumb hotny cow 

Sent.

And back to messaging, the words pummeling her brain –

Blank. Obedient. Responsive. Counting from 10. Letting your mind slide away. Relaxed. Empty. No thoughts. 8. Letting go….

Then, even before she could register the shadow over her desk, a hand snatched the phone from her fingers.

“You know the rules about phones in my class, Zoe,” said Miss Thompson. Zoe made a choked whimper, her fingers mindlessly twitching after the phone.

“You can get it back later. If you’re good.”

If you’re good. If you’re a good girl. Good girls obey.

Zoe whimpered again, as Miss Thompson walked away. She was going to have to sprint to the ladies’ room when class was over. The phone would have to wait. Her clit was throbbing… and she needed to obey.

*****

Later, after everyone had filed out, Miss Thompson carefully and (BUZZ) meticulously wiped clean the blackboard. She liked the board to be as neat (BUZZ) and tidy as her desk.

(BUZZ)

What on earth was – Oh. Right. That girl’s phone was still on the desk. Vibrating away, for some unknown reason.

She sat down and picked it up, turning it on. Silly child didn’t seem to have a lock on the –

A rainbow of porn leapt out of the screen and slapped Miss Thompson about the face.

Cocks going into young women’s mouths. A girl’s tongue on a pussy. “Zoe, are you still there?” Breasts, so many breasts. “Zoe, girl, look how hard you made me…” A maelstrom of dark and light flesh that she couldn’t make sense of for a moment, until she saw the caption “gangbanged fuckslut made airtight with BBC”… which, to be frank, didn’t ENTIRELY explain the picture to Miss Thompson, but it let her figure out what some of the shapes were…

Horrified, repulsed, Miss Thompson started scrolling. And couldn’t stop scrolling. Stories of incest and bondage. Lewd photos and gifs, scenes of decadence and degradation. She shook her head, her mouth open, but she couldn’t stop…

And the hypnosis. Over and over in the girl’s feed, the hypnosis! Glassy eyed girls with drooping mouths, baring their breasts… Women with spirals in their eyes, and cocks in their mouths… Flashing gifs with pictures and words, too fast to follow, telling her how she should be, how she must be, how she knew she already was, if she would just admit it to herself… Inductions, and fantasies, and more spirals, and submissive, drooling women, eager to serve cock, to serve pussy, to become slaves to their own needy cunts…

Miss Thompson hadn’t noticed how hard her nipples had gotten. She hadn’t noticed how wet her own cunt was, until she found herself dipping in a finger… She bucked against her hand, but didn’t stop stroking… just kept scrolling… 

Someone calling himself Master of Mystery – except with some of the letters replaced by numbers – BUZZed into a private message. “Getting pretty horny, Zoe? Pretty needy and desperate?”

“No,” she found herself typing. “I mean, no, I’m – I’m not… No.”

“Oh, you certainly sounded pretty desperate to me. You sounded like a little slut who needed permission to cum… A naughty fucktoy who can’t stop touching her princess parts even though she’s not supposed to…”

Miss Thompson bit her lip and with an effort pulled her hand away from her pussy. “I’m not Zoe. I am Miss Thompson, her teacher,” she typed.

She tried to pull herself together.

“And you should keep a civil tongue in your head, young man.”

“Ohhh! Naughty, naughty, teacher… Are you looking through a confiscated phone? And getting TURNED ON by someone else’s Tumblr porn? You are, aren’t you… Go ahead, you can admit it…”

“i” she typed and sent by mistake.

She cursed.

“I will do no such thing. I am… I am putting the phone down now.”

“No you’re not.”

She hesitated. He seemed so sure. She waited, panting.

“You won’t, because you would have already without saying anything. You would have before you got so horny scrolling through her feed.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Because you are horny, aren’t you? All pent-up, tied up in knots…”

“Yes, yes, I am, OK, but there’s nothing wrong with that”

“No, not at all. Tell you what. You seem tense. Let me help you relax. Can we do that?”

“Um”

“Just focus on your shoulders for a second. Feel how tight they are? Tighten them up even more, just for a second. Take a deep breath in. And then let it out, and as you do, feel all the tension go out of your shoulders…”

“what”

“Sshh shh you don’t have to say anything just listen. I’m going to count, and with each number you’re going to release a little tension, and it’s going to turn into warmth… warmth spreading through your body… 

“And then maybe we’ll look at a spiral together for a while… You’ll like that…”

*****

Zoe was feeling SO much better – though her legs were still a little wobbly – as she walked toward the classroom door. She couldn’t believe she’d left her phone behind! She hoped she could get it back quietly, without much fuss. There didn’t seem to be a class in there now. Maybe she could just slip in and grab it?

She eased the door open gently… and then almost dropped her backpack in surprise.

Miss Thompson was sprawled, nearly nude, in her wooden rolling chair! Her skirt was bunched around her middle, panties on the floor, white blouse and bra tangled on her desk. Most surprising of all, one hand was operating Zoe’s phone, and the other hand was operating Miss Thompson’s bushy cunt!

She stepped closer, sliding the backpack gently to the floor. The teacher’s breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy… and sure enough, Zoe could see a spiral on the glowing screen. She tiptoed close enough to read over her shoulder.

You want to watch

To let the spiral suck you in

To let my spiral suck away all resistance

You want to become mindless for me, because it feels so good to stop thinking

Each word you read will bring you pleasure, and each second you spend watching will make you sink deeper and deeper, until you can’t help but obey…

She reached around her teacher’s body, and cupped both breasts at once.

Miss Thompson gasped, and then relaxed with a moan as Zoe began kneading her nipples.

“How are you doing, miss?” she whispered.

“Can’t… Can’t cum. Need to… but don’t… don’t have permission…”

“Mmmm.” Zoe tweaked her nipples, massaging her surprisingly full and warm tits. “I know it’s a lot to handle if you’re not used to it. I’ve been sliding into this rabbit hole a bit at a time for months, so I’ve built up a liiiittle bit of an immunity.” Partially true, anyway. “But my feed and my followers must have hit you like a ton of bricks.” 

Zoe giggled to herself, as her teacher panted.

“Who are you talking to,” Zoe murmured.

“M-Master of Mystery,” Miss Thompson gasped, her back arching.

Ah yes, thought Zoe. Also known as Kevin.

“Tell him I’m here. And ask him what I should do to you.”

“Master…” Miss Thompson typed, and after a moment, responded.

“He says to get on your knees and lick my s-slutty, juicy c… cunt.”

Zoe smiled. “That’s what I was hoping he was going to say,” she murmured as she knelt.

After all, she thought. Good girls obey.

[tinywitchgoblin]

Flowers

Tech x afab!reader everybody lives AU, spoilers season 2???

Word count: 2770

Warnings: NSFW minors begone, oral (f! receiving), p in v sex, mentions of f! masturbation, Tech being the king of consent

Summary: Tech gets you a bouquet of flowers with an… interesting meaning.

a/n: I’m back babyyyy also, I got these flower meanings from various websites, if these aren’t exactly right, oh well

You had been living on Pabu for over a year now, and you couldn’t help but look back on how your time on the island had been thus far. You had met Phee at one point when she was on Ord Mantell, and you and she had gotten along pretty well. Once you’d known her for a while and became more comfortable with her, you opened up about your living situation and your past, which… wasn’t great. She decided then and there that she would take you to Pabu, not giving you any advanced notice- only telling you to pack your stuff and get ready for a surprise. You had been a bit overwhelmed by the island atmosphere at first; it was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Initially, you were suspicious of how perfect everything was, expecting something to go wrong eventually. However, as time passed, you became more relaxed, even making a couple of friends. Then they arrived. 

They were unlike anyone you’d ever met before. They moved into the home next to yours, and you were very curious as to the nature of your new neighbors. After they’d settled in, Phee knocked on your door and asked if you would like to meet them. Before waiting for your response, she grabbed you and pulled you out the door over towards where two of them were talking to Shep. 

You took a good look at them, a bit confused. They looked like soldiers, but didn’t look like they were here in any sort of official capacity. The one closer to Shep had shoulder length curly black hair with a red bandana and a skull tattooed on the left side of his face. The other one was a bit taller and had a scomp link where his right hand would be. Phee pulled you over and introduced you. The tattooed one introduced himself as Hunter and his companion as Echo. They seemed friendly enough, if a bit reserved. Not that you could complain; you were the same way, especially when you yourself had first arrived on Pabu. 

After standing and talking for a bit, two others joined the conversation- a giant of a man with a scar on the left side of his face, and a girl who looked to be in her teens. Hunter introduced them as Wrecker and Omega. They both smiled and waved at you, Omega coming over to you and asking you about your experiences on Pabu thus far. You found that she was light, bubbly, and easy to talk to. 

After you’d been talking to Omega for a while, you were about to go back to your home and do some work around the house, when one more person appeared. He was tall, lean, and wore goggles. He seemed engrossed in whatever he was looking at on his datapad before Phee went over and introduced the two of you. His name was Tech. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you immediately found yourself drawn to him. He seemed a bit stiff at first, but when you mentioned that you worked as an environmental scientist, the two of you began conversing about what that entailed- from analyzing the levels of various compounds in the water to studying marine life to tracking seismic activity. Normally, when you discussed work stuff, no one else understood most of what you were talking about, and you eventually learned how to dumb it down to the level of whoever was listening. That wasn’t the case with him. 

He asked you all sorts of questions, some of which were even above your level, and you loved every bit of it. Finally, someone who you could connect with intellectually. The two of you stood there talking for a long time, before Hunter called Tech away to help with the moving in process. From that point on, the two of you became fast friends. 

Soon after the group came to Pabu, Tech began joining you in your work. Having his knowledge and expertise in the field was invaluable, and you could tell he really enjoyed the work- as did you. Sometimes Omega would join as well, but that was usually when you were working with cute baby sea animals. The two of you became a very effective team. 

After a couple of months, the two of you started to spend time together outside of working as well. Whether it was grabbing a bite to eat, going for a walk by the water, or strolling through one of the markets, you’d grown comfortable in each other’s company. 

One day, you were resting at home on one of your days off when you heard a knock at your door. You opened it, and you saw Tech standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. 

“I saw these flowers as I was walking through the market earlier, and I, umm… well, they made me think of you,” he said shyly, handing them out to you. It was truly beautiful, with red roses, red camellias, red lilies, red tulips, and sweetpeas scattered throughout. 

“Aww, Tech, these are beautiful! I really appreciate it,” you gushed. “Would you like to stay for a while? I’m almost done with dinner.”

“I would very much appreciate that, cyare,” he responded before stepping through the door frame and taking off his boots. You paused for a second, not recognizing the word, before brushing it off as Tech being Tech and moving towards the kitchen area. You grabbed the vase off of the small table in the kitchen, and removed the old flowers (Omega had picked them and given them to you!) before adding the new ones Tech had just given you. He went around to the stove to see what you were making, taking a whiff and humming in approval. He was quiet, which was unlike him, and he seemed to be fidgeting more than usual. You sat down at the table next to him, wanting to make sure he was okay. “Is everything okay? You seem nervous,” you queried. 

“Oh, yes, I am doing well. Just a bit preoccupied, I suppose,” he responded, a bit rushed. 

“Tech… You seem off. Is there something on your mind?” 

“Of course there is something on my mind, cyare, there is always something on my mind. In fact, there are very few instances in which there is nothing occupying my thoughts,” he clarified, though there still seemed to be something off. There that word was again- cyare. It sounded like a nickname of sorts, but you couldn’t tell. 

“That word you just said- what does it mean?” you questioned.

“What word?”

“The one you just said- I think it started with a ‘c’?” you clarified. 

“Oh, um… well…” he hesitated, almost seeming to psych himself up. “Cyare. That is what I called you. In Mando’a, it means ‘beloved’, though it can be used in several different contexts. It can be used as a term of endearment for a loved one, though it can also be used for someone who is well-known, although-”

“Tech. Did you just… did you just call me your beloved?” you whispered.

��I… yes, I did,” he confirmed. “I have had feelings for you ever since we arrived on Pabu, but I was never able to muster the courage to be this forward about the situation. If I have made you uncomfortable, or if you do not share my feelings, I fully understand if you would want to keep your distance in the future-”

You paused him by putting your hands over his, which were now almost shaking. You could tell how nervous he was. “Tech, I have feelings for you as well, and I was hesitant about bringing it up as well. I didn’t want to stress you out.” You laughed to yourself a bit before continuing, “I guess I didn’t have anything to worry about.” 

He seemed to relax a bit before adjusting his goggles and asking you, “Given that we have established our mutual feelings of attraction, would it be too forward if I asked your interest in the two of us starting a romantic relationship?”

“Of course it wouldn’t be too forward, how else would you ask me?” you ask, intentionally leaving room for him to fully state his intentions. 

“In that case… would you like to be romantically involved? With me?” he professed, looking into your eyes. You gazed back at him and said, “Absolutely. I would love it, just as I love you.” 

You took his face into your hands and rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks; he melted into your touch. 

“Cyare, may I kiss you?” he added. 

“Yes, Tech, you may,” you giggled before closing the gap between the two of you and pressing your lips to his. This first kiss was light and a bit hesitant, but soon you both relaxed into it, exploring each other but still keeping things relatively tame. After a little while, you remembered that you were still in the middle of making dinner, so you pulled away, gave him one last peck on the cheek, and moved back over to the stove to check on the soup you had simmering away. You decided that it was done to your satisfaction, ladling some into two bowls and placing them on the table. You grabbed the loaf of bread you had sitting on the counter and brought that over as well. Dinner was uneventful, save for the glances you both stole at each other and the occasional shy smile. Glancing back at the flowers, you asked, “What made you choose those flowers specifically?”

“Well, some cultures assign specific meanings to various flowers, so I wanted to make sure what I chose reflected my intentions. These flowers represent passion, love, romance, desire, and pleasure, and those are things I desire to give to you,” he asserted. 

“So, if I’m understanding this correctly, you gave me a bouquet of flowers that means you want to have sex with me?” you clarified.

“That is certainly one way of putting it, yes. I do find you sexually attractive and desire to be intimate with you. Only if you consent, of course,” he added. You blushed profusely before responding, “I would love to. I’ve wanted that for a long time. Did you have a timeline in mind?”

“Well, not exactly, but… I have no objections to doing so tonight,” he proposed, a blush creeping across his cheeks as well. You clenched your thighs at the thought of being intimate with him. Little did he know, there were nights where you would get yourself off solely to the thoughts of his fingers (or certain other parts of him) between your legs, and the notion that such dreams could become reality brought heat to your body.

“Let’s finish dinner first, but then I’m all yours,” you affirmed. The rest of dinner went by quickly in anticipation of what was to come. When everything was cleaned up, you led him to your bedroom and closed the door. Before you could turn around, he grabbed you and brought his lips to yours in a passionate kiss. You kissed him back with equal intensity, allowing your hands to roam around his body. He curled one hand around your lower back, and carded the other into your hair. He backed you up until your thighs hit the back of the bed. 

“Y/n, please let me know if you are feeling discomfort at any time. I want to ensure that you are feeling nothing but pleasure,” he murmured into your mouth. 

“Tech, dear, please, I need you so badly,” you begged, desperate to feel his hands against your skin. He pulled your top and breast band off before kissing down to your chest and laving at the skin there, leaving marks only he would see. It was your turn to run your fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft his curls were. You briefly thought to ask him later what products he uses, but he brought your attention back to the present by picking you up and lowering you down to the bed, laying you so that your head was resting on the pillows. He kissed down your torso before running his fingers under the seams of your pants, a silent request for you to lift your hips so that he could remove the offending clothing separating him from his prize. As he removed your pants and panties, he kissed up your legs, taking his sweet time with you. He wanted to memorize every inch of your beautiful body. 

Eventually, he reached the apex of your thighs, pushing them apart to reveal your wetness to him. He looked up at you and asked, “Cyare, may I-”

“Tech, please, I need this,” you begged. “I need you.” He wasted no time, licking a stripe up your folds, drawing a moan. You covered your mouth with your hand, but he grabbed it and held it, resting it against your stomach. “Let me hear those beautiful noises; there is no need to cover such a melodious sound.” He turned his attention back to your wetness, moving his tongue in such a way as to have your thighs quaking around his head and you grinding against his face. Once he felt that you were sufficiently lubricated, he slipped a finger inside you, moving it in the “come hither” motion that you had so often dreamed of him doing. Soon he added a second, and used a scissoring motion to open you up for him. The last thing he wanted was to cause you any undue discomfort later on. 

Before too long, you started to feel your orgasm building, and your moans increased in volume. “Tech, I’m gonna…” 

“That’s it, cyare, come for me,” he mouthed against your sex. Everything felt so good, so right, and soon you came- hard. Your body thrashed around, unable to contain the pleasure that he was providing. He worked you through your orgasm, only stopping when you pulled his head away from you. He kissed his way up your body before reuniting his lips with yours. You pulled at his collar, and he backed away to disrobe. Once he had removed all barriers between his skin and yours, he climbed back onto the bed and settled on top of you, pushing your thighs apart once more. When he was undressed, he grabbed a biosheath, and he proceeded to apply it before looking at you and asking once more, “Do you want this? We can stop now if you need to.”

“No, I want this. I need this. I need you,” you declared, reaching down to stroke his length a few times, him thrusting into your hand. Tech lined himself up with your sex and rubbed himself up and down your slit a few times before slowly entering you, not wanting to cause any pain or discomfort, but your face showed nothing but pleasure. You gasped, not realizing how big he was until he was inside you. Once he was fully seated inside you, he rested there for a moment and you brought his head down into a searing kiss. After a moment or so, he pulled out a bit and thrusted back in, causing your head to roll back. He picked up the pace a bit, and you grabbed onto his shoulders for support. In that moment, everything felt so good, so right, and there was nothing else in the galaxy but the two of you and the love you were making. This was not the time for roughness, but for gentleness and sweet, slow sex. 

Tech felt your heat drawing him in and he reached between you to rub on your bundle of nerves, making you clench around him. You lifted your hips, timing the movements of your body with his, and soon, you were coming again, pleasure rushing over you like a tidal wave. You clung onto him for dear life as he worked you through your orgasm. You could tell he was close, too, his thrusts becoming rougher and more erratic, before he came as well. Exhausted, he lowered his body next to yours, pulling out slowly due to your oversensitivity. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Tech whispered, “I love you, cyare. I love this, and I want so much more of it.”

You pulled back to look at him before responding, “I couldn’t agree more.” After some time, he got up to get you some water and a cloth to clean you up with, and when he opened the bedroom door, you saw the flowers that started it all, still sitting in the kitchen.

[mae-lou-ron]

A Little Kindness, pt. 1

Summary: It’s been a few months since Crosshair and his family returned from Tantiss for the last time. Settling into civilian life hasn’t been easy, but one Pabu resident shows Crosshair some kindness that makes him want to try.

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!reader

Rating: T? G? I still don’t know how these things work okay?

Tags/TWs: social anxiety/awkwardness, internal berating, grumpy soft crosshair dealing with ptsd-related stuff but nothing specific, mentions of injuries treated but nothing specific, fluffyish, fanon typical swearing, reader was written as fem (she/her) but the only description so far is that she has hair and maybe wears perfume.

WC: 2,400ish

A/N: thank you to everyone who read A Friend Indeed. I really enjoyed writing the brotherly dynamic between Crosshair and Wrecker in that one. It was honestly an outlet for me to process some of my own stuff, and I appreciate all the encouragement and kind comments. I’m continuing Crosshair’s journey in learning how to heal and even maybe enjoy that Pabu life a little. I’m thinking I’ll make a little anthology series of these because I’ve got a lot of Crosshair fluff cooking up in this goblin lair of a brain. Part 2 to currently underway.

A song I listened to quite a bit while writing this was State of the Art by Incubus.

Proofread by me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crosshair strode down the sandy path, his eyes periodically scanning the star-studded sky. He inhaled the night air, surprisingly crisp for the island now that the sun had set, giving way for the moon to rise. Its blue-tinted glow bathed the island, ushering in the evening sounds that helped quiet his overactive mind. He would often walk these paths at night, aiming for nowhere in particular, just letting his feet decide where he would go.

As he turned down the path that led to the compound of small homes shared with his family, he heard their voices spilling from open windows. They sounded upbeat and cheerful. The sing-song lilt of Omega's voice suggested someone else was there—a visitor. Crosshair inwardly cringed. Still new to civilian life, he wasn't overly fond of visitors—especially those who showed up unannounced, regardless of their self-proclaimed important reasons.

In situations like this, he couldn't help but notice how his siblings were adapting to life on Pabu much more easily than he was. People had a tendency to baffle him. But the others, Wrecker and Omega especially, seemed to really enjoy getting to know anyone and everyone. As Crosshair got closer, he recognized a voice in the mix of conversation, which nearly made him stop in his tracks.

He exhaled softly, a flush creeping up his neck. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears when he heard your laughter ring out. Why does it have to be her? The thought of walking past the compound and continuing down the hill to the beach was very tempting. He wasn't in the mood for other people right now, least of all you.

It definitely had absolutely nothing to do at all with the fact that he was always putting his foot in his mouth when you were around. You set him on edge like no one he'd met before, though not necessarily in a bad way. He quite liked you actually, but you'd probably never know it from his behavior.

Not to mention your last encounter on his walk a few nights ago. When you called to him from your porch, asking for his help with something out of your reach. He froze, thoughts swirling, and all he could manage to do was scowl despite his desire to assist. He hesitated, realizing it was a task you could likely manage yourself. But you asked, and the look in your eyes had his feet leaving the path and taking the small steps to your patio where you stood on a chair. Though you appeared steady, his hand instinctively hovered near the middle of your back. Maintaining his usual stern expression, he held the awning in place while you secured it.

You thanked him with a warm smile, and without thinking he offered you his arm as you stepped down. You accepted with another gentle smile, your hand resting lightly on his forearm, the warmth from your touch lingering even after you let go. You took a step backwards to admire your work. "That should do," you murmured before turning your attention back to him. "It might be a bit stormy tonight," you added, crossing you arms over your chest. You both glanced up at the clouds that had started filtering into the sky on the horizon. The bright moon made it easy to see them rolling across the water.

"Are you warm enough?" you asked, looking up at him and rubbing your arm as the wind picked up. "I've got some extra tunics or ponchos somewhere in here, if you'd like one… Oh, do you like tea? I just put some on…." You rambled, taking another step back towards your door, offering a welcoming smile. The breeze swirled again and carried the scent of your hair—or perhaps perfume—to Crosshair, and he felt drawn to accept your offer. Yet his apprehension rose, and his "no, thanks" came out quick and terse. He couldn't even recall if you said anything after he retreated, berating himself as he walked away. Before your house disappeared from view, he glanced back over his shoulder, only to find you'd already gone inside, leaving him with another twinge of regret.

But you were here now, and he couldn't really get to his part of their home without being at least noticed by Hunter. Kriff. He swore inwardly and steeled himself for the onslaught of attention that would be cast his way as soon as he crossed the threshold.

"Crosshair! You're back!" Omega rushed over as he appeared in the doorway. His sister beamed up at him, her cheeks flushed and eyes shining with excitement. "How was your walk?"

“It’s too close to bedtime to be getting all wound up, don’t you think?” he said to his sister and glanced at you, who was regarding him warily. Omega rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm, pulling him fully into room.

“Nope! But look what we just got!” she smiled, pointing to the table in the near center. You were there standing next to Wrecker with an amused look on your face. Crosshair scowled, gesturing to the pile of neatly folded ponchos on the table before them, one for each of them. "What do we need these for?" He chided himself mentally the moment the words made it past his lips.

"Duh, because it gets cold at night here during some parts of the rotation," Wrecker said matter-of-factly, as if it wasn't something he had just learned a few minutes ago himself. He nudged you gently with his elbow, which made you blush slightly. The exchange made Crosshair's eye twitch. What was wrong with him? He wasn't exactly proud of how your previous encounters had gone, and this one wasn't looking like it would be all that great either, but seeing you react to Wrecker like that… he liked that even less.

"It really does… I… didn't have a whole lot when I came here, but Lyanna brought me a couple of these not too long after. Total lifesaver," you beamed at Omega who was excitedly unfolding one to throw over her head. It had hues of blue and brown fibers threaded together. "They make them right here on the island. It might be a little big on you now but you'll grow into it," you grinned at the young girl as you adjusted the seams at her shoulders, letting the garment fall into place.

"I really like it," Omega smiled, giving a little twirl that made the fabric fan out around her. "Thank you," she added warmly before wrapping one of her arms around you in a half hug.

"Anytime, kiddo," you smiled down at Omega, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze before she turned to Wrecker to show him. When you looked up, Crosshair was regarding you with that severe look on his face, like it was actually causing him physical pain to be in your presence. You decided to take your leave, sensing the mood had shifted and not wanting to overstay your welcome.

"Well, I'll leave you all to it, then. I've got an early start tomorrow anyway," you said, your voice light and kind. Their words of thanks met your ears as you retreated towards the door, causing your lips to quirk up in a smile as you walked by Crosshair. However, he swore the spark he saw in your eyes when he first entered the room had dimmed a little. Good job, di'kut.

Crosshair opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but no words came, instead he just gave you a tense nod of his head before looking at the floor.

"Goodnight, everyone," you said softly before closing the door behind you with a gentle click.

“Way to kill the fun, Crosshair,” Wrecker teased after a long moment, roughing his brother’s shoulder as he walked past him into the kitchen, shooting a wink at Omega.

A heavy silence settled over the room. Without looking up, Crosshair knew Omega and Hunter were staring at him, their arms undoubtedly crossed and their faces wearing that annoyingly stern expression. Great. It meant they were about to gang up on him.

"Crosshair..." Omega said with a gentle reproach only she could get away with. He still hated it, though. "The people here are kind. She's just trying to help us feel at home. She understands what it's like, remember?”

Crosshair set his jaw, struggling to untangle the swirl of self-doubt and self-deprecation in his mind. "I know that," he said softly, fully aware that you, too, had sought refuge on Pabu to escape the Empire not all that long ago.

"I also think she likes you,” Omega whispered conspiratorially. “Like actually likes you…"

"I can't imagine why…" Hunter muttered, leaning into the doorframe. Crosshair narrowed his eyes at him in return, taking a wooden pick from his pocket and placing it delicately between his teeth. “You act like she’s a thermal detonator or something,” Hunter rumbled, smirking.

Omega rolled her eyes and glared at Hunter before turning back to Crosshair, whose expression only continued to sour the longer he was being put on the spot. "Don't listen to him," Omega insisted, but Hunter's words gnawed at the part of Crosshair's mind that had already questioned the same thing. Yet, Omega saw through his trademark scowl, regarding him with affection and gentle reproach.

Crosshair sighed, eyes softening as they returned to Omega. He still couldn't pinpoint the exact moment this kid had wrapped him around her finger, but glancing at Hunter's face, he knew his brother shared the same thought. Crosshair rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Hunter's eyes simply darted between the two of them—no words were necessary.

After a long pause, Crosshair huffed, "Fine—I'll… go talk to her." He winced at the thought. "What do I even say?" he said to the room, his jaw tight, shoulders slumping slightly at the discomforting thought.

"Well—I think you might like her too, Crosshair…" Omega offered gently, "…so maybe start with something simple like 'thank you for the new clothes' or 'I'm sorry for being such a cold wet blanke—'" Hunter coughed to interrupt her, and his chuckling.

"Going," Crosshair held his arms up in surrender, slinking towards the door you had just exited a few moments ago.

"Cross," Hunter said as he followed him to the door, handing him a dark green one from the pile. Silent communication passed between the brothers. Crosshair eventually nodded and slipped the soft material over his head, adjusting it to drape evenly over his shoulders.

It was pretty comfortable, he had to admit.

The scents Crosshair had grown to associate with you still lingered on the fabric—warm and spicy but soft with a hint of something like chamomile. He took a deep breath, allowing it to hang on the end of his senses, pulling up fleeting images of you in his mind that gave him a strange fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

You were one of the first people here to show him genuine kindness. A series of gestures from you that had actually quite startled him at the time.

He could still recall every detail of that first encounter months ago. The landing pad on Pabu bustled with medically inclined residents and clone troopers as they returned from Tantiss. Your welcoming smile and guarded eyes greeted him as you offered your arm to help him onto an awaiting cot; he didn't take it, but you held it there nonetheless. Panic suddenly rose in his throat at losing sight of his siblings, but it subsided when he spotted Omega and Emerie tending to Wrecker nearby—who was indeed badly injured. Only after Echo lowered Hunter into the adjacent cot did Crosshair warily allow you to examine his injuries. You seemed to understand his hesitance, asked for his name, told him yours, carefully explaining each step and always seeking his permission before proceeding—a gesture that was both deeply appreciated and deeply unfamiliar to him.

Since then, he's been struggling to find a way to show his gratitude for that moment, and all of your unexpected kindness after. Every time he tried, the words caught in his throat—nothing he could think of seemed adequate enough to express it. Parsing through the complexity of his feelings often made it difficult for him to speak. He found himself caught between wanting to open up and his instinct to maintain distance. Crosshair knew he needed to find a way to bridge this gap, but he had no idea how. And the idea of being hit with any sort of rejection from you also gnawed at him.

"You look great," Omega grinned up at him, shaking him from his thoughts. Hunter gave him an encouraging clap on the shoulder before pushing Crosshair back into the crisp evening air.

The air was more comfortable now with the added layer. The gentle breeze that wove its way through the streets and staircases gently tugged on the fabric as he walked. Looking at it more closely, it was different shades of green, and like Omega's, it was woven into a pattern that blurred one color into the next. He trudged the path to your neighborhood—lost in thought, wracking his brain for what he was going to say.

But when he arrived, the house was dark—it seemed you weren’t home.

Crosshair hesitated, contemplating his options. He brought his hand to the door but decided against knocking. He considered leaving a note but dismissed the idea quickly, as he had nothing to write with. He had no idea what he'd put down anyway. With a frustrated sigh, he turned and began walking aimlessly down the winding path.

Reluctant to return home immediately, Crosshair continued to where the houses grew sparse, eventually discovering sprawling patches of wildflowers. He vaulted over a crumbling stone wall and gathered a handful of blooms in various types and colors. As he walked back, he bundled the vibrant flowers as best he could, using his teeth and a loose thread from the poncho's hem. Upon returning to your door, he gently placed the makeshift bouquet on the chair you'd climbed onto the other night.

As he took a few steps back, he could only hope this small gesture might convey his intent better than any fumbling words he could muster right now. With a quiet hum, he finally turned and walked back towards home. Maybe he'd figure out what to say by the time he saw you again.

[youre-a-total--poser]

Hungover Argument (Request)

Warnings: mentions of underage drinking, feeling nauseous and throwing up, there might be a swear word in there somewhere but I cant remember.

Age: briefly 10 and 16

Word Count: 1,605

Requests: Open

Summary: Read the request and it will explain everything

Requested by: Wattpad User

Date: 29/09/2024

paring: N/A

Author Note: Thank you for your request I hope that you like it and thank you for being so patient with me since I've taken like 8 years to write this and I'm sorry if it's not what you hoped for.

Masterlist

---⧗---

You got rescued by the Avengers from a HYDRA prison camp when you were 10 years old. You had to watch your parents and your sister die from malnutrition and disease and there was nothing that you could do to stop it.

After you were saved you were only meant to stay with the Avengers for a little while until a suitable foster home became available but they ended up liking having you around so they decided that you could stay with them.

There was one Avenger who wasn't that keen on the idea of having a kid living with them and that was Natasha but it didn't take her long to warm up to you and she even ended up becoming the one who looked after you the most.

As the years went by Natasha had learned and memorised even the little things about you like how you liked your sandwiches made, your exact order for all the different restaurants, all the different ways that you found it easiest to learn when you were doing homeschooling, but most important of all how to comfort you when you had nightmares or when it was one of your parents or your sisters birthday.

You were homeschooled instead of being at a normal public school because Natasha had decided that it would be safer for you to stay and learn at the compound. Even when you got older you still weren't allowed to attend a normal school.

Natasha did let you go to a youth club, only because she dropped you off and picked you up each week. You got to meet lots of kids your age and became friends with many of them.

---⧗---

Now that you were 16 you wanted nothing more than to do normal teenage stuff but you still weren't allowed to.

You got a text from your best friend telling you that there was a party happening and she really wanted you to be there. However, there was only one problem was that Natasha would never allow you to go.

You had no other choice but to sneak out. Sneaking out was going to be the easy bit it was everything that came before that was going to be more challenging.

You ended up telling Natasha that you had a headache and that you were going to go have a lie-down.

You stayed in bed till you heard the door creak open then close again you knew that Natasha was thinking that you were sleeping.

After your friend had texted you the address you somehow managed to easily sneak out and made your way to the address where the party was held.

---⧗---

You knew no one there at all but that didn't stop you. You went from sharing a bottle of beer while dancing with your friend to being invited to do shots with a group of strangers. Your friend told you that it wouldn't be a good idea but you didn't care you wanted to just be a normal teenager and clearly, this is what normal teenagers do.

A few hours and an unknown amount of drinks later you were about to start doing more shots when someone grabbed your arm and pulled you off to the side.

"Peder Paker." You said while slapping his shoulder.

"I'm taking you home Y/N." He said while taking off his jacket and wrapping it around you. "Miss Romanoff is going to kill you." He mumbled while leading you out of the house.

He got you home safely and back to your room without anyone noticing, got you in bed and onto your side and placed the bin beside your bed in case you threw up during the night.

He also filled the glass that was on your bedside table with fresh water and put a few aspirin beside it.

He debated staying with you for the rest of the night but ended up leaving you just in case Natasha would walk in and expect the worst as to why he was there.

---⧗---

In the morning you got woken up at 7:30 am by your alarm. It took what felt like forever to finally turn it off.

Your head was pounding and the room was spinning the only reason why you got out of bed as quickly as you did was because you got hit by sudden nausea and you hurried to the bathroom and threw up.

You went back into your room, took the medicine that was on the bedside table and just laid on the bed for it to take effect.

All you wanted to do was stay in the dark room, avoid all human contact and sleep but for some reason, you had bad hunger pains. In times like this, you wish you hadn't eaten all the snacks that you had stashed in your bedroom so now you have to leave the comfort of your bed and be around people who will most likely be loud and try to have conversations with you.

You got up and slowly made your way to the kitchen. Unfortunately for you, everyone, apart from Natasha, was there having breakfast.

"Jesus, kid, you look like shit," Tony said taking a sip of coffee.

"Thanks." You said sarcastically.

You stacked four pancakes and five rashes of bacon on a plate and covered it in maple syrup.

"Save some for the rest of us." Tony unnecessarily said.

"No" You replied as you picked up the plate, a fork and a knife and started walking out of the room. Before you could fully leave the room a voice from behind stopped you.

"Y/N, get back here now," Natasha shouted.

You let out a loud sigh and turned around.

"Don't you dare sigh at me especially not after what you did last night." She shouted.

'Oh shit, busted.' You thought to yourself.

"I know fine well that you snuck out and got drunk at a party and there's no point in trying to deny it."

"Well, what do you expect I'm not allowed to do anything that normal teenagers do."

"It's for your own safety Y/N" Steve chimed in

"It's not actually it's so that SHE can have full control over me."

"I'm not controlling you Y/N I'm just trying to protect you."

"I don't need you to protect me and don't make me your kid just cause you couldn't have any."

"You're right, maybe I should have never 'made you my kid' if this is the ungrateful and disrespectful person you'd become. Maybe I should have just let you fend for yourself since clearly what I'm doing isn't good enough for you."

You stopped yourself from saying anything instead you dropped the plate into the counter and stormed off back to your room.

---⧗---

Nearly a week passed and you still hadn't spoken to Natasha and you've been avoiding her at all costs.

She tried on many times to get you to talk to her but you were having none of it.

One night you ended up having the worst nightmare that you ever had. It was so bad that you woke up screaming which caused everyone to check on you to see what happened.

You were sitting on the floor in the corner with your knees against your chest, crying hysterically nothing that anyone said was making things better.

Natasha had just gotten back from a mission as she was making her way to her room she saw everyone standing outside your room quietly whispering to each other.

After Natasha was told what was going on she walked into your bedroom closed the door behind her, kneeled beside you and put her hands on your knees.

"Tell me what happened, sweetheart," she asked softly.

"I was back at the camp." You mumbled

"It's okay, I understand," she replied not wanting you to say any more about it since she knew just how traumatic it was for you.

She sat down next to you put her arm around you and pushed you towards her so you were now leaning on her.

While holding you tight and gently running her hand up and down your arm she whispered in your ear. "You're safe now. Nothing can hurt you not while I'm here okay."

She felt you nod your head slightly.

"That's my girl," she said then placed a kiss on your head.

"I'm sorry." you began to say as you moved your head to look at her. "for being mean and all the other stuff. I don't know why I did it."

"it's not your fault okay it's mine. I was being far too overprotective of you. Can you forgive me?"

"I forgive you." You said while holding her tightly.

"Thank you, sweetheart." She said hugging you back."

"Come on then let's get back to bed," she said standing up and holding her hand out for you to take.

You took hold of her hand and you stood up. "Can you stay with me?" You asked.

"Of course I will." She smiled putting her arm around you and leading you to your bed.

Once you got into bed you moved over so that you were as close to Natasha as possible.

"Comfortable?" she asked stroking your hair.

You nodded your head and she hugged you tighter.

With Natasha being there you felt the safest you've ever been and it didn't take you long to fall back asleep and you didn't have any nightmares for a long time after that night but even if you did you knew that Natasha would be there for you no matter what.

---⧗---

Taglist

@saraaahsstuff // @marvelnatasha12346 // @amolapasta // @knox145 // @ducktamer415 // @romanoffliviv

Go HERE to be added to the taglist

[owuwi]

CHARLOTTE MATTHEWS

summary: after a long, shitty day at work, your girlfriend’s arms are all you need.

warnings: none

1.2k words :]

Oh how you loved your job, but you absolutely despised the person who you worked for. Writing for the newspaper was easy, right? It was! But not when you had your boss messing with your stuff. He's been on your back for the past weeks, telling you what to investigate and how to do it, and you really couldn't take it anymore. You tried ignoring him as much as possible and opted to focus on your job, taking deep, slow breaths and inhaling the scent of paper that mingled with the strong aroma of coffee brewing from the break room. The place was actually really nice and it had that typical newspaper office vibe that was often displayed in movies, the office nestled in an old building in the heart of the busy city. The walls were covered with framed front pages of past issues, showing the newspaper’s proud history. Your coworkers were as dedicated — and some of them as young — as you were, paying no mind to the curmudgeon of your boss, filling the atmosphere with urgency and focus. Despite the often chaos, there was a sense of camaraderie among your team, a shared passion for telling stories that truly mattered.

Today had been a particularly hard day; you woke up later than normal and the fact that Charlotte’s compound was literally in the middle of nowhere was only adding to the reason why you arrived at the perfect time to be yelled at — by your boss, of course — in public, humiliating you in front of your crew. Everyone was quite used to the way he expressed himself, always yelling and complaining about little things, and they understood perfectly how it felt to be treated like that by him, but it honestly seemed that he had something against you at this point and everyone could tell. He didn’t like anything you showed him recently, pointing out minor errors and claiming your work wasn’t up to the standard, and it took everything in your willpower not to snap at him. Hiding your feelings was something you definitely weren’t good at so you couldn’t help but break down. You obviously didn’t do it at work — since the risk of making your boss even angrier was quite high — but tears immediately started rolling down the moment you close the front door of your house behind you, the smell of fresh pine, lavender, candles, and incense creating a warm and inviting atmosphere that only makes you even more emotional.

Since it was quite late, Charlotte was waiting on your shared room, peacefully lying on the big bed with one of your pillows tightly held in her arms, not being aware of your return until she heard the door of the room slowly opening. "Sweetheart?" She calls out but doesn't open her eyes, instead, she just continues cuddling your pillow — something the older woman loved doing since it carried your scent —. The room was warm and faintly lighted by candles scattered around her room.

Maybe it was the problems of your day, the sound of your girlfriend's sleepy voice, or the mere sight of her holding onto your pillow like a lifeline, or maybe it was the three of those things that caused you to start sobbing. Upon hearing your cries, Charlotte immediately opened her eyes and snapped her head in the direction of your voice, already sitting upright. Without hesitation, she got off the bed and stepped over to you, pulling you into a tight and loving hug.

"Baby." She says, not able to hold back the frown on her face at the sound of your cry. Pulling away just a bit, Charlotte gently cups your cheeks in her hands — her touch as soft as always —, brushing away your tears with her thumbs. "Darling, what's wrong?" She asks as she looks at you with those beautiful eyes of hers.

Her touch... it was something you simply couldn't get tired of. It was honestly healing, soothing and light — clearly understanding the fragility of the moment —, the warmth of her skin feeling like sunlight filtering through leaves. You knew it was weird crying over something like this but you couldn't help it, you couldn't work properly when you had people telling you how to do your thing. "Work.. i-i can't..." You manage to mumble out in reply to the brown-eyed woman's question, your whole body trembling in her grasp.

A mixture of both concern and anger washes over Charlotte after seeing how torn up you really were. One of her hands comes up to gently thread through your hair while the other one gently slides under your shirt with the intent of rubbing soft and gentle circles into you back, her nails slowly scratching the delicate skin of your back.

"It's okay..." She coos softly, tilting her head down so she could press several kisses along the side of your neck. "You don't need to say anything, you don't have to, okay?" She quickly replies, noticing that you're in no state to talk, while gently moving the two of you towards the bed.

She leads you to the comfortable mattress and gently lies you down on it, your body instantly relaxing at the feeling of the soft bedding. She wastes no time in cradling you in her arms, your head resting on her chest — the kaftan she was wearing allowing you to feel some of her bare skin —. She keeps one hand in your cheek, tenderly cupping it and brushing the pad of her thumb over your cheekbone, carefully brushing away more tears. It hurt her to see you like this and the thought of you continuing to go back to work for a boss that makes you this upset... it pissed her off. "You don't deserve that, not in the slightest bit, my baby.." She murmurs some moments later before continuing, knowing how stubborn you could be. "Why don't you try becoming a freelance writer, huh? Just so you wouldn't have that prick breathing down your neck all day." She continues while she runs her other hand through your hair, knowing how much her touch could help you in moments like this.

This is a talk you've had multiple times already and Charlotte was right, but still, you were quite stubborn — claiming you needed to work to keep yourself busy —. "N-No, you-... you know i can't..." You simply mumble out in reply to your girlfriend's words but she quickly hushes you up.

"Just... think about it, alright? But imagine.. you and me getting all that time to ourselves... getting to sleep in as much as we want and cuddling as much as we can. No more yelling boss, no more shitty work and late nights.." She suggests before shifting your body a bit and then starting to remove your work clothes.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow... rest for now, darling.." She whispers one final comment, keeping you pressed against her body in the most relaxing manner, her steady heartbeat lulling you to sleep. Charlotte was always going to be by your side no matter the choice you make, she was just hoping you would listen to her advice — like you always do —.

charlotte :3 lottie :3 mommy lottie grr need her so bad

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 7

Velkommen Til Tønsberg | Loki x Reader

Loki and Thor take you to see the new King of Asgard in the hopes of finding more answers. Charmed by the quaint village and welcoming Asgardians you dream of a better future there. But not everyone is friendly and they're certainly not safe.

Warnings: mostly fluffy...mind the ending. Family drama, talk of forced marriage/marriage of convenience and Reader's family. Implied sexual content, implied loss of virginity.

A/N: From here on in there's going to be talk of other panethons,specifically from Irish mythology, so I'll put a little info at the bottom of the chapter if you're interested! Other mythologies will be depicted in the same way Loki & the Asgardians are in Marvel and the MCU. This is very much a fictionalised account, although there are, like in the MCU, elements of the original stories. You don't have to read about them, but I've tried hard to embed a lot of mythology into the story so although it's easily readable without it, I think it's more fun if you know!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

“So you met a woman who can set fire to stuff, makes everyone around her horny and you’ve let him,” the woman pointed at Loki, “teach her to shift and mind read?” She walked around the coffee table in the middle of the cosy living room, keeping her eyes trained on your face as if you might drag the crackling fire out of the hearth and set fire to her sofa.

“Yes - But, in my defence, she could already do a lot of it and it wasn’t my idea.” Thor gave her a massive grin, taking a butter cookie from the plate in front of him while she flopped onto the chair opposite you. 

“I’m -” you paused, unsure of what to call yourself. No one had really addressed you since you arrived at the compound, should you use the name you’d discovered with Loki? When you’d dreamed of Asgard together? Or should you use your old name, the one your Grandfather gave you? 

“This is Estrid.” Loki took the decision out of your hands, and you were grateful for it, leaning into his side a little for reassurance while he patted your knee. 

She took your hand in both of hers and gave them a firm squeeze, her palms were soft, but there were calluses below her fingers that told you there was more to her than the oversized jumper, piles of books and well stocked bar cart could tell you. 

“I’m Brunnhilde,” Brunnhilde gave you a warm smile, far more comforting than you’d expected when Thor had described the warrior on your journey to Tønsberg. He’d described the fights they’d engaged in together, her bravery during Ragnarok and her ability to lead as a fair and firm King for the new Asgardian settlement. He talked about her armour and weapons, whirling his hands around as he acted out his favourite moments from the final battle. Loki had rolled his eyes and told you that she was a skilled and proficient fighter and a sensible leader, despite Thor’s terrible caricature. 

The woman before you looked softer than their stories, she was wearing an oversized knitted sweater that hung down to her thighs over tight black jeans, her hair was styled in long braids that fell over her shoulders and she fiddled with the end of one as she continued to watch you. 

“Valkyrie,” Thor insisted through a mouthful of biscuit. But Brunnhilde, just rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and gave you a knowing smile, as if the antics of gods were commonplace in her life. 

“You can call me Brunnhilde or Valkyrie, Val, if you like,” she had an easy manner of speaking, relaxed and welcoming, in keeping with the homey warmth of her cottage and she pushed the plate of food towards you. “Do you want to tell me about these dreams?”

The hesitancy you felt on arriving in the little fishing village began to melt away. Initially you’d been overwhelmed by the crisp, salt scent of the sea and the shock of the cold. But here, in the stone house nestled in the centre of the village, you felt at ease and allowed yourself to relax into the cushions. The atmosphere that had been so shockingly different on arrival was now settling inside of you, the clean smell sea smell of the harbour mixing with the woodsmoke in the village was familiar somehow. 

You’d arrived in the dead of night while the village was asleep, tucked into the hillside with only a few lights along the dock still bright. The sea had called to you then, a wild thing that beat against the boats and rattled the stones of the shoreline until you were on the edge of the dock, leaning over into the abyss of darkness. 

Loki had pulled you away and wrapped your frozen hands in his own while Thor had looked on, a knowing smile spreading across his face. But you allowed Loki to pull you close, snaking your arms around his waist and tucking yourself half inside his black wool coat. He rubbed his hands up and down your back to warm you, the press of his fingers turning into the weight of your own coat as Loki’s magic flickered over you. 

You’d stood together for what felt like forever and yet not enough time at all, bathing in the darkness and the rhythmic sound of the sea as it crested and crashed on the harbour wall. 

Thor was intrigued by Loki’s behaviour, he’d never seen him act in such a controlled and measured way, nor had he seen him spend more than a few days with any consort since their adolescent years in Asgard. 

He was starting to think this was some sort of elaborate courtship that his brother had thought up, for once he decided he would forgo the teasing, happy to see his brother with a partner he actually approved of, and had left you in the cold air, wrapped together under Loki’s coat. 

Your mind had wandered, rubbing your thumb over Loki’s cool palm, and felt his own relaxed thoughts wash over you, your cheek touched his shoulder and he lifted his arm to tuck you into his side, the movement unconsciously casual and comforting. 

“Are you okay, Estrid?” The Valkyrie’s voice called to you through the memory and you sat upright again with a start. “I think I do remember you - hmm,” she paused and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re Brigid’s daughter? Right? I remember your mother, I was assigned to her guard a few times when she visited Queen Frigga.”

Her words raised goosebumps on your skin, a mother? Without thinking you grabbed at Val’s hands, pulling her to the edge of her own seat so that you could study her face, waiting for her to reveal a lie or a joke. “Show me, can I see? Please,” you begged, eyes filling with tears. 

 Brunnhilde flicked her dark eyes at Thor, hesitating, she had been King of the Asgardians for only a short time and although Thor was more like a brother to her now, she didn’t want to upset either Prince by revealing too many of Asgard’s secrets. 

You hadn’t noticed her hesitation, your only thoughts on seeing your forgotten mother again. “I don’t remember my mother at all. What was she like?” You asked, looking around the room to see if any of them would be willing to share. 

Loki, surprisingly, looked at Thor as well, a silent conversation passing between the two brothers before Thor answered. 

“I don’t see the harm, after all we brought her here to learn, if this is what she requires then she should hear it.” He said, already a little bored and messing with the trinkets on the shelf beside him, hadn’t he differed his responsibilities to Valkyrie for this exact reason?

Brunnhilde leant forward and, with some encouragement from Loki, you met her halfway, your fingers hovering over her temples. “I promise I’ll just look at my mother. Just think about her a lot, when you worked for her, what you saw.”

Loki’s hand found your knee and squeezed, “Remember, Asynja, calm." You concentrated on his breathing, on his scent, on the feel of his trousers below your own hand and closed your eyes. 

She appeared out of the gloom, a tall woman with fiery red hair in a mass of curls flowing down her back. Her clothes reminded you of your dreams, airy and bright. She had a gold crown on her head adorned with gemstone flowers, tulips, daffodils and snowdrops mixed with clover and daisies. On her back a sage green Cape trailed behind her and from one corner peaked a little face. 

“My baby, you stay in there, safe and sound,” her voice was like warm salted caramel, sweet, burning with love and measured by her strength. A fierceness behind it that would surely scald anyone coming too close. Behind her strode the Valkyrie in their armour, as they marched through the corridors of Asgard to Frigga’s chambers.

Once inside the luxurious chambers, a little face peaked out again.

“Mother?”

“It is safe, Estrid. You may come out. This is my friend, Queen Frigga. You are to stay with her a while.” The other woman held out her hand, her fingers adorned with all manner of shining gems and opaque turquoise, her hair flowed from a golden diadem, but she was dressed casually in a sky blue dress, draped around her shoulders and elbows. A Queen, yes, but a mother also. 

“Estrid, you  very welcome here in Asgard. May I present my son, Loki. He has similar talents. Perhaps he could show you the palace.” A shaggy head of black hair peered around Frigga’s legs. “I have another son, Thor, but my dear Brigid tells me that you love to read and walk, rather than fight and wrestle,” she paused, tugging Loki forward, and bent between you both, “my darling Loki can show you his library, he will be sure to share.” She gave Loki a little nudge forward and dipped her chin at him. 

With practised steps he moved towards the little girl, “Princess” he bowed, formally, looking back up at his mother for approval. Frigga patted the boy on the shoulder and he hid behind her skirts again. 

“Prince," you gave a shy curtsy, holding the folds of your elaborate dress as you moved, your memories drifted towards him and away from your parents. Your juvenile conversations floating through lazy mornings within his library, giggling together while you spied on the court from the gallery. The clothes that Loki had created for you with a glimmer of magic so that you could climb the same trees and tumble down the same hills, splashing together in the fountains of the gardens until his governess chased you back into the palace.

Your small hands clasped together as he walked you through the halls of Asgard, the sheen of sweat on his brow when you ran together through the gardens, hazy and warm and glittering with gold it morphed into a lazy dream, full of clouds and the endless sky and…

The dream faded and Val pulled away.

“You’re distracted.” She looked at Loki and narrowed her eyes. “Loki was very important to you back then, and I see that he still is," she gave Loki a sly smile, “but he’s distracting you. Bugger off and annoy someone else please." She waved the two princes away. 

Loki kissed your hand and stood to walk out with Thor. He had the same shy, boyish smile that you'd seen in your memory. The one that had made you feel welcome and at peace. He lingered, unsure about whether he could push his affection further than a kiss on the cheek. You hadn’t discussed your evening together, but he longed to keep you in his arms. Meeting his eyes you allowed your mind to wander to his and he bent over you on the sofa, his hands either side of your head, and lowered his face to yours. Brushing his nose against your cheek he kissed you softly. 

“I’ll come for you? I can show you the people." He suggested, “I’ll meet you at the harbour when you’re finished.”

“They’re my people now, don’t forget!” Brunnhilde called after him.

“How could I!” He bowed low, “my Queen." His tone was filled with sarcasm as well as mirth. With a final wink Thor pulled him out of the door.

Brunnhilde rolled her eyes and then turned her attention back to the tea tray, pouring a cup for you both. She settled back into her chair and tucked her feet up under her. 

“Brigid was a wonderful Goddess, a Queen herself really, but here on Midgard,” Val took a deep breath and sighed it out, “she made the flames dance, brought the spring and the flowers, and protected the land during winter. She took care with all her subjects and friends, her matchmaking skills, in particular,  were something to behold. She helped Frigga and Odin in their early courtship and had many friends across the nine realms and the Otherworld.” Brunnhilde stopped to look at you, your wide eyes glistening as you listened. “Is this bringing any memories back?” She dunked a biscuit into her tea and watched you as she ate. 

“Yes, a little.” A tear started to fall slowly down your cheek, pooling on your lip, a bittersweet taste of a grief and longing you still couldn't truly comprehend, couldn’t even remember. “She had a cloak,” you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I always felt so safe in there.”

“That’s because it was safe, it created a protection around those who wore it, or who were under it. She used it to protect the land during winter, but when she had to hide you it worked for you too.”

“Did she hide me here? Is that why I don’t remember?” 

“Oh no, she used to hide you on Asgard, mostly, but you visited other realms too.” 

“So is she still hiding in it? Is that why we’re not together?”

Brunnhilde reached out and patted your arm, “no, she’s not hiding in it. I’m sorry to tell you, she died, and she took all of her magic and secrets with her. The cloak was never Asgardian to begin with, so we couldn't have looked for it, though Frigga tried. It's been lost for a long time, but I'd bet if it's anywhere, it's here on Midgard, waiting for you." 

You nodded, contemplating the possibility that it may be out there and, if it was, it was yours now. A Goddess’ cloak. 

Just the thought of it made you feel dizzy. You sipped your tea, allowing the warmth of it to spread through you before you built the courage to ask your next question. 

“How did she die?” The question squeaked out of you, barely a whisper, and you found yourself curling into the cushions of the sofa as you spoke. 

“I wish I knew." Brunnhilde looked sincere and you could feel the sorrow radiating from her as her eyes misted, "she brought you back to Asgard many times, sometimes she would stay and you would holiday around the city, sometimes she would leave you under the Queen’s care. The last time you visited you were just of age, celebrating your birthday and looking forward to your ascension. She left to speak to a potential suitor in Vanaheim, your mother and Frigga had many friends there, and together they sought someone who could match your spirit, but provide you protection, a good match." 

"A good match?" 

"I know it's a lot to take in, but you were, are, a very important child not just to your mother, but to us all. Children are rare in the Nine Realms, especially among the Aesir, skilled children are rarer." 

"Skilled?"

"Your magic. When you first came to Asgard you were wild and untamed. Frigga helped you to channel your energy and taught you alongside her own sons. I believe Loki is helping you again now, but there was a time you trained together. And that kind of magic, in the hands of the wrong realm, the wrong husband. It could've been catastrophic." 

"Husband, why would I have to have a husband?!" You were incensed, "why couldn't I just train and be by myself." 

"It was a difficult time for the Nine Realms, for us all, a time of change. But you were as angry then as you are now, I’m pleased to see you haven’t lost any of your fire.” Angry as you were, you could see that Brunnhilde was telling the truth, and there was no teasing or malice in the way she looked at you. 

The King sat her cup down an came to sit beside you, bringing your hand up to the side of her face, she opened her memories again. 

You were sat in Frigga’s private chambers, a fire glowing in the grate, wine, fruit and bread on the table. Frigga held you close, patting your hair and singing a soft lullaby.

“My dear, you are still so young to lose a mother and we will always be here for you. But you must listen to the wishes of your court, and of your King at least consider his plans. A chaperone and entourage are being sent to take you home.”

“I won’t go with them, I barely know him. Why won’t Odin let me stay?” You sobbed. 

“He will not overrule your father. There will be a ball for you, and then your Father will come and collect you. I imagine you will be introduced to your betrothed and then your ascension will begin, you will be crowned and named to solidify your position."

Brunnhilde pulled away, she was unsure of how the evening played out any further, you had fled the room and not returned. Frigga had asked her to look for you when your maids said you were not in your bed. The Valkyrie had assumed you remained in the castle, but to no avail. To Brunnhilde’s knowledge you had hidden yourself all night, returning in the morning in sodden clothes, covered in soil and grass, and had assumed you’d spent the night in the gardens, perhaps sleeping in one of the follies scattered around the hedges. 

You slid back against the sofa cushions, lost in your own memory, eyes shut but twitching as if in deep sleep. Brunnhilde draped a blanket over your lap and propped your head onto a cushion, leaving you to your memories. 

You stood, tossing aside the blankets and sheets and carefully opened the doors of your balcony. Long since a trellis had been built into the stone wall outside and you used it, as always, to climb down from your rooms into the quiet of the gardens. Out in the night, the lanterns led the way slowly fading as you moved further from the safety of the palace until you were in darkness surrounded by the trees at the edge of the palace land. Above you the forest loomed, foreboding and fascinating all at once. You expected to be alone, out in the night, but as you slowed to a halt, panting breaths that circled you in the midnight air, a voice called to you through the manicured lawns and trained roses, echoing from the mountain behind you, sad and low. 

Loki’s arms found your waist, pulling you back against his chest. Firm and real in the ethereal night, and took your weight as you cried again. 

“My darling, please, you can not leave me here." He begged, nuzzling into your neck and breathing you in. You could smell him too, your memory so vivid that it filled your senses.

“What choice do I have?" You sagged further into his hold, his strong arms keeping you against his chest. 

Together you tumbled to the ground. Loki kept you close in his lap, attempting to stop your skirts from catching in the grass and mud, but you pushed them away, taking his wrists and placing his hands on your waist. With panting breaths you stared at each other, the moonlight glowing in his eyes. Then he kissed you. With no hesitation, no shyness. His tongue licking into your mouth and claiming you. 

You fell into his kisses, the moss below you becoming a blanket as he lay you down. You pulled him closer, sinking into the feeling of his magic as it surrounded you, allowing him to mould himself to your body.

“Your dress, it will be noticed," he mumbled, pulling the silk and chiffon back onto the blanket. 

“If I have to leave in a week, why should I care what anyone thinks? I’ll never be allowed to live again. And I want to live Loki, I want to be free!” Your hands were on his shoulders, in his hair, on his arms pulling him closer, clinging to him as if to life itself. 

“You are still a Princess, soon you'll be a Queen too. I should take you back to the palace.” He propped himself up on his elbow, warring with himself over whether to take you back to your chambers or keep you here forever. Loki was losing his fight, confusion writ across his normally controlled expression. Your kisses tasted like wine and figs, intoxicating and enticing. He had held himself back for so long, kept his feelings deeply hidden for so long he was struggling to keep his hands from you. 

“Is that not enough for you, my Prince? Or is it because you are a God? Am I not Goddess enough?” You started to sit up, confused in the depths of your emotions. If you weren't enough then you wouldn't be humiliated. 

“My darling, my Princess, my Queen, Ásynja. I would worship at your feet." He insisted, cupping your cheeks, his eyes swirling with need, with desire, with something you couldn't name. "But you will have to hold court here, you must be respected as the Goddess of Spring, there is some purity required," he hinted, his hands clenching in the swirling fabric at your waist. 

Loki kissed across your brow, your nose, your cheeks, every kiss more reverent than the last. Filled with the love he was too frightened to name. 

You laughed, a harsh bark compared to the usually tinkling lilt of your joy, “Is that what you think they’ll crown me? Because of my mother?” 

You felt him nod against your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse, enjoying the taste of you while he could, before he let you go. 

“What else could you be? How could you be anything but pure love and joy, there is no other who could replace her, it has to be you,” his hands played with the jewels that seemed to eternally adorn your hair, turning each pink diamond green beneath his touch. 

“Lust. That’s what I've heard I will be, a humiliation, a jest. What do you get when you marry spring and fertility with chaos and brawling? Lust, he said, violent lust. And I shall marry a war lord from Vanaheim too, to confirm my position. He made it clear I wasn’t to fall in love while I was here, I must keep myself pure so that my lord may enjoy his wife to the fullest." You ground your teeth, tearing at the blanket beneath you. "His greatest trick. Naming his own daughter Goddess of Lust as a - as a - as a virgin." Your face screwed up in anger, sobs wracking you as you thought of giving yourself so intimately to your betrothed. But Loki stopped. 

“You love me?” He asked, suddenly shy, his grasping hands holding you close. 

You met his gaze again, soft and full of admiration. “Endlessly,” you breathed, and he lay you back down among the moss, the growing flowers and new shoots, the warm sun rising and the scent of spring surrounding you. 

You woke to Brunnhilde stoking the fire, the curtains drawn now and the lights low. She smiled as you stirred and came to sit beside you again. 

“Pleasant dreams, were they?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, and you felt hot suddenly, even without the crackling fire. 

“I still have so many questions,” you pondered on what you needed answered first. 

“My father? Was he cruel?” You asked, curling your feet under yourself and tucking one of Brunnhilde's many blankets over your knees. 

"I never met him properly." Brunnhilde admitted, though a little awkwardly. "I know he was a god here on Midgard, and that your mother kept you closely guarded on Asgard while he was holding court here. I believe it was an arranged match, and there was no love between them. It was perhaps why she was so keen to see you well married, in the end. But I haven't seen him, not since he took you back."

Married. You had already found out that you were a Goddess, what would be marriage compared to that? To some unknown war lord no less, perhaps he would already be dead. But it was some comfort to know that, even then, you had given your heart and soul to Loki instead. 

Brunnhilde watched you, waiting for the next question. 

“You said Loki meant a lot to me. Will you show me?” You felt the heat of embarrassment creep up your spine, you knew exactly what he meant, but you had to know whether it was a dalliance born of extreme emotion, or something more. 

The King looked awkward for a moment. “I didn’t see a lot of it. You were both private, but also royalty. I wasn’t there, but I do  remember the last ball you attended together, the one in your honour. He danced with you the whole night and refused any other offer, the court was abuzz with whispers of your courtship.  Your father was angry that you'd allowed yourself to become the subject of gossip and he took you early in the morning before anyone else was awake. You had planned a final breakfast on the terrace with the Princes and the Queen, Loki was distraught for a day and then it was as if you were never there. No one spoke of you, and Frigga made it clear your name was never to enter the gossip of court again, for everyone’s safety." 

The whole thing had been so odd, all you wanted to do was speak to Loki and share your new knowledge with him, to see if he could remember it too. Brunnhilde called Thor while you layered your coat and scarf on again, tugging your boots on with one hand on the wall in the small hallway. 

She stood in the doorway as you left, and directed you away from her cosy home, back towards the harbour and to another stone cottage before she closed the door for the night, leaving you to your thoughts. 

You walked slowly across the small village, enjoying the crisp air and the bob of the boats in the harbour. It was calm here, away from the world, and you contemplated asking Loki if you could continue your training here instead of returning to the bustle of the compound. 

"Princess Estrid,” a deep voice said behind you. The title was new and brittle, but you assumed it must be another Asgardian, perhaps someone you once knew and, with a new found excitement, you turned to them with a smile. 

“Yes?"

And then everything went black. 

<<Part 6

Part 8>>

Gods & Goddess' mentioned.

This is just from my own reading, I'm by no means an expert, just a fan, so if you know more and want to talk to me please send me a message/ask!

Brigid - beloved Goddess from the Tuatha Dé Danann. Brigid is often cited as the goddess of spring, the dawn, fertility. Brigid is so popular she was made into a Saint as Christianity became more widespread. She's often linked to a magical cloak which gives protection to those that wear it, you can leave cloth outside of your house on Imbolc for her to bless and in some stories it's her cloak that covers the ground during winter. She's also linked to cattle and craftsmen (including metal work and those that use fire), mothers and children.

Brigid is well loved and celebrated still as a Pagan Goddess and Christian Saint.

[writerslittlelibrary]

How about a Wanda x blachill daughter!reader.

We are about on a mission and when we come back we see that the team is acting as if they don’t know us, even Wanda, Nat and Maria. We try to talk to them but they act rude and try to kick us out. We investigate and ee that there was an attack on the compound (maybe a gas or something that made them forget about us) so we have to fight for them to remember us.

Also I hope you are having a great day!

-🦈

Please remember me

masterlist requests masterlist

pairing: Blackhill x daughter reader, Wanda x reader

warnings: pain (happy ending)

genre: angst, fluff

words: 1576

a/n: thank you my lovely 🦈anon. I have to admit I really like the Wanda x Blackhill!daughter so you can definitely expect more fics with that dynamic🤭

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work 

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You’d been on this mission for days, and while you were proud Fury finally entrusted you with a solo mission (and your moms finally let you go) you were desperate to get back to the compound and curl up on the couch with your girlfriend and a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

The mission had been successful overall, almost suspiciously easy, you thought. There weren’t a lot of reasons the mission would be a setup though. Even though it was easy, you weren’t ambushed or anything. 

After the mission finally ended, and the Hydra base was successfully taken down, you returned to the compound. You couldn’t wait to hug your moms, and kiss Wanda. 

When you walked into the compound, you got some weird looks from the security guards, but they didn’t bother you as you knew the elevator code so you didn’t mind them. When you reached your floor, you walked into the living area, expecting at least Wanda to be there. 

“Who let the kid in?” you suddenly heard Tony ask from beside you. 

You turned around and looked at him funny. “I let myself in?” you told him questioningly. “This isn’t a daycare,” Tony told you, walking past you without taking his eyes off you. 

“I know,” you told him, walking to the kitchen to grab some water. “Have you been here before?” you suddenly heard Wanda ask. You turned around a little startled. “What do you mean?” you asked her confused. “All the cupboards look the same, yet you know where the glasses are.” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” you asked Tony unamused, and he just looked at you weirdly. 

“You should leave,” he told you. “I live here!” you replied annoyed, but Tony didn’t budge. 

“We got a new member?” you heard a familiar voice ask. You turned around and saw Natasha. “Mama? What the hell is going on?” you asked her confused. She looked at you confused, and took a step back with her arms up. 

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but I’m not your mother,” she told you. “What are you talking about? If this is a joke I really don’t find it funny,” you told her, but she just shook her head. 

“Where’s mom?” you asked her, but she just shook her head again. 

“You really have to leave now, or I’ll call security,” Tony stated, fishing his phone from his pocket to emphasize his point. 

You look at your mom with tears in your eyes, turning to Wanda next. She just looked at you, just as confused as your mom was. Hesitantly you turned around, leaving the common area and walking to the elevator. 

That same night, you returned to the compound, slipping through the windows of your room and going through it. How could they not know you when your entire room was still intact?

You went through your stuff, finding your laptop and starting it up. 

You activated your personal AI, asking it what happened to the compound while you were gone. There appeared to have been a gas leak. The gas was toxic, and especially designed to erase you from the memories of the Avengers. It was synthesized by Hydra, which explained why the mission was so easy. The mission was indeed a setup to ensure you’d be out of the compound so Hydra could erase you from your family’s mind. 

You spend the rest of the night researching for a possible cure. When you found it, you realized you would have to return to the Hydra base again.

You were quick to suit up, never having changed out of your mission tactical suit in the first place, and headed to the Hydra base. 

Once you got there it was cold. The Hydra base looked abandoned, just like how you left it. You went inside quietly anyway, not wanting to take any unnecessary risks. You quickly found the computer room, using it to search for any documents on the gas and the antidote. 

When you found it, you went to the laboratory, going through all the cabinets. Once you found the odd looking, green gas, you stuffed all of it in your bag, taking it with you.

When you exited the lab, however, there were a bunch of Hydra agents, waiting to attack you. 

They jumped you and took you completely by surprise. You managed to fight them off, mostly without injury. You had a few scratches and bruises littering your face and arms, but you couldn’t care less. All you cared about was getting back to the Avengers tower as quickly as possible. You were desperate for a hug from your mothers.

Once you snuck back into the tower, Jarvis immediately alerted the Avengers of your presence. How Jarvis could possibly be affected by the gas was beyond you. 

The Avengers jumped into action, ready to fight you if you made any unsuspected moves. 

“She’s Hydra,” you suddenly heard Steve say. You looked at your bag carrying the antidote gas and cursed yourself for using it when it had such an obvious Hydra logo on it.

You closed your eyes and sighed, before turning to look at the Avengers standing in front of you. You raised your hands, wanting to prove you weren’t a threat. “I’m not Hydra, I swear,” you told them. “That’s exactly what a Hydra agent would say,” Natasha replied, raising her gun at you.

You took a step back in surprise, not knowing what they were capable of when they didn’t remember you. “I can prove it!” you said quickly, keeping your hands up.

“Start talking,” Natasha replied, loading her gun. 

“There’s a photo album on your phone filled with pictures of me,” you told her, and the grip on her gun faltered slightly. “Why would there be?” she asked you. “Because you are my mother, Hydra just made you forget,” you told her, silently praying she believed you. 

She slowly lowered her gun, making eye contact with Wanda to silently tell her to watch you. Natasha pulled her phone from her pocket, unlocking it and quickly opening her gallery app. 

She took a bit taken back, her eyes alternating between looking at her phone screen and looking at you. “It’s impossible. I can’t have children,” she told you slowly, and you lowered your hands. “You adopted me when I was 5. My parents had abandoned me on the side of the road like garbage. I went from foster home to foster home until you took me in…” you explained to her, taking a step closer. 

“I can make you remember. Please let me help you remember,” you begged her, reaching for your bag. Tony raised his hand in your direction, a silent threat to not try anything stupid.

Natasha slowly nodded, and you showed her the green gas. 

“You were poisoned with some weird gas while I was out on a mission. I went back to the Hydra base to find the antidote, hence the bag,” you explained to her, watching as she carefully took the vial. “How do I know you’re not trying to kill me?” she asked you.

“Spray it on me first.”

Natasha was hesitant as she raised her hand holding the vial, and she carefully pressed the button. You were sprayed with the green gas, and it stung in your eyes. You blinked a few times, but that was it.

“See? I’m fine. Now please let me help you remember,” you begged her, and she nodded.

You took another vial from the bag, spraying it in her face once she gave you the ‘okay’. She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head in confusion.

Once she opened her eyes again, they immediately landed on you. “Y/n,” she gasped as she pulled you into a hug quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cried, holding you tightly. 

“It’s okay,” you gasped out, your own eyes welling up with tears as well. She pulled back from the hug and cupped your face, looking into your eyes and using her tumb to wipe away the tears that rolled down your cheek. You smiled at her, and she let out a sigh as she pulled you into a hug again. 

It didn’t take long before your whole family remembered who you were, and you got hugs and apologies from everywhere. 

Once you freed Wanda, you finally got your kiss, after a handful of apologies from her. When you freed Maria she had a similar reaction as Natasha. You hadn’t ran into her while she didn’t remember you, but she knew she forgot who you were for a few days, and that hurt her more than words could ever describe. 

After dinner, your favorite take-out, courtesy of Tony Stark, and a whole lot more hugs you finally made it to your room, cuddling with Wanda while she caressed your back.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t remember you,” she told you softly, and you shook your head. “It wasn’t your fault. It was Hydra,” you told her, lifting your head off her chest so you could look at her. Her eyes were stinging with tears, and you knew she still felt guilty. You leaned down and kissed her, and she was eager to return the kiss. “I love you,” you told her. She smiled and kissed you one more time, before pulling you back into her chest. 

“I love you more.”

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Hi!! Just wanna say I love your writing sm! And could you please tell how the friendship between loki and sunshine blossomed? I just love how sunshine is with people btw

- 🌻

Okay, okay, that's such a good question, like we already know how Sunshine and Loki met and we've seen a few glimpses into their friendship, but we don't know how they actually became friends. And that is an injustice. So allow me to recount how exactly Sunshine and Loki became friends.

F is For Friends Who Do Stuff Together

Part of The Grumpy X Sunshine Series

Loki smirks to himself. He wasn't going to do anything too awful, perhaps a little mischievous but why would anyone expect anything else from him?

It was their fault really. Leaving their newest addition all alone while he was lurking around the Compound. You're low hanging fruit ripe for the picking.

He didn't even have any real plans for you.

Perhaps he'd take you to Asgard for long enough for Thor to come looking. Long enough to frighten you, certainly. In truth, he was just bored and looking to stir up a little bit of chaos - and they made it far too easy for him.

After all, you're completely oblivious to him looming behind you. It was almost too easy.

He creeps up slowly, watching as you tend to a bouquet of flowers in the common room.

You're not even in within arm's reach when, without ever looking over your shoulder, you chirp, "Hi, Loki!"

He freezes, completely caught off guard, his plans entirely derailed, "How did you-"

You turn around with a bright smile, "How did I what?"

"How did you know I was there?"

You shrug, "I heard you."

"Impossible." It disturbs him more than it should. He was a god. Not just a god, but the god of deception and trickery. You were just the strange newcomer.

"Maybe you're not as sneaky as you think you are."

Despite how deeply unsettling this turn of events is, he smirks to himself. He knows you're completely unaware of the challenge you just issued.

So he tries. Again. And again. And again.

And each time, "Hi, Loki!" or "You almost got me that time!" or, worst of all "You're getting better everyday!"

It was maddening. Infuriating, even. He even scared Thor a few times just to make sure he hadn't somehow lost his touch. But no, his brother fell for the old snake in the common room trick every time without fail.

For three months, you held his attention. It was a new record for Loki. Every chance he got to catch you off guard, he took. And none of them ever worked.

One day, he swears he's finally done it. You're talking so enthusiastically to the SHIELD agent before you that there's no way you know he's lurking around the corner.

"Hold on," you tell the SHIELD agent you're speaking to whose name Loki hasn't bothered to learn. You turn around to find Loki a foot away from you, "Hi, Loki."

"What the hell was that?" the SHIELD agent demands.

"Oh, it's just this game me and Loki play." You dismissively wave your hand. "He tries to sneak up on me and I find him before he does. It's sort of like a very intense game of hide and seek."

"I think he's trying to kidnap you."

"It's alright. He's my friend."

Loki falters just as he's about to storm away, "I beg your pardon?"

"What?"

"What did you just say?"

"I said that it's alright because you're my friend," you casually repeat.

"That! Right there!" Loki explains, gesturing between you and him. "When did we become friends?"

"Umm... I don't know. We've been playing this game for like three months, so like three months ago, I guess."

Loki's eyebrows furrow together. He's not quite sure if it's the most endearing or the most disturbing thing he's ever heard. Worst of all, you don't seem to be afraid of him. "I've been trying to abduct you for three months and you call me your friend?"

"Well, I know you'd bring me back eventually. Plus, I've always wanted to visit another realm, it's on my bucket list!"

"What gave you the impression that I'd return you?"

You shrug, "I'm not worried about it, I trust you."

Your words strike a chord deep within Loki. He can't remember the last time someone trusted him, but you did. You did because you considered him a friend. "You trust me because I am your friend?"

You nod repeatedly, "Pretty much."

The corner of Loki's mouth twists upward, "Huh..."

"What?"

"I think I might need to find someone new to wreak havoc on."

"Oooh, we should play a prank on Sam!"

Loki smile mischievously at you, "I think we'll get along just fine."

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez@ludicbouquetfromearth@matchat3a@famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff@valoraxx@blue786sworld@buckyandgeraltsupremacy@geminigengar@ansaturn@ecolle@lexhalstead3@ybflkmj@mediocre-daydreams@shanye1112@thegirlnextdoorssister@toomanyfanficsbruh@moonlightreader649@breathtaking-cynthia@mirikusashes@beans-and-toast@niyahcoca@katiechikin@elxvrr@antiheroxsblog@infamouslyclumsy@krissydclayton93@buckysbarne@deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic@whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy

[chasing-faith-and-fate]

Gift ideas!!

Psychic abilities that can slightly influence others’ thoughts and emotions. Like an extreme version of smooth talking. They can influence someone to be slightly more friendly or open to suggestion than they otherwise would be, but can’t make them act totally out of character. If someone’s dead set on fighting them, they can’t do much about it, but, if the interaction can be calmed down in any way, they’re more likely than most to be able to achieve the peaceful option.

Slight future prediction. Think Garnet Steven universe. They can vaguely see some possible futures and can sometimes influence where they’re headed by taking or not taking certain actions. However, they can’t change events that are already very likely to happen or dictated by the actions of someone who won’t listen to them, and they have trouble telling the difference between anxiety over possible outcomes, nightmares / night terrors and genuine predictions of the future, so they’re not always accurate.

Ability to pick up skills quicker than average. They may only need half the lessons their peers do to master a hunting technique or fighting move. However, they do still need to practice their skills regularly, or they’ll get rusty like any normal person, and the lack of effort they need to achieve the same things as their peers could lead to them becoming overconfident or developing an invincibility complex, which isn’t a good thing when dealing with a supernatural threat you may or may not be immune to.

Knowing things they shouldn’t. Think John TMA. Some examples: looking at tracks and instantly knowing they were made by a taker, despite them looking normal to everyone else; knowing someone has gone to a specific location without seeing them leave or talking to them prior; being able to tell things like leaves or berries apart without any training; knowing people’s names, ranks and/or clans without having interacted with them previously; knowing about events they weren’t there for; knowing about the existence of things they had no way of discovering; etc. They don’t know everything all the time, but they know too much to be normal. Could be fun if they also habitually eavesdropped to compound on the amount of things they shouldn’t know.

Extreme luck. Not like winning the lottery every day luck, but, somehow, they always manage to avoid dangerous things, even if the danger is right in front of them. They step over twoleg traps without realising they’re there. They decide they don’t feel like eating rat today, and it turns out that all the local rats had been in contact with poison. They take a left turn instead of a right, avoiding a nest of venomous snakes by total coincidence. Sometimes it’s just good things with no strings attached; prey occasionally runs right into them while escaping something else, and they end up with an easy catch. But, most of the time, their circumstances were beyond dangerous, and it gives their peers constant anxiety for their wellbeing. They can still be hurt, they’re just less likely to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

PS I am so honoured that two of the kit names I suggested were picked!! I love your stuff hehe.

Oooooh juicy!

Ngl been looking for an excuse to use Knowledge as a gift, this is all I need to justify throwing TMA ideas into this bitch,,,

Also no way which names did you suggest?

[eccentricgrace]

We Got Peter! (I Wish He Were My Kid) || IronDad

summary: five times the avengers meet peter parker, and the one time they realize who’s training him

tags: fluff, domestic, pov avengers, tony stark is peter parker's parental figure, peter can wield mjolnir, tired parent clint barton, hulk loves jokes <3

wc: 6,187

cross-posted on ao3 under the same name!

1. clint barton

Clint Barton is the first one to meet him.

His hands were blistered beyond belief from a foolhardy training session with the new girl, and with broken blisters brought blood. He just needed to get some bandaids, and one would think that an item as such would be easy to find in a compound designed top to bottom to cater to a superhero's every whim, but no.

He's in the only place someone can apparently find bandaids, when suddenly this curly brown-haired kid stumbled in looking the age of his eldest son. The kid wore pyjamas, a faded NASA tee and flannel pants, and he was walking while still hooked up to an IV, of which he held the stand beside him.

He froze when Clint was very obviously staring him down, and had the audacity to look caught.

Clint's getting real tired of picking up random kiddos that get themselves into trouble, so he cocked his head at the teen. "Who are you?"

"Peter," Peter answered with wide eyes. He had a healing shiner on his cheek, bruised a light yellow.

"What are you in here for, Peter?"

Peter opened his mouth, and then closed it. He awkwardly lifted the hem of his shirt up to reveal his entire torso heavily bandaged. Then he grimaced and dropped his shirt back down. "I wanted to go to the bathroom. Didn't want to call anyone for help."

Clint pulled a face. He looked around the medical wing for anyone else in sight, but the place was dim. He looked back at Peter. "Is someone supposed to be watching you?"

Peter shook his head. "I'm supposed to just rest. Everyone else is asleep."

Clint grunted. He looked back down at his hands and quickly peeled the bandaids out of their packaging, wrapping them expertly around his fingertips. "Well, get back in your bed, then."

Peter complied easily, settling back into a rumpled bed just across from the cabinets of medical supplies. He pulled the comforters back up, and Clint watched as his nose twitched and his teeth clenched from the movement.

Clint internally sighed. He closed the cabinet. "So, what's a kid doing with an injury like that? You someone's responsibility around here? Is it Steve?"

Peter shook his head tiredly and tilted his head back on the pillow. "No, not Steve. And the injury isn't... that bad, it's just— It stings, a little."

Clint walked over to the IV and narrowed his eyes at it. "This is strong stuff. Looks like it's running a little low, though."

"Yeah," Peter frowned. "It was dripping really fast, and it's almost been twenty four hours. The doctor lady, um, Dr. Cho said it should be switched out then."

"And where is she?"

"Got called away on a mission," Peter explained. "Something went wrong with some agents in Helsinki, they needed emergency medical attention."

Clint resigned. Guess he was taking care of this one, too. He walked over to the medical supplies and took a new bag of IV fluid before returning to Peter. "I'm gonna switch it out for you, hopefully that'll fix it up, okay?"

Peter nodded.

"So," Clint tore the opening. "How'd you get the stab wound?"

"How did you—"

Clint leveled him with a look. "You think I made it this far without recognizing a stab wound, kid?"

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. "Wrong place, wrong time."

Clint didn't believe that for a second. He narrowed his eyes at Peter and then went back to the IV, closing the clamp below the drip chamber. "And who's supposed to be watching you? The one who's asleep?"

"Mr. Stark," Peter answered quietly. "But he was worried sick ever since I got here, and I finally got him to leave and go to sleep, so I couldn't just call him back down here."

Clint studied Peter carefully. He stuck the IV spike into the port and then hung the bag back onto the stand. "Yeah, that checks out. Tony never can take care of himself."

Peter hummed noncommittally. "Thanks for drugging me."

Clint snorted. "Yeah, no problem."

He sat down beside the teen's bed. Peter tilted his head at him questioningly.

"I'll stick around til those meds kick in," Clint shrugged off. He hesitated. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

Clint smiled knowingly and nodded. "My son— The oldest one, he's fifteen. I thought you two looked around the same age."

"What's his name?" Peter asked politely, looking quietly grateful for the company. "Your son."

"Cooper," Clint answered gruffly. "Lila's my daughter, she's the middle kid. Youngest is Nathaniel, Nathan for short."

He nodded firmly. "They're good kids. They look out for each other, I'm grateful for them."

Peter smiled softly. "Tell me about them. If you want."

Clint scratched at his chin and leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up. "Why don't you tell me about yourself first? You're kind of the anomaly in this scenario, kid."

"Heh," Peter grinned. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Uh... What do you want to know?"

Clint had kids. He knew the best things to talk about with them, because they were his.

Nathan was the easiest, he was still a little itty bitty thing that barely reached his waist in height, and his favourite topics were the talking trains on his television shows and bargaining for more bologna on his sandwich at lunch.

Lila was second easiest, because she loved archery—she's gonna grow up to be a real class act like him, it's in the genes— so he'd bring her to the range and they'd talk about techniques.

Cooper was trickier, getting into that independent mindset and all, and it was hard to get a sentence or two out of him if he wanted to figure something out by himself. Clint always got him to spill though, props of working as a spy with background designed to persuade information.

But again: those were his kids. Clint Barton wasn't exactly the easiest guy to talk to, either. He decided to settle for a middle ground if he wanted conversation.

"What's your favourite subject in school?"

"Chemistry." Peter shrugged. "It's really easy, though."

"Well, there are AP classes for chemistry, aren't there?" Clint tilted his head. "You ever tried out for those? Heard they're great for colleges. Where you trying to go, New York University? Yale? What are the other big ones..."

"Uh, MIT." Peter nodded his head. "I'm trying to get into MIT. And I'm already taking the AP classes."

Clint blinked. "Oh. Well, alright then. You're set."

Peter smiled. "Guess so."

"So..." Clint drummed his thumb tiredly against his knee. "Tony, huh? Didn't know he had a... you."

"I'm interning," Peter rattled off quickly. A practiced excuse. He maintained direct eye contact, his chin jutted out with pride from his own lie. It did not go unnoticed to Clint.

"Oh, interning for Stark, eh?" Clint said. "I didn't know he had an internship program. Even more shocked a kid would sign up for said program. Sounds really boring."

"It can be sometimes," Peter shrugged. He glanced down at his own wound and broke into a sheepish grin. "You wouldn't want it to get too exciting though, otherwise you end up here. You know what I mean?"

"Tony's got a problem with employee health insurance?" Clint replied dryly, just trying to draw more information out of this teenager.

He still couldn't crack whether or not the kid was interning as an Avenger or if he was interning for Stark Industries and just got caught up in something he shouldn't have been around. ('Wrong place, wrong time' is a clever excuse, but not telling enough.)

"Oh, no!" Peter furrowed his eyebrows and backtracked. "No. That's not what I meant. I meant more like, exciting like when Avengers stuff is happening and like, sometimes that makes me a target for bad guys— working here, I mean. Not like, as an actually Avenger. Definitely not that, ha. I'm just a kid."

He sniffed in finality as he ended his sentence.

Clint studied him nonchalantly. "Sure."

"I feel really chatty all of the sudden."

"It's the drugs."

"That actually makes a lot of sense."

"Yeah, you get chatty, and then you totally conk out."

"Oh."

Clint tilted his head, studying the kid with narrowed eyes. He was all fidgety, restless as he looked down at his dripping IV and then the folds of his bedsheets and then everywhere else. Clint cleared his throat. "I really don't think Tony'd mind being woke up, you know. If it's his responsibility to babysit."

He knew if his kids were in hospice, you wouldn't be able to pull him out of the room, and he wouldn't give a damn how tired he was. That's just parenting.

"It's not babysitting," Peter argued, his nose scrunching up. "I'm entirely capable, like, practically an adult. Besides, Mr. Stark hardly sleeps, so like, waking him up isn't exactly on my weekend itinerary."

Clint grunted. "Alright, well, try not to keep yapping. Try and sleep, will you?"

"Yessir," Peter chirped.

Clint leaned his head back and closed his eyes, listening to the hum of lights and the aircon. Silence for a few seconds, and then—

"...Are you just gonna sit there? You can— You can go, if you want. I can get to sleep on my own, dude."

Clint exhaled stiffly through his nose. Unfortunately, his conscience won't allow him to leave til he knew this teenager was sound asleep. He couldn't just tell him that, though.

"I'm making sure you actually sleep and don't crawl your scrawny dumbass out of bed," Clint said simply, keeping his eyes closed.

"Can't wait to tell Ned that Hawkeye kept me hostage in the med bay," Peter joked, his eyes starting to droop and his tone beginning to lull. (Bingo. One step closer to knock-out town.)

"Yeah, yeah," Clint crossed his arms and went back to being quiet.

A few minutes later, he tilted his head up to peek— Peter was totally out cold, his mouth wide open while drool ran down his chin. Clint snorted softly and stood up to leave.

He could have sworn on the way there he heard Tony down another corridor, bickering with F.R.I.D.A.Y. about getting out of bed to check on "the kid."

Clint's mouth pulled up at the corner and he disappeared into the elevator.

2. thor

Thor was wandering from the kitchen when he saw the smaller Midgardian standing on the lawn outside, his arm stretched out with a strange device on his wrist.

He lazily swerved his axe back and forth and watched the child with interest, and finally decided to go out and investigate himself.

He swallowed the mouthful he had of bread. "I've never seen you before."

The child in question practically jumped out of his skin. He whipped around, his eyes wide, his jaw dropped— the device on his wrist dropped and shot a strand of string out uselessly to the field.

Thor raised an eyebrow.

"Oh," the child gasped. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Holy— It's— You're just— You're on Earth!"

"Yes, I'm visiting," Thor smiled wryly. "Did they begin to hire new Avengers while I was gone? Little ones, specifically?"

"Sorta," he blurted, looking upwards with awe. Then he quickly shook his head. "Not because you were gone! Just— I'm in training. No, I'm not. I'm not an Avenger. I'm just— I make the— Wow, you have — Really big muscles—"

Thor nodded sagely. "What's your name again?"

"Peter," the human said quickly, face going red. "Peter Parker."

Peter's eyes drift down to the axe hanging limp from Thor's hands, and then they widened all over again. He smiled shyly. "Can— Can I try it?"

Thor chuckled with amusement, holding the axe out. He flexed it out a few times. "Ah, this beauty. You can sure try, but it requires a very powerful heart, and you are ... very small. Like a splinter of the Yggdrasill. Itty-bitty."

He shoved the axe down in the soil with ease and continued talking as Peter put his hands firmly around the handle. "You see, it was forged by the power of a star—"

Peter used all his strength to yank the axe off, but not even a portion of it was needed. The thing flew upwards, flinging grass and bits of dirt everywhere. It pulled itself over Peter's shoulder from the force of his strength and he fell backwards into the lawn.

Thor stopped, words simply evaporating from his mouth.

"Oh my god," Peter repeated again. He slowly sat up, pulling the axe back over he shoulder with a lot more ease and simply holding it out in front of him with his... puny, twig arms.

Thor closed his mouth. Opened it again. Closed it again. This child— no. This man was now worth of his respect. He smiled nervously, shifting around on his feet.

"Uh. Oh," Thor stumbled. He clicked his tongue. "Um... Huh."

"This is so cool," Peter huffed, grin breaking out on his face. He turned the axe over in his hands. Then he held it back out to Thor. "That means I'm worthy, right?"

Thor made a cringing noise— a so-so motion with his hand. He scratched the back of his neck. "What's your father's name, Peter Parker?"

Peter made a face of discomfort.

"Your guardian," Thor corrected easily.

"May Parker?"

"Son of May Parker, I must admit, I underestimated you," Thor sighed. "...At least Stark can't wield it."

Thor stood there for a moment, looking down at Stormbreaker with a thoughtful frown on his face. He rolled his eyes and looked back to Peter. "Do you know where Banner is?"

Peter shrugged, looking caught between bewilderment and shock.

Thor nodded simply. "Well. It was an experience to meet you, Peter Parker."

He left without a second thought, leaving nothing behind him except a teenager stuck in an existential crisis.

(As you do.)

3. natasha romanov

Natasha met Peter for the first time in the Gym, the second floor of the Avengers Compound, West Wing.

"You up for some combat training?" Tony had asked her, looking up lamely from his mug of steaming black coffee. He had bags under his eyes, dark circles heavily visible.

"Why?" Natasha mused. "You feeling rusty, Tony?"

"Har har. No, not for me, for some new blood. Avengers recruit. He spent the other night in the med bay, I'm not exactly anxious to have that happen again," Tony sighed. "He's got some basics down, and he's strong, but figured he could do with some spider-hero tips."

That was all she was told. (What she inferred was her own business.)

She sat on the mat of the gym, waiting patiently for the new recruit to come in. She heard the gently swishing of the glass doors, and footsteps that stalled.

Natasha turned to meet him. She's greeted with the sight of a teenager, complete with a backpack, a shy smile, and a nervous wave. He wore sweats, a t-shirt, and faded out shoes that looked a step away from a shoebox coffin.

"Black Widow?" He asked. He shuffled on his feet. "Or should— Do I say Natasha? Ms— Ms. Romanoff?"

Needless to say, she was wary. She had her own morals on whether children should be able to fight, but she tried to keep in mind the circumstances. Whoever this kid was, he'd already spent time receiving medical attention from the other end of a fight, and if Tony was looking that exhausted over him then he must be one stubborn mule.

He'd benefit more from training than a scold to stay away from danger. Hero type, just like Steve. She'll give it a shot.

"Natasha's fine," she said simply. She stood up and crossed her arms. "Are you gonna tell me your name?"

"Peter Parker," he said, setting his backpack to the side. He kicked his shoes off and stepped onto the mat, holding his hand out for Natasha to shake.

Rookie mistake.

Natasha shook his hand, smiling pleasantly. She gave the handshake a second and a half before attempting her first move.

It was supposed to go like this: Natasha yanks him forward, shoves him to the ground, and pins him with one of his arms held backward. Easy. Something she was taught when she was six.

Instead, in the millisecond before she was about to move, Peter yanked his hand back. She saw a fleeting blur of Peter jumping over her.

She swung around, raising an eyebrow and her mouth opened in surprise. She pursed her lips, impressed. "Alright, then. You're full of surprises, aren't you, Peter?"

"I didn't realize we started," Peter said, exhaling through his mouth. He squared his hips and held up his fists with a focused dip in his brow.

"Gimme your best shot," Natasha grinned.

Natasha kept a close eye on him, watching as he stepped side to side, not making a move. Interesting.

She took a step forward, he took a step back.

She took a step backward, he—

He again jumped over her, dipped down, and swung his foot under Nat's legs. She fell on her back, looking up at the white vaulted ceiling.

"Oh, crap," Peter said quickly. He lowered his fists. "Are you okay? That was a little ha—"

She rolled to the side, grabbing Peter's knee and swinging upwards so their positions were switched. She caught her breath, now standing on both feet, and watched with curiosity as the kid started doing something... odd.

He started talking, seriously chattering up a storm, scrambling himself up in an unpracticed manner and matching her move for move. He wasn't refined in the slightest, and he pulled his punches hard. Natasha had no idea how much strength he wasn't even using.

His fighting was all slapstick, clumsy— he fought purely through instinct and with what Tony had properly summarized to her as "the basics." Simple punches. Kicks. He also seemed to rely heavily on his agility and flexibility, which Nat could respect.

He grunted after being shoved into the ground and tilted his head to the floor tiredly, his chest heaving with breath. "Oh man. I gotta say, I'm real glad I wasn't fighting against you back in Germany."

Natasha froze. She made a face and narrowed her eyes. "You're Spider-Man, aren't you?"

Peter furrowed his brows up at her and wrinkled his nose. "Um, yeah? I thought Mr. Stark told you that."

She pulled back fully, clearly signaling the training was over. She caught her breath again and analyzed his expression, the details in his face— youthful, stubborn confusion. She could see closer now some things she hadn't thought about before.

This teenager had been fighting toe-to-toe with Captain America that day, a little over two years ago.

"Tony wanted me to train you because you're going up against people you match your strength," she said bluntly, understanding now from all angles. "Because you don't know how to fight."

She thought back to the dark circles under Tony's eyes. The exasperation twinged with desperation in his voice when he asked.

Peter nodded slightly, looking sheepish. He was just a kid. He didn't ask for these powers, and yet, he was chomping at the bit to learn, to help.

Natasha held her hand out to help him up. "Alright, kid."

He looked down at her hand warily. "You're not gonna try to judo throw me again, are you?"

She smirked. "Not this time. I'm gonna teach you the basics on how to use that strength of yours. When I'm done with you, you'll be able to knock a guy unconscious with your pinky finger."

He huffed with amusement and took her hand, allowing himself to be helped up. "Awesome."

So that's how Natasha got another nephew.

4. bruce banner

It's four in the morning on a Saturday when Bruce Banner met him.

He had just woken up from a nightmare and felt... green around the gills. Deep breaths were calming, but not enough in the darkness of his bedroom, sweat dripping down his forehead as he carded his hands messily back and forth through his hair. After about five minutes where the underside of his skin still burned and pulled where it wanted to transform, he finally swung himself off the bed.

He took a cold shower, talking himself down the entire time the freezing droplets pelted his back.

"This bathroom is too small for you, Big Guy," Bruce seethed his teeth, vigorously rubbing shampoo into his scalp. "I'm not hulking out. We're not doing this tonight."

His heart lunged uncomfortably and Bruce scrubbed soap on the green-turning skin on his wrists. "Stop that, I'm not kidding around with you. Just forget the nightmare and go to bed."

His stomach turned, his skin stretching out as Hulk morphed the half of his face with an angry desperation. Hulk's voice came out of his throat, gruff and monstrous. "NO."

"This isn't a discussion," Bruce hissed back. He yanked the shower off, the handle breaking in his hands. He froze, inhaled deeply, and very calmly set the handle down. His eyes twitched.

"We're going to go get a nice, calming, cup of green tea," Bruce replied. "Then, we're going back to bed."

His stomach turned again. "JASMINE."

"Okay, fine," Bruce threw his hands up and stepped out of the shower, wiping the water off with his towel. "Jasmine. Fine. Whatever makes you happy."

Five minutes later, and he's stepping out of the elevator in a new set of pajamas, his hair wet and dripping down the back of his neck. He walked into the kitchen and clicked the electric kettle on. He picked up a mug from the cabinet, put the tea bag in, and waited with a tight frown on his face.

His eyes caught a light from the other room, coming from the ceiling. He looked up, and then subsequently froze.

A gangly teenager, sitting quietly on the living room ceiling, entirely razor-focused on a laptop that he held tightly on his lap.

Bruce blinked.

He blinked again.

The kid didn't disappear.

Bruce isn't sure what to do. The teenager didn't even seem to notice the predicament he was in, a stranger in a high-security compound who was also, you know, breaking the laws of gravity. Surely he had to belong to somebody. Someone had to have been mentoring him, maybe Steve or Nat.

(He hoped for his sake that it was not Natasha's mentee, because then he'd probably get his ass kicked for staring.)

Bruce scratched his head and turned the kettle off before it could scream, then poured the steaming water into his mug. He sat down and watched the kid curiously as he sipped his tea.

There was a lot to process. Luckily, he's a scientist, so he's had some practice at processing.

Bruce guessed that the teenager had conscious control over what he stuck to, begging by how tightly he gripped the laptop in his hands and how he fidgeted once, resettling himself where he sat, and still didn't fall.

What Bruce thought was even more interesting was how the teenager's face was of normal colour. Not a hint of purple, not even red. He wasn't breathing in a laboured way, either. Bruce had been watching him for two minutes now and he looked entirely normal, when any normal person would start showing signs of blood pooling. With this kind of biological capability, Bruce's best guess is that this ability is tied directly to his genes.

The kid narrowed his eyes. "X squared minus a hundred... divided by... But if I use the limit theorem then— Oh, my bad. I get it."

The teenager huffed with slight amusement and then went back into a silent concentration, his eyebrows furrowing as he read along the screen.

Differential calculus. Either a college student or an advanced high schooler.

Ten minutes passed, and Bruce had finished his scalding hot tea with little issue, much to Hulk's dismay. He kept his eyes on the teenager, waiting to gain more interesting details about the abilities he had.

Then his stomach turned again. Bruce immediately glared.

"Don't you do it," Bruce whispered.

His blood burned and his heart pounded angrily in his chest.

Hulk growled under his breath.

"Stop it," Bruce grumbled back. "Cut it out."

His fists clenched with a crack of his knuckles. "I'm DONE with watching," Hulk said defiantly.

"I don't give a shit! Hulk—"

"NO," Hulk roared, and his whole arm expanded and burned radioactive green. He reached out and shattered the mug, droplets of tea splattering across the kitchen. "DUMB SCIENCE STUFF."

And the illusion of being hidden disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Bruce quickly looked back at the ceiling and found the teenager to be gone, as if he had never even been there.

Bruce glared at the empty space. "I hate when you do this! You scare away perfectly nice people, and you're never compliant with what I want to do—"

His chest expanded with anger. Hulk's eyes burned with rage, and he pounded a fist down on the counter. "YOU ARE DUMB. NOT COMPLIANT. BANNER STINKS, HULK STRONG."

He could feel himself slipping away, and his skin shifted mossy green. Hulk roared again and swung his arm powerfully across the kitchen counter, the wood splintering in chunks while cabinet doors flung across the room.

Hulk turned to throw a punch at the counters behind him but his whole arm was halted by an arm unmistakably by... something. Hulk grunted and looked over his bulky fist, and made eye contact with the scrawny teenager from before.

"Oh shit," the kid breathed. "Uh... Hey, Mr. Hulk."

Hulk narrowed his eyes and curled a lip to show his barred teeth. "MOVE. HULK, SMASH KITCHEN."

"How about I tell you a joke instead?" The teenager said quickly. "You like jokes? I know a lot of jokes!"

"JOKE?"

"Oh, yeah," the teen nodded. "I bet I can make you laugh. It makes all the superheroes laugh, and you're— You're a superhero."

"HULK, SUPERHERO?"

"Yeah!" The kid smiled and slowly let Hulk's hand go. "Of course, dude. You're an Avenger."

Hulk stared.

"So do you want to hear the joke?"

Hulk jerked a tight nod.

"Okay, awesome!" The teenager sniffed. "What's a superhero's favourite drink?"

"WHAT?" Hulk asked.

"Fruit punch," he said with a grin.

Hulk paused, then he grinned and let out a boisterous laugh. "GOOD JOKE. HULK LIKE PUNCHING. HULK, SMASH."

And Hulk laughed, and laughed, and laughed— Until Bruce Banner leaned tiredly against the unbroken kitchen counter with the remains of his shirt draping around his neck. He looked up at the teenager with confusion. He furrowed his eyebrows. "You... You just stopped the Hulk."

The kid smiled back at him, eyebags under red eyes. "I think that if was like, even one percent more awake right now, I would be freaking out."

"Yeah," Bruce huffed. "Yeah, Hulk isn't pretty, I wouldn't blame you."

"No, I mean— Meeting you," he gestured up and down. "I was you for Halloween when I was a kid. I had like, a lab coat, and I carried around a printed out copy of your papers on Gamma Radiation."

Bruce blinked several times in shock and disbelief. He stumbled a bit. "You dressed up as Bruce Banner for Halloween? When— When you were a kid?"

"Yeah," the kid smiled nervously. He held out his hand. "Um, Peter. Peter Parker."

Bruce stared down at his hand and then finally shook it, his movements stunted and lazily from his surprise. "It's nice to meet you, Peter."

"Well, I really need to get to sleep," Peter said with a huffed laugh, looking up at the clock above the fridge. "But uh, it was nice meeting you too. I'll see you around, Dr. Banner."

Peter Parker was already well on a different floor before Bruce's mind finally caught up with him, and he realized he had forgotten to ask Peter about his powers.

(Not to worry, because it was only the next morning that Tony stalked into his lab with a proud grin on his face, and introduced him to Peter Parker for the second time, praising and prattling about how he had found a brainiac teenager smarter than the both of them combined.)

5. steve rogers

The first time Steve met him, it was completely and entirely by chance.

He was standing in the elevator, hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his hoodie. The floors flickered down from five, to four, three, two, and then they stopped. The doors opened and the kid bumbled inwards, backpack strung over his shoulder and earbuds in his ears— he's staring down at his phone.

"This bucket of bolts is never going to get us past that blockade," he murmured quietly, then smiled cockily. "This baby's got a few surprises left in her, sweetheart."

Steve's eyebrows furrowed in a curious amusement. Part of him wanted to speak up, tell the kid it wasn't safe to walk around without hearing or seeing your surroundings— if he had done that when he was Peter's age, he woulda found himself beat up in an alleyway behind the old theatre.

The other part of him didn't want to seem old and lame, so instead he jerked his chin up. "What are you watching?"

The teenager looked up quickly. His mouth opened in shock as he suddenly realized the company he was with— a look Steve was regularly given. He pulled an earbud out. "Uh, Star Wars."

"Oh," Steve nodded vaguely. "I've meant to watch that, at some point..."

"It's really good," the teen smiled earnestly. "I started watching this in the car on the way here, so I'll have to finish it after I see Mr. Stark, but—"

Steve raised an eyebrow with interest at the mention of Tony. He cleared his throat politely, shifting on his feet to look at him better. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you before. What's your name, kid?"

"My name's Peter," he replied awkwardly and fidgeted with the cracks in his phone's screen protector. "Do I call you, uh— Mr— Captain? Captain, uh... Rogers? Er—"

"Steve is fine," Steve smiled teasingly. "Nice to meet you, Peter. Are you an intern? You look young. Not that I can judge, I was working at eight, passing newspapers to neighbors for a penny."

"...Yeah, I'm an intern," Peter explained, chuckling slightly. He cleared his throat. "Still in highschool though. You know— It's really funny, actually, because I had to watch one of your videos for class yesterday."

Steve grimaced. "Oh no."

Peter's smile widened. "I think I have your whole like, script, memorized. Hearing your voice saying completely different things is throwing me off."

Steve felt his ears go hot. He was crawling in his own skin, hiding his face behind his hand and smiling tiredly. "Those are a long story—"

"So," Peter continued seriously over him, doing what Steve could only assume was his best 'Captain America' impression. "You got detention—"

"No," Steve laughed hard, hand on his chest. "Why do they still use those? God—"

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator door finally dinged. Peter smiled at him. "Well, uh, it was nice talking with you. Especially while not like, fighting."

Steve took a breath, confused and recovering from the previous bout of laughter. "Hm?"

Peter simply walked out of the elevator and saluted him with a grin. "Bye, Brooklyn."

The elevator door closed. Steve is left alone with his jaw dropped.

Who said the youth weren't surprising?

+1: tony stark

Rhodey wandered into the second floor living room of the Compound with the distinctive clicking noise of the prosthetics. He rapped his knuckles on the wall. "Anybody know where Tony is?"

Natasha, lounged on the white loveseat against the window, looked up from her book. "Is he even here?"

"Well, yeah," Rhodey huffed. "Where else would he be? Has nobody seen him even dig up here for coffee, like the star-nosed caffeine mole he is?"

"Nope," Clint said, sitting against the floor and scrolling aimlessly through his phone with an expression of eternal boredom. "Is he with his kid?"

Steve froze from his spot at the stovetop, looking up with alarm. The wooden spoon in his hand hovered above the boiling water pot.

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows and put the chess piece he was holding back on the board. He looked over to Thor, who was so ferociously concentrated on winning that he didn't even seem to hear the conversation around him.

Bruce kicked him lightly in the shin. "Tony's got a kid?"

Thor widened his eyes, looked up and around like a startled animal. "I wasn't aware Stark had offspring?"

"He has an intern," Natasha corrected with amusement, giving Tony, and the confused company, the benefit of the doubt. "Not quite his."

"Oh, that's his kid," Rhodey sighed heavily. "He's a scrawny little punk. Definitely Stark blood. I'll go check the lab."

"Hold it," Clint looked up in sarcastic awe. "You mean to say someone other than Bruce was let into the precious lab?"

"It's just a safety precaution," Bruce explained in embarrassed stuttered mumbles. "There's a lot of dangerous stuff in there—"

"But he lets a kid—"

"Intern—"

The elevator chimed. The doors opened and the two fools in question meandered out into the hallway. As they walked down to the living room, all the Avengers could hear a familiar voice all of which had been acquainted to ramble off.

"I'm just saying, I would've had more time to fix the calculations myself but I got caught up on everything with this huge guy who was totally tearing up Times Square," Peter rounded the corner, smears of oil and general mechanic schmutz on his cheek. He trailed closely next to Tony, who was grinning down at a holographic tablet and moving around parts of a digital suit rendering.

Tony wandered into the kitchen. "Yeah, I heard your report. I also heard, via May, that you forgot to do your homework again though, huh? What's your excuse for that one, kiddie?"

Peter hopped up on the kitchen counter, taking the tablet from Tony's hand. He started doing his own work on the render as Tony stepped around Steve to get to the fridge.

"Apple juice?" Tony called out, swinging the fridge door open. "We're out of the, uh... the Capri suns, but I put more on the grocery list for next time."

"Apple juice is fine, thanks," Peter chirped. He tilted his head and zoomed in on the Iron Man chest plate. "Mr. Stark, what if we changed the layering of the arc reactor to fit the nano-particles, instead of reworking the whole thing?"

Tony hummed, tossed back a bottle of apple juice (which Peter caught without looking) and closed the fridge. He took a seat next to Peter, but actually on a barstool rather than on the counter, and looked over at the tablet.

"Show me," he said blankly.

Peter moved some things on the screen, wrote down some numbers and letters, and looked up at him. Tony scratched his goatee in thought, and then nodded. He ruffled Peter's hair. "Yeah. Looks good, kid. I'll get the prototypes 3D-printed for next time and we'll put it all together."

"Awesome," Peter grinned. He cracked open the apple juice and sipped at it. He looked up at the rest of the living room. "Oh, hey, guys."

The Avengers at this moment were all suddenly on the exact same page, albeit with varying reactions. Clint, who was smirking, an eyebrow raised, knowing and maybe even a little impressed. Bruce, who had now put together the pieces he had and was pleasantly surprised, beside Thor who was only surprised. Steve, the most shocked, and Nat, the least shocked.

Meanwhile, Tony, finally looking up only when Peter said hello, recognized the people in the room. He nodded in acknowledgment. "Ah. Avengers, this is Peter."

"We know," Clint said smugly. "Pretty sure we've all met him."

"Sorry?" Tony furrowed his eyebrows. He looked between Peter, and then the rest of the Avengers. "When did you meet each other? Other than Romanoff and Banner, I haven't told anyone else about the kid—"

"I met them," Peter spoke up. He put his finished bottle of apple juice on the counter and smiled. "I met Hawkeye in the medbay one night, Steve in the elevator, and Thor on the lawn— that was really cool, by the way."

Tony hesitated, and then shrugged. "Alright, then. Anyways, nobody can steal him. You guys can get your own Avenger intern prodigies, this one is mine. Looking at you, Rogers."

Peter covered his face with one hand and stifled a laugh. "Mr. Stark—"

Steve put his hands up defensively, giving a kind smile. "No worries, Tony."

(Everybody knew it would be impossible to separate the two, anyways. But anybody would be lucky to have Peter as a kid-intern-thing...

Just ask Tony Stark.)

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Resting on Your Shoulder

Masterlist

Summary: Your sisters decide that a trip to Iowa is exactly what you need to help you work through the effects of Daniel’s interrogation but they didn’t know you were battling with an angel and a devil on your shoulder. 

Warning: mention of past torture, past guilt, the Bartons are my favorite people to write, love confession, self-hatred. 

Word count: 3.5 

You caught the sandbag as it swung back towards you, resting your head on it. Every one of your muscles was screaming for you to take a break; to rest and recover. But you needed your mind to turn off. You needed your mind to stop reliving your interrogation with Daniel. It was a constant battle with the angel and devil on your shoulder as you knew getting him to talk was necessary to save Natasha but did you need to do it? You could have let Steve or Sam handle it and stayed far away from that mindset. However, there was a part of you that craved that power, that control. Oh, how you missed it and that scared you more. “There you are,” you looked over your shoulder to see Natasha walking towards you. You frowned. 

“Cho will have a fit if she sees you in here,” your sister rolled her eyes. She was banned from active missions until she was fully healed but you knew she was hitching to get back out there. 

“I’m not here to work out,” she said. “I’m here for you.” You raised an eyebrow at her as you bent down to pick up your water bottle. 

“What’s up?” 

“Since I’m benched I’m thinking about going to Iowa,” you cocked your head to the side. “Clint and his family live there.” That made more sense. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Is that a good idea?” You asked. It was her turn to tilt her head in confusion. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” That was a fair follow-up question. “They’ve been pretty eager to meet you,” you sat down, leaning against the wall. She sighed, sitting in front of you. “Look, it will be good for you to get out of the compound.”

“Nat, I’m fine,” you said, taking another sip of water. She gave you a pointed look but you remained silent. 

“I know interrogating Daniel wasn’t easy for you and you don’t have to talk to me but you need to talk to someone about it. I’ve learned that Bartons have a healing presence,” you chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Sure I could use a vacation,” you stood up, holding out your hand to help Natasha. “Besides, it will be nice to meet the man who was tasked with killing my sister.” She rolled her eyes, punching you lightly on the shoulder. “When are we leaving?”

“As soon as you shower, you stink,” you pulled Natasha into your arms, hugging her tight. Her laughter filled the quiet gum as she tried to push you away from her. Since the interrogation, Dainel’s screams were no longer in your mind, only the sound of your sister’s laughter. 

*

“Why did they pick Iowa?” You asked as Natasha landed the Quinjet near the wooded area of Barton’s land. “Is it because it’s the Hawkeye state?” You knew it came from the Native American warrior named Black Hawk but it was too much of a conscience to not bring it up. Yelena giggled at your joke. 

“I bet he’d love to hear that joke,” Natasha deadpanned. “But Fury set this up for him when he decided to join the team,” she explained. “Only myself, Yelena, and Maria knew about it.” You nodded, you’ve yet to meet Nick Fury. You knew of him. He was a high target for the Red Room and HYDRA. 

The Quinjet landed and you met your sisters by the ramp as they collected their stuff and turned off the jet. You were hit with a wave of anxiety. 

“Are you ready?” Yelena asked, standing next to you as the ramp descended. 

“Yeah,” you told her. “I'm a little nervous.”

“Don’t be,” she said, pumping her shoulder against yours. “They are some of the best people.” 

*

The house was beautiful, painted white with green shutters and a wrapped-around porch. It was a split image of the American dream. Before you could comment the front door of the house swung open and a little boy came running out towards you. “Brace yourself,” you heard Natasha mumble as the boy yelled, “Auntie Nat,” and threw himself into her arms. You caught your sister before she went tumbling to the ground. 

“Woah little hawk,” Yelena said. “We have to be careful,” he looked at Yelena with a shy family on his face. 

“Sorry Aunt Lena,” Hearing this little boy call your sister's aunts was tugging at your heartstrings. 

“It’s okay,” Natasha set him down on the ground. “I'm very excited to see you,” she tapped him on the nose. “I want you to meet someone really important to Yelena and I. Nathaniel, this is our oldest sister.” He hid behind Natasha’s legs but he did give you a small wave. 

“Hi, Nate. I’ve heard a lot of great things about you,” you said, kneeling so you were level with him. He still didn’t come out behind Natasha. “I got you something.” You noticed he wasn’t hiding anymore at the mention of a gift but you didn’t draw attention to it. Instead, you took a Lego set out of your duffle bag. “A little birdie told me you like building legos,” he gasped, taking the box from you. “Do you think we can build it together?” He excitedly nodded. 

“I don’t have this one,” his eyes were glued to the box. “I have to show you the other ones I have.” You smiled. 

“Sounds like a plan, bud.”

“Spoiling my kids already,” you looked at the porch and saw Clint with his wife and two other kids. You stood up, following Nate and your sisters to the house. Nate was already showing his new toy to his siblings. 

“I have to make up for the lost time,” you said, handing Lila and Cooper a box. You got Cooper a drone and Lila a new bow and arrow set. 

“Why don’t you bring us anything?” Cooper asked Yelena and Natasha. Yelena rolled her eyes, punching him on the shoulder. 

“Because I don’t like you anymore,” your youngest sister deadpanned. Cooper smiled. “Meet the other Bartons. Clint, Laura, Cooper, and Lila.” Yelena introduced. 

“Welcome to the Family,” Laura said, pulling you into a quick hug. You were shocked by the action, not expecting it from the mother of three but you hugged her back not to make it weird. It was odd how welcoming they were. They knew nothing about you and the darkness you put into the world. The devil on your shoulder began to talk - hurt them, kill them, you’ll enjoy it. The angel was nowhere in sight. 

*

Natasha was right. It was impossible to be so deep inside your head when you were around the Bartons. Nate showed you his Lego collection and explained in great detail each. You enjoyed listening to the stories that Clint told and the banter between Yelena and Cooper. At night when everyone was asleep, you found yourself sitting on the porch with a 6 pack of beer. The stars were beautiful out here, it made you realize how small you were in the universe. You heard the front door open and Laura stood next to you. “Mind if I join you?”

“Your house,” you said as she sat down. 

“My beer too,” she smiled, taking one. You chuckled. 

“I made a mental note to buy you guys some more,” it was Laura’s turn to laugh. You both sat in silence, drinking beer and looking up at the stars. “You have a beautiful family,” you said, breaking the silence. “Thank you for opening it up to me.”

“It’s your home too,” she smiled. 

“Not sure how smart it is to offer your home to a stranger,” you joked. “I could be a killer and endanger your entire family.” She smiled. 

“Do you think you're a danger to my family?” She questioned. “Or your sisters?” ‘We have the same level of darkness inside of us,’ Daniel taunted. ‘You could conquer the world, burn it down, and rebuild it. If you just embraced it.’ You could never hurt your sisters or anyone innocent. But the devil on your shoulder wasn’t going away. It was so loud.

“I’d never hurt them,” you finally said. “Them or your family.” Laura nodded. Another beat of silence passed. “Sometimes I worry,” you told her and took a sip of your beer. “That they broke something inside me. It scares me.” 

“What did he say to you?” She asked. You weren’t surprised that she knew what happened. Finally, you looked at her. 

“He said that he and I were the same,” you said. “We have the same level of darkness. I could set the world on fire and rebuild it from the ashes,” you looked away. “He was right in a way, you know? Drekyov trained us to bring down empires. Maybe that’s all I’m good for.” Laura was quiet. Both her hands wrapped around her beer bottle as she stared ahead. 

“Have you seen the Harry Potter movies?” She asked. You shook your head. You knew they were on Yelena’s list to show you. “There is a quote that describes you and the other Widows - ‘You’re a very good person, who had bad things happen to you. Besides, the world isn’t split between good people and Death Eaters. We’ve all got both light and dark inside us.” You frowned, letting what she said to sit with you. 

“Which one do I listen to? The angel or the devil?” Laura smiled. 

“You’ve already beaten one devil,” she said, standing up. She stifled a yawn and you felt a little guilty for keeping her up. “Another one can’t be that hard, right?” You smiled, nodding your head. “From what Yelena and Natasha have told us, that angel is a lot louder than you think.” 

“Thank you, Laura.”

“Get some sleep and come get me if you need anything,” she squeezed your shoulder as she walked back into the house. You sighed, finishing the rest of your beer and placing it in the holder. You looked up at the stairs. It was so easy to see them. Were they always this bright or were you too busy to look up? 

*

“Has anyone seen my sister?” Natasha asked, walking into the kitchen. The kids were already eating breakfast and Yelena was working on a mission report for Maria that Natasha told her to get done before they came. She wasn’t surprised that it wasn’t done. Natasha knocked on your door for breakfast but the room was empty. 

“She was up early,” Clint said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “She went on one of the trail runs.” The two sisters looked at each other. It was like at the compound. They’ve had to drag you out of the training room most days to eat or sleep. 

“Not sure how much sleep she got,” Laura said, passing by Natasha with a gentle hand on her back. “We were up late talking.” Before Natasha could question what they talked about, she heard the front door open. You walked into the kitchen with a smile and sneaked a sausage link from Cooper’s plate. 

“I thought you were never going to wake up,” you teased, filling up a glass of water and downing it quickly. 

“You know some people like to sleep in when they go away.” Natasha countered. You laughed. 

“Breakfast is ready,” Laura said. “Help yourself.” You smiled. 

“Let me shower and I’ll be back down.” You said. Before you headed upstairs, Natasha grabbed onto your arm. 

“If you aren’t back in 10 minutes I’m dragging you back down here,” she threatened. You smiled. 

“I would expect nothing less, Natalie, but I’m okay,” that was up for some debate but Natasha let go of your room. She watched you go upstairs, suppressing a sigh. 

“Sestra,” she turned to face Yelena. “She’ll be okay, we’ll make sure of it.” 

*

You sat on the edge of the bed, freshly showered, and with a new set of clothes on. You were taking care of some cuts on your knuckles. On your run, you got so lost in a memory that you punched a tree. You were a little surprised your sisters didn’t see it. Dreyokv brought you into a room where a Red Room guard and a fellow Widow were handcuffed to the ground. Her name was Anastasia and she was a few years younger than you. The man’s name was a mystery but you’ve seen him around. Dreyokv told you that the pair were in love and were plotting to escape, your job was to get them to talk and tell them the details of their plan. So you tortured them. You could see the blood on your hands. Their screams made your heart pound and you felt the adrenaline rush through your veins. When they gave in and told you everything, Dreyokv still made you kill them.  

“Hey sestra, are you with us?” You glanced up, getting pulled out of your thoughts, and saw your sisters kneeling in front of you. God, how many times have they been in this position? You needed to get your shit together. You nodded, pressing the palm of your hands to your eyes. 

“I lied,” you said, bringing your hands down to look at them. “I don’t think I’m okay.” Yelena smiled. 

“Yeah,” she whispered. “We know.” You chuckled. Of course, they knew. Your sisters were so much smarter than you. 

“Come with us,” Natasha said, holding out her hand. “We want to show you something.” And you took your hand without hesitation. 

*

They brought you to a secluded part of the Barton’s property where they had a small swimming pond. Yelena laid out a picnic blanket and you sat down looking at the water. “Can you imagine having a place like this?” You asked as they sat down. 

“I’ve thought about it,” Natasha admitted. “Leaving the team and getting a house big enough for all of us.” Yelena leaned back on her hands and looked at the view. 

“I couldn’t live out in the country,” she said. “But a house of my own does sound nice.” You let the silence fall between you and your sisters. It was peaceful as a nice breeze blew through. 

“Did you watch it?” You asked Natasha. “Did you watch me torture him?” The redhead nodded, pulling one of her knees to her chest. You knew the entire thing was recorded and it wasn’t a surprise Natasha watched it. “Originally, Steve and Sam were going to talk to him but I said it should be me to do it. I convinced them that he wouldn’t talk under normal circumstances but I could break him.” 

“And you did,” you nodded. “You did it to save me, that doesn’t make you a monster.” She was right. 

“But the thoughts I’ve been having after do,” you said. “A dark part of me missed it, you know? That control, the power, and that adrenaline rush,” you shook your head. “I wasn’t lying when I told him that my bite kills. No matter who Dreykov sat in front of me I could break - men, women, or another Willow.” You sighed, running your hand through the grass. 

“You did what you had to do to survive,” Yelena said as if it was the simplest answer behind everything you did. 

“And what about now?” You questioned. “What’s the reasoning for these thoughts? I have an angel and devil resting on my shoulder and I don’t know who to listen to. I’m afraid they broke something that can’t be fixed,” you admitted. You sighed, picking up a nearby rock. It was smooth against your fingers as you twirled it around. “I wonder if they were always there.” You looked back at your sisters. Yelena had her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She was looking at the swimming hole. But Natasha was looking right at you. 

“Nothing about you is broken,” she finally said. You scuffed, looking away. “I’m telling you the truth. I have those same thoughts,” Natasha sighed. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched her run her hands through her hair. “When Loki kidnapped and brainwashed Clint I was ready to kill everyone in my sight and when you were kidnapped I was ready to burn the compound to the ground if they got in my way.” you chuckled. “We go back to that mindset when things get out of control. It’s how we cope.”

“Fucked up way to cope,” you mumbled, leaning back on your hands. 

“We had a pretty fucked up childhood,” Yelena smiled. “But I think we turned out okay.” You smiled. 

“Yeah, we did.” 

*

“How’s Iowa?” Carol asked. Once again you found yourself sitting outside the Barton’s house but you felt different, lighter almost. You were video-calling Carol, who was laying in her bed at the compound. You smiled. 

“It’s nice,” you said. “And quiet. I needed this more than I realized.” She smiled. 

“Good, I’m glad you are enjoying yourself.” You looked past your phone into the vast darkness. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder and dream of owning a place like this. “What’s got you thinking so hard, pretty girl?” You blushed, biting your lip. 

“I was just thinking,” she gave you a look for you to continue as she sat up in bed. She was wearing a tank top and you were slightly distracted by her muscles. She smirked. 

“See something you like, baby girl,” she teased. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, cheeks feeling hot from embarrassment. Carol chuckled. “Anyways, I was thinking about the life Clint built out here. One day I want to have something like this,” you looked into the vast darkness. “A place to call my own away from all the fighting.” 

“You know,” she said slowly, causing you to look back at her. “No one would be upset with you if you walked away from the fight. You’ve spent your entire life following orders. You can live for yourself.” You smiled, it wasn’t happy. 

“I can’t,” you whispered. “Not yet at least,” you looked down at the steps you were sitting on. “I’ve done a lot of bad stuff. There is so much red on my ledger. I can’t stop.”

“Sweetheart, can you look at me?” It took a minute for you to look at her. There was a look in her eyes that you couldn’t pinpoint the emotion. You saw it when Maria looked at Natasha when Alexei looked at Melina, and now when Clint looked at Laura. Love. Did she love you? “Why are you being the judge, jury, and executioner of your fate?” You didn’t answer. “The way I see it you paid your dues and if you want to stop, you can be done.” You chuckled. 

“What gives you the right to be my judge?” You asked. You didn’t ask it to be mean or rude but you were curious. She looked shy all of a sudden, scratching the back of your head. 

“Because I love you,” you felt your stomach drop at her admission. It was different hearing those three words coming from someone that wasn’t your family. It wasn’t a bad difference, just different. “And all I want for you is to be happy and safe. So if that means tomorrow you hand up your suit and get a 9 to 5,” you laughed, throwing your head back. “Then I’ll support you and I will always remind you that you deserve a chance to walk away from all of this.” You were stunned into a shocked silence at everything she said. But there was a part of you that felt the same, somewhere deep inside you knew that you loved Carol. ‘Tell her. Be happy and tell her.’ for once the angel was louder than the devil. 

“I love you too,” you whispered like it was a secret for only you, her, and the stars could know about. “Thank you.” 

“Why are you thanking me?” She asked. 

“For loving me and all of my scars.” She chuckled, shaking her head slightly. 

“You do not need to thank me,” she said. “I should be thanking you.” You looked at her confused. “You opened yourself up to me and made yourself vulnerable. Loving you is a gift I’ll treasure forever.” You smiled. 

“You are a sap.” 

“Only for you,” you tried to cover your mouth as you yawned. “Go get some sleep, baby girl.” You stood up. 

“Will you stay on the phone till I fall asleep?” You asked, gently walking back into the farmhouse. You saw her nod her head. You opened the door to the guest room you were staying in and immediately climbed underneath the covers, placing your phone on your nightstand. “I love you,” you said again. Oh, how good it felt to say. 

“I love you too. Goodnight, sweetheart,” you closed your eyes. The devil on your shoulder was silent and you no longer heard Daniel’s screams. You smiled as you weren’t afraid to fall asleep.  

__

Tag list: @ cd-4848

I have such an idea for a longer work for this AU where something happens to the Reader and she becomes the next villain the Avengers have to fight. Idk if I have time to write it so send me asks and I would love to talk about it more. 

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