#anyway. thank you mr. wilson. you're doing good work

[hellishfig]

something i love about (at least a few of) lou wilson's dnd characters is that they always start out with a fun and interesting concept that would make a great character in its own right

and then lou says, "you know what would be hilarious?" and creates the most devastating, heartbreaking, stress-inducing, tragic backstory for said character

and i eat it up every time

[thezombieprostitute]

Changing Minds - Part 3

Summary: Your long time work acquaintance Nick Fowler offers to take you to a fancy fundraiser as a way of cheering you up. He insists it's only as friends but when he sees you falling into the grasp of someone he knows is no good, he might change his mind on that.

Word Count: ~1800

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Reader is an older female (late 30's +). This is part of the Garbage Men AU. I'm not yet sure if this will be a full series or just a two part story.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

You’re getting ready to take your lunch break but are stopped by a grumpy looking man carrying a manilla envelope.

“Are you Ms. Y/L/N?”

“I am,” you hesitate, trying not to look too long at his scars.

“I was told to deliver this to you, tell you it’s from a friend and that your safety depends on you reading it before you see Mr. Fowler again.” He holds out the envelope and, despite the confusion written all over your face, he doesn’t add any clarifying statements. The way his mustache twitches he clearly thinks you’re wasting his time by not taking it from him right away.

“Thank you, Mr….” your tone turns into a question as you take the envelope but he turns away without giving you any answers.

You sit back at your desk and open the envelope. Inside are all sorts of police reports, all violent crimes, and all involving Nick. You recognize the forms and the seals to know these are legitimate. You see his mugshots where he’s clearly been in a fight. You see photos of the people who lost those fights and shudder. 

You’d seen Nick with some mild injuries, the occasional black eye, but you never figured him to be violent. He’d always seem too calm, cool and collected to hit someone. Yet the files in front of you begged to differ. 

And you’re supposed to go out on a date with him tonight.

As you're getting the manilla folder, Nick is cleaning himself up after another messy interrogation. He probably shouldn’t be doing this so soon before a date but Bucky’s been pushing for some intel and this was his best chance. It’s not like he was all that serious about the date, anyways. It was just fulfilling a promise to you and keeping that work relationship solid with the added bonus of keeping you away from Kent.

Curtis showed up at the Basement Studio with his cleaning equipment. Nick thought for a moment and asked, “Hey, Curtis, you got a minute?”

“Whatcha need?”

“I’m taking a lady out tonight. You got any special restaurants you take Teach?”

Curtis softens at the mention of his girl, “I’m not sure the restaurants we frequent would be up to your standards. We’re more into greasy spoon types of places.”

“Yeah, this girl is a bit classier than that.”

“How about Wilson’s new restaurant? Use your connections to get a table?”

“That could work,” Nick hums. “Give her a nice night at an exclusive place.”

“Hope it works out. It must be pretty serious if you’re asking me for advice.”

“Nah,” Nick dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Just promised to help cheer her up after some family shit happened. I need her happy so I can keep doing my job.”

“Does she know it’s just the one date? That it’s not feelings based?”

“Pretty sure.”

“You’re gonna wanna double check that,” Curtis chides. “I’d hate to have to send Teach after you.”

Nick chuckled a little, “I’ll make sure she knows before the date starts.”

Curtis nods, “good luck, then.”

It’s time to clock out of work and go meet Nick but you find yourself hesitating. Stalling, you child yourself. You’ve known him long enough he at least deserved a chance to explain everything. If someone was trying to make you rethink your relationship with Nick, they were going to have put in more work.

Stepping outside you see Nick’s car and you start walking towards it. He gets out and moves to open the passenger door for you, a smile on his face. 

“Hello, pretty Lady,” he greets. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t be able to make it.” His smile drops when he sees hesitance written all over your face. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “in the car, please.” As you sit he closes the door for you and paces to his own. When you’re both settled in you pull the manilla envelope out of your bag and hand it to him. “What is all of this, Nick?”

He opens the envelope and you see his face go from worried to ice cold anger. “How did you get these?” 

“They were delivered to my desk this afternoon.” 

“By whom?”

“Does it matter? Is your answer going to be different depending on who delivered them? I deserve an explanation regardless of their source.”

Nick takes a deep breath, eyes never leaving the reports in front of him. His brain kept trying to work out why someone would give you this. Well, reasons beyond souring your work relationship and hindering his own work as a result. He was so focused on the considerations and possibilities he didn’t hear you calling his name. It wasn’t until he heard your door slam shut that he snapped out of his reverie and realized he’d accidentally ignored you. 

“Shit,” he mutters as he gets out of the car to follow you. “Y/N! Y/N, wait up, please!”

You pause your steps and turn to give him a stern look. “Oh, you’re finally willing to talk about this. How gracious of you.” He flinches at your tone and drops his face a little. “I’m going home, Nick. Good night.”

“Please,” he sighs. “I was caught off guard. I’ll give you all of the answers over dinner, I promise.” You hesitate so he adds, “at the very least I can promise you a free meal at a very exclusive but very good restaurant that just opened.” You raise an eyebrow. Encouraged, he continues, “and if I haven’t answered your questions to your satisfaction, you’ll never have to see me again.”

You nod, “okay. But this had better be a good explanation and some damn good food.”

As Nick promised, the restaurant looks very nice and the smells from the kitchen are exquisite. The hostess takes you to one of the semi-private booths, blocked off with curtains. You’ve never been in such a high-class place and you feel a little under-dressed. Your eyes widen when you look at the prices on the menu.

“Nick, I can’t afford this place.”

“You’re here at my request,” he chuckles. “The least I can do is pay for your food and drink.” He looks into your eyes and sees your discomfort. “I mean that,” he pleads, his sky blue eyes softening. “Please don’t worry about the costs. I’ve got you covered.” You purse your lips but nod.

The waiter arrives for drink orders and you just ask for water. Nick gives you a look and you tell him you don’t know enough about wine to really know what to pick. He nods and orders water and a bottle of something with a way too long name. 

As they leave you look back to the menu and confess, “I’m really not sure what half of these things are.”

“I’m pretty experienced with these kinds of things,” Nick assures. “If something sounds interesting let me know and I’ll see if I can remember what it is.”

You nod and start saying some of the names of dishes with Nick telling you some of the basics of ingredients and cooking methods for each. His knowledge of these things is quite impressive. When the waiter comes back with the drinks you order a Thai Pomelo Salad and Seared Tuna Niçoise. You hope it’s good. You’re upset with Nick but would hate to waste his money on food you don’t actually like. 

As soon as the waiter leaves you sigh, sit up straight, and ask Nick, “so what do you have to say about those files?”

He nods, “I’m not gonna deny their legitimacy. I’ve done some bad things, had bad things done to me. It’s all part of my work.”

“I thought you were just a Private Investigator.”

“Yup,” Nick nods. “And it’s not all searching records and archives. It’s nice when that’s all I need to do for a job, but most jobs require talking to dangerous people. Sometimes it escalates.”

“Nick, I saw the photos of your victims,” you chide. “That’s not dangerous, that’s deadly.”

“That’s training,” he objects. His face is pained as he continues, “what the files don’t tell you is that I’m former CIA. And yes, I can provide proof of that. I had to learn a lot of combat, a lot of tactics, and a lot of…other things. I quit when I got figuratively backstabbed too many times by other agents looking to just climb the ladder. But you can’t just forget your training.” He pours himself a glass of the red wine and sips it before continuing. “Eddie hooked me up. He was a friend from college and he helped me find my steading here. Introduced me to the right people, warned me against the wrong people, and a lot more.”

You nod as you listen, expression softening as he talks about Eddie. “So all of those people that you hurt?”

“In every case they tried to hurt me first. Even if witnesses were paid to testify otherwise. I never strike first, I promise.” There’s an intensity in his face you’ve never seen before. His eyes almost seem to be changing shades of blue as a reflection of his emotions.

You bite your lower lip as you think. “Okay Nick,” you say after a bit. “I’ll trust you.”

The worry and hurt in his face fades to a soft smile of relief, “thank you. Now will you please tell me who gave you the files?”

Nick gets back to his car after walking you to your door. You might not have known the identity of the man who gave you the folder but what you did know was enough for Nick. August Walker, known lackey in Kent’s conglomerate. He used to be higher in the rankings but got caught trying to kidnap some important person’s daughter. Cost him is rank and his looks. 

Kent wants to turn you against him. Nick knows he’s been a thorn in Kent’s side for years but now you’re a risk. You’re a possible weak point in Nick’s armor and Kent’s not gonna stop until he breaks you, hurting Nick in the process. 

Nick was supposed to make sure you knew that this was just a date as friends. That he was just keeping his promise, nothing more between you two. But during dinner he decided he needs to keep up the facade of interest. The closer he can keep you, the safer you’ll be. Especially after he gets you a bracelet with a tracker, just to be safe.

Part 2 -- Part 4

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

@rebekahdawkins

@texmexdarling

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know.

[sebstanseabass]

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 13

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Future you, r u okkkk

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

You stared at Bucky and the gentleman who was with him named Sam Wilson, completely dumbfounded; as if they both had three heads. They were seated across from you, Bucky with a glass of water, and Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand. Sam was just finishing his beer, as well as his speech about his business proposal which had to do with you taking photos of his new products, and models.

Bucky introduced Sam as a long-time friend and an owner of a sporting fit apparel named The Falcons. The name did ring a bell as soon as you heard it. You suddenly remembered passing through it while you and Bucky were strolling down Fifth Street, vaguely telling you about a friend who owned it and six other stores scattered in California, Chicago, London, and Australia (and was planning to branch out more in Asian countries); and here he was right in front of you, hiring you as a photographer for his big-time business.

Sam didn't give you a sliver of time to intervene with his flawless little speech he had committed to memory, as he spoke so fast. Some words were even incomprehensible to you — or perhaps it was just because the world was still whirling around you, given the prior event that just took place.

And now this.

You tried to give Bucky some kind of signal by giving him a look but he encouraged Sam further and urged you to listen to his proposal.

"So, y/n..." Sam rested his hands on the wooden table, his attention solely focused on you. "What do you think?"

If only you could tell him the truth that your mind was completely blank, you would. But you didn't want to embarrass yourself or Bucky for that matter, so you just gave him a smile and did the first thing you could think of. "Mr. Wilson — "

"Oh, you can just call me Sam. There's no need for formalities."

You nodded. "Sam... Do you mind if I have a little discussion with Bucky? It will just take a moment."

Sam leaned back on the cushioned couch of the booth and nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

You didn't give Bucky the time to question why so you immediately stood up, grabbed Bucky's hand from across the booth and dragged his body towards one of the closets the bar rarely used. You closed the door behind you, and switched the light on. Even with the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the inside of the closet still looked dingy, and the dust crawling on the walls and flying in the tight air space were clearly evident.

"Bucky, what the hell is going on?"

"Isn't it great?"

You smacked his arm. "Steve just told me he's getting me fired so that I can focus on my career as a photographer."

"That's even greater!"

You smacked his arm harder this time. "I'm not done." You hissed. "He's giving me one week to figure things out and then I'm fired. If I don't have shit figured out in that one week, I'm not gonna be able to pay for bills. Did you say something to Steve when you came here this morning? Don't lie to me, James."

He was rubbing his arm, brows furrowed. "I told him nothing."

"You showed him the photos I took last night. What was that all about?"

He sighed in defeat. "I just made him realize that you needed to be out there and not stuck here. You said it yourself, y/n, you're stuck in a rut and the only way to get yourself moving is to break from that routine. To go out there and explore the world."

"And then you just swoop in and bring your friend?"

"Yes."

"So, Steve just happens to realize that I needed to go out there and explore the world, and then it just so happens that your friend needs someone to photograph for his business?" You scoffed. "Bucky, do you expect me to believe that this is just one big coincidence? That you're not the one pulling all the strings in this little weird puppet show?"

"Yes, okay, I may have done something about those, said something, but — "

"Oh my god, you can't do that." You had the urge to get some air, and to pace back and forth as you tried to put your thoughts into words, but the space felt tighter the more you spoke. "You can't just walk into people's lives and, and... control everything! This is not just about chasing a dream, this is also about survival. I'm not rich like you. I don't have a safety net when things fall apart. You... You can't put all your trust in me."

"Well, someone needs to." Bucky sternly answered. "And if that someone should be me then so be it."

"I don't even know why you're going to great lengths for me." You looked down on the floor. "I... I don't get it, Bucky. I don't get you at all."

"Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, doll." His hands made contact with your skin, lifting your face to look at his blue eyes. "I apologize for taking things too far, I guess I could act so rash as well but I just wanted to do what I know is right and what would make you happy. Seeing you last night was... heartbreaking."

"So, you pity me." You sighed. "Everybody does."

"Call it what you want, y/n. But people who pity you won't ever believe in you and in what you do. But here I am putting all my trust in you. Your boss Steve does too. And Sam." A smile formed on his lips, making the insides of you flip.

"Your friend Sam sounds like a big deal and he hasn't even seen my photos. How can he trust me to do all this for him?"

"I put my word in for you. I told him if I was wrong, then to hell with me. And if you're worried about people assisting you during the shoot, don't. Sam has people all over and he just needs your beautiful eyes and hands and brain." He laughed. "Sam's a good guy and you're not going to be working for some big corporation. I know you hate those. This is perfect for you, trust me. And right now, all I need you to do is say yes to Sam, say yes to me, and most especially say yes to yourself. Please?"

The atmosphere became lighter, and the room didn't feel that tight any longer. His flattering words forever engraved in your mind. His warm hands stayed on both sides of your face, his face pleading.

You sighed and nodded your head slowly, finally convinced. "Okay, yes."

A grin started to crawl to his face and for a moment, his face drew closer to yours. "Okay, good. Now let's get out of here and tell Sam the good news."

You nodded but a touch of disappointment came, as Bucky's hands left your face. You never knew the presence of Bucky's skin against yours was one thing you could miss. You didn't even know if you should.

As soon as you sat down, you told Sam the good news and quickly ordered a bottle of champagne. You were supposed to get it for them but Bucky told you to sit down and let loose for a while, so you did.

Nat approached the booth with the cold champagne, and some glasses. She bent down and whispered to you, "You better tell me what's going on here. I wanna hear everything."

Sure, she did. Nat always wanted to. When it comes to water cooler gossip or any kind of gossip for that matter, Nat always wanted to dig her nose into other people's stuff. With a wink and a slight sway on the hips, she retreated to the counter and took more of people's orders. Beside her, you noticed Nick steal a glance in your direction but was averted away by people trying to get their drinks.

"Alright, let's toast." Sam declared. Bucky was just finishing filling yours when you focused your attention back at the two gentlemen in front of you. You thanked Bucky and mirrored Sam as he raised his glass. Bucky followed, his eyes with a luster glaze on you. "To new partners, beginnings, and to y/n."

"Thank you, Sam." You laughed, clinking your glasses. "And to Bucky, for trusting me enough to do this."

"To Bucky who wouldn't leave me alone until I said yes." Sam replied, emptying his glass.

You gave Bucky a look and shook your head. Being the cheeky man he was, the ends of his lips curved slightly which triggered the beat of your heart. The sudden changes you have been feeling when it came to Bucky have been scaring you but it wasn't a "bad scary"; it was the kind that excited everything inside you. A thrilling feeling that left you wanting more.

At the taste of the sprinkling cold champagne, for a moment, you were brought back to last night's events. A montage-like of red, blue and white lights illuminating the street, Howard waiting in the limousine, Wandavision, and then Bucky. After that, it was just Bucky's presence beside you and as you looked back at him, all you could think about was his soft warm lips pressed on your forehead. The entirety of it felt like you were living a dream — there were parts you couldn't remember and parts that you could, and the latter were just the ones you kept replaying in mind (even with Bucky in front of you), trying to imbue this dream-like memory and convince yourself that it was a memory.

Nat's voice pulled you out of your thoughts (and boy, were you thankful for it). "Hey, your shift's almost ending." She reminded you, passing by the booth, then turned to face Bucky and Sam. "Anything you want from the menu, boys?"

"No, thank you." Bucky replied then turned to you. "We should also be heading up."

"Oh." Nat's change in voice was so evident that you wanted to pull her out of here as soon as possible. "You guys are heading up, huh?" She teased, her eyes now on you.

"It's not what you think." You said. "He's just looking after me. Parker's gone to some corporate retreat for a week."

"Man, you're a babysitter!" Sam butted in, punching Bucky's arm lightly. "Oh, I can't believe this."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't even take care of your damn self, how are you gonna take care of her?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"He's actually taking good care of me." You said, looking at Bucky.

"I'm sure he is." Nat chuckled which made you step on her foot. She cleared her throat in response.

"Anyway, I gotta go say goodbye to Steve." You said, standing up. "Hey Nat, do you want me to say hi to him for you?"

With her mouth slightly open, and eyes furrowed, she replied very slowly. "No."

You smirked. "Okay then."

You headed towards Steve's office, leaving Nat stunned in her place. Steve's office was slightly open so you didn't bother knocking and just went inside. "Hey, Steve. I'm off for tonight."

"Sure." He replied. "Hey, about earlier."

"What about it?"

"I'm doing it because I truly believe in you." He smiled. "And your new friend Bucky does so too."

You smiled at him right back. "Yes, Steve. Thank you."

"Take care, y/n."

"You too, boss!"

And with that, you headed towards the booth where Bucky and Sam were.

Out on the side of the street, the three of you parted ways, Sam hailing a cab and you and Bucky heading towards the apartment building. Once the elevator doors opened, you stepped inside and was greeted by its metallic smell.

"Hey, Bucky?" You said, quickly grabbing his attention. "T-thank you for this and for basically everything you've done for me for the past few days."

"Please, you don't have to thank me for this. I'm just really glad I'll be able to help you."

"And I promise once I get my shit done, have money and everything, I'm gonna pay you back — "

"Hey, hey, hey." He cut you off. "Who said anything about paying me back? You don't have to do that, okay?"

"But I feel like this is all too much, like, there's this thing tying me to you."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

"When it comes to money, yeah kinda. And you've bought me all kinds of stuff — "

"Y/n, just..." He sighed. "You don't have to do or say anything. You don't have to worry about paying me back and even if you will, I won't ever ever accept it. Can we leave it at that?"

You sighed in response, the little ding! right on time. "Yeah, okay."

By the time you got in the apartment, you practically ran towards your room because of how exhausted you were but before you could even open the door, there was one more thing you needed to do.

"Bucky?"

“Yes?”

"I-I'm sorry again about last night and no," he was about to do his face whenever he cuts you off, "please, don't cut me off, let me finish."

Bucky walked towards you, his back facing Peter's room.

"This is about what I said... when I asked you to, uh, kiss me. You were right to stop me. I was drunk, sad and vulnerable and the moment wasn't right. It wasn't right. I would have regretted it the next day and would be so ashamed to face you. I might actually avoid you for a month." You sighed. "I'm really sorry you had to see that side of me. A kiss at that moment would be really inappropriate. When we — if we ever do, um, it wouldn't be like that... just like what you said. You said that right? You said, and I quote, not like this. 'Cause I keep hearing your voice saying that in my head." Bucky nodded, affirming it. "Okay. Um, yeah so in conclusion... I am sorry."

He slowly smiled, nodding his head. "You make a lot of speeches."

"Yeah, I'm the queen when it comes to it."

"And apology accepted, of course."

You warmed up with a smile. "Okay, thank you. Good night."

“Good night, doll."

Once you turned around, you felt a strong force on your arm, spinning your body which then collided with Bucky's, together with his lips crashing on yours.

It was like an impulse you couldn't avoid: for you to close your eyes, to move your lips in his rhythm, and to savor his breath. He tasted like cold champagne, and mint, with a hint of coffee. His lips, luscious, warm and soft; you were afraid of tearing them apart with your teeth. He kissed you with all the fervor of a lover. A lover talked about in books, movies, in fairytales.

Bucky's hands found their way around your hips, pulling you closer towards his body, while you rested yours on the sides of his face, pulling every inch of him, craving more of him. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tore your faces only an inch apart, foreheads touching. Lips empty but still hungry. You stayed right where you were; You never dared move an inch and so did he. You were still like statues. The only movement was the rapid rise and fall of your breathing.

Bucky's hands slid from your waist. You felt his fingers on the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing your lower lip and giving it a small, passionate kiss.

"Just like this, doll." He whispered. "Just like this."

[straightouttaneptune]

It girl pt. 3 - First training

Pairing: Mentor!Natasha Romanoff x Mentee!Reader, Platonic!Avengers x reader, Peter Parker x Reader (In the future)

Warning: Fluff with Mentor Nat, mention of family issues, a little low self-esteem reader :(

Summary: Natasha had once joked about picking a random new recruit trainee to teach all her skills since Tony had recently become Peter’s mentor. Fury sees this as a legitimate idea, and asks Natasha to choose her protège, code name: “it girl”.

Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

———————————————————————

“Hey, ‘it girl’.” As soon as you walked into the ginormous gym, Captain freaking America and another buff guy with the name ‘White Wolf’ stood in all their glory. And, to top it all off, you’re pretty sure Captain America called you an ‘it girl’.

“Oh, yeah. ‘It girl’ is your code name. I think a lot of people are gonna be calling you that.” Natasha smiled, walking in beside you.

“Steve, Barnes, meet Y/N. Y/N, Steve, and Barnes.”

“My name is Bucky, Bucky Barnes.” He eyed Natasha warningly before his eyes softened, smiling as he shook your hand. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the tower, Doll.” The metal arm didn’t surprise you, as you already read, watched and knew about every single Avenger.

“And I’m Steve.” Steve took your hand, squeezing with a grip of a supersoldier. “You must be very talented if Nat picked you.” You opened your eyes wider to take in his appearance, he was bigger, taller and cuter than you imagined. Too bad he was like 100 years old.

“Thank you- I, I’m so honored.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say, still star-struck. You only ripped your eyes from the two when Natasha called out from the boxing ring.

“Don’t steal my Y/N, Rogers!”

The combat training was going pretty well, you learned how to knock someone out with your thighs today. Weapons training was moderately good, you hit your target around 60% of the time.

But you weren’t in real training until Steve and Bucky left after teaching you the basics.

As soon as they left, Natasha worked the hell out of you. About 2 hours later, you were dying.

Your lungs felt like they were being squeezed and shoved around, you literally could not feel your legs, sweat rolled down your neck like a waterfall, and you were questioning yourself for agreeing to be recruited.

“Ms. Nat, I think I’m dying.” You laid down on the yoga mat, looking up at the bright ceiling feeling helpless.

“You did good, Y/N. I’m proud of you.” Natasha’s voice toned down at the last sentence, so quiet that is was almost like a whisper. But you heard it, and it fills your heart up with pride.

“Thank you.” You restored the energy to sit up, grabbing your water bottle and chugging down the remaining liquid.

She chuckled from her spot at the boxing ring, leaning against one of the pillars in the corner. “How do you feel now?” She jumped out of the ring, walking up to you.

“It feels amazing. Unreal, I just...” You broke eye contact with her, gaze moving to look out of the glass wall. “I don’t know if I deserve to be here.” It was now your turn to quiet down, gaze falling onto your shoes.

“Hey, Y/N?” Natasha sat down beside you and placed her hand on your head, caressing it until you looked up again into her eyes.

“You’re here because you do deserve to be here. Sometimes, when we just keep seeing super-soldiers and Gods being heroes, we forget that there are heroes that live among us. I saw what you did in that shop the other day. You’re special.” Her features were soft, accepting and warming, something you desperately sought in your whole life. Your mother was a sweet lady, but her attention was always, constantly on your father, who never came home. She’s never really looked at you.

Your eyes turned glassy, tears welling up. Never in your life did you think that you’d find a sense of belonging, acceptance, comfort in the woman you’ve only met 2 times. But she was someone who’d say that she was proud of you, who’d give you a chance to be a part of something.

“Hey. Come on, Wanda baked cookies this morning.” She stood up and extended her hand to you, and you happily took it. By the time you stepped out of the gym, the smile had already returned to your face.

“Hey! There’s the ‘it girl’ I keep hearing about!” In the kitchen were Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson and Vision. Wanda was the first one to run up to you, pulling you in for a hug. The scent of roses tickled your nose, probably from her shampoo.

She let you go and looked over at Natasha, sending her a look of approval.

“I’m Wanda, this is Vision and that’s Sam.” The robot-looking human waved, and the falcon, or Sam, gave you a high five.

“I’m Y/N. Great to meet you guys.” You flashed them a smile while you deduced everything about them while they were distracted. The Avengers were interesting, and no harm in studying a little bit about them, right?

Wanda went off into the kitchen to grab her cookies, which she offered more than you could eat. While Nat made some calls, you hung out with the three of them for a while, stuffing your face with Wanda's delicious snacks. You bonded with them, especially Wanda with her age being closer to yours than anyone else in the building. The four of you gossiped endlessly about the Avengers until Natasha came in with Tony Stark around 6:30pm.

"Well, well, well, kid. You must be the famous Y/N." Tony revealed his striking brown eyes as he ripped his sunglasses off. You nodded and he shook your hand politely, looking up and down at you. "You look exceptional. No wonder they call you 'it girl'." He let go of your hand and again, you were met with this warm sensation of being accepted. You guessed that the Avengers had that effect on people.

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. You look dazzling as well." You played with your words graciously, commenting on Tony's million-dollar tailored suit. 

"I like you." He nodded to himself and patted Natasha on her back affectionately. You didn't miss Natasha's small smirk of contentment.

"Anyways, the car's here for you. You'll be sent home with the spider-ling, though, I hope you don't mind." He checked his wristwatch and made a quick exit, and you waved goodbye to your 3 new friends then walked with Natasha to the main door. 

"I see a lot of myself in you, Y/N. Come back tomorrow, I think Thor and Bruce'll be back by then." She pushed you towards the waiting car, standing back at the entrance with Tony. 

"Be safe." She whispered as she watched the car drive away, oblivious to the commotion happening in the car. 

"Y/N?!"  "Peter?!" 

"You're it girl??" "You're spider-man?!"

“You know, I heard that.” Tony side-eyed Natasha, while she gave him a death glare.

“They start to grow on you, don’t they?” Tony called out at Natasha as she walked away, he knew that you’d be a vital part of Natasha’s life in no time. Just like how that spider-ling of his became the son Tony never thought he’d have.

“That’s why you had the Stark internship?!”

“Well, yeah, it’s not exactly an internship...”

“Did a spider bite you too?”

“A spider bit you?!!”

Next chapter: Part 4

Taglist: @mindset-jupiter @fangirlingisajob @theadventurousqueen@gwenmxnstacy @ballerboobitch @the-lady-cersei-lannister @golden–rain@dollofbucky @sakuranomegami @elizabeth-santana-98 @anne2cold@eyeballtoes @marvel-is-a-mood @roseryss @redqueenstorm @orchideax@huntersociopathavenger @petertinglessss @marv-ells@hopefuloperaangelnerd @je11yfishwriter @iloveyou3000morgan @kewl-r@missmulti @grace-barnes-13  @samarcher79 @slow-dance-in-the-dark @intricate-melody @editsbyjenny @brenleestar @a-vvenger @princessizzy36

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 17

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

One of the advantages of being a photographer — or a self-taught photographer in your case — is having the ability to acquire an eidetic memory. You remembered the hat that the little bitch (a four-year old) was wearing when she pushed you off the swings in daycare, or the little stain on your father's doctor's lab coat when your family had to rush him to the hospital, or what Peter was wearing the day you guys first met (some oversized flannel he borrowed from Bucky), or the look on your ex-boyfriend's face when you punched him in the face for cheating on you.

The attention to every pretty little detail is, and always will be, a must, and so not remembering where you had seen Bucky before killed you, or rather, was killing you.

It was a normal morning, well, better than your normal mornings to say the least, with Bucky spending the night in your bed. This time, you woke up first, all wrapped in nothing but sheets and Bucky's arms just like yesterday. You rolled over to his side and admired him in his sleep. Then, sudden flashes of Bucky's face from before flooded your memory. You didn't know when exactly was before. It felt like a kind of a deja vu moment.

While eating Bucky's homemade breakfast, in your mind, you listed all the possible places where you could've seen him before: a café, a bar you once went to in college, a bookstore, a museum, a convivial gathering, a convenience store, and any other places you could've bumped into him.

The morning grew unusually quiet and clouded, eliciting concern from Bucky.

"You seem awfully quiet this morning." He observed. "Are you alright, doll?"

"Y-yes, I am."

"Uh-oh, was the sex not great last night?" He joked, nudging his elbow against yours.

You shook your head, trying to smile a little. Thankful that Bucky was trying to keep everything light. "No, no, it was great. You were great. It's just... I'm just quite anxious for today."

Today, you were going to Sam's office and to his store on Fifth Street, to discuss the details about the project. It wasn't what you had in your mind this morning but as you told Bucky about it, you realized you really were getting a bit nervous about the meeting. It was a big deal, after all.

Sam's business, The Falcons, was getting more recognition than you thought. He was now in near competition with Nike and Adidas, especially with the rumors of him releasing brand-new footwear, that could — and you quote one of the articles you read while on break — “overthrow the big leagues.” That alone, already put you in the spotlight. So, whatever you put out there should only be a success, and not a flop; because if it were a failure, you wouldn't only be humiliating yourself, but Bucky as well.

"You're gonna do great!" He assured you. "Plus, it's just a meeting. You two already seem to have a grasp on the project, anyway."

"Yeah." You sighed. "You're right."

You wanted to ask Bucky if you had ever, ever, met each other before — perhaps during a party where you’ve rescued Peter before? — but you bit your tongue to stop yourself. You already did when you met, anyway. And everything was going great between the two of you — whatever the hell this was; besides, labels are overrated nowadays — and you didn't want to say anything or do anything that could potentially ruin it. You were beyond happy in your little bubble, and you could tell Bucky was, too.

You brushed all those thoughts at the back of your mind as you and Bucky strolled through Sam's building's hallways, ironically telling yourself it was all just in your head, that you were just quite edgy about this damn meeting, that you were just thinking about Bucky all the damn time; and the more you told these things to yourself, the more you believed it, and the more you hoped you would never have these thoughts again.

Today, you wore something a bit different than what you usually wore down at the bar. A blazer and pants set, adorned with black and white stripes, a tube top inside, and a white belt that kept the blazer on your sides. You got the set when you and Bucky were out shopping on Monday, of course, Bucky paid for it no matter how many times you refused. Your hair was let down, all the ends flowing down your shoulders until the bottom of your breasts. Lips painted bright red (which Bucky really, really liked). A bit of shimmer on your eyelids as well.

Today was a huge deal and you wanted to look your best.

Bucky kept his hand on the small of your back the whole time you walked, giving a sense of comfort and familiarity you now learned to be fond of. He told the story of how he met Sam (at a bar, where else?), how he had seen him grow in the industry (all the ups and downs), and also how they've always supported each other — the three of them.

"Wait, the three of you?" You asked. "There's another one?"

Bucky almost wanted to stop in his tracks but decided against it. He avoided your gaze, his eyes straight down the hallway. "Yes, but we've fallen apart." He said. "He has his own thing now. Anyway, let's not talk about it. We have more important things to deal with today."

Before you could even ask what the name of this third friend was, Sam appeared at the end of the hallway, with his arms wide open, like a king opening his arms to his heir. Bucky, without leaving your side, proceeded to hug Sam only using his free arm, "Hey, man," he said, and retreated back afterwards.

On the other hand, you shook Sam's hand and gave him a smile.

"Hi, Sam." You greeted. "Nice to see you again."

"You too... y/n." Sam replied, hiding a smirk you knew he was itching to show, hiding the fact that he wanted to mock Bucky by calling you "babydoll."

"You guys made it in time." He said. "Come with me to the conference hall."

Sam led you to his right where a white long table stood in the middle with a bunch of vacant office chairs around. A projector sat on the center of the table, a series of displays of sports apparel lying around, perfectly organized by color. A blonde woman had her back on you, flipping papers on a clipboard. Once she heard you come in, she swiveled around and put the clipboard on the table.

"Y/n, this is Sharon Carter, my assistant and the project manager assigned for this new release." Sam spoke. "She knows everything there is to know about how my business works, all the ins and outs. And if in any case I won't be around, you can always rely on her."

"Hi, nice to meet you." You said.

Sharon Carter, instead of answering verbally, just offered you a smile and a small nod. Her gaze shifted towards Bucky, and then Sam. "Mr. Wilson, does he need to be here?"

"Always a pleasure to see you, Sharon." Bucky chuckled.

Sharon ignored him and continued to talk to Sam; well, tried to. "All the details in today's meeting are confidential and he — "

"He's good, Sharon." Sam cut her off. "I doubt he'll be interested in this, anyway. He's just here for his... doll." Sam chortled and Bucky winked and clicked his tongue in response. "Besides, he's the one who introduced me to y/n."

Sharon sighed in defeat and tried to smile at her boss. "Very well then."

"Please, take a seat." Sam offered, leading you towards the vacant chairs.

While walking towards the chairs, Bucky bent over on your side and whispered: "Don't worry, she's usually like that" which gave you relief.

"Good," you whispered back, "for a moment there, I thought she hated my guts."

"To be fair, she usually hates everyone's guts. Especially mine." Then, he placed a small kiss on your temple before pulling out a chair for you. "You'll do great, doll."

"Alright," Sharon started, glaring at Bucky, "shall we begin?"

The meeting lasted longer than you had liked it to be, and for a little while, it suddenly became an understanding of the difference between working with small, independent businesses and big businesses such as Sam's. Usually, you had a lot of artistic upper hand when it came to the small ones, seeing as they were still starting — and it was also where your college degree came in handy. You would talk to them about advertising, and marketing strategies through product photography. And that was that. But Sam's business already had something to start with.

Something already big.

In the middle of the presentation, Bucky reached for your hand under the table (which took you by surprise), hooking his pinky into yours.

"Just hold my pinky like this if this is too overwhelming for you." He whispered.

"Why the pinky?"

He just shrugged in response, a smile playing on his lips.

Sharon walked you all the way through it, careful not to miss any kind of detail, small or big: from the moment the business started (Sam working in retail, then reselling clothes, then making streetwear designs of his own until he landed on sporting apparels), and to what made the business grow what it is right now.

"Inclusivity." She continued, clicking on the next slide, "This is what The Falcons is going to be all about. Plus-size workout clothes, a huge array of colors suited for every skin tone — literally any color you can think of. We also have workout clothes and streetwear in one which means new designs and new materials. And of course, the new footwear. Bringing the light in speed, bringing new comfort, a new aesthetic, footwear for all. Again, inclusivity. Right in front of you," she pointed to all the sports apparel lying on the table, "are the new designs. We just received the first batch yesterday and we're expecting the second and last one hopefully this weekend just in time for the photoshoots any day next week."

"Me and the marketing team haven't actually discussed the photoshoot details, but they've had that with Sharon, seeing as she's the project head. All I have to do is approve it," Sam said, looking at you, "with you here, of course."

You nodded in agreement, then looked at Sharon. "Will we discuss, perhaps, half of it today?"

"Oh, I can discuss all of it." Sharon smugly replied. "I have a very promising proposal right here." She clicked the next slide, showing photos of various known models. "Let's start with the models. The new faces of the Falcons — "

"Hi, sorry. Can I weigh in on this one?" You interrupted as you scanned the faces of the models in front.

"I haven't finished yet."

You looked at Sam, who had his finger on his chin (assessing the situation), pleading with him with your eyes. "Go ahead, y/n." He said, nodding.

"Thank you, Sam." You replied then went back to the screen. "If I'm not mistaken, that's Kendall Jenner."

"Yes, it is."

"That's not exactly a new face." You argued. "And isn't she already an ambassador for Adidas?"

"It is a new face of The Falcons." She answered. "And she's actually ending her contract with Adidas. Something about breach of contract or some sort that I cannot legally discuss with outsiders."

"Where are the plus-size models?" You asked.

"I was actually getting to it." She clicked the next slide.

"Ashley Graham?"

"Yes, her. She's the perfect candidate."

You bit your lip, leaning forward on the table and unhooking your pinky with Bucky's. "Look, all of these models are gorgeous and handsome and good models but they're faces you see every single day on billboards — "

"Exactly. They're faces you see every single day." She repeated. "That means that these faces sell. And that's what we want for this release."

"I thought what you wanted was inclusivity." You frowned. "We should get people who are real athletes and models from different races, colors, and sizes. Real people, not these people you see every day on your phone or everywhere you go. These models are overrated, anyways." You faced Sam, who was listening intently. "Let's not get faces but stories instead. I believe that's what will separate The Falcons from these huge brands. It's a new release, right? Might as well make everything new."

Your words hung in the air, rendering the whole conference room quiet. Until Sharon broke it off. "Business doesn't work that way. I went to business school. I know how the system works."

You chuckled. "I majored in business and finance. Trust me, I know everything there is to know about business, not just you."

She was dumbfounded but tried to hide it, anyway. "But this is my proposal. You don't have a say on who we should get. You don't work for The Falcons."

"I know." You sighed. "But I'm working with you, and I have a say in this as much as you do." You glanced at Sam who was deep in thought. "But of course, Sam will always have the last say."

You leaned back in your chair, your chest heaving. With your eyes straight ahead, you grabbed Bucky's hand and hooked your pinky with his.

"Sharon," Sam started, "that was an excellent presentation and I humbly appreciate it but y/n does have a point. I wouldn't want these people representing The Falcons. I want people like me, people with stories to tell. Inclusivity isn't a marketing strategy, or a statement. It's what I believe in. And you," he swiveled his chair in your direction, "made a good case out of it."

You broke out in a smile, glancing at Bucky who also did the same. He now intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand three times.

"Sharon, find new models and athletes and have their profiles by next week. Let's think of it like... Kind of like a casting call." Sam said, standing up. "Now, let's dismiss this meeting 'cause I am starving."

-

"You have got to get a new assistant, Sam." Bucky groaned as you got inside Bucky's limo. You had lunch at some fancy restaurant in Manhattan before Sam showed you around the main store down Fifth Street.

You laughed, greeting Howard who gave you a smile through the rearview mirror. "She's the best assistant I could ever get."

"Please." Bucky said. "You could have better. She's just, ugh, I don't know, what's the word for someone who thinks she's better than everyone else in the room? Who hates practically everyone but goes to great, great lengths just to kiss your ass — "

"Alright, alright!" Sam cut him off, laughing. "I get it, man. But y'know I can't afford to lose her. It took me months to get a loyal and honest assistant."

"Ugh, fine."

"You just want her out because you're protecting your little babydoll."

"Jesus, Sam." Bucky said. "Stop calling her that."

"Yeah, stop calling me that." You frowned, leaning on Bucky's side and wrapping your hand around his muscular arm. "Only he gets to call me that."

"You guys make me sick." Sam joked.

You turned towards Bucky who had the end of his eyes, crinkled, and nose, scrunched. "Hey," you said, grabbing his attention, "did you get a text from Parker last night?"

His expression became relaxed, and looked at you. "Yes, actually. Something about a kid named Schmidt."

You chuckled. "Yeah, he's kind of a bully. Remind me to beat his ass when he comes to the bar. You won't miss him. He's got way too much gel in his hair, and too much of a know-it-all, kind of like, Ross Geller."

"Oh, I'd like to watch you beat someone up." Sam nodded, smirking. "You know what, I'd pay you to punch Parker."

"Oh come on, Sam." Bucky laughed.

"Nah, I'm kidding. I love that little kid. Speaking of Peter," Sam cleared his throat, "what are you guys gonna do when he gets back?"

You and Bucky fell silent, hooking your pinky with his once more. "We, uh," you glanced at Bucky who had his eyes on his shoes, "we haven't talked about it yet. But we will tell him, that's for sure. Right, James?"

His eyes shot up to yours, then at Sam. "Yes, yes, of course. I mean it's Peter. Of course, we'll tell him. Just not right away."

"What do you mean not right away?" You frowned.

"Well, we can't flat out tell the guy we're dating the moment he comes back. I don't want him to have a heart attack." Then, he bent down a little, leveling his mouth on your ear. "We are dating, right?"

"Well, we haven't talked about it and we're certainly not talking about it in front of Sam." You replied, glancing at Sam who was just staring at the both of you.

"We're here, Mr. Barnes." The partition pulled open, revealing Howard's voice. The three of you got out of the limo, the bar right just right in front. Before we even got to enter the bar, Sam tapped your shoulder and called out to Bucky.

"Do you mind if I borrow your girl for a moment? I'll just have to discuss something work-related."

Bucky turned around and glanced at the both of us. "Yes, sure." He pecked you on the lips then turned around to enter the bar.

"This is actually about Bucky." Sam said.

"Oh." You said. "Okay. What about Bucky?"

"I have to say, I haven't seen him that happy."

"Uh, isn't that supposed to be a good thing?"

"It is, it is! And I'm glad he has you."

"But?"

He sighed. "But just be careful with him. Look, y/n, he's a good guy and all; we're practically brothers... But he's a child. I've known him since we were teenagers. He's almost forty and not once has he had a serious relationship."

"What are you trying to say, Sam?"

"You've only known him for, what, a couple of weeks? Don't you think this is going a little too fast?"

"I like Bucky." You replied. "I genuinely do and what we do or how we do is honestly none of your business. It doesn't matter how long I've known him. I appreciate you looking out for Bucky, but Bucky's an adult. We're all adults here. We can handle ourselves."

"Just promise me one thing."

"Sure."

"Don't hurt my friend." He said. "He may act like this rich bitch just parading around town, getting by with his manly looks and shit, but he's a child. He doesn't know what he wants. If you hurt him, you'll also end up hurting yourself. So, be careful, alright? Think this through, and talk with him."

Silence.

"Promise me, y/n."

You nodded. "Yeah, I promise."

"Good. Now let's head in there, I need a drink."

"Wait, Sam." You said, making Sam stop in his tracks. "Do you think Bucky likes me as much as I do?"

"I can't say for sure." Sam replied before walking inside.

You leaned your back against the brick wall, hitting the back of your head. You closed your eyes, letting all your thoughts rush in.

Still feeling a little bit light-headed, you went inside (which was still empty except for Nat, Sam, and Bucky) and as soon as Nat's eyes landed on your figure, she whistled. "Oh wow, Mrs. Fancypants!"

You chuckled, removing your blazer, revealing the tight black tube top as it was getting a bit hot. "Shut up, Nat."

"Woah, somebody call the fire department 'cause it's getting hoooot in here!" Nat continued then tilted her head towards Bucky. "Hey big guy, if you're not gonna hit that, I will."

You rolled your eyes, chucking the blazer to her face. You turned to Bucky who was sitting in the usual booth with Sam. "She said the same thing to me about you."

"Don't expose me like that, y/n. Not. Cool."

You giggled, sliding in the booth and greeting Bucky with a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, you."

"Hey, doll." He smiled, placing his hand on your thigh and pulling you closer. "We were just talking about you."

You glanced at Sam, who was smiling at you. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "Don't worry, it's all good. And, y/n... That thing we talked about earlier."

"What about it?" You asked.

"We're good." He answered. "And to answer that last question, he does."

You beamed. "Really? He does?" You asked, as if Bucky wasn't even in the room.

"Yes, he really does."

"Hey, what are you guys talking about?" Bucky asked out of curiosity.

You glanced at Sam, smiling, "Oh, just this model I want for the shoot," and then you looked back at Bucky, "I was kind of having doubts for a hot minute over there about him, but, everything's fine. Everything's good."

"Good." He kissed your temple softly, making your heart flutter. "It should be."