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flowersforbucky · 4 months ago

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all's well that ends well to end up with you

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: SMUT, 18+ only mdni, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, nipple play, reader is afab, established relationship, no use of y/n, reader is described as being shorter than bucky, fluffy as hell, sweet domesticity

wrote this for my bb @embbarnes 💕 happy (very early) valentine's day, everyone!

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

You should have seen it coming from the moment that your two day mission was extended to a three day mission, but you naively held out hope that you’d be able to make it back home in time to salvage the second half of the day.

Getting back early enough to keep the seven o’clock dinner reservations that you’d made for a new, upscale steakhouse in Brooklyn would have been possible if a last minute thunderstorm hadn’t delayed your flight back to New York.

Now it’s already half past seven, and you’ll be lucky if you make it back home before midnight.

Truthfully, you don’t care about the dinner reservations. Sure, you’d heard great things about the food and you had been excited to go, but you could easily reschedule the reservations for another time. The only thing that you were truly bummed about was not getting to spend the day with Bucky.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Bucky had assured you that it wasn’t a big deal and that the two of you would make up for it when you were back home. He patiently reminded you that life doesn’t take holidays and special occasions into consideration when dishing out things such as extended work trips and inclement weather conditions.

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

By the time your flight lands in New York and you catch an Uber back to your apartment, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Bucky, of course, had offered to pick you up from the airport, but you had insisted that you were okay with getting an Uber, not wanting him to get out so late at night in the heavy rain.

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

Knowing Bucky, he’s likely been living off of instant Ramen since you left for your trip, so you figure he’ll be ecstatic over a late night pizza. Not to mention, you’re famished yourself – all you’ve eaten since lunch being the pack of Biscoff cookies you’d been given on the plane.

Lugging your suitcase, a backpack, and the large pizza box, you fumble with your keys before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

It’s almost completely dark, minus low orange lighting that trickles into the hallway from the kitchen.

“I’m home, baby,” you call softly as you approach the kitchen’s entryway. “I know it’s late, but I brought you some pizza, if you're hun—”

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames.

You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons.

It looks straight out of a romance movie.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.”

Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you.

“You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?”

You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

“Of course for you,” he murmurs with a low chuckle. He saunters over to where you’re still standing with the pizza box clutched in your hands, and pulls what appears to be a bouquet of flowers in a large mason jar out from behind his back.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers.

Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers.

Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

Your eyes begin to well with tears that threaten to spill over. You quickly blink them back, not wanting to show just how emotional the ornate, colorful arrangement of plastic flowers is making you.

Not just the bouquet – all of it. The food and the wine, the balloons, the candles, the forties music playing lowly from the record player in the living room – the sheer amount of time and attention that he put into creating such a romantic display, and all from the comfort of your home.

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, wiping away a stray tear with sleeve of your sweater. You place the mason jar of the plastic flowers in the midst of the spread of food in front of you, making the scene complete.

“It’s all perfect.” He opens his arms to you, and you happily melt into his embrace. He smells of his familiar earthy cologne, and you can’t help but inhale deeply, relishing in the comfort of his scent and warmth.

Even if you’d come home to him passed out in bed, you would’ve been ecstatic to just crawl under the covers beside him. All of this is more than you ever would have hoped for.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad.

“Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart.

His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

“I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

“Still. I’m going to make it up to you,” you promise with a feather light kiss to his lips. “I promise. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to—”

You’re cut off by a low rumbling noise that sounds from between your bodies – a reminder that you haven’t eaten a substantial meal in twelve hours now. You glance over to the plates of food on the island beside you, inhaling the delicious aroma of the dishes.

“I made an educated guess that you’d be hungry,” Bucky chuckles. He reluctantly drops his hold on your waist and moves to pull the barstool out for you. You hop up, taking your seat in front of a heaping plate of pasta and a bowl of French onion soup. Your stomach growls again at the sight.

“Did you make all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. It’s not that Bucky is a bad cook – he has a few go-to meals that are always excellent, but he normally doesn’t stray too far out of his comfort zone.

“I did not,” he admits with a sigh. He takes a seat directly across from you. “I ordered takeout from the bistro down the street before they closed earlier. Heated it all back up when you texted me that you were almost home.”

“Well, it’s fucking delicious,” you mumble through a mouthful of the creamy pasta.

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

You both end up being too full of pasta and soup to eat any of the pizza that you’d brought home, but you’re happy that you’ve got a whole pizza to look forward to having for lunch tomorrow.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him after swallowing the last sip of your wine. “For all of this. It was more than I could’ve hoped for today.”

He reaches across the counter, grabbing your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. “Of course,” he murmurs against your skin, eliciting goosebumps down your arm. “As much as I wish we could’ve spent the day together, I still wanted to make the last hour of it as special as possible.”

He stands, releasing your hand as he begins to collect the empty plates and glasses. “You go on and get ready for bed, yeah? I’ll clean up in here.”

“Nonsense. It's almost midnight. These dishes can wait until the morning. Just stick them in the sink and come shower with me.”

You don’t even care if the whole apartment still smells of garlic and French onion soup in the morning – you’ve been showering and sleeping without him for the last week, and it’s still technically Valentine’s Day, so you’ll allow the dirty dishes to sit for the next eight hours.

To your pleasant surprise, he needs no further convincing. He piles the dirty dishes into the kitchen sink and puts the uneaten pizza in the fridge while you get the shower water up to temperature. By the time his pajamas fall to the bathroom floor, you’re already standing under the hot stream of water.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time.

His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

“I can tell,” you giggle, pulling his face down to yours by the back of his neck. His mouth slates over yours, his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip. You part your lips for him right away, more than ready to feel and taste him after all of your time away.

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

His erection gains your attention as it juts against your belly. You reach between your bodies, taking his length in your hand and stroking him with ease, the water from the shower making his skin slick.

You whimper above him, desperate for some release. He laughs, peppering kisses across your breasts and up your neck. You feel him smiling into the column of your throat.

“I think you missed me, too,” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice etched with impatience. “Why don’t we hurry and get out this shower so I can show you just how much I missed you?”

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

You do as he says, turning around to face the shower wall. You brace yourself against the tiles with your forearms, relaxing as he begins to massage the soap across the tops of your shoulders and down your back.

He takes his time, lazily rubbing the skin of the backs of your thighs before reaching around and doing the same to your stomach and chest. As good as it feels, all you can focus on is the head of his cock nudging against the curve of your ass.

“Bucky.”

The word comes out somewhere between a moan and a warning – a warning that if he doesn’t finish lathering your body in the next two seconds so you can rinse the fuck off, you’re going to take matters into your own hands.

“What is it, baby?” he asks innocently, stepping forward ever so slightly so that his cock inches between the space where your thighs meet your ass.

You turn back to face him, grabbing the loofah out of his hand and tossing it to the opposite end of the shower. The stream of water that beats down against your bodies washes the suds down the drain.

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?”

“Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him.

“Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own.

In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

“Not gonna cum in your mouth,” he answers when he looks down to see your questioning stare. “Not tonight. Missed you too much.”

He pulls you up by the tops of your arms and eases you back against the shower wall once more. He then takes your place on the floor, kneeling in front of you. He trails kisses along the wet skin of your thighs as he hooks one over his shoulder. He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds.

Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you.

The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers.

He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your cunt clenching around his thick vibranium finger as he sucks your clit until you go still above him.

It's then that it hits you that the water from the shower has started to run cold.

“Come on,” Bucky says, rising as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns the faucet off and grabs the two towels that hang over the glass wall of the shower, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. “Let's get out of here. I’ve got one more gift to give you before we continue this.”

“Another gift? You’ve already done so much. I didn’t even get—”

He gently shushes you with a sly grin, exiting the shower before you can protest any further. You pat your skin dry before securing the towel around your chest and then follow him into your shared bedroom.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

You grab a bottle of lotion off of your bedside table and begin lathering it onto the skin of your legs as you watch Bucky rummage through the drawer of his own nightstand. After a moment, he pulls out a small, dark red colored box.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you.

You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center.

You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you.

“Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, you want it on you right now.

Bucky takes the box from you, carefully removing the necklace. You turn away from him, letting him drape the delicate chain around your neck. The charm lands just below your clavicle.

“There,” he murmurs as he clasps the chain together. You turn back to face him, letting him see his initial displayed across your chest. “Perfect.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.”

“Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

••••••

thanks so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes imagine

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retrosabers · 5 months ago

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𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

#retrosabers #sid writes shit #ficmas #ficmas 2024 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier #sebastian stan

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ailoda · 5 months ago

Text

updated: 09.03.25

ᯓ★ smut

Delirium (✘): stranded in the middle of the alaskan wilderness with no means of communication after being exposed to a foreign drug, you're reluctant to accept help from the one person who has a shot at saving you. - avenger!reader (@flowersforbucky) (warning: sex pollen, i.e., dub-con, explicit verbal consent prior)

Special Girl (❤❅✘✧): being friends with benefits definitely has its perks, especially when the friend in question is as hot as Bucky Barnes - but when you're feeling insecure about the arrangement, Bucky makes it clear to you that you're more than just a friend. @kinanabinks) (warning: mentions of neglectful childhood)

Scary? My God, You're Divine (❤✘): your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? - mob!au (@sinner-as-saint)

Sting (✘): TattooArtist!Bucky praising you during a session. (@adrinktostopyourthirst)

↪︎ Fling (✘): your tattoo artist left you hanging and you’re fed up enough to come and collect his excuse. (part two)

Blurred Lines (❤❅✘✧): when choosing a female agent to send back in time to gain young Sergeant Barnes's trust, everyone's in agreement that it should be Sharon. Until Bucky, the man that you barely get along with, speaks up and lets everyone know that it could only be you. (@ellemj)

Closer (✘): you’d never felt like this before, it was like some primal instinct deep down inside of you. You just needed to be close to him. The only problem was that you were already wrapped in his arms and it still didn’t feel close enough. (@tom-holland-parker)

Water Proof (✘): Bucky Barnes is pretty sure that his arm is water proof. He'd been in water with it before. Turns out his arm can handle water, but not p*ssy juice. (@vivwritesfics)

Book Boyfriend (✘): Bucky is better than any book boyfriend. You'll prove it to him. (@navybrat817)

In Your Arms I'm Born Again (❤✘): you want to find out exactly how many times is too many times for the super soldier. (@bonky-n-steeb)

What Are Friends For (✘): when you threaten to swear off men for good after your last bad date, your neighbour and friend offers to help change your mind. (@gogolucky13)

Down Bad (✘): Bucky using his metal hand as a vibrator. (@flowersforbucky)

I Hate You (✘): after ending up on SHIELD's radar, you're moved into the tower against your will. Of course, you can't stand the one man that you have the most in common with. (@ellemj)

Play Pretend (✘): when Bucky is injected with a substance that leaves him desperate for release, you offer your help. (@wkemeup) (warning: sex pollen trope, i.e., dub-con)

A Quiet Escape (✘): during a holiday stay at Clint Barton’s home, you’ve been desperately trying to steal a moment alone with Bucky—your super-soldier boyfriend—but the Avengers are constantly interrupting. Between Clint’s kids, Steve’s “bromantic” grocery runs, and Nat pulling Bucky into sparring sessions, it feels like you’re constantly fighting for his attention. Frustration finally boils over when you confront Bucky about your lack of privacy, only to discover he’s just as eager for some alone time as you are - and willing to do anything to get it. (@thebarneschronicles)

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey (✘): when Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious? (@thevillainswhore)

Caught Myself A Cute Little Doll (✘): the Winter Soldier caught himself a cute little doll. (@sergeantbarnessdoll)

Pretty Little Thing (✘): your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it’s impossible to avoid serving him for the first time. (@marvelouslizzie)

Now or Never (✘): based off the prompts "You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart." (@fandoms-writings)

Touch Starved (✘): this was inspired by a tweet and his gif I saw on twitter. You accidentally walk in on Bucky touching himself when he thinks he is alone. Turns out he is thinking about you. (@mrsbuckybarnes1917)

I Don't Want You Like A Best Friend (❅✘): Bucky can't decide if the universe loves him or hates him. Maybe it loves to hate him. Maybe it's mischievous. Because he’s in love. He’s madly, deeply, painfully in love with a girl that he knows he’ll never have. Because the heavens created arguably the most perfect creature in their repertoire, dangled you in front of him for his entire life, and chose to rip you away before he had the chance to tell you how he felt. (@brunchable)

↪︎ Part Two (❤✘): it's only been a few hours since you've become official and Bucky want to show you just how much you mean to him.

All's Well That Ends Well To End Up With You (❤✘): Bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together. (@flowersforbucky)

Stay For A Fortnight (✘): “yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.” (@thyme-in-a-bubble)

Devil's In The Backseat (✘): a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected, or getting fucked in front of a mirror. (@flowersforbucky)

Sesame & The Sweetheart (❤✘): you've been on a few dates with Bucky now, and the sexual tension is at an all-time high. After another cute date, you realize you can't keep your hands off him for very much longer. (@kinanabinks)

Heartwood (❤✘): after Sam’s party, Bucky begins to navigate uncharted territory as he works to balance his growing feelings and lingering insecurities in his blooming relationship. - lumberjack!bucky (@vunblr)

new! New Tricks (❤✘): after your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him. Instead, what unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin. (@thevillainswhore)

new! Computer Chair Smut (❅✘): after weeks of arguing, you thought your relationship with Bucky was near the end. That was until you held something positive in your hand. (@crowsofdarkness)

new! Restraint (✘): you rush to Bucky's side when he's hit with a a super serum booster out in the field so that you can...take care...of him. (@mrs-elsie-barnes) (warning: sex-pollen trope (ish), i.e., dub-con)

new! Desperate Measures (✘): when you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer. (@simplyholl) (warning: sex-pollen trope, i.e., dub-con)

new! Beach Day (✘): beach day with some of the Avengers turns into a little private time with Bucky. (@crowsofdarkness)

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gutsby · 1 year ago

Text

Joel Miller

Waiting Game (dbf!Joel)

Joel has mastered the art of self-control in all areas except one: not fucking his friend’s daughter. A cross-country road trip home from college takes a hard turn when he’s forced to share a motel room with you.

One shots for the Waiting Game ‘verse

Homemade: While your dad’s watching a movie downstairs, you and his best friend decide to make one of your own.

Diehard: Joel tries Viagra for the very first time.

Ruined!: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Cabin Fever (Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader) [DEAD DOVE]

Joel saves your life, but help comes at a price.

Confines: Joel locks you up in a subterranean bunker.

Finders Keepers (bfd!Joel)

When you find an old shirt of Mr. Miller’s lying around, you can’t resist. When he finds you humping a pillow and moaning his name, neither can he.

Cry, Baby

Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.

Just Peachy [anal]

Joel’s got a jealous streak and a bold idea.

Wingman (himbo!Joel crackfic)

Your bestie braves the tampon aisle for you.

Watch Your Mouth

Joel teaches you to keep quiet during sex.

Love Tap (dad!Joel)

Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

If You Like Piña Coladas (neighbor!Joel)

You secretly make Joel a profile on Hinge. Then he shows you exactly why he doesn’t need one.

My Body, His Choice [freeuse]

After a long day, Joel just needs some relief.

Who’s Your Daddy? (stepdad!Joel)

You get stuck in the washing machine. Thankfully, your stepdad is around to help you out.

Make It Stick

Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Stiff: At fifty-nine, Joel isn’t sure his dick can keep up with every day it’s going to take to get you pregnant. He seeks help from Jackson’s local apothecary and gets more than bargained for when that little blue pill kicks in.

Stuck: Joel gets nominated to play Santa Claus for Jackson’s holiday festivities. Of course, you’re into that.

Cowboy Killers

On a mission to find—and fight—your best friend’s lying, cheating boyfriend at the bar, you end up throwing your drink in the wrong face and landing in a sticky situation with Joel Miller, who never plays fair.

Seeing Pink [DD/LG]

Joel steals more of your innocence every day. Fortunately, you love to give as much as he loves to take.

Easy to Please (sleazy landlord!Joel)

Months pass, and you can’t make rent—again. You find another way to pay your sleazy landlord. Again.

Wants and Needs (sugar daddy!Joel)

Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Bigger in Texas

Joel won’t fit.

Trashed (trailer park!Joel)

You fuck Joel in his filthy double-wide.

Too Close for Comfort

You’ve been babysitting Sarah Miller forever. One day, you’re surfing the web on her dad’s computer, and you find some…unusual things in his search history.

Brighter Times (dark!Joel)

You’ve always been Joel’s favorite. Always.

Older, Bolder (GILF!Joel)

Joel can’t get it up.

Marcus Acacius

Bloodline

The General needs an heir.

Bucky Barnes

Wedded Bliss (Mob!Bucky)

The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Daryl Dixon

Dead Ringer

Weeks of separation and sexual frustration come to a head when Daryl pays you a visit in the middle of the night. Whether it's the product of your own sex-deprived subconscious or reality, you can't be sure—and couldn't care less. Daryl wants to fulfill the fantasy any way he can.

Easy Street

You steal a cop car and almost run Daryl over en route to the Sanctuary. You can’t decide if you want to fight him, fuck him, or bring him back to Negan. Lucky for you, Daryl is game for all three.

Nighthawk

You decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off your breakup with Daryl. Your ex isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Cherry Pie

You know virtually nothing about sex, and Daryl’s done it all. Together, you take on an impromptu anatomy lesson, and you learn that Daryl has a lot more to teach you than what’s covered in the textbooks.

Walker Bait

An unforeseen foray into a sex shop leaves you and Daryl trapped between a plastic cock and a hard place as a herd of walkers closes in. Angry sex ensues.

Grow a Uterus and We’ll Talk

Daryl has a bad case of baby fever, to put it lightly. You’re practically terrified of children. Rick lends you his kid for the night, and together, you come to learn that parenthood might not be the worst thing in the world. Even easier than baking muffins, one might say.

Honey Trap

You’ve been tasked with two simple jobs: infiltrate Alexandria’s community and bring intel back to your boss by any means necessary. When your entry point into the group takes the form of a familiar blue-eyed archer, you expect this to be your easiest gig yet—that is, until your prey decides to hunt you back.

Pregnant Pause

Babymaking is a bit trickier than anticipated, and months have passed with no sign of pregnancy. When your period finally doesn’t show up on time, you and Daryl act fast and head straight for the pharmacy—and get a little caught up along the way.

Mr. Dixon

Your efforts to seduce the DILF next door have all failed spectacularly, so you decide a wet hot car wash in front of his house is in order. Mr. Dixon is less than impressed with your antics and plans to teach you a lesson in good manners and ‘neighborliness.’

I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Playing Dangerous

Working undercover in a seedy part of town, homicide detective Daryl sees you in your skimpy club attire and mistakes you for a hooker. A wrongful arrest makes for a funny way to foreplay, but you’re still game.

Fake It Til You Make It (Or Drown)

Daryl finds out you faked an orgasm. Instead of getting mad, he decides to get even.

Best Served Cold

Since your fiancé can’t seem to keep his hands off of Lori, you decide Daryl is the perfect way to make him pay. Revenge sex has never felt so good.

Coming Soon:

Bite the Bullet

Back at the prison, new recruits have been showering you with gifts. One of these presents doesn’t sit quite right with Daryl, and he decides it’s time to let the men know just how he feels—and who you belong to.

Atlantic City

A very drunk Daryl meets a stripper in Jersey and wastes no time putting a ring on her finger. With the late, great Elvis Presley presiding, the two get hitched in a slipshod ceremony a couple weeks before the world descends into chaos. This marriage may be short-lived, but damn if the honeymoon won’t be one to remember.

Requests are open!

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holylulusworld · 5 months ago

Text

How to cure a grump (1)

Summary: You're losing your job on Christmas.

Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss

How to cure a grump masterlist

“Santa Claus is coming to town,” you sing along to the song blaring from your phone. You’re, as so often, the last one at the office.

Before the holidays, most of your colleagues try to get out of the office as early as possible. They have better plans than to work like busy ants two days before Christmas.

Sadly, you didn’t get to leave on the clock. Your boss demanded your attention. You couldn’t join your colleagues at the little Christmas party you organized for weeks.

Now they will all exchange the Secret Santa gifts you got for most of them, drink eggnog, and sing awful Christmas songs while you are stuck here with your grumpy boss.

“Miss Y/L/N, I need the numbers now." Mr. Barnes doesn’t even walk toward your desk. He simply barks orders your way.

You heave out a sigh and glance at the stack of papers on your desk. Before you get up to hand Mr. Barnes the numbers he wanted you to finish before the holidays, you save your work.

Grabbing the papers, you silently pray that Mr. Barnes won’t come up with more tasks. It’s long past your work time, and you’re tired and cranky. You’ll need a good night’s sleep and at least a day off before driving home for Christmas.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he barks as you are already halfway toward his office. Mr. Barnes huffs as you stumble over your own feet. “You know, I had better things to do than wait for the numbers. I have been waiting for hours. I think you’re the worst person working here.”

For a second, you’re stunned. You feel like Mr. Barnes slapped you across your face.

“Maybe if you asked the person responsible for the mistake to help you with the numbers, you'd like the outcome better. I worked overtime only to get yelled at!” You gasp. The words just flew out of your mouth, unfiltered and raw with emotions.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t work here any more then!” He bites back. It wasn’t a surprise to you that Mr. Barnes lost his temper. He’s always been a little hot-headed and grumpy. Mr. Barnes fired people here and there over the years. You just didn’t think you’d be one of them one day.

“You’re firing me after I fixed a mistake someone else made?” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t see anyone else standing in line to work through the numbers. I worked overtime before the holidays to do you a favor.”

“That’s your job,” he growls and points at the door. “Or was. I want you to pack your things and don’t come back.”

“Fine,” you huff and turn on your heels, regretting your mishap instantly. You’d apologize and even fall to your knees to get your job back. Sadly, Mr. Barnes is a strict man. He doesn’t accept mistakes or insubordination. Whatever you’d do or say, there was no way he’d give you your job back.

So, you got a box from the storage room, emptied your desk, grabbed your belongings, and left the building for the last time in your life. To hell with this job and your boss.

“Mom, stop asking questions,” you plead as your mother wouldn’t stop asking questions about your job.

“It’s all so exciting. Living in the big city, having friends you meet up at bars like Carrie in Sex and the City, and your job. It sounds wonderful!”

“Mom, I barely made any friends,” you sigh, and try to rub the embarrassment off your face. “I’d call them work friends or acquaintances.”

“I bet they are all too happy to have you around,” she coos and cups your face. “I know my Munchkin conquered the big city in no time.”

“Mom, I—” you sniffle and look away, ashamed. It never gets easy to lie to your mother. “I have to tell you something about the job.”

“What is it, Munchkin?” she asks, looking at you, worry in her eyes. She coos to you as you begin to cry. Starting anew after your long-term boyfriend and fiancé broke things up was the dream you wanted to fulfill. Now, you failed again.

“I got fired yesterday,” you sniff. “I worked overtime, and my boss yelled at me. I fixed someone else’s mistake, and he still yelled at me. I lost it and…” You shake your head and refuse to look at your mother.

“Y/N, that’s not the end of the world.” She wraps you in a warm embrace. The kind of embrace only a mother can give you. You feel warm and safe, remembering all the times she calmed you in times of need. “You’ll find a new job, a better one. If he fired you, that man doesn’t know how to value you.”

“The fuck no!” Bucky flings a stack of papers across the room. He tried to access your account, only to realize he never asked you to reset your password. Now he’s seething because most of your work, except the files you shared with colleagues and him, is password protected. “She forgot to reset the fucking password!”

“Well, you told her to pack her things and leave, Buck. What did you expect to happen?” Steve huffs. He had to leave his cozy home and wife to help Bucky with some unimportant paperwork. “We've got time to fix this until after the holidays.”

“Unimportant to you,” Bucky bites back. “I want this finished before the year ends.”

“Buck,” Steve snorts. “If you need her password, call her.” The blonde shrugs before turning to leave. “I know you are not the best at communicating, but I believe in you. You can handle a phone call with a woman you just fired.”

“I tried more than once,” Bucky snaps at his best friend and business partner. “She won’t answer. The last time I called, she blocked my number.”

“Yeah, because you fired her!” Steve replies, laughing. “I wouldn’t answer any call from an asshole firing me two days before Christmas, either.”

Bucky opens his mouth to reply. He huffs as his friend already walks toward the door.

“What shall I do now? I need the password!”

“If you cannot reach her, go to her home and ask for the password. I will go home now. Please don’t call me during Christmas. Natasha will rip me a new one if I miss Christmas.”

“She’s not home. I was there. Her neighbors told me that Y/N will spend Christmas at her parents’ house. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Buck,” Steve laughs. “You can fly to her hometown and ask her for the password. While on your way back, you can celebrate with a pretty stewardess in first class as every Christmas…”

How to cure a grump (2)

#bucky barnes #business au #ceo!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader

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shurisneakers · 21 days ago

Text

unsolved (xiii)

Summary: Bucky doesn’t even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet’s amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, forests, sabotaging

A/N: lmao so initially this was actually supposed to be released on Halloween last year bc it was the 13th chapter. but of course, The Horrors. so have a Halloween themed chapter in the middle of fucking April. good day to you all.

Previous part || Series masterlist

Bucky doesn’t do Halloween.

To be fair, Bucky doesn’t do most organised festive celebrations.

But Halloween specifically, is not for him.

He barely has energy to exist in real life, and now he has to do it with a costume? Like a little circus clown boy begging for claps?

No.

So even though the team has mostly done the most with what they can, and dressed up to celebrate the spirits of the holiday, he has chosen to stick to his usual.

He begins to feel the guilt twirling around his stomach when he finally makes his way to the event ground.

The whole Halloween fair felt like fall in a bottle. Rows of vendor stalls lined the main walkway, overpriced cider and hot chocolate competing for everyone’s attention. The air was thick with the scent of kettle corn, fried dough, and bonfire smoke, and at the very center of the fairground, a massive pumpkin display loomed. IT was carefully arranged, family-friendly, and absolutely begging to be destroyed.

There were costumes everywhere. Kids sprinting between hay bales in bandages and plastic fangs, groups of teenagers posing for selfies in group outfits, couples holding hands.

It was nice. It might even begin to thaw his cold, solid heart.

The groans and bullying that follows when he pulls up half an hour late is warranted but he holds his ground.

Hands balled into fists, chest pushed out and sturdy, he takes his usual place next to you, bracing for impact.

“You’re a bore,” you say without skipping a beat. “You’re like fun-antidote. Where is your costume?”

“I’m wearing a costume,” he says simply. “I’m A Guy.”

“Your costume cannot be guy. I knew this shit would happen. I had a costume delivered to you one month ago, where is it?”

“If you think I’m dressing like that Dr Seuss piece of shit, you’re deranged.” Bucky casts a look at you.

He opened the package, saw the red stripes and closed it right back up.

“There’s no way you showed up with nothing,” Nat scoffs.

“Clint wore a full Pikachu onesie,” Wanda offers, joining the group with a powdered sugar moustache.

“That’s because Clint has no shame.”

“I heard that,” Clint calls from somewhere. God knows where.

“You were supposed to,” Bucky fires back.

Nat raises an eyebrow. “C’mon Buck. Not even a little face paint?”

“Do I look like a man who owns face paint,” he says dryly, glaring when he suddenly notices a little detail. “Why’s everyone looking at me? This one’s not wearing a costume either.”

He juts a thumb towards you. You narrow your eyes.

“I’m literally wearing one right now,” you say, gesturing to yourself.

“You’re wearing a black t-shirt and combat boots,” he argues. “That’s clothes. It’s not a costume.”

“It’s a good costume,” Sam pipes up. “I get it.”

You beam at him. “Thanks.”

Bucky glances at you, then at Sam, then back at you again.

Nat, leaning back against the table, exhales a short laugh. “Really nailed the details.”

“Right?” You glance down at your fit.

She nods. “Very accurate.”

Bucky stares for a few more seconds, coming up short.

Finally, he grumbles, “Whatever. Where’s the video shoot?”

“You guys are shooting a video here?” Wanda asks, tearing off a piece of funnel cake and popping it into her mouth.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be fun to go through the corn maze. Local legends say it’s haunted by the spirit of teenagers who got lost in there years ago and never returned.” You shrug. “I’m gonna attach a GoPro onto Bucky’s head and set him free in there.”

“You make me sound like a rat.”

“You’re the handsomest rat I’ve ever seen, baby. If I were a piece of cheese, would you want me?”

“Stop.”

“You’re really just gonna go in there together, huh?” Sam pipes up casually.

Bucky looks at him weirdly, but Sam has the deeply self-satisfied smirk of a man about to be a menace.

You don’t even hesitate. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Corn mazes have a history, you know? Just saying. ”

“A history,” you repeat.

Nat, ever helpful, leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Classic teenage makeout spot.”

Bucky’s eye twitches.

“I wouldn’t know, I spent my teenage years blowing up buildings,” you reply.

Wanda hums. “That’s what they all say.”

“Literally who says this.”

“You’re not missing out. It’s cold and itchy and the whole place smells like hay,” Steve chimes in, doing his best to aid the situation.

Sam nods solemnly. “Yeah, but next thing you know, you’re lost with no cell service, standing real close, saying shit like ‘oh no, my flashlight batteries died, guess we have to huddle for warmth–””

Bucky groans. “It’s a fucking corn maze, not the catacombs. There’s no getting lost and huddling for warmth.”

Clint, appearing just in time to make this worse, tilts his head innocently. “Oh, you guys doing the Lover’s Lane?”

Bucky gestures aggressively at the fair map. “It says Field of Screams.”

“Sure can be a field of screams if this night goes well,” you add unhelpfully.

Bucky turns to Steve, clearly expecting him to be the voice of reason.

Steve, unfortunately, is already hiding a smile behind his drink.

Bucky’s jaw clenches.

“Assholes,” he mutters.

Sam claps him on the shoulder. “Have fun in the murder corn.”

Somewhere in the distance, the haunted house’s chainsaw gag goes off, followed by delighted screaming.

Bucky adjusts the camera strapped to his head like a miner’s torch. “I thought you were going as the tennis ball from that threesome movie.”

“Costume didn’t deliver in time. So I found something better.”

“What are you supposed to be?”

You ignore him, but there’s an amused expression on your face. “I know you think that because you’ve gotten to this point, you’ve gotten away with not having a costume. Unfortunately for you, I have come prepared.”

Before he can react, you shove a piece of fabric into his hands.

He holds it up, balled into his fist. “Is this–”

“The cape from the laughing gas group, yes.” You nod.

“I thought I got rid of this thing, where the hell did you get it from?” He lets it unravel in all its unironed, crinkly wonder.

“I would never let you get rid of a piece of art like this. Now look, you’ve got a solid costume.”

“I don’t need a costume.”

“Well, now you have one. Put it on.”

“No.”

“Put it on.”

“No.”

Five minutes later, he has a shitty full-length cape on as you stand at the entrance to a haunted corn maze.

The wind picks up just enough to make his cape move ominously. He elects to ignore it.

You adjust the camera on your head, tilting it toward him.

“Well, well, well,” you narrate,. “If it isn’t the dark lord himself.”

“I hope the ghosts take you first.”

“That’s what I love about you, Buck. Always looking out for me.”

Bucky shakes his head, pulling the cape tighter around his shoulders when the wind threatens to blow it away.

The archway is wrapped in dim string lights, flickering unsteadily.

Beyond it, the corn stands tall and unmoving, the entrance swallowing the path ahead in a thick, oppressive darkness.

“Alright, you ready?” you turn to him.

He sighs. “Always.”

________

The night is alive.

The festival’s noise carries even through the thick walls of corn, muffled laughter and distant screams bleeding through the cracks, the occasional blast of music from a game booth still loud enough to reach you guys.

Teenagers run ahead, scaring their friends before the actors even get the chance.

Bucky walks beside you, hands tucked into the pocket of his cargo pants.

A breeze kicks up, rustling through the maze.

From somewhere to your right, a group of college kids run screaming out of one of the side paths, shoving each other as they trip over their own feet.

Bucky watches them, expression completely unimpressed. “They paid twenty bucks to get chased through corn by a guy in a mask.”

“We also have done that,” you remind him.

You walk for a while in no particular direction, just following the winding, trampled-down paths. Nothing creepy has happened yet.

“I had a place like this growing up,” Bucky mutters, stepping over a stray piece of corn husk.

You glance at him. “A haunted maze?”

“A fair. Smaller than this, but same kind of deal. Seasonal. My parents used to take us before it got too cold.”

You hum. “What’d they have?”

“The usual,” Bucky says. “Rides, caramel apples, bad magic acts. There was a fortune teller I was scared of when I was a kid.”

“You were scared of a fortune teller?”

“She was fuckin’ aggressive for a woman whose entire job was pretending to read palms. I didn’t even want to do it. My parents paid ‘cause Becca begged, and then she got too scared to go near her. I got thrown in so it didn’t up being a waste of a few bucks.”

“Becca betrayed you.”

“Sold me out immediately.”

You laugh. There’s a faint smile on his face as he walks through the godforsaken corn.

“I had a fair once,” you say. “It wasn’t real. But they called it a festival.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“There was a little town outside the facility,” you say, stepping over a raised tree root. “Once a year, they’d set up these tests. The whole thing was so weird. Gave us candy. Let us play games. Just to see if we could blend in.”

“HYDRA did something similar.”

You snort. “You guys ever do the winter carnival, or was that unique to usl?”

Bucky groans. “Always fucking Winter Wonderland or Halloweentown.”

You laugh, kicking at a loose pile of hay. “I used to steal candy.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Without getting caught?”

“They probably knew,” you admit. “But they never stopped me. Maybe that was the test.”

Bucky hums, before saying gruffly. “Maybe it was just a win.”

You hold his gaze for a second. The careless upturn of his lip is enough to make you forget what nonsense you were about to say.

You wonder how much footage you’d have to edit out if it was just staring at his dumb, pretty face in silence.

A breeze shuffles the corn.

The distant scream of another maze runner echoes through the night.

It’s enough to snap you out of whatever the hell this is.

The festival noise is still going strong, bleeding into the maze, distant music mixing with the hum of people.

You reach a split in the path. A fork in the maze, with two equally stupid-looking trails leading deeper into the field.

Bucky stops, tilting his head slightly, scanning both directions.

You, on the other hand, just pick a side based on what the vibes emanating from them were.

“This way,” you say, already stepping toward the left.

Bucky does not move. “That’s the wrong way.”

“Excuse me?”

Bucky gestures down the right path. “That’s the way out.”

You fold your arms. “How do you know?”

“Because I do.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

You tilt your head. “Did you fucking map out the way to the exit?”

“No,” Bucky lies.

“That defeats the whole point of a maze.”

“It’s called situational awareness.”

“It’s called being a control freak,” you correct.

Bucky exhales sharply.

You gesture down the path you picked. “So what happens if I go this way?”

“You get lost.”

“Or.”

“No.”

“Or–”

“I’m not going the wrong way.”

“Fine. It appears that we have reached an impasse.” You pause, considering for a second. “I fear that our journey together ends here. Catch you on the flipside, partner.”

Bucky watches as you take a slow, exaggerated step backward down the left path.

“Are you seriously splitting us up?” he asks dryly.

“It is not I who refuses to tread the path of integrity.”

Bucky glares.

You take another step, arms crossed over your chest, combat boots pressed into the dirt.

He’s about to give in and follow your stupidass plan, when it suddenly clicks for him. Honestly, once he gets it, he’s embarrassed at how long it took.

“Is your fuckin’ costume s’pposed to be me?” Bucky’s jaw drops open slightly.

A grin breaks across your face and it’s enough of an answer for him.

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” He takes a long, hard look at your ridiculous outfit. “What is wrong with you?”

“I think I did great,” you say, pulling at the hem of your black t-shirt. “I even made sure the shade was right.”

“You think you’re hilarious.”

“I do, yeah. Now let’s get a move on.” You clap your hands. “This maze ain’t gonna solve itself.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you dressed like that.”

“Afraid people are gonna think we’re the same person?”

Bucky crosses his arms over his chest. You do the same.

“Stop.”

“I’m just existing, man.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“Now who said that?” You narrow your eyes. “I’m dressed like the hottest person I know besides myself, you should take it as a compliment”

Bucky mumbles something under his breath, taking a step towards the path on the right.

“I see you’ve made your choice. The wrong one, but I respect it.” You salute. “See you on the other side, Barnes.”

And just like that, you disappear down the path.

Bucky stands there for a few seconds in silence.

Then, grudgingly, he starts walking again, taking his route. The correct route.

The festival noise is still there, still steady.

Bucky isn’t worried.

Because, first of all, it’s a corn maze.

Second of all, he’s already sure he knows the way out.

The first few minutes alone, he doesn’t think about it much.

He walks, eyes scanning the paths, the layout, the movement of people up ahead.

Unfortunately with the way his brain is hardwired, It doesn’t take him long to see the pattern.

The jump scares are timed.

The actors cycle between three or four spots.

The lighting is only dim enough to be “spooky,” but there are clear emergency lanterns posted at every exit route.

All things considered, it’s shockingly easy to navigate, so he wonders what’s so haunted about it in the first place.

By the time he reaches the third scare actor, he’s already figured out that they’re all positioned in the exact same intervals.

A few minutes later, the familiar mechanical rev of a chainsaw sounds through the corn again.

Bucky sighs, already exhausted.

The actor jumps out from the corn, mask on, chainsaw lifted dramatically.

Bucky stares.

The actor stares back.

There’s a long, painful pause.

Bucky slips past him and keeps walking.

_______

“How much fuckin’ corn is there?” he mumbles by the time he hits the next split in the path.

He hasn’t heard from you in a while, which doesn’t make sese because he should have run into you at some point. He would never admit it out loud but he would rather your incessant chattering than silence.

Seemingly ten minutes into his neverending trek, he pulls out his phone to track his way back to Steve using the damn Find My Phone bullshit

No signal.

He exhales sharply. Taps the screen a few more times, holds it above his head and even rotates it a few times.

Still nothing.

It’s annoying, sure. But beyond that, something about it feels vaguely unsettling.

The maze wasn’t that far away from the fair.

It wasn’t like he’d wandered into the woods.

He should have cell service.

He grumbles, putting his phone back into his pocket, continuing on.

_________

The paths aren’t endless.

The entire attraction is contained within the fairgrounds, wedged between the parking lot and the hayride station, which means if he just keeps moving in a straight line, he should hit the outer edge eventually.

Or at the very least, run into a staff member making sure no dumbass teenagers try to cut through the corn and ruin the layout.

And yet he’s been walking for a while now.

No exits are showing up.

Which is annoying. Because he’s usually good at this kind of thing.

If he can navigate a city he barely recognizes, evade people trying to kill him, track movement through urban terrain with nothing but a loose trail, then he should be able to walk out of a goddamn festival attraction.

But the paths just keep twisting, folding back into each other.

The maze stretches longer than it should.

EVen though he’d figured it out, Bucky doesn’t immediately notice it.

He’s too focused on just moving forward. Getting to the end.

But after another few turns, another five minutes of silence, it finally registers.

There hasn’t been a single scare in a while.

The last was what, ten minutes ago?

Before that, they had been stationed at every few turns, jumping out at whatever happened to wander through.

Bucky stops.

The corn doesn’t rustle the way it usually does.

It stands tall and eerily frozen.

Bucky tilts his head slightly and listens.

But the fairground is further away than it should be.

There’s still wind.

It's still chilly.

Like it’s been pushed back a little further with every turn he’s taken.

Which doesn’t make sense.

Bucky exhales, shaking it off, shaking it loose, refusing to acknowledge the stupid, creeping frustration in his chest.

This is fine.

He keeps moving because at some point, it has to end.

The sky is still clear.

The night is dark.

He rounds the next turn--

Agonizing minutes later, Bucky knows he should have found an exit by now.

Even if he somehow took the longest possible route, even if he completely lost track of where he was going, he should have hit the fairground again by sheer accident.

And finally, he sees something different.

A scarecrow.

Lying in the middle of the path.

It's an old, rotting, weatherworn thing that doesn’t belong in a festival attraction.

The wood is splintering at the edges. The burlap sack tied around its head is molded and sun-bleached. The hat it’s wearing is barely holding together.

And its arms, long and stiff and thin, aren’t stretched out the way scarecrows usually are, instead pressed tight against its sides.

Bucky stares at it.

A long, slow moment passes.

“What the fuck’s your deal?” he asks.

It does not answer. Obviously.

He stares for a few more seconds, raising his leg to step beside it and move on–

Something touches him.

His entire body locks up for half a second, reflex screaming at him to step back, to turn, to fight.

It’s barely anything.

A whisper of sensation, a brief, feather-light press against the metal of his wrist.

Not a grab. Not a push. Just contact.

And then there’s a giggle.

Soft, small sound that feels like it’s been yanked straight out of another life.

It takes a secodn to register that his pulse is hammering now.

Because it’s been months of this. Of coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t just imagining it.

Not from cold, clamping fear.

Something else.

The giggle sounds again, a few feet away this time.

She’d been following him. Watching him. Waiting for a chance to get him alone and-- God, what?

What was she going to do?

His head snaps towards the sound, trying to zero in on it outside of the rustling of stems.

When it floats by again, it’s further away.

His feet move before his mind registers it.

Soft peals of laughter, the same when he’d let her draw all over his sketchbooks, when he’d douse her in water from the hose, when his dad would throw her under his arm and carry her around.

It doesn’t matter.

He rounds the corner fast, boots skidding slightly on the packed dirt.

The air is colder now than ten minutes ago, stinging his skin. Or maybe that’s just in his head.

The laughter leads him around another corner, and the weight in his chest grows more desparate.

Because if she’s there, he can tell her everything he’s been thinking of for months now.

That he’s sorry, that he’d do whatever it takes to get her to rest–

He opens his mouth to call out her name–

He bounds down the path, heart hammering and eyes wide.

His feet skid to a halt, boots grinding into the ground when he almost collides straight into something.

Someone.

But no.

Face tucked behind a Jason Vorhees mask, fake machete resting on a shoulder.

Not her.

“Woah,” it says, “the hell are you running from?”

Bucky stops immediately, breathless.

It doesn’t take even a second to register the voice.

In the same short second, it is gone.

The giggle. The touch on the inside of his wrist.

It’s all gone.

And in its place, it’s you.

You’re standing like you’ve been waiting for him, mask lopsided, fake machete swinging lazily in one hand, like you just wandered in from a completely different reality.

Fuck. He’d been sure. So sure.

But then it’s you, pulling the mask up till it rides up your forehead.

“Look who finally showed up,” you say brightly, grinning like you haven’t been wandering the maze in abandoned slasher cosplay for god knows how long.

“I’ve been trying to find an exit for, like, half an hour. Got so bored I was about to float up and look for you from the sky.”

He doesn’t say anything, heart in his mouth.

He doesn’t smile.

He probably doesn’t even blink, head turning as he scans the area for any sign.

You cock your head at him. “...You good?”

“Yeah,” he says too fast. “Fine.”

She wasn’t here.

You give him a look. One you’ve used before.

He forces his hands to stay loose at his sides. Tries not to look like he’s still coming down from something. Tries not to think about the soft giggle he’d heard minutes ago, or how badly he’d wanted to find the source.

“You been in here the whole time?” he asks finally.

You nod. “Yeah. I got bored. The actors vanished a while ago. I found the mask and figured, why not.” You hold up the machete. “Also this. Very high-quality prop. Very stabby.”

He raises an eyebrow. Barely.

“I was gonna jump-scare someone, but no one’s been around.” You pause. “Except you, apparently.”

He's not entirely sure he's in the same plane of existence as you.

His gaze flicks over you again, with your mask, weapon, loose smile. Still completely unaware that he just nearly walked out of the last twenty years chasing a memory, only to find you instead.

He swallows. Pushes the feeling back down.

“Thought you said you were gonna levitate out.”

“I was!” You grin. “But then you showed up. How was your night?

He doesn’t answer right away.

Finally he just exhales for the first time in what seems like years.

“It was fine.”

But the longer you look at him, the less sure you seem.

You study his face, squinting. “You look like you saw something.”

“Didn’t.”

You chew on that for a second, eyes still on him, before saying, “You’ve been weird, you know.”

Bucky tilts his head slightly.

“Like, not just tonight. After some of these shoots. Not all of them. Just… some.”

Bucky says nothing. He knew it wouldn't be too long before you brought this up.

You go on anyway. “At first I thought it was just your usual ‘why am I involved in this bullshit’ thing, but it’s not that. Not every time. Some of these places are different. You come back quiet.”

You shift the machete from one hand to the other. It feels stupid, suddenly.

“I haven’t said anything,” you add. “Because I figured if you didn’t want to be here, you’d say something. But you haven’t and if this kind of stuff screws with your head in some way, we can pick other places. Or we can stop the show altogether. We don’t have to keep doing this if it’s messing with you.”

You look back at him now. Direct. Steady.

Bucky doesn’t flinch.

It would be easy to lie. Easier than explaining.

So he clears his throat, looks down the path where the maze bends gently left. “Good to know.”

Something soft on his cheek tugs his face back.

He looks back at you, a small crease between his eyebrows.

You hold his face in place softly, but the look on your face is firm. "We don't have to continue the show. I'm being serious. It's not worth it if you--"

Bucky watches you trail off, but your hands don't let go of his face.

"I know," he says, voice a bit quieter, more tired.

Your gaze is intense, but he holds it. His throat constricts a bit when he swallows.

“Well. I was headed for apple dunking before this turned into a weird spiral. You coming?”

He knows you notice it.

Still, you don’t press. Just give him a small smile, search his face one last time before letting go.

“Yeah,” he says, letting out a deep exhale when you turn away from him.

“Good. I need a witness when I inevitably fight a twelve-year-old over a Fuji.”

“I will not take your side,” he manages to get out, following behind closely.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, casting a look over your shoulder. “But you’ll reap the rewards when I win.”

Bucky opens his mouth to say something in return, but shuts up when you slip your hand into his, interlacing your fingers and giving it a short squeeze.

His heart, poor fucking thing, probably won’t be able to handle another episode of racing tonight.

“Come on,” you say, swinging it back and forth. “You can buy me some cider.”

Bucky says something snappy, sighs a little and tightens his grip on your hand.

It takes a while before you finally see the fair.

You push a few stalks aside and sigh like you’ve just crossed a battlefield.

The fairground lights bleed brighter through the corn, the ambient noise getting louder with each step.

Bucky's kept his grip on your hand, but slipped it into the pocket of his jacket because the night only gets colder.

“I can’t believe I almost had to fly over this stupid maze just to find you,” you say. “What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?”

He shrugs. “Would’ve found a way out.”

“Oh?” you say, eyebrows lifting. “With what? Your ancient Boy Scout compass? Prayer? I was prepared to carry you out, you know.”

He snorts.

“Little rescue mission. One arm around your waist.”

He stops walking. “No.”

You blink innocently. “No?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? I can fly. Kind of.”

“I would rather die in the corn than be carried out like a wet cat.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Hasn’t Steve ever gotten a ride from Tony? I don’t hear him complaining about sitting on his teammate’s back.”

“Like he’s on a fucking horse?” Bucky says, scandalized. “No?”

“You’re emotionally allergic to help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“I know,” you say, turning to grin at him again. “But I’m gonna offer it anyway. Just to annoy you.”

The stupid Jason mask is still swinging at your collar, machete tucked like a trophy at your hip. Bucky rolls his eyes but can't help a smile from slipping out.

“Anyway,” you say casually, “I’m just saying, if I hadn’t found you, you’d still be in there. They’d name the field after you eventually.”

He doesn’t respond to that, but you catch him shaking his head.

You swing the machete against your leg like a toy. “Would the team have come looking for you if I hadn’t?”

Bucky glances at you. “Eventually.”

“Eventually,” you repeat. “Cool. So like… couple of days?”

He shrugs. “Give or take.”

You nod sagely. “Okay. So if it takes you a few days to get rescued, I’m looking at what, two weeks? After someone trips over my skeleton by accident?”

He doesn’t look at you when he says, “That’s not how it works with us.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Us?”

He gestures vaguely. “The team.”

You scoff. “I literally had an entire PR team trying to erase me from the internet not too long ago.”

Bucky studies you with a sharp look for a few moments. You keep swinging the machete back and forth, one arm locked in place inside his jacket pocket.

“Do you think it was a coincidence,” he says finally, “that the week your article dropped, everyone just happened to go batshit insane?”

You blink at him. “What.”

“C’mon,” he says. “Steve makes a huge donation. Nat starts a fight on live TV. Clint breaks into a goddamn bank vault. Your story got the least coverage out of all of them.”

You frown slightly. “I thought that was just Avengers being Avengers.”

Bucky shrugs. “Nobody told anyone to do anything. They just did it loudly so you’d know whose side they were on.”

You fall silent for a moment. “Huh.”

He doesn’t push.

You don’t ask again, but you shuffle closer. He tries his level best to stay cool, and mostly succeeds.

The second you step out of the cornfield, it's like walking into a trap.

Scattered around the festival’s edge, half-lurking by the caramel apple stand and the booth selling “Blood Smoothies”, are most of the team, waiting.

Nat is nursing a cup of hot chocolate like it's vodka and watching everything with the faint smirk of someone who knew how this would end before it started.

Sam spots you first. His grin spreads instantly.

“Generally when people disappear for a while, they show up with less clothes than before,” he calls.

You glance at your mask and machete and Bucky tugs off the stupid cape.

“Just in time for the main event. I was about to start placing bets.”

“On what,” Bucky mutters, already tired of this conversation.

“Whether we were getting a call from you,” Sam replies, “or the morgue.”

You shrug. “Por qué no los dos?”

Wanda drifts in with a caramel apple in one hand and a too-knowing smile at your hand in his.

Bucky’s expression shutters instantly, mouthing. “Don’t.”

She shakes her head lightly, not saying anything.

You’re still smiling, focused on the conversation at hand, “He got lost. I heroically rescued him. It was a very emotional journey.”

“I wasn’t lost.”

Steve finally wanders over, coffee in hand, squinting at Bucky like he's trying to decipher something.

“You good?” he asks, handing him a slice of pumpkin pie.

Bucky nods. “Fine.”

Steve looks between the two of you. Then at the mask. Then at the machete. “You two gonna go find other hauntings or are y’all done for the evening?”

“I’m going apple dunking,” you say brightly. “I’m about to ruin some middle schoolers.”

“Emotionally or physically?” Clint asks.

“Whichever’s funnier.” You shrug, nudging Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m gonna destroy some third grader and dedicate the win to you.”

"I don't know you."

You give him a bright grin, and wiggle your hand out of his to follow behind Clint.

Bucky doesn't like the sudden lack of warmth, but he finds respite in pie Steve has handed to him.

Bucky’s always liked the noise of fairs.

Not because he actually enjoys them and the overstimulation it brings, but because he can disappear into the background. Everyone's loud. Everyone's distracted. No one looks at the guy who stands still.

So that’s what he does now.

Leans against a picnic table, a second slice of pie in his hands that he hasn’t even looked at, while Steve stands beside him with a cup of something steaming and unremarkable.

It’s easy, the quiet between them. Familiar.

Which is probably why Bucky says it out loud before he thinks about it too hard.

“Do you remember PBJ?”

Steve squints. “The sandwich?”

Bucky exhales through his nose. “No. The nickname.”

Steve takes a slow sip, then looks at him again.

“Oh,” he says, softer now. “Right. What I called you and Becca."

"D'you remember why?" Bucky doesn't meet his eye.

"Wasn't it 'cause she couldn’t spell your name properly when she was little? Wrote ‘Jam’ everywhere. Used to drive you insane.”

“She got very smug about it,” Bucky mutters.

Steve laughs. “Only ‘cause you kept calling her ‘Peanut’.”

Bucky nods, tight smile on his lips.

“I’d forgotten about that,” Steve says. “God, Peanut Becca and Jam. You were so serious about it, too."

Bucky notes quietly, “She wrote ‘PBJ’ on everything. Lunchboxes. Schoolbooks. Hell, birthday cards.”

"I remember."

Steve elbows him gently. “Why’d you ask?”

They stand there a while longer.

The lights flicker in the distance.

And there it is. That soft pang in his chest, sharp and sad and warm all at once.

Bucky hesitates. Opens his mouth to say something else–

“Gentlemen!”

You’re striding toward them with far too much confidence, holding a large, offensively purple stuffed bat in both hands like it’s a gift from a distant god.

“I bring tribute.”

You shove the bat into Bucky’s hands, grinning. “For being so brave in the cornfield. And for looking like you were about five seconds away from emotionally unloading on pie.”

The bat’s wings sparkle. Its eyes are mildly unhinged.

Bucky looks at it to you. “What is this.”

“A cherished new member of the team. And a gift to you.”

Steve’s face does something complicated behind his cup.

And for a second, Bucky just stares at the stupid plush thing in his hands, and tries to ignore the way his throat tightens.

Bucky huffs. “Thanks. It’s horrifying.”

“I know,” you say, bright as anything. “Try not to fall in love with me over it.”

He has the sick, annoying, grating feeling that it's a warning that's come too late, probably.

But he doesn’t say that.

Because you steal the rest of his pie.

And the ugly bat now rests on his bed.

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

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⁀➷ Mafia!Stucky Masterlist⍟✪ 📚

Hello lovely, I hope you’re having a great day. I thought it was about time I made a list dedicated to my favourite boys, so welcome to my Mafia!Stucky masterlit!I love to write in my spare time, and the fiction I create is for 18+ readers ONLY. Also, everything is character x fem!reader, and please, read the tags carefully before continuing.

Masterlists ♥ A03 ♥ Tags ♥ Question? ♥ latest works ♥

✧ you're mine // Steve loves showing off what's his, you. What does he do when he sees someone staring at what's his? (smut, angst, dark)

✧ i need more // You’d been off all day, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Steve. He’d do anything to make you feel better, so when you started begging him to help you have some release, he didn’t hold back. (fluff, smut)

✧ ruined orgasm - kinktober // He had given you one rule: do not interrupt the meeting. So, of course, you had to walk straight into the meeting that had all of America’s most notorious gangsters (smut)

✧ Steve's birthday wish (P.1) //Steve’s birthday was approaching, and you had no idea what to get him. Bucky suggests asking the Mafia boss what he would like, but would you regret your decision when you hear what Steve truly wants? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ When Two Become Three (P.2) // It has been a few weeks since Steve sat back and watched you be pleasured by his best friend, Bucky, and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Especially, the part where Steve confessed his fantasy to have a threesome, but would you ever agree to it? (fluff, smut)

✧ one more meeting // For all of the years that you had known Steve and Bucky, you had never seen them lose control of their anger. All of the murders and violence are always calculated, calm, and dangerous. But today, that all changed, and for the first time in years, you were truly scared of the boys you loved. (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

✧ repeat after me // It wasn’t often that you had to attend a party with your boyfriends, but today, you found yourself at one, filling you with anxiety and dread. How will the boys react when they find you close to a panic attack and starting to doubt their love for you? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ how many? // Steve had finally found time to take you and Bucky on holiday. What he doesn’t tell you, however, is that today, he wanted to see just how many times he and Bucky could get you to orgasm. (fluff, smut)

✧ I can’t lose you // Being the girlfriend of the Mafia leader and his second in command had its dangers, but for years, you'd never had to experience this—until now. How will the boys react when you're put in danger? (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

✧ No touching // You blatantly ignored their instructions, and now you have to suffer the repercussions of your actions. (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ I don’t care // 'The reader has a menstrual cycle, this one just a little worse than others, and Steve and Bucky are worrying and helping her through it.' (fluff, smut)

✧ The one weakness // It wasn't often you were by yourself, so when you quickly go to the coffee shop, what happens when the enemy is watching and waiting nearby? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ overwhelming // It had been your birthday a few days ago, and Steve and Bucky had made it their mission to give you the most lavish party, followed by intense, long nighttime activities. However, something didn't feel right as you lay in bed on Monday morning. (fluff)

✧ the fun game // Steve and Bucky had forgotten about your date, leaving you waiting for two hours in the restaurant. How will they react when you decide to play your little game as payback, and how far can you go before they finally snap? (fluff, smut)

✧ harder, please // Your mind was clouded with lust and pleasure, as you begged repeatedly for more from Bucky, but what happens when you get hurt in the process? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ protect and forget // Life as the girlfriend of the Mafia boss and his second-in-command was not always smooth sailing; everything did not always go to plan. Two weeks before your birthday, a threat was made to your life. What happens when Steve and Bucky begin to push you away as they search for the threat? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ All Eyes On You // “Do you know what we would have done if we had turned up to that restaurant and seen you all dolled up like that? We would have bent you over the table in front of everyone and shown them exactly who you belonged to". - Steve Rogers (smut)

✧ You belong to me. These girls knew you were dating Steve and Bucky, so why did they think it was okay to have their hands all over you? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ Don't fall asleep // It was supposed to be a typical day, but not in fate's eyes, as you and Sam are hit by a drunk driver. How will Steve and Bucky react when they hear their girl has been hurt? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ rule number one. // It was Bucky's birthday, but even a surprise party won't stop Steve and Bucky from punishing you for not looking after yourself. (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ Last Hope (CH. 1) (CH. 2) // Before dating Steve and Bucky, your life felt like a steel cage you couldn't escape because of your family business. There was no happiness or hope, but what happens when the infamously heartless mafia leader, Steve Rogers, finds you alone? (fluff, smut, angst, dark)

✧ our little bean // You stared unblinking at the Doctor who had just told you the news you couldn't quite comprehend. You were on birth control, so why is the test in his hands saying that you're pregnant? Accidents happened, but is this a happy one? (Yes it is). (fluff, angst)

✧ the limit // Everyone has a limit, this includes Steve and Bucky. What happens in different situations where each of you felt compelled to use your safewords? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ sick day // Bucky had warned you that dancing in that rain without a coat would lead you to be ill, maybe you should have listened more to his warning. (fluff)

✧ accident’s happen // You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ everyone is breakable // Steve and Bucky were invincible in your eyes. They'd never been injured or in a situation where you thought they weren't the ones in control. That is until one day Bucky doesn't return from meeting with a client. (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ winter soup // There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right? (fluff, smut, angst)

✧ something new // The mafia leader was known to be possessive and enjoy showing off his girl but what happens when he wants to do this by being intimate in front of his gang? (smut)

✧ pegging - kinktober // Steve had once instructed bucky how to pleasure you but what happens when you’re the one being given the instructions? (smut)

✧ cockwarming - kinktober // You’re feeling needy and restless so Steve offers you something to suck on, much to Bucky’s amusement. (smut)

✧ double penetration in one hole - kinktober // You were adament to prove Steve wrong and do something you’ve never done before. (smut)

✧ fear play - kinktober // You woke up to darkness, your phone was missing and, all you could was silence echoing around the house but, you knew you weren’t alone. (smut, dark)

✧ role reversal - kinktober // For once, you were the one shouting at the enemy, demanding that they leave your office. Steve and Bucky were in awe so you tried to keep up this confidence and burn off some energy with them. (smut)

✧ Duke, Duchess and Knights // You get so lost in the fantasy dream that when it turns into a nightmare, you're not sure what reality is when you wake up screaming. (fluff, angst)

✧ Merry Christmas // It was a simple question: Have you been naughty or nice this year? (fluff, smut)

✧ Safety Measures // It was the anniversary of Steve and Bucky saving you from your sadistic brother. Usually, it was a time of celebration for you, but this year, you couldn't help but feel paranoid and unsafe. (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

✧ edge of glory // Defiance is something you are not accustomed to, but when the love of your life is in danger, there is no stopping you. Now, the repercussions of your actions have you contemplating the decisions that you've made. (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

✧ being on top // After Steve's life is threatened, you're left reeling in how fragile life is and what better way to remind you what's life about than having the Mafia leader handcuffed to the bed for you to play with? (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

✧ seven // One week is all it takes for your world to come crashing down. Even though you could have everything you'd ever wanted, for some reason, something isn't right. Will your emotions and the smothering of overprotective Stucky come to an end? (Angst!, Smut, Fluff)

✧ into the deep // A garden party pushes you too far—and into unexpected subspace. Bucky and Steve bring you back with firm control, soft words, and the reminder that you’ll always belong to them. (Angst, Smut, Fluff)

Drabbles

The first to give their jacket when reader is cold

Mad & Sad moments

Saying the wrong thing

TikTok trend: no kissing

Who is more protective?

safe space in your new home

Halloween Costumes

#mafia!stucky #mafia stucky #mafia steve rogers #mafia bucky barnes #stucky #steve rogers #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #mafia au #mafia!stucky masterlist #mine*#mafia stucky masterlist #steve rogers masterlist #bucky barnes masterlist

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angelic-sturniolos111 · 24 hours ago

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*The New Avengers | headcanons

authors note: marvel tumblr is SO BACK BABY. we’re getting avengers tower fics again— i could cry 🥹 obviously don’t read if you haven’t seen thunderbolts* although there’s not really any spoilers in this anyways

marvel characters masterlist

marvel taglist

Yelena

has a cute array of various succulents on the windowsill of her bedroom.

owns more stuffed animals than the average adult female probably should.

she doesn’t really read all that much, but if she hears of a new bestselling book, or anytime she passes by a bookstore, she always buys a new book for Bob :’)

hates the color pink.

likes to coordinate pranks to pull on Bucky with John.

downloaded tinder just to try it out. made a profile. deleted said profile less than half an hour later. deleted the app. never again.

Bucky

in the early hours of the morning when everyone is still sleeping he’ll make his way to the tower gym, play a YouTube yoga routine on his phone, and do morning yoga. he’s very embarrassed about it for some reason, but it’s therapeutic for him. plus he’s like, 100 years old, so it’s good for his muscles and bones.

HATES the taste of beer. drinks the absolute fruitiest, girliest cocktails and has NO shame about it whatsoever.

really pushing for the team to agree to getting a cat as a pet to let roam around the tower and such. Bucky gives cat dad vibes idk.

asked Bob and Yelena to teach him how to use FaceTime so he can FaceTime Okoye :’)

journals every night before bed.

loves loves LOVES matcha tea.

makes sure he does the daily wordle.

Ava

has a passion for cooking and loves making new recipes for the team to try.

with her newfound freedom and autonomy, she looks back on pop culture moments she missed from her stolen childhood. she finds that she LOVES 1D and becomes a directioner later in life. better late than never.

loves to go to local farmers markets and festivals.

John

diehard Atlanta Falcons fan and always asks (demands) the team to watch the game with him.

Bob always says yes even though he has zero interest in football and has no idea what is going on 99% of the time (he’s just happy to be included :) )

Alexei also always says yes, but it’s because it’s an excuse for him to sit around and drink some beers… then he goes on and on praising “the great American sport” of football.

John hates doing laundry. hates it. like will literally wait until he doesn’t have a single clean pair of underwear left before doing it.

he likes to hit the gym/ train with Bucky even though Bucky outperforms him most of the time. john will pretend he’s not even breaking a sweat to keep his composure and make himself look “cool” for Bucky even though he’s going to collapse on the gym floor (hydra serum IS the fancy one).

John will never admit to it, will take this secret to his fucking GRAVE, but he absolutely loves Bridgerton. he sat in on Ava watching an episode and said things like “this is so stupid” “what is this shit” but then immediately went to his room afterwards and binged the entire series.

Bob

has posters of his favorite bands/artists plastered all over his bedroom walls like a damn teenager.

keeps a (rather large) poster of “the new avengers” on the wall in front of his bed so he can see it before he goes to bed at night and when he wakes up in the morning to start his day.

likes to paint yelena’s nails for her because it’s very calming and grounding for him.

“I mean— I- I can paint them! You know, uhm, like if that’s okay with you? Not in a weird way I- I just—”

“Sure Bob, you can paint my nails for me.” :)

always shyly compliments Yelena and Ava randomly “that’s a nice color on you” “your hair looks really nice today”

loves to sit on the balcony of avengers tower and just people watch, nature watch. really take everything in and ground himself.

gets really excited for holidays. he likes to go to the party store and decorate different rooms in the tower for whatever holiday is coming up.

downloaded Duolingo to learn some basic Russian to impress Yelena… but Alexei ends up appreciating it was more and presses Bob about doing his daily lessons so he doesn’t lose his streak.

Alexei

ice cream addict. LOVES ben & jerry’s. it got to the point where he was buying so much ice cream “for the team” that it was taking up all the space in the kitchen freezer. so, he bought a mini fridge for his room and he keeps them there for himself.

INSISTS that, at least once a week, the team has a “game night” with all sorts of board games, charades, etc… the team will grunt groan and protest everytime he asks, but ultimately they all end up having fun (and arguing like crazy)

watches love island. he 1000% watches love island.

snores SO FUCKING LOUD— like the team is begging Val to reconstruct his bedroom to make it soundproof. you can hear him snoring from down the hall.

never makes it through a single movie. falls asleep every. single. time. very dad of him.

please let me know if you like this because I haven’t written for marvel in YEARS, but I’m looking to get back into it! let me know if you want a part two, or if you want solo character headcanons :)

#thunderbolts #thunderbolts bob #thunderbolts headcanons #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #yelena belova #yelena x bob #yelena black widow #yelena belova x reader #sentry #void x reader #robert reynolds #florence pugh #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #mcuedit

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starlordsandrockets · 8 days ago

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Midnight

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+

Avengers Compound fic - not MCU canon

Word Count: 7.4k

summary: Tony threw his annual New Years Eve party and Nat and Wanda have a plan to get you and Peter together by the end of the night.

a/n: Lord I posted this before and forgot to give it a title... Anyway the universe is against me but this fic is done. I don't know if it's good and I don't know if I'm satisfied but it's done.

UPDATED ENDING!!

Every holiday was the same, Tony Stark threw a stupid party and you put on a dumb dress and drank the night away.

The only saving grace was that you got to spend the night with Peter Parker. Little did you know, part of the reasoning for Tony's parties was to get Peter and you together. But every party ended the same, Peter failing to tell you how he felt.

The compound hummed with music as you took one last look in the mirror. You wore a black dress with a deeper neckline than you were used to, in an attempt to grab Peter’s attention. The dress was Nat and Wanda’s idea, something they schemed up after Tony announced he was having the party.

“I don’t know,” Your words slurred as they fell from your tongue. You found yourself having drinks with Nat and Wanda in the lounge.

“It's obvious,” Wanda spoke, studying the lipstick she had left on her wine glass, “Is it not?”

“He follows you around like a puppy,” Nat added.

“We- we’re the same age,” You defended, “I mean I have no problem hanging out with you two, but the guys,” You almost laughed at the thought of Peter attempting to hang out with the rest of the Avengers, “He just… there’s a generation gap or something I swear,”

“I don’t know, I could see Bucky liking Legos,” Nat joked.

“He doesn’t like me, okay,” You assured, “Plus, we barely talk. And when we do it’s like… super awkward half of the time,”

“Well Peter’s awkward all of the time,” Nat smiled, taking a sip of her whiskey.

The whole compound knew Peter had a crush on you from the moment Tony hired you. Everyone besides you. The thought of him liking you was just impossible to comprehend.

Peter was Spider-Man. And you were just you.

Sure, you were Tony Stark’s assistant, but you are replaceable. There was nothing special about you so there was no reason for Peter to like you.

Right?

“Right. So, next subject… please,” You stared into your half empty glass. Moving your glass, you stirred the ball of ice that sat in the whiskey.

“Fine,” Nat shrugged, not wanting to pry.

“Any parties Tony is having you plan,” Wanda questioned, earning your gaze.

“Yeah… New Years,” You laughed, “I sent out so many invites for meetings, lunch-ins, dinners…”

“Perfect. We’ll pick you out a dress,” Wanda smiled, her teeth bright from behind her dark red lips.

“What,” You questioned, “I have dresses. I’ll just wear the one I normally do, that black one,”

“Yeah,” Nat chimed in, locking eyes with Wanda, “We’ll pick you out a dress. I’m sure Peter would notice if you dressed up a bit,”

Standing in the room you were given on the compound. You walked over to the mirror that hung on the wall. You watched as your shoulders fell heavily, eyes scanning your reflection. Maybe you should just change dresses, you had so many options that were safe.

You decided on adding a necklace to sit against your exposed skin; feeling like your intention was less obvious that way.

Suddenly, the floor of your room began to hum with the bass of the music that began to play from the first floor of the compound.

You still had time to change, you liked being fashionably late anyway. However, as your phone began to vibrate, from what you could only guess was multiple texts from Nat and Wanda. So, you touched up your makeup before heading to the elevator.

The elevator ride grew louder and louder as you neared the lounge, the music already beginning to overwhelm you.

Entering the large room, you counted the bodies that had already arrived. So far, there were around twenty people. Tony’s parties were almost always in the fifties to eighties. He knew everyone and only invited the people he wanted to be there. However, you recalled last New Years where the party passed one hundred, most of the guests Tony had never met. But he was too drunk to care.

“The dress looks good,” Nat’s voice cut through your thoughts. She watched you jump slightly, “I’m sure he’ll notice,”

“That’s not…” You trailed off, attempting to speak over the music, “I’m not trying to seem desperate,”

“Of course not,” Nat smiled, her red lips against a glass of whiskey, “The dress isn’t obvious at all,”

You looked around the room, taking in the way others were dressed, you wanted to turn on your heels and change before Peter came out of his room, “You did this on purpose,”

“It’s New Years- Listen, I’m sure once the rest of the invites get here they’ll be tons of girls wearing much worse,”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” You laughed. However, the weight on your shoulders lessened a bit as Nat joked with you.

“Y/N, you look fine- amazing even. The most beautiful one in the room, probably,” Nat smiled.

“That’s only because you toned it down for my sake,” You watched Nat laugh, “I’m not wrong,”

“No… No you’re not,” Nat smiled, “But I’m not trying to impress anyone tonight,”

“Have you seen Wanda,” You questioned, however your words were cut short when a hand fell to the small of your back. Turning your head, you met Tony’s smiling eyes.

“Look at you,” Tony exclaimed, his words slightly slurred, “The kid is going to lose his mind. I really think you might kill him,”

“Then I should change,” Tony’s claim gave you the perfect excuse. You turned towards the elevator, “I’ll-” However, you only made it a few steps before you found Peter entering the room, “shit,” You spoke under your breath before his eyes met yours.

“Good try. He’s not going to let you out of his sight now,” Tony somewhat jokes, however his claim stemmed from truth.

“I’m- I’m getting a drink,” You told Nat and Tony as you watched Peter attempt to make his way through the crowd.

The invites somehow doubled as Peter attempted to get to you, watching you head towards the kitchen.

“Peter,” Nat spoke, stepping in front of him, slowing his path to the kitchen, “You seem like you’re in a rush,” She took a sip of her drink, raising her brows.

“Just… getting a drink,” Peter spoke.

“I’m surprised… with your heightened senses and all,” Nat continued, “So how does that all work? Could you eventually get buzzed or would you have to drink a whole liquor store?” She laughed at her own joke.

“Yeah…” Peter replied, eyes still eyeing the top of your head in the crowd, not wanting to lose you.

“Am I boring you,” Nat questioned, watching Peter almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looked as if he was a dog waiting for the command to go.

“Not at all,” He replied, “I’m just really thirsty- I was actually heading to get some water,”

“Right,” Nat smiled, finishing off her glass, “Could you do me a favor? Could you find Y/N?” With the sound of your name, Peter instantly met Nat’s gaze, “Ask her if she could make me a drink? She makes them exactly how I like them,”

“Y-Yeah! I mean,” Peter cleared his throat slightly, “Yeah, if I happen to see her,”

“Yeah. You don’t have to go out of your way to find her for me,” Nat almost laughed, handing Peter her empty glass. Stepping aside, she nodded her head towards the kitchen. It was as if her silent command released him. Nat watched as Peter swiftly moved through the crowd towards you.

You glanced into the open fridge, nose wrinkling at all of the beer in the lit appliance. All of the wine bottles were somehow already empty and you were not planning on overdoing it tonight.

“H-Hey,” Peter’s voice echoed through the open fridge, making you jump. In doing so, you smacked the top of your head on the fridge’s shelf, “Sorry! Are you okay?” Peter reached out with his free hand, wrapping his hold around your arm; helping you back out of the open fridge.

“Y-Yeah,” You spoke, skin heated from embarrassment, “Ignore that- please,” You watched as he laughed to himself, “Can you believe the wine’s already gone?”

“That’s a great sign,” Peter laughed.

“Guess I’ll buy double for next time,” You turned your head as you spoke, coming face to face with him. You were not expecting him to be so close, but I guess he was helping you only a moment before. You watched as Peter’s gaze fell to your lips before meeting your eyes once more. You pushed past him, heading towards the liquor, “I- I guess I should make a drink, right? That’s why I came in here,”

Peter studied your dress for a moment, not wanting to come off as offensive, “Oh! Nat asked me to find you,” Peter interrupted his thoughts of you. Little to his knowledge your expression reflected your disdain of Nat’s forward request.

“Did she?”

“She wanted you to make her a drink- she said you’re good at making them,” Peter walked up next to you at the kitchen’s counter. He set Nat’s glass down in front of you. Watching as your head turned towards him, he gave you a small smile, “and um… maybe you could make me one too?”

“Sure but you’re both just getting vodka cranberries,” You admitted. You were not great at making drinks. Nat lied to give Peter a reason to approach you, so you were not about to out the situation by handing over a shitty drink.

“Sounds great,” Peter smiled as he awkwardly leaned on the counter.

His smile was crawling under your skin, heading towards your heart. You poured the shot of vodka in your glass. Staring at it and grabbing the glass, beginning to bring it to your lips.

You felt Peter’s gaze burning into you, hotter than the liquor. Turning your head, you met his eyes, “Sorry- Did you want to do a shot with me?”

Peter felt a, somehow already drunk, body hit against him. The kitchen volume grew louder as he attempted to read your lips, “W-What?”

“D-Do you-” You spoke loudly, however your lips closed quickly. You hated yelling at parties, and you were not trying to lose your voice for the rest of the work week. Taking a step towards Peter, you spoke again, “You want to do a shot?”

“Oh- I…” The shot would have no effect on him, however he really wanted to do something with you. Anything, “Sure,”

Grabbing some shot glasses from the cabinet, you poured two shots. Sliding Peter’s over to him, you watched as he reached out for it. However, you did not find yourself removing your fingers. Peter’s touch tickled your skin as your hold hovered on the shot, “Sorry,” You pulled your hand back to your glass, “...Ready?” You questioned loudly.

Peter raised the glass to his lips, “Sure,”

You both exchanged one more glance before you tilted the shot back. Peter watched as you winced at the shot, “Mmmm,” You hummed sarcastically, “Great,”

Peter laughed next to you, lips still against the empty shot glass.

“You- You didn’t even take the shot?!” Your voice grew louder as the space between the two of you grew smaller. You watched as Peter continued to laugh, “What the fuckk-”

“You didn’t even count down or anything!” Peter attempted to talk over you.

“Take the shot!” You grabbed his wrist, raising the glass back to his smiling lips.

“Fine- Fine!” Peter spoke, “Let go- You’re spilling it!” His eyes fell back towards you after you released him from your hold.

“What?”

“No countdown?” Peter spoke, the question almost teasing.

“Shut up,” You replied. Sure, Peter was always super awkward. However, he always surprised you when his cockiness showed through. Peter stared back at you as you felt yourself begin to crumble at his cocky gaze, “Just take the fucking shot, Parker I swear to god-”

Peter tipped the glass, feeling the vodka warm him. He hated shots, they tasted disgusting and he had no beneficial outcome, but he did it because you asked. Hell, he would take more if you pressed him, “Happy?”

“Barely ever,” You joked back sarcastically. Turning back to the empty glasses on the counter, you poured more vodka.

“More,” Peter questioned.

“I’m making the drinks,” You replied, “But you should do another just for fucking with me,”

“You know I feel nothing,” Peter spoke.

“Like ever?” You quipped, watching him throw you an unamused glance, “Humor me?”

Whenever you drank, you were overconfident. All your insecurities flew out the window, along with your boundaries and Peter hated it. He did not hate it exactly, he actually loved when you drank. Your touch always lingered just a bit too long on his skin. Your swaying body would use him as an anchor. You would dance, sing, truly be yourself in front of others and Peter loved getting a glance at the real you; it made him feel like you let him through your Avenger facade.

Peter snapped out of his thoughts as you placed a hand on his shoulder, anchoring yourself as you raised up onto the balls of your feet, attempting to place the shot against his lips, “Th-Thanks but I got it,” Peter stuttered, taking the glass from you. Taking the shot, he winced at the vodka, “How about you make Nat’s drink?”

“Right,” You spoke, turning back to the counter, removing your hand from Peter’s shoulder, “and yours,”

“And yours,” Peter reminded you.

“Right!” You reached into the cabinet, retrieving another glass, “How about doubles? Doubles sound great,” You spoke, needing more alcohol to numb your growing feelings. As you spoke to yourself, you did not even realize Peter had retrieved the cranberry juice from the fridge until you felt him press the cold bottle against your skin, “FucK- I swear to god,”

Peter sat the juice down on the counter in front of you, “What? You weren’t paying attention,”

“Watch it or I’ll make you a bad drink,” You threaten.

“It’s vodka and juice,” Peter spoke, watching your eyes narrow at him.

“It’s a skill,” You corrected, “Plus- Nat said I’m good at making them, right? And Nat… never gives compliments,” Your voice wavered in and out as you concentrated on pouring the same amount of juice in each glass, “Here,” You handed Peter a glass.

“Thanks,” He took a sip and immediately winced, “It’s so strong,”

You drank some of your own glass before pouring some more juice, “Need it to work quick… with all the pda tonight.”

“R-Right,” Peter stuttered. Somehow, he almost forgot it was New Year's Eve. He took a generous sip from his glass as he mentally strategized how he could possibly kiss you at midnight, “Not a New Years kiss kind of person?” He forced out, testing the water.

Peter’s question caught you off guard, thankful that you were not taking a sip of your drink because you definitely would have choked, “I- I just…” You sipped your drink, “Never really had to deal with it before… which is fine by me because I’d rather not…”

“Really?” Peter spoke with a bit of a shocked laugh. His claim earned a sharp glance from you, making him clear his throat, “I haven’t really spent New Years with anyone besides my aunt,” Peter spoke, watching your nose wrinkle, “Y/N- Not funny,” You laughed around the rim of your glass.

“I didn’t say anything,” You spoke, finger pointing towards him from where it sat around your glass.

“Yeah- yeah,” Peter spoke, “You want me to bring out Nat’s drink?” With his question, he watched your eyes light up, remembering you even made Nat a drink.

“No! No, I made it,” You spoke, reaching out to the glass that sat on the dark marble counter, “She asked me to make it… so, I’m giving it to her.”

“Right,” Peter laughed, watching you clutch the glass towards your chest. The glass was cold against your exposed skin, reminding you of your dress’s neckline, making you jump slightly. Some of the drink spilled against your skin, making you groan, “Y/N,” He spoke, watching you struggle after your shot and strong drink.

“I’m fineee,” You looked down at your wet skin, “Is it bad,” You questioned, pushing out your chest towards Peter, allowing him to study your skin.

Peter had never seen this much of your skin before and he felt as if you were affecting him just as strongly as two shots of vodka. Was it bad that he was looking at you so intently? You did ask him to study your skin. He just hoped you could not feel his imploring and lustful gaze burning into your skin, “Y-You’re fine,” He answered, face flushed, “I mean- Your dress looks fine. Can’t even tell- since it’s black,”

“Thank god,” You sighed, “Let’s go,” You turned, realizing just how many people had piled into the kitchen, “Where was she,” You questioned over the growing music.

“Huh?” Peter spoke loudly, following you through the crowd. He watched you stop and turn towards him, standing on the tips of your feet. You leaned against him slightly, unable to put a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Where was Nat,” You ask in his ear, “When you talked to her- earlier.”

Peter felt a chill run through him, “She- she was near the hall,” He watched you nod before turning back towards the crowd. You swayed before him as you took a sip of your drink. The heels on your feet made you stumble slightly and without a thought, Peter extended his hold to your side. His sweaty palm almost stuck to the fabric of your dress, making him mentally cringe. He studied you for a reaction, however he just watched your eyes scan the room for Nat.

“I don’t see her anyyyywhere,” You told him as you shoved the drink towards his chest. Removing his hand from your side, Peter took the glass from you quickly, “I’ll text her,” You loudly slurred over the music.

Y/N: Naattt!! I made your drink. Don’t dump it on me just to set us up PLEASE.

You sent the text before taking a sip of your drink. You listened to the music, trying to identify the song playing.

Peter stood before you as you suddenly switched, eyes studying your phone screen, leaving him in silence, “Did… Did she text you back?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him, “Oh! Oh- Sorry,” You spoke, stuffing your phone into your small purse. That was another reason why you hated that dress. You had to carry your purse at this party just to have your phone on you, “No. She probably won’t- knowing her,”

“Why not,” Peter questioned, walking closer to you so he did not have to scream.

Your mind searched for any answer that was not ‘so she can set us up at this stupid party.’

“Uhh,” You drew out, “Well… you know. You know how Nat is,” You spoke, not finding an excuse.

“Yeah… true,” Peter took a sip of his drink, nose wrinkling at the taste of the vodka.

“Come on,” You spoke, catching a confused look from Peter, “It’s not that bad. Give me some credit.”

“Thereee they are,” You heard Tony’s drunk voice draw out from behind you. His arm draped around Peter’s shoulders, “What are you drinking Pete?”

“I…” Peter’s eyes studied you as you almost glared at Tony. However, your glance fell back onto him as soon as his name left Tony’s lips, “The best drink I’ve ever had,” Peter spoke, watching your eyes narrow. However a smile curled your lips at his response.

“I made it for him,” You slurred, turning towards Tony. You brought the glass to your lips, pressing your tongue against the rim as you studied Tony and then Peter. Tony’s hand extended, grabbing the full glass from Peter’s hand. You bit your tongue, knowing Nat would not even come back for the drink.

“Hwoooo,” Tony spoke after a large sip, “She’s strong,” He looked to you, leaning closer, “That’s why you’re my assistant. You do great work,” He tilted his head back, finishing what was in the glass, “This is great work,” He slurred, “Well… was,”

“Thanks,” You spoke sarcastically, sipping on your own drink as well, “I only do great work,”

“Eh,” Tony cocked his head. Peter laughed as the two of you bickered, “How about some shots? Huh,”

“I dunno Mr. Stark,”

“Whiskey,” You questioned.

“You read my mind,” Tony spoke, giving you a wink.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, “You haven’t even finished your drink.”

You looked at your half empty glass, “Right,” You spoke before you tilted the remaining drink back. You winced, “Right- I’m good now.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Peter watched as Tony and you attempted to find your way to the kitchen. He followed, entering the kitchen as Tony poured two shots of whiskey. The glasses sat between the two of you on the counter, “I don’t think this is a good idea,”

“Pete, I’m helping,” Tony’s head motioned towards you, “She’ll be easier this way,”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” You questioned.

“Come on! Not like thatttt,” Tony replied, “You know how you are. You’re easier to talk to after a few drinks. Less bitchy,” Picking up his shot glass he gave you a cocky smile, “Cheers,” Tilting it back, he slammed the glass on the countertop, “Come on Y/N. I’m not wrong,”

He was not wrong. The alcohol helped you let go of your insecurities. You were literally surrounded by Avengers, you could not help but feel insecure. In return, you put up a facade to shield yourself from some of them, “Yeah yeah… cheers,” You snapped back, tilting the glass against your lips.

“Pete, how about you,” Tony questioned, pouring another shot into a glass, “A little shot of confidence maybe? It’s 11.”

Peter glanced at the nearest clock. 11:13pm. He groaned, not only at the time but at the thought of taking a shot that would not even affect him, “Fine- Cheers,” Peter grabbed the shot from Tony’s grasp, throwing back his head like he was ripping off a bandaid.

You watched as Tony stood up from where he was leaning against the countertop, “I just- I saw someone I need to talk to,” He spoke, attempting to leave the kitchen and navigate himself through the growing crowd. You could not tell if that was just an excuse Tony made to leave the two of you alone, or if he truly did stumble off to make a fool of himself in someone else’s presence.

However, in your tipsiness, you found yourself thankful to be alone with Peter, “Thank god he’s gone,” You breathed out, breaking the silence Tony had left you both in. Well, as silent as it could be with the blasting music and yelling bodies around you.

“Yeah,” Peter questioned, taking another sip of his drink, “I thought you loved spending time with your boss,” He joked.

“Yeahhh,” You spoke sarcastically, “I love having to hangout with him and not get paid for it.”

“I’m sure he pays you enough,” Peter replied.

You took in the sight of the expensive kitchen, “I dunnnno,” You drew out, “Looks like he’s got enough to share,”

“Yeah?” Peter laughed around his glass, “Yeah I guess-” His eyes met yours, realizing that at some point you ended up right next to him. Finishing off his drink, he closed his eyes for a moment, wishing to feel any effect that might aid him in the next thirty minutes or so, “Do you want… Is there any spot you want to secure for the ball drop,” He questioned, “Somewhere you can see the tv or do you not care about watching?”

“Do you like watching the balls- ball! Ball- drop-” Your question was interrupted by your intoxicated laughter, “Sorry! Sorry-” You attempted to collect yourself, hands lightly hitting against Peter’s chest with each laugh that passed through your lips. To be fair, anything was funny this far into the night for almost all the people at this party.

Your touch was driving Peter insane. The fingertips of your left hand tickled against the fabric of his dress shirt while your other hand held onto his bicep. You held yourself steady as you attempted to stand up straight from your fit of laughter, “Yeah… yeah,” Peter finally answered, “I mean, when it’s just me and May- sure,”

“We can try and find a seat,” You suggested, “I’m sure there’s a seat somewhere. Somewhere near a tv.”

“Sure,” Peter spoke, “As… As long as you’re good?”

“I’m great!” You assured him, “But I wouldn’t mind holding onto your arm,” You squeezed his bicep a bit, reminding him of your lingering touch, “You know it’s sooo crowded- I could get lost,” Your fingers wrapped around his muscle. You could not help but mentally swoon, and the social lubricant helped you vocalize your thoughts with no filter, “I never noticed this…”

“My- My arm?” Peter stuttered.

“When did this happen,” You questioned as you began to drag him out of the kitchen.

“It-It’s been there,”

“You hide ‘em in those baggy graphic tees,” You say as your eyes search the connecting room for a spot. The room off of the crowded lounge still had a decent crowd, but it was somewhat quieter, allowing conversation.

“I think they’re funny,” Peter replied as you pulled him over to the room’s large couch. Every couch in the compound was a variation of those huge ‘L’ shaped couches, since Tony had to buy them with all of the Avengers in mind. Well, Tony would send you a few links and you would order them with his card.

You threw yourself down in the couch’s corner, “Yeah?” You pulled Peter down with you. You watched his hand catch the back of the couch, stopping himself from falling down on top of you.

As he stared down at you, he swore for a second you pouted at his instinctual catch, “Yeah.” Peter finally replied. His eyes glanced over at his watch.

11:45pm

“Yeaah,” You pulled him down on the cushion, “I’m not making fun of you! I think they’re cute,” You leaned into him now, personal space out the window. You watched him raise his eyebrows at the comment, “Like… I see you wear them and I’m like, yeah… Yeah they’re cute and funny so of course you’d wear them,”

“What’d you mean?” Peter tested the water.

“Well… I think you’re funny,” You hummed, smiling inches away from him.

“Just funny,” Peter questioned, “Not the first part?”

“What part?” You teased him.

“Don’t make me say it,” Peter spoke quietly, watching you inch, somehow, even closer to him.

“You’re no funnn,” You drew out, “Yeah… Yeah I think you’re cute,” You admit, “And maybe Tony’s right about me being easier after a few drinks,”

Peter leaned away from you a bit, out of shock. Not only at your confession but your choice of words, “...Does sober Y/N think I’m cute?”

“She does…” You respond.

“Yeah?” He laughed.

“You’re cute…” You assured Peter, “and yeah, your nerdy shirts are cute. And your movie night choices are cute… and,” You raked your brain, “and I guess you make working for Tony tolerable,”

“Good,” Peter spoke, eyes flashing away from you to his watch, “Cause, I don’t want to think about the compound without you in it,”

11:58.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” You questioned with a smiling gaze, “You’d be lost without me?” You joked, recalling Nat’s puppy comment. Without a thought, you leaned in closer to him.

The crowd around you began the countdown. Their voices poured from the filled lounge, mixing with the handful of others that occupied the room the two of you were in.

“The countdown,” Peter pointed towards the screen.

“Answer my question,” You interrupted, “How do you feel about me?” You watched Peter’s gaze bounce between your eyes, then lips. He was silent in front of you as the countdown grew louder as the numbers grew smaller, “Ten… Nine… Eight,” You spoke.

Your teasing scrambled his thoughts and he no longer remembered his plan for how he would kiss you at midnight. He sat there in silence as you continued to stare at him.

Studying him, you slowly began to lean out of his space. Giving up on your quest to find out how Peter felt about you. You were ready to welcome a new year where Peter found it awkward to even speak to you in the morning. Hopefully you were drunk enough to forget everything you said.

“Five!”

“Four!”

Peter watched as you sulked back into your corner. It looked as if you wished the corner would engulf you. You questioned how he felt about you and he did not even give an answer. He did not blame you for moving away from him.

“ThrEE!”

He wanted nothing more than to kiss you. If he did not, he felt as if there would be a new, awkward boundary for you two to overcome. Peter reached out, his fingers brushing the skin of your cheek. His fingertips dug into your warm, plush skin as he directed your gaze away from the tv and back to him.

“TWO!”

Bringing his leg up and onto the couch, he leaned into you, eyes leaving yours and falling onto your lips.

“ONE!”

His lips found yours. The kiss was gentle and hesitant.

The loud “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”s were barely audible in your spinning mind. The kiss caught you off guard somehow, even though moments before, you were haggling him on how he felt about you.

“Too far?” You heard Peter question above you.

Opening your eyes, you found Peter leaning over you. His arm rested against the back of the couch as his frame sheltered you from the busy room. It was somehow like the corner of the couch became your own little corner of the world.

“W-What?” You stuttered. You felt like your head was spinning. Was it from the kiss? The alcohol in your system? Or maybe the stifling, heavy air that hung between the two of you.

“I-I know you said you hate pda…” Peter spoke, “but you asked how I felt about you, and I…” He studied your face for an expression, well, any expression that was not shock, “I wanted to answer your question.”

“Y-Yeah,” You nodded, “Yeah,” Was all you could stutter, “I mean- it’s, it’s fine,” You could not meet Peter’s gaze and he realized it. You felt his hand on your skin once more, this time he held your chin in his grasp. His fingers were pressured against your chin, attempting to force your gaze to his.

“But was it okay,” Peter questioned, “Is this okay?”

“Happy New Year, you two,” You heard Nat’s voice from behind the couch. Her voice hummed above you, making you jump. Your forehead slammed against Peter’s making him groan. Sitting back on the cushion, he brought his head into his palms, “Didn’t mean to interrupt…”

“You-” You shot her a stern glance, “You didn’t- Weren’t,” You lied through your teeth.

“If looks could kill,” Nat spoke around the rim of her glass, “Just wanted to apologize for being held up all night. Tony’s guests love to talk.”

“I bet they do,” You spoke sarcastically, “Well thanks,” You expressed bitterly, “You know, I’m done for the night,” Rising to your feet, you did not dare look at Peter, “Happy New Year.”

You almost bolted through the crowd. You could not even tell if you wished Peter was following after you like a puppy, you were too lost in thought.

Should you have reciprocated? Probably. But there was no way you were about to get sloppy at your work’s holiday party.

You were thankful Tony had given you a room at the compound to run off to.

Weeks after you were hired, Tony persuaded you into staying at the compound. He claimed it would be easier that way. Now you wondered if that was also for Peter’s sake. You did not complain though, you did not have to pay for rent or gas.

Shutting the door to your room you let out a loud groan. Were you mad at Nat for interrupting? What was she even interrupting? What else would Peter have done?

Every inch of you wanted him on that couch and you were thankful that the shock of his kiss sobered you up.

Somewhat.

You stood back against the door and daydreamed about swinging your legs over his waist, straddling him on that couch.

Should you just text him? Your hand flew to your purse.

Or it would have if your purse was on you.

Fuck.

You mentally prepared for the walk of shame back down to the lounge as you swung open your door. Before you could take a step into the hall, you spotted Peter as he turned the hall’s corner.

Peter met your gaze, watching you slink back into your doorframe a bit, “I… I uh- forgot my purse,” You spoke awkwardly.

“Yeah I know I…” He raised his hand, presenting your small purse in his grasp.

“Oh! Thanks,” You smiled awkwardly as you extended your grasp, “And…” You drew out, “Look. I didn’t mean to book it- It’s just that…” You grabbed the fabric of your purse from his hold. You studied his hands. The sight of his slender fingers stirred something within you. You wanted them to touch you again. You would take any touch he would throw at you, “Nat loves to like… fuck with me and I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.”

“Right,” Peter spoke, “but… I didn’t make you uncomfortable right?”

“What? No,” You pulled the purse closer to you, however Peter was not letting go, “No I… I didn’t hate it,” You spoke bluntly, “I just- No one wants to get sloppy at the work party. Right?” You laughed awkwardly.

“You were going to get sloppy,” Peter questioned with a laugh. He watched you almost crumble from embarrassment, “You said it was just ‘fine’,” You attempted to pull the purse away from him, however he was not budging, “Was it better than fine?”

“I told you I liked it okay-” You shot him a look, “That I didn’t hate it- I was just- I wasn’t ready for it.”

“It was a New Year's kiss. There was literally a countdown,” Peter teased. His voice was laced with newfound confidence as you crumbled before him, “You had like a whole minute to expect it.”

“I-I, I wasn’t expecting it! How was I supposed to know you were going to kiss me?” You stuttered.

“You asked me how I felt about you,” Peter spoke, “You asked for it.”

“I-” Your eyes left his, darting literally anywhere that was not his imploring brown eyes, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I was just answering your question,” He stepped closer with every step you took back, attempting to pull your purse from his grasp and escape into your room.

“Well- well! I wasn’t ready,”

“Ohhh,” Peter drew out. Reaching back, he closed your door behind him. The two of you were now shut off from the rest of the party that still hummed from the floor below, “How about now?”

“W-What?” You stuttered.

Why was he suddenly so forward? Sure, you have seen Peter’s cocky side a few times. It was mostly when he won during a trivia night, or his movie pick won over yours for movie night, but it caught you off guard every time.

“Or I could leave,” Peter spoke.

“...N-No,” You replied. Your desperation embarrassed the hell out of you, “Unless… unless you want to.”

“No,” Peter replied.

“Okay.”

“Are you ready now,” Peter questioned.

“What?”

“Or do you need a countdown,” He teased.

You met his eyes for a brief moment, shooting him an annoyed glance, “Sh-shut up,” You watched his head tilt to the side slightly, like a damn dog.

“60… 59… 58-” Peter spoke cockily.

“Not that fucking long,” You shot back.

He laughed above you as he slowly occupied your space. You took a small step back, “5…” Peter spoke. The number left his lips with a bit of a stern tone, as if to stop you from retreating, “4,”

You stood in place, breaths becoming sharp and shortened with each decreasing number until you found yourself holding your breath.

“3,” Peter’s eyes studied your face. Your eyes were shut, brows furrowed as you waited. He could hear your heart beating out of your chest. His eyes studied your lips as they finally realized a held breath.

“S-Stop fucking with me,” You spat, eyes still shut.

Peter laughed, not realizing that he had stopped counting as he studied you, “2… 1…” Bringing his hand up to your cheek, he cupped your cheek gently before bringing his lips to yours. This time his kiss was hungry, it was as if he was holding back in the packed lounge. He felt your hold on the purse drop, allowing him to blindly toss the purse towards your bed. Raising his now free hand, he brought it to the fabric of your dress, “T-This okay?” He broke the kiss for a moment, waiting for your response.

You nodded against his lips.

“Tell me,” He instructed.

“Mhm,” You hummed, afraid to hear your own, desperate voice, “Y-Yes.”

“J-Just,” He kissed you once more, “Tell me… tell me when to stop,” He felt you shake your head against him before you brought your hands to his neck.

Peter backed the both of you towards your bed as well as he could remember. Feeling the bed frame hit the back of your legs, you slowly began to sit on the plush mattress. Navigating you onto the mattress, Peter positioned himself between your somewhat spread legs. Breaking the kiss, his knee pushed aside your leg, spreading them more and allowing him to crawl further up your body.

Meeting your lips once against, his hands bunched the fabric of your black dress. The fabric pooled around Peter’s wrists as he brought his hands up your thighs. He broke the kiss, eyes studying the necklace that sat against your skin, “Is this too much,” Peter questioned, “I can stop… We can go slower,” You stared back at him as he rambled, “You just- The dress really got to me tonight.”

“Nat and Wanda made me wear it,” You spoke, “Tony said it’d kill you-”

“Yeah?” Peter almost laughed. Bringing his smiling lips to your collarbone, he kissed your skin gently. His lips trailed against your skin until they were met with something on the surface. The drink you had spilled earlier made your skin slightly tacky. Leaving wet kisses on the sticky surface, Peter tasted the cranberry on his tongue.

“P-Pete-” His name came out from shock, ringing in an almost whining tone.

“You taste so sweet,” Peter spoke, watching you begin to roll your eyes.

“Shut u-” However, his kiss cut you off and made you realize he could taste the spilled drink from earlier. His kiss tasted like cranberry and the sweat from your skin in the crowded lounge, “Mmmm,” You hummed against his lips at the taste.

Peter’s touch turned somewhat rough against your plush thigh. His grasp pushed your leg up, bending at the knee then hip. His kisses traveled from your neck, lower and lower with each heavy breath that fell from your lips.

“You sweet everywhere?” He questioned you, only to hear you almost whimper at the claim. That small noise sparked a wave of confidence and that wave ran through him. His fingers fell to the fabric that kept him from you. He looped his fingers around the thinnest part of your panties, pulling them to the side slowly, giving you enough time to protest if you desired.

Soon, your hidden skin was before him. Peter’s eyes flashed to yours for a moment, almost silently begging to continue.

So you returned the desperate gaze, without a sound, telling him how much you wanted him. You took in a breath, preparing for Peter’s next move.

Peter studied you. Lips pressed together, holding your breath and brows furrowed, “5… 4…” He spoke, purely to mess with you.

“Shut up!” You groaned. You were sick of Peter teasing you and you did not want to admit how wet it was making you.

Peter’s two digits trailed their way from your entrance to your clit, “Man… you really didn’t hate it, huh?” He referenced your claim from earlier.

“Please…” You groaned, “stop teasing…”

“But I like messing with you,” Peter spoke, “and it’s making you so wet.” He watched as you covered your face up with a pillow from the top of your bed. Reaching out, he grabbed the plush fabric, “I want to see you…” His eyes met yours before his finger returned to your clit, “want to see how good I make you feel.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his claim and your gaze fell to the ceiling. You could not meet his gaze, not while he was being this cocky. However, that would not matter, especially as Peter began to stimulate your clit. Your gaze faded as your eyes squeezed shut, “ffuCk-” You moaned.

“Yeah?” Peter almost laughed, “How’s that feel?”

“Mmmm,” You hummed, not wanting to answer his cocky attitude.

“Hm?” He leaned into you, “I said how’s that feel?” Peter’s speed increased. He watched as your body twitched beneath him, making him groan in response.

“...G-Good.”

“Yeah?” Peter hummed, “I’m glad. Want to make you feel good.” His fingers left your clit and soon entered you. He pumped a finger in and out of you as he made his way down the mattress.

You felt Peter’s hot breath between your legs, making you take in a breath. A moan escaped your parted lips as he planted a wet kiss onto your clit.

Peter focused on keeping a steady rhythm with both his tongue and his fingers.

“MMmm Peter…” You moaned, hand snaking down into his brown locks. Pushing back his hair, you stared down at him attempting to catch a glimpse.

Peter met your gaze, watching you immediately throw your head back on the bed. A small laugh passed through his lips, vibrating against your sensitive skin. Curling his fingers, he hit your g-spot as he focused on bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“I’m- I’m gonna…” Your words fell between sharp breathes, “Peter-”

“Hmmm?” He hummed against you, making you moan once more.

“I’m cu-cumming,” You moaned, “Oh my god-” Your body twitched and jutted against him but he did not slow down, “S-sStop… god!”

Peter laughed, “Fine,” Pulling away from his spot between your legs, “How was that?”

Your chest rose and fell heavily as you attempted to catch your breath, “Huh?”

“Are you good?” Peter spoke, “Or do you need me to keep going?”

“You… You’re not going to fuck me?”

Peter took a seat next to you on the bed, “I mean… I want to,” He admitted, “but I also want to take things slow,” He watched you send him a look, “Okay… Well I wanted to make you cum. I got carried away and I wasn’t going to just stop and leave.”

“Okay but what about you?”

“What about me?” Peter questioned.

“Don’t you want me to…” You gestured to his visible erection.

“You can return the favor some other time,” Peter laughed, “I mean… as long as you’d want to- Or you want to take things slow,” He looked down, watching you stare back at him from your spot on the bed.

“Is that you attempting to ask me out?” You laughed.

Peter rubbed his eyes with his palms out of frustration before falling back onto the bed with you, “Yeah,” He laughed, “Yeah I guess it was.”

You turned towards him, “Then sure.”

Peter turned his head, meeting your softened gaze, “...Cool,” He smiled awkwardly, watching your lips curl into a smile, “What? Sorry, I don’t know what to say-”

“It’s fine,” You laughed before leaning into him. Meeting his lips, you could taste yourself on his tongue, “Just don’t forget that I owe you.”

***

You stared at your cup of coffee, spoon stirring in the cream and sugar. The metal swirled as you were lost in thought about your night with Peter.

The two of you agreed to go slow, but god did you want him.

The two of you kissed good morning and decided to find the best time to tell everyone. You were dreading sitting at the table, just waiting for everyone to emerge with their hangovers.

On cue with your thoughts, you heard Nat’s shoes click against the expensive floors. You drowned out your groan by taking a sip of your coffee, “Happy New Year,” Nat’s voice called out from behind you.

“Yup… Happy New Year,” You replied. Listening to her begin to make her own coffee, you waited to be questioned.

“Did I piss you off that bad?” Nat laughed.

“No just… nursing my hangover,” You raised your coffee up in the air, still not turning to meet her gaze.

“Any bad decisions last night?” Nat stirred a bit of sugar into her black coffee, “Or… good ones?”

“I mean we kissed,” You spoke, “but you saw that.”

“I didn’t actually,” Nat laughed, “I didn’t think he had it in him.”

You did not either.

“So… just a kiss?” Nat pried, “You don’t have to tell me… but I’ll figure it out soon enough. Maybe have Wanda peek into what’s going on up there-”

“Bad idea really.” You, somewhat, threatened. However you were more embarrassed over how much you were thinking about Peter since last night, “Nothing happened, really…”

“He probably was just nervous,” Nat shrugged, “Or you could initiate… that’s where we all thought it was going to head anyway.”

“Who’s we?” You questioned.

“It’s not like we made bets- I should have though,” Nat laughed.

You took in a deep breath, “Listen… we’re taking things slow okay-”

“Oh you are now…” Nat laughed.

“Shut up. So how about this… you make bets but I get half,” You spoke, “You say nothing to anyone until Peter and I plan how we’re going to tell them.” You prayed that would keep Nat quiet.

Sure, Nat could keep a secret; hell, she was scary good at it. But Nat also loved drama.

“Deal,” Nat smiled, clanking her coffee cup against yours.

164 notes · View notes

realtalkswithfinn · 1 year ago

Text

Christmas at the Compound

Avengers x reader

Summary: Avengers x reader Christmas head cannons because I am a sucker for the found family trope.

a/n: I tried to get this up before christmas but totally spaced it, so… tale it as a christmas morning gift! I tried to make it as age neutral as possible, so it could totally be teen!reader or not.

The holidays are a tough time for the Avengers.

Most of them have lost family members or friends, and the idea of celebrating anything is extremely difficult.

Tony especially - he always gets gloomy around the Holidays.

He always says something along the lines of, "I don't actually care about this, but its social convention."

But secretly he cares a lot.

He overcompensates for his lack of affection throughout the year by buying everyone the expensive gifts he knows they want but could never justify spending on themselves.

At surface level, it just seems like “oh rich guy is spending rich guy money”

But they’re actually really thoughtful gifts

Like last year, he got Peter a new laptop for school.

He bought Bucky new and thick clothes since all of his were old and worn.

He upgraded Clints cellular data so he could talk to his family anywhere.

Things like that.

Sam and Rhodey take one for the team and string the christmas lights on the tower

“It’s too cold for this.” Sam would complain, the sharp wind nipping at his cheeks as he flew from one end of the building to the other, lights in tow.

“Come one man, where’s your christmas spirit?” Rhodey would laugh

“I’m just doing this so stark’s power bill goes up.”

it really was worth it seeing the tower lit up top to bottom though

Wanda LIVES for commercialized American Christmas

"We have to make gingerbread houses and go to Rockefeller to see the Christmas tree and we have to go out to the snow and go sledding-"

She demands family Christmas photos be taken, even though you don't really have anyone to send them to.

This years theme was christmas pjs

Which lead to a few very interesting viral videos of the avengers in an Old Navy

“Tony come on the reindeer ones are cute!”

“Bruce. A man can not hold onto his masculinity while wearing pjs with dancing reindeer.”

Natasha gets tired of the bellyaching and bickering and makes the final decision

She grabs everyone’s size in the Reindeer pjs and marches to the front of the store

After snagging Tony’s credit card, of course.

Actually taking the picture is a whole other ball game, but that’s a story for another day

Thor has a hard time with the idea of Santa

You try to explain it to him, but it doesn’t seem to help

“So a fat man breaks into the safety of your home late into the night… and you let it happen because he comes baring gifts?”

“Well… yeah.”

“But only to nice children. That he stalks throughout the year.”

“He doesn’t stalk the children he just…”

“Hm.” He squints. “what about the naughty children?”

“They don’t get any presents.”

“OR,” Wanda interjects, “Krampus comes to get them.”

“Is that another fat man in a red disguise?”

“No. He’s a demon sent from hell to eat them.”

Thor nods in approval. “Ah. That’s much more asgardian. A fair reward system for the youth!”

You stare at him. “So… you’re okay with Krampus but not Santa?”

“Well I think they work together well, like a team. Like us!”

“I… I guess…”

Decorating the tree was an all night event

You would help happy bring up what felt like hundreds of boxes of christmas decorations

The tree itself was about 15 feet tall, because it wouldn’t be a holiday at the compound if you guys weren’t extra

It was placed in the living space, right next to a huge wall of windows so all of New York could see your festivity

it had to be decorated to the nines to pass Wanda’s inspection

Not a bare branch

Theres tinsel, ribbons, colorful lights, and hundreds of ornaments

But of course, ladders were a no go

You guys liked a challenge

To reach the higher branches, you and Natasha would stand on Steve and Buckys shoulders

And I mean stand

Not sit

It was a thrilling balancing game

You trusted them to catch you if you fell, but you still had to try to avoid it at all costs to save the tree from certain destruction

Peter would dangle from the ceiling, crawling around to hang ornaments toward the very top

Both of these acts nearly gave Bruce and Vision a heart attack

“CAP, you’re moving to fast shes gunna lose balance-“

“Bruce, please take a breath.”

Meanwhile Thor is getting distracted by all the ornaments and forgetting to actually hang them up

“This one’s a little man of snow! How silly!”

Speaking of ornaments

You all have an ornament of yourself on the tree

Or, your super hero alias at least

There’s a tiny black widow, a little iron man, a bity baby hulk, so on and so forth

Tony always demands his be the highest up on the tree to fuel his god complex

Drawing names out of a hat to see who got to put the star on top of the tree

(except you guys would always rig it behind Wanda’s back, only putting her name in the hat)

She would always protest, insisting to let someone else do it this year, but you guys never relented

So with a big cheesy grin on her face, she would use her magic to delicately place the star on the tippy top

You would think Natasha wouldn’t want to see the Nutcracker Ballet after her time in the red room

But it makes her so happy to see dancing as an art form instead of a way to brainwash young girls

She drags you, Clint, Wanda, and whoever else wants to tag along every year

She even splurges on front row seats

You look over and see her eyes glittering while she watches every turn, leap, and stunt intently

Leaving the theater, she’ll walk on her toes and do a few turns, encouraging you to try as well.

She ends up cackling watching you trip and stumble

“We’ll work on it.”

Can you IMAGINE the ginger bread making contest???

You’re all huddled around the long dining room table with christmas music playing

Theres Clint and Natasha, who just make the classic gingerbread house, no fancy bells or whistles.

Then there’s Bruce,Tony, and Peter who are going absolutely wild building gingerbread sky scrapers and gingerbread hotels.

“Mr. Stark look, I made a working elevator!”

Bruce puts an electric system (fairy lights) through his

Steve and Bucky rebuild their childhood homes

Wanda is going all out, delicately hand placing every candy and covering the whole thing in edible glitter

Visions is pretty similar, but more sleek and modern than Wanda’s

And then there’s Thor, who’s totally missing the point and just DUMPING everything on top

“Hey Peter, I think yours is missing something.”

You string a long thread of white rope candy from his structure to yours.

“Webs!”

“You know… we can probably make a web-like consistency with some starch and frosting…”

That becomes a whole sticky project, but you eventually get it to work, connecting everyone’s gingerbread houses with icing webs

Steve and Bucky are TOTALLY participating in the classic christmas traditions they grew up on.

They sit quietly together in the living room, making paper chains and stringing popcorn

“Do you mind if I join you guys?”

they smile gently. “Of course not.”

You sit crisscross in front of the couch while they teach you

They tell you stories of christmases long, long ago, which feels kinda silly considering they’re talking like grandpas while not appearing much older than you

On Christmas eve, you’re all there except for Clint, who went home to his family

Youre all dressed in your pajamas from the christmas card

You make hot coco and cider

Wanda pops in some old vhs tapes and you watch the classics late into the night

“Alright you nutcrackers,” tony would say around midnight. “I know you want to stay up and catch Santa, but he’s not coming if you all stay awake.”

he really just wanted to go to bed

He sauntered off, calling for lights out.

Most of the boys wandered away to their rooms, leaving you, Wanda, Nat and Thor not quite ready for sleep.

“So,” you ask, taking a sip of coco, “Do you guys think we’re on the naughty list?”

Natasha Chuckled. “I’m not sure. Does beating people up count as naughty if you’re taking down the bad guys?”

Thor set his mug down on the coffee table, the bells on his sweater jingling. “Do not fear ladies, I will catch that nasty Krampus if he comes in to devour your soul. I believe you were doing the right thing.”

You all laughed, thinking he was joking. But he just stared at you.

“Thor… you realize Krampus and Santa aren’t… real?” Wanda asked.

He had a hard time swallowing that.

He ended up sleeping on the couch “just in case”

you woke up at 3 am to a loud clattering coming from the living room

You decided to check it out against your better judgement

There was Thor. Hammer in one hand, cookie in another.

Down the hall toward the elevator was a completely destroyed life-size nutcracker.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I thought I heard something by the elevator.”

“Congratulations. You murdered the Nutcracker.”

“I feared he was an accomplice of the holiday demon.”

“He’s been there for weeks!”

“He could have been a spy. Or possessed.”

“Goodnight Thor.”

Christmas Morning finally arrived

Everyone was sleeping soundly in their beds

Until Sam decided to be a little shit and wake everyone up at 7 am

He pounded on every. single. bedroom door.

“Y/NNNN. SANTA CAME TO TOWNNNNN.” he sing-songed

“No he didn’t.” You grumbled. “Thor killed him.”

“… I don’t know what that means.”

You all stumble out into the living room

Natasha took the time to actually run a brush through her hair and do her morning skincare

You and wanda were far too excited and skipped over that completely, barely remembering to brush your teeth

Tony looked the roughest - he had a silk robe draped over his pjs and looked like he was just awakened from a coma

Essentially, everyone was a little disheveled

Vision made everyone coffee before you started the gift exchange

You all sat around the coffee table in a circle so everyone could see each other

Bruce and Steve passed out the gifts from under the tree

it took a solid few minutes, there was a MOUNTAIN of presents

You went one at a time opening gifts

Some people think this is awkward, but you felt it was more genuine

this way, everyone can see the gift and the joy on the receivers face

as well as a million “thank you”s

It also gave time for the giver to explain why they chose the gift they did, whether it be something they remembered you said you wanted, something they knew you needed, or even just a simple “this made me think of you”

In the end, you loved all your gifts

And everyone loved what you got for them

But mostly, you were just happy to spend the holiday with your family

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elixirfromthestars · 4 months ago

Text

A Snow Day With You

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (college au)

Summary: The end of the semester has you stressing beyond belief, so Bucky decides to cheer you up by spending a snowy afternoon sledding.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> sledding isn't as fun as when we were kids

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Ray @whatever-lmaoo ♡♡ Your comments on my first fic of these two have forever carved a home in my heart, so this one is for you ♡ I hope this fluffy piece can bring you a bit of happiness whenever college gets stressful ♡ This is a standalone fic, but everyone is welcome to read more of their story!₊˚⊹☆ Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

where their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter fics masterlist ❆

“Babe, we're going to get hypothermia,” you grumble out, hugging your coat closer to your body. The frosty wind shoving past your face, chilling you to the bone. Bucky plops the wooden toboggan onto the snow, laughing in disbelief at your assertion, “Sweetheart, we’re not getting hypothermia.” He’s not wrong as he says this, since apart from the wind, the weather was tolerable. Last night’s snowstorm ended this morning, leaving behind ten inches of snow. Enough for a multitude of winter activities—like sledding—to be possible.

“Maybe not, but one of us will break a bone,” you retort, watching in growing concern as other people slide down the snowy hill and end up tumbling out of their sleds when they reach the bottom. Bucky follows your line of sight and playfully rolls his eyes, “No one is going to break a bone, Y/n.” He goes to adjust your scarf, the indigo fabric a little too loose for his liking. Up close he can see the look in your eye, the one that tells him you’re not done trying to back out of this just yet.

“Maybe you won’t, but I might. I’m not athletic enough to go sledding.”

“Baby, you don’t have to be athletic to go sledding.”

The more you speak the more Bucky’s amusement grows, but he tries not to show it too much as he sees the underlying nervousness dancing in your eyes. He finishes fixing your scarf and you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as a thank you. He smiles at you fondly, noticing your grumpy mood subside slightly. He doesn’t take your mood to heart, knowing the real reason you haven’t been feeling the best lately is because of one thing and one thing only.

Finals.

More specifically, final grades—or the lack thereof. Most of your professors haven’t submitted them yet, leaving you in a state of limbo unsure of whether you managed to save the semester or not.

Bucky has been your rock throughout finals season. Supporting you with extra study sessions, holding you close to soothe your frustration when it got the better of you, kissing all your tears away, and on those days you needed a break, he would put on your favorite comfort show and order takeout from your favorite restaurant. He did anything and everything he could to make you feel better.

These last few days, however, all of that wasn’t enough to shake away the dread that insisted on making a home in your heart. Bucky knew he needed to do something different to cheer you up and get your mind off of things. After seeing how the snow had piled up overnight, he was either going to ask you to build a snowman or go sledding.

Your boyfriend—captain of your university’s baseball team—naturally chose sledding.

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll hold you tight and make sure nothing happens to you,” Bucky promises as he makes his way over to the sled. He sits down on the end of it, his left hand gently outstretching to grab onto yours. Your gaze locks with his, your trepidation melting away the more you look into his eyes. There’s something about the snow all around him that makes his eyes a little more blue and it pulls you in with the assurance of safety. You nod, taking hold of his hand and letting him guide you to the front of the sled—slowly pulling you down to sit in front of him.

He instructs you on everything you need to know to keep yourself stable and inside at all times. You’re not entirely paying attention as you focus more on the way he scoots forward and presses your back against his chest. His arms are on either side of you, encasing you in a protective embrace. You lean into it, letting the steadiness of his presence soothe the remaining unease in your body.

“I’ll countdown from five and then I’ll push off, okay?” he mentions kindly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he awaits your response. You watch as others go down the snowy hill without a care in the world. Children and adults alike coasting down on sleds and pool floats, merriment written on their faces and echoing in their laughs. It helps subdue the butterflies in your stomach somewhat.

At your silence, Bucky presses a comforting kiss to your cheek, the coldness of his lips bringing you back to him. You look over your shoulder to give him a reassuring smile, “Okay, but don’t you dare let me go, Bucky Barnes.” You warn playfully, feeling the way his chest rumbles with a laugh before he replies, “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

He pulls you tighter against his chest as your hands grasp onto the steering rope. He starts the countdown from five gradually inching the sled to the edge of the peak. When the countdown ends, you feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter intensely as the descent begins. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes close tightly the entire way down. While a shriek of adrenaline escapes you, Bucky chortles the entire time as he’s having the time of his life.

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Bucky poses the question when you reach the bottom, a boyish grin on his face. Your eyes open when you look behind you, noticing the way the apples of his cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, his hair blown across his forehead, and yet the sparkle in his pretty blues unaffected by the chill. You’re reminded then and there that you’d do anything for him. Even sliding down the hill a million times if it meant keeping that joy on his face.

“I think I left my stomach at the top of the hill, but apart from that—it wasn’t so bad,” you concede, your smile matching his. He hums in amusement, “We should probably go get it then. Shouldn’t we?” You know he’s really asking you if you two could go down the hill again, and there’s no way you would ever be able to say no, so you nod—knowing you would follow him anywhere.

The second time you go down the hill you keep your eyes open. Marveling at the sight of the snowy trees blurring into one. By the third time, you're laughing along with Bucky and by the fourth you have the same sparkle in your eyes—enjoying the rush of the fall. And by the fifth, the stress of finals is long forgotten and Bucky feels an overwhelming sense of pride knowing he was able to lift that weight off your shoulders.

On your last descent, things don’t go as smoothly as the other times. Halfway down the hill, the sled bumps into a large rock hidden beneath the layers of snow. You barely have time to register when Bucky yells your name, as the sled derails from its path—your stomach flipping along with the sled.

You end up tumbling a few feet down the hill. Bucky holds you like a lifeline to his body as you land in the blanket of snow. You’re disoriented for a moment, but Bucky lifts himself to his knees in an instant, hovering above you to scan you from head to toe for any injuries. The worry etched into his features tugging at your heartstrings.

“Y/n, are you okay? Sweetheart, please tell me you’re not hurt. Do I need to—” The fit of giggles that erupt from you cuts off his distressed rambling, a bewildered expression replacing his concern. Instead of telling him you’re alright, you decide to show him. Your hands reach out to grasp the edges of his coat and pull him down for a kiss. He melts into it faster than ice does, a cheesy smile replacing his frown.

“I think that’s enough sledding for today,” you mumble into the kiss. He nods, agreeing wholeheartedly as he deepens it, “Mm, I second that. I can think of other ways we can spend the rest of the day,” his tone drips with suggestion, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief. You slap at his chest lightheartedly, which only elicits a deep chuckle from him before he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

No matter what comes next, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be on a snowy day than with him.

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hawthorne-bias · 5 months ago

Text

cinnamon dust

The café on West 4th Street in Manhattan is the last place Steve expects to find summer in the middle of winter. And yet, as you step inside, wrapped in too many layers with a laugh so warm and bright, Steve finds it—discovering a light in you he never knew he was missing; one he can no longer imagine living without.

tags: steve rogers x you; this is very fluffy and cute; love at first sight; pining; steve rogers is an artist, he's a romantic, but most importantly, steve rogers is turning into a total goner for you; nat, sam and bucky all enjoy one common hobby: poking fun at steve.

warnings: none, other than a few mentions of christmas delicacies. no gendered language used for the reader.

word count: 1293.

a/n: pictures used in header are from pinterest. dividers used here are by @saradika-graphics. mcu and its characters are not mine. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!! hope you'll enjoy reading this! happy holidays, everyone!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

It’s a few days before Christmas in New York, and Steve sits tucked in the corner of a small café, the kind that always smells like cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee. Outside, the city is draped in white, snow drifting lazily through the air, muffling the usual chaos of honking cars and hurried footsteps. But in here, it’s calm—a warm little haven with soft conversations murmuring in the background and the faint clink of cups and plates filling the air.

Steve has barely touched the last bite of his pastry, his mind half on the conversation at the table. Sam, Natasha, and Bucky are hashing out details for a mission, their voices blending with the background noise. Steve listens with one ear, his gaze occasionally flicking toward the window, where the snow is painting Manhattan in soft edges and blurry outlines.

He’s pulled back into the moment when Natasha drops a piece of classified information too casually for his comfort. His brow furrows, and he leans forward, lowering his voice. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to talk about this here?” His sharp eyes scan the room, taking in every stranger nearby, gauging the distance between their table and prying ears. “We could head to my place—or Sam’s. Both are close, and at least there we won’t have to worry about being overheard.”

Natasha leans back, a slow smirk curling at her lips. “Sometimes the best way to stay hidden is to be right out in the open, Steve. Relax.”

Sam nods, lifting his coffee with an easy grin. “Nat’s right, man. Nobody here’s listening to us.”

Bucky doesn’t say much—he rarely does these days—but he glances over his coffee cup with a ghost of a chuckle. “You’re too tense. Let it go, pal.”

Steve sighs, sinking back into his seat. His arms fold across his chest, and he picks at his pastry absentmindedly. He’s about to take another bite when the door opens with a soft jingle, and a cold gust sweeps through the café. He glances up, only half-interested in who might walk through.

And then, he sees you.

You step inside, brushing snow from your coat, and for a moment, Steve forgets to breathe. Everything else—Nat’s smirk, Sam’s grin, Bucky’s quiet chuckle—fades into nothingness.

You’re smiling, and it’s not just any smile. It’s the kind of smile that stops the world for a beat, that makes the noise around him fall away. Bright and unguarded, it spills warmth into the room, like the sun breaking through storm clouds. It’s so genuine, so easy, that Steve feels it tug at something deep inside him, a thread he didn’t even know was there.

His gaze lingers, drawn to the way you move so comfortably, like the snow and cold don’t bother you at all. You’re bundled up in a soft, slouchy hat, a thick scarf wrapped snugly around your neck, and a coat that’s just a bit too big, with the sleeves slipping over your hands. It makes you look cozy, like you’re wrapped in layers of warmth and softness, and everything about the way you carry yourself feels so effortless, like you’re perfectly at ease despite the chill outside.

Steve can’t help it. His artist’s eye takes over, sketching you in his mind as you step toward the counter. You’re all soft lines and warm tones—snow-dusted hair, the gentle curve of your scarf tucked snugly against your chin, and the easy grace in the way you move as you browse the treats behind the glass.

And then you speak.

Your voice carries across the room, light and melodic, and Steve is undone. There’s a rhythm to your words, an unintentional music that lingers in the air long after you’ve finished your sentence. “I suddenly got a craving for something sweet,” you tell the barista, your tone playful, yet sincere. “And I couldn’t think of a better place to come than here.”

Steve feels something stir in his chest, something he can’t quite name. He watches as you lean closer to the display case, your eyes lighting up at the sight of the holiday pastries. Gingerbread loaf, peppermint cheesecake, chocolate yule logs—they’re all just food, but you make them seem magical, like treasures unearthed from some hidden trove.

When you order a slice of everything, Steve’s lips twitch upward before he can stop himself. It’s such a whimsical thing to do, so unashamedly indulgent, that he finds himself enchanted by the audacity of it. There’s no hesitation in your joy, no holding back. You’ve walked into this café, brought the winter with you, and somehow made it feel like spring.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he barely notices the barista handing you the bag of treats. You thank them with a cheerful laugh, promising to come back soon to “restock your sweets stash,” and the warmth in your voice is enough to make Steve’s heart ache.

The bell jingles again as you leave, and the cold air rushes in to replace you. Steve watches you disappear into the snowfall, and the café feels dimmer, quieter, like you took the light with you.

For a long moment, Steve just stares at the door, his mind replaying the way you’d smiled, the way your voice had wrapped itself around the room like a warm embrace. It’s only when the sound of laughter from his friends pulls him back to reality that he realizes he’s been zoning out. He blinks, startled, as he suddenly becomes aware of the fact that he’s not alone.

Sam’s voice breaks the silence, light but with a hint of curiosity. “You good, Steve?”

Steve clears his throat, snapping himself back to the present. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says quickly, brushing it off as he shifts in his seat.

Natasha tilts her head slightly, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Seemed like something caught your attention.” Her words are casual, but there’s a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

Steve shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just... got lost in thought,” he says, hoping to sound convincing.

Bucky doesn’t say a word, but the way he glances at Steve, his expression unreadable save for the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, is enough to make Steve shift under his friend’s quiet scrutiny.

Sam hums, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Happens to the best of us,” he says, his tone easy but with just enough weight to make Steve glance away.

“Back to the mission,” Steve mutters, trying to refocus himself on their conversation, though it’s clear he’s still a bit lost in thought. He shifts in his seat, giving a half-hearted attempt to steer things back to the task at hand.

Natasha lets out a soft chuckle, leaning back in her chair, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Sure, Steve. Back to the mission,” she replies, the teasing tone in her voice unmistakable.

The others exchange a quick, knowing glance, but thankfully, they let the moment pass without pushing it. For now, at least. Steve breathes a quiet sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary distraction.

But even as he tries to refocus on the conversation, his mind keeps drifting back to you. His gaze flickers toward the counter, where the café hours are neatly printed on a small sign. The numbers stick in his mind, almost unbidden, as if committing them to memory is second nature.

He knows, even before he finishes reading, that this won’t be the last time he comes to this café—not by a long shot. How could it be, when he’s already looking forward to the next time he’ll catch another glimpse of your radiant smile and hear your sweet voice again?

if you've enjoyed this fic and would like to be tagged in my future fanfics, please drop an ask into my inbox! thank you so much for reading this!! <333

[minors and ageless blogs will not be tagged in the nsfw fics, by the way! i'm sorry!!]

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america x you #captain america x reader #avengers x you #avengers x reader #steve rogers #captain america #[my posts: steve rogers]

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literaryavenger · 1 year ago

Text

New Year's Eve

Summary: A game of two truths and a lie reveals to the team a fact about the you that Bucky can’t seem to stop thinking about.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language 'cause why not. A lot of fluff. My poor attempts at being funny. Mutual pining, idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts.

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Happy New Year's Eve! Thanks for all the messages when I was sick, I'm finally feeling better and I'm negative for Covid! I really wanted to post something for New Year's Eve and this came from a fever dream I had when I was sick, lol. I hope it's any good and someone enjoys it! A particular thank you to @ordelixx for helping me with this story!💘I've only started posting here about a month and a half but I'm really enjoying it and feeling more and more comfortable in my writing. I hope I'm also getting better at it. Anyway, I have big plans for the New Year that I hope you'll enjoy! This year hasn't been great for me, but I'm planning on working harder than ever to make sure the next one is a year I can be proud of. I hope you guys have a nice last day of 2023 and an amazing start of 2024! Love you all.💘

Masterlist

“Ok, your turn, Kill Bill. Two truths and a lie, go.” Tony says, referring to the fact that you fight with swords, making you roll your eyes before you join in on the laughter.

“Ok, uhm...” you try not to look at anyone so you don’t give away the answer “I have a teddy bear that I sleep with, I have bungee jumped from the top of the tower and I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss.”

You look back up to the room and wait for their guesses.

It’s a Friday night and the people that remained in the Tower for the holidays decided to have a little game night.

Every year the same people stay around, having nowhere in particular to go, and spend Christmas together.

Clint and Scott usually spend this time with their families, this year Thor decided to go to New Asgard with Bruce and Loki to visit Val and Korg, and Peter decided to spend it with aunt May and Happy.

You usually alternate between going to visit your family and staying in the tower each year, and this one was your turn to go to your first home.

You came back the day after Christmas, never being one to miss Tony’s New Year’s Eve party that’s gonna happen in two days now.

“Well, we know she has a teddy bear.” Wanda says.

“Do we know that?” Tony turns to you, narrowing his eyes. “Do you have one?”

“Yes, she does, we’ve seen it” Natasha answers for you while you glance at Bucky, praying he doesn’t put together that they’re talking about the teddy bear he gifted you for Valentine’s Day this year along with flowers.

Natasha and Wanda were more happy than you when you told them, sustaining that he did it because he liked you until you pointed out that he gave flowers to them too, because he’s sweet and a gentleman and that’s just who he is.

They wouldn’t let up on the fact that neither of them got a teddy bear though, and you would have agreed with them but Bucky never really did anything else about it so you decided to let it go and not read too much into it.

You're brought back to the present by Tony.

“Ok, so she has one. Then it’s gotta be the New Year’s kiss, everyone has had one at least once in their life,” he was looking at your reaction very closely while talking, but you did your best to keep an easy smile and not give anything away.

“Even Captain Virgin over there had one last year.” he adds vaguely waving towards Steve’s general direction.

You crack at the nickname and at the undignified sound Steve made while blushing and glancing at Nat that shared that kiss with him.

“Tony, there’s no way that she bungee jumped from the roof without us knowing, that’s gotta be the lie.” Sam interjects, also watching you closely for any signs of a reaction that you manage not to give.

“Alright, just take your guesses, people.” You say to the group.

“New Year’s Kiss.” Tony all but yelled, Natasha and Wanda agreeing with him.

“Bungee jump.” Sam says and Steve and Bucky agree, then they all seem to hold their breath as they wait for your answer.

It’s not a surprise that even these stupid little games cause a lot of competition amongst the team.

“Neither.”-you finally said and let out a laugh when they all groan in annoyance while taking their shots for guessing wrong.

“WAIT- you bungee jumped off the ROOF? When?!” Steve seems more concerned than anything.

“Well, you know a few months ago when we happened to all be on different missions at the same time?” They nod, not knowing where you're going with this “Clint and I came back first from ours, we were bored and there was no one around to stop us from doing anything stupid so…” you trail off, shrugging while laughing.

Steve looks shocked, Sam is laughing his ass off while Tony immediately goes to look for the security footage.

They all cheered while watching you throw yourself off the roof, Clint's yells and laughter could be heard, and then Steve shakes his head while joining you in the laughter when you see Clint take his turn and scream like a little girl while you fall to the ground laughing on the video.

Once you all composed yourselves, Tony pokes Wanda’s arm “I thought you said she had a teddy bear.” he's looking at her like she brought him on a treasure hunt and then betrayed him and left him for dead on a deserted island.

“She does! She got it from-” you interrupt her before she can finish the sentence, blushing a little and avoiding Bucky’s eyes.

“I do have a teddy bear, I just don’t sleep with it.” you say, shrugging.

“Oh, come on, that’s cheating!” Natasha whines.

“It’s really not, just because I do have one it doesn’t mean I didn’t tell a lie about it” you laugh at her pout.

“Wait a minute, so you’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?” Tony looks at you like you suddenly grew two heads.

“It’s not a big deal. Funny thing is, I have had boyfriends during New Year’s Eve, I just never happen to spend the day with them.” you say absentmindedly while thinking back at all the parties you’ve been to over the years to celebrate the new year.

“Really?” it's so quiet you almost missed it, your eyes snapping up to meet Bucky’s that were already looking at you.

“Is that so hard to believe?” The room seems to go quiet as everybody looks at you two, but you're too focused on each other to notice.

“I didn’t- I mean…” his cheeks started to turn a little pink as he seemed to have trouble finishing his sentence “It’s just you’re very pretty, who wouldn’t want to kiss you?”

You didn’t know what to say to that, you start blushing too while opening and closing your mouth a couple of times, looking like a damn fish.

You settle for a quiet ‘thank you’ with a smile that he shyly returns, neither of you noticing the glances passed by everyone else.

The whole team is convinced that there’s something between you and Bucky, but both of you always deny it and don’t seem to read too much into each other’s actions, always dismissing the glances and lingering touches as friendly affection even though you’re not really that close.

But really what else could it be?

The team lets the moment end and the game goes on, everyone keeps drinking and having fun until it gets really late and you all decide to call it a night.

Bucky goes to his bedroom and gets ready for sleep but he can’t seem to focus on anything else but you.

He really doesn’t understand how can anybody see your pretty self when you’ve just woken up, no makeup and your eyes full of sleep and not want to kiss you, let alone when you are all dolled up in a pretty golden dresses like you do every New Year’s.

Every year it gets harder for him not to just grab you and kiss you, hell every day is pretty much torture to see you around the Compound and not get to be with you the way he wants to.

But he has to keep his hands to himself because there’s no way you could actually like him like that.

He’s even tried to drop hints here and there like giving you the teddy bear for Valentine’s Day but, except for the cute shade of pink that your face turned, you still didn’t seem all that interested.

Still, that didn’t stop him from thinking what it would be like if you did like him and fantasize about being your first New Year’s kiss and maybe even your last first kiss.

At the same time you were in your own room getting ready for bed while your own thoughts kept going back to the moment you shared with Bucky in the living room.

You didn’t know if you were more embarrassed because you actually told the team you’ve never had a kiss on New Year’s Eve or happy because Bucky called you pretty.

If it was anyone else you wouldn’t even think twice about it, but coming from him it just felt like you were being complimented for the first time ever.

Everytime you thought about it you felt all warm and fuzzy inside, and at this point the moment was pretty much on loop in your mind.

The more you think about it the more you feel your face heat up, sleep not coming easily as you slip into Bucky filled dreams.

The next day everybody’s hanging out in the living room, most of them nursing a hangover from last night. You get ready for a last minute shopping trip to try and find a new dress for New Year’s Eve.

When you get to the living room you see Steve grinning at a disgruntled Tony, Wanda, Sam and Natasha who are obviously very hangover and nowhere near as amused as the blonde supersoldier.

Bucky’s attention is on you as soon as you're in his field of vision and no one fails to notice it, except you of course, your own attention on Wanda and Natasha sprawled on the couch.

“Well, I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come shopping with me,” you start watching from one to the other, as amused as Steve at everyone’s inability to contain themselves when drinking. “but I don’t think that’s happening.”

“Bite me, YLN.” Is all Nat says.

Wanda, on the other hand, is a little gentler. “I can come with you, if you want.” she says sweetly.

“That’s okay, Wands.” you smile at her “just rest and drink lots of water.”

You turn around, saying bye to everyone and making your way out. As soon as the doors of the elevator close, everyone turns to Bucky that's not even pretending not to be staring anymore.

Not that anyone could ignore the longing look on Bucky’s face as he watches you walk away.

“Buck,” Steve starts talking, glancing at everyone before setting his gaze back on his best friend. “we need to talk.”

“Okay…” he slowly drags out, unsure if he even wants Steve to keep going.

“Well, we’ve been noticing some things lately…” He’s unsure of how to say this. “Between you and Y/N.”

Bucky’s cheeks start to turn a slight shade of pink, but he’s still not sure where Steve’s going with this so he says nothing.

“So we thought” he gestures around at everybody. “that maybe we should-”

“We know you like her, and we want to help you get with her.” Tony interrupts Steve, quickly getting to the point.

At Steve’s glare, Tony merely raises his hands in surrender saying, “Listen, Capsicle, I’m way too hungover to take the panoramic route. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Yeah, Stark’s right.” Sam says, turning Bucky whose face is fully red now. “You have a weak ass game, man. Let us help you.”

They all look at the brunette supersoldier while waiting for his answer. He chews on his lip while looking at the expectant faces of his friends, before letting out a deep sigh.

“How would you even help me?” He says quietly, neither accepting nor denying their help just yet.

“Well, we know Y/N,” Wanda says.

“Yeah, we can tell you what turns her on.” Natasha smirked, before Wanda flicks her ear making her let out an ‘ow’ with a slight pout.

“What she means is,” she glares at Natasha “we can tell you what she likes, you know. Maybe help you get closer to her.”

Bucky shakes his head lightly “This is not a good idea. And it doesn’t even matter if she doesn’t like me.”

Wanda and Natasha seem to have a silent conversation, ending with Natasha raising her eyebrow at Wanda and Wanda just sighing with a soft ‘fine’.

“She does like you.” Wanda turns back to Bucky.

“She’s just convinced that you don’t like her like that.” Natasha says with a roll of her eyes.

Bucky still wasn’t completely convinced, but he agreed nonetheless. Maybe it was the glimmer of hope the girls gave him, but if there was even the slightest chance you could actually like him, he owed it to himself to try.

So he let the team make a plan to get you guys together, hoping to god he wouldn’t come to regret it.

You come home a few hours later, super excited to have found the perfect dress for the party the next night.

Bucky thought you were just so cute, all smiles and giggles.

Wanda and Nat talked you into having the last girls night of the year, although it didn’t really take much convincing.

And so the plan begins.

You’re relaxing on your bed, Wanda lying next to you, your head on her lap, and Nat sprawled on the love seat near the window close to your bed.

You’re wearing bathrobes, sheet masks on your faces as you watch a cheesy romcom that you’re so embarrassingly into you don’t even notice the girls exchange a look and nod at each other.

Wanda clears her throat and then begins talking, as casually as she can. “So, how come you never told us you never had a New Year’s kiss?”

They had to approach the subject somehow, right?

“I don’t know,” you say absentmindedly and then shrug, your attention still on the Tv. “didn’t think it was important.”

“Sure it isn’t.” Nat said, and her tone took your attention away from the movie for the first time since it started.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Tasha?” she simply shrugs, an innocent look in the face.

“It doesn’t mean anything” she says, her attention seemingly on the movie “I mean, if it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me.”

“Why would it bother me?” you frown, you don't understand what's so weird about this.

“Well, some people might find it a little…” Wanda trails off.

“Sad?” Natasha ends for her.

“It’s not like I’ve never kissed anyone.” you're starting to get a little defensive.

“We know that, sweetie.” Wanda coos, stroking your hair while you look up at her.

“We really didn’t mean anything by it.” Natasha ends, giving you an apologetic look.

“Yeah, whatever.” is all you say, and you turn your eyes back to the tv, your attention nowhere near it.

Natasha and Wanda can basically hear the gears turn in your head and give each other one last glance.

Part one of the plan is complete.

The next day goes through like usual, the team spending basically the whole morning together.

It’s a tradition, having the last breakfast of the year together, watching the last movie, having the last lunch and so on. Doing all the lasts together.

It’s silly, but it’s a tradition you've all come to be very fond of.

The afternoon comes and you and the girls spend it getting ready for the party, last night’s conversation almost forgotten.

Almost.

As you got to the party the music was deafening before you even stepped out of the elevator and, once you did, you were immediately immersed in a sea of perfume and cologne and, like every other Stark party extravaganza, you didn’t know about 98% of the people there.

You quickly find the team, as outgoing as most of them are, you usually spend most of the night together because it’s the last night of the year, last party and, again, it's your tradition.

You talk, you joke, you laugh but the more you drink the more you keep thinking about your conversation with the girls last night.

Was it really that sad that you’ve never started a new year with a kiss?

Midnight came sooner than you would’ve liked and your teammates decide to ask you a sobering question.

“So, who are you kissing?” Tony asks very casually.

You turn around confused, the team’s eyes all on you. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nobody told you?” Sam says, looking around him “We’re all kissing someone tonight.”

“I- You- What?” you glance towards Bucky so quickly he almost thought he imagined it.

“Well, Romanoff is kissing Rogers, I’m obviously kissing Pepper and Wanda is kissing Wilson.” Tony said, before specifying while pointing at the last two “As friends, obviously.”

“So, you’re all kissing someone?” You look at everyone except the one person you actually want to look at.

Something inside of you just believes that he would nod too and a beautiful woman that you could never compare to would appear at his side.

“Well,” Steve starts. “not all of us…”

He trails off and, following his gaze, you land on the very pair of blue eyes you were trying to avoid.

Suddenly everyone else scatters and it was just you and Bucky. You don't know what to say, but you feel like you can't look away from him now.

What the hell is happening to you?

You’re talking before you can even stop yourself “You know, we could also kiss. As friends.” you add, realizing what you just said, your eyes wide with your own surprise.

He’s about to say something, but you don’t give him a chance to get a sound out before you’re backtracking so fast you might actually fall out the window.

“You don’t have to. Obviously. It’s not like I’d make you.” you chuckled awkwardly, but you can’t stop yourself from rambling “Unless you wanted to. But why would you want to? It’s not like you’re missing anything. I’m not anything special.”

You can hear the countdown starting, but it sounds distant to your ears as your heart pounds faster. “I mean, I’m sure you’re a good kisser. Why wouldn’t you be? Not that you’re like a lady’s man.”

Bucky glances around him, the team giving him encouraging looks as they near zero and you just keep going “But like you were, you know. Not that it’s a bad thi-”

You're thankfully interrupted abruptly by Bucky’s lips on yours just as everyone yells ‘Happy New Year’ and gold and black confetti starts falling down on you.

You can't even begin to comprehend what's happening but your body does, kissing him back almost immediately.

It feels like forever and also too soon when he pulls away, you can't even hearing the chaos around you anymore.

All that exists is you and Bucky and his eyes and his arms around your waist and yours around his neck and his lips that you wanted to kiss again and kiss forever and never stop.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that” he says after a few seconds. Or maybe days. Weeks? Hours? It doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the bright smile he gives you when you say “Me too.”

He kisses you again, but this time the spell is broken by the team’s whistles and cheers.

When you pull away you’re both blushing a little, you glance around you and see all the smug faces of the idiots you love to death, Bucky’s attention never leaving you.

“And by the way,” Bucky says, gaining your attention once more. “you have more qualities than you think,” he then pointed at your chest “You have this.”

You looked down to where he was pointing before saying “I do have great tits, yes.”

When you looked back at him he was blushing even harder and looked like he was having a hard time maintaining eye contact, while you were more relaxed now that the kiss took away all the awkwardness, but trying hard not to laugh.

“... I meant heart” he said after a few moments of silence.

“Either or.” you answered, shrugging and when you heard the snickers of the team around you, you couldn’t help but join them, followed by a still blushing Bucky.

Yep, this year is definitely gonna be an interesting one.

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