#but i blame bruce banner for this.

[mastcrmarksman]

@gammaragee ⸻ "You can't choose who you fall in love with."

❝ What if that person is you, Bruce? ❞

That's a loaded question as if he's been holding onto that for a while. As if it's been locked into the chamber, last bullet, and this was the perfect shot, the only shot. The guy kind of walked right into that one. Finally, this weight that he had been carrying around with him for so long has finally been allowed to lifted off.

The load is by no means gone entirely, but something that he's been able to grow around. It's something that he's dwelled on, that's followed him since the last time they were sat across from each other. Part of him woneders if that was good for him by any means. It's a little stone that's settled in his chest and he no longer has trouble with it being there.

The shape of it, the ache of it, was all too familiar to Clint. It was that feeling of when he was left alone, when suddenly there was an abscence that he wanted to run away from. Something he had run from, that followed him, and made a home. He's had long enough to brood on this, that the feeling has settled like dust.

Was it messed up that where his own peace had came from with the decision to agree, to help, to shoot Bruce Banner was resolving that he had to have; that he did do this out of love. That while the man was gone, had been dead, he realized that the scientist and him were alike more than different. The few and far talks they had when th man had just been man, they knew parts of each other's childhood that other's wouldn't. From memory, from their own stories.

Bruce's the one that had looked at him and said what other's didn't, because he knew, because he knew aabout his dad, about Jacques and Buck, and his brother. A fact of himself, he escapsed and ignored, even if right now he was wishing that he had met Bruce at a bar in the evening than a roadside diner in the afternoon. Clint pushes his fork around on the plate, he's not sad about this fact, about this reveal.

Do they really have time for this? No, but Clint's had a lot more time to think about this, think think about Bruce. ❝ I just thought you should know that I love ya, buddy. I... ❞ He's sorry it didn't work out, but then, ❝ So you know I was glad to do it. ❞ Not for the reasons he gave in court and he wasn't lying then either. he saw the green, saw the vision, saw the need to protect everyonr but every day in that jail celll, in his solitarie; he thought about Bruce Banner. His memories of him and the Hulk, of that moment.

When he hit the road with each twist of knife as people thanked him, his resolve only pushed towards torward this feeling for Banner. It's one he had before, already had been going (why else would he have kissed him). With him being dead and gone, only encouraged him to say it, to take every shot he had and this was that moment. You miss every shot you don't take.

❝ I've, uh, had time to think 'bout that. ❞ He picks up the cup of coffee to take a sip, Clint's not expecting Bruce to say anything. He'd sooner assume he'll get up and leave, or find himself looking down at the Hulk (who he really doesn't want to have this conversation with at the moment).

[daydreamerdrew]

Daredevil (1964) #163

[pandagirl45]

My boyfriend and I have decided this

Thor is the problem child. The one that caused problems and got away with it because he was the "golden child"

Loki was actually the good kid, despite his God status he was overall well behave. He got in trouble because of thor rebellious nature.

Hel never got in trouble she was the girl. (It works in reverse too, I have a little brother he is the only boy so he got away with a lot when we were younger! A whole lot!)

Loki: asking for odin permission to date this person being told no

Thor: doesn't ask. Doesn't even look odin in the eye and gives a heads up, walks in with his giantess lady friend one day.

How did it go when thor wanted to date Bruce? Like this

Thor: *has ravens following him* hello friends

Loki: what did you do now?

Everyone confused.

Thor: father has forbade me from being with my fiance, so I have come to do something about it

Loki: thor don't you dare!

More confusion from the team

Thor: >:] *walks out shocking the birds to a crisp till they are well cooked food* now excuse me friends, I have a love to take out *walks out smiling*

Loki: *starts floating* and here I go being blamed again

Steve: wait thor was the troublemaker!?

Loki: yep! See you soon *gone*

Everyone painfully confused at that.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

three times

a/n: some time ago i asked you guys on a poll what dude you wanted in this story and you all chose bucky, so here it is! also, i partly blame you all for how unhinged it turned out... like you get maybe 6,69% of the blame for the push you gave me... the rest is just me being a hoe

summary: a tale of the three times a nurse was kidnapped by new york’s most notorious gang. 

warnings: dark!mob boss!bucky barnes x nurse!reader x doctor!peter parker, smut, dark content, noncon/dubcon, mob au, mobsters!steve rogers, clint barton, tony stark, scott lang, bruce banner, the gang is called the avengers, doctor!kate bishop, enemies to lovers, kidnapping, violence, weapons, blood, being drugged, alcohol consumption, possessiveness, kissing, clothed x completely naked, panty sniffing, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, gaping, belly bulge, oral, fingering, fisting, pussyjob, in bucky's mind it's brat taming, dumbification, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, somno, bondage, mild knife play, mild gunplay, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 11.574

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You flinched jaggedly as the dark cloth bag was finally ripped off your head. Eyes immediately squinting, they still strained to take in the unfamiliar space you’d been dragged to. 

You were no longer in the hospital’s dark parking lot, nor were you in the black van you’d suddenly been tossed into, but instead, you found yourself in a dark living room. It was elegantly decorated, from the Persian rug to the dramatic, antique fireplace flicking behind the cluster of suit-clad criminals glaring down at you. 

“This her?” one of them grumbled. 

“Yep, one doctor as per your request,” the one who’d abducted you grinned, proudly planting a palm on his hip, “even choose a pretty one just for shits and giggles,” his starkly different mannerisms only made the others seem that much more intimidating. 

The broad-figured one with a shock of sandy hair then stepped closer to where you stood, “alright, here’s the thing, doc,” his head tilted slightly to get on your level as he spoke to you directly, “you’re gonna do exactly as we say and then everything will be alright, okay?” he stared in your eyes as you offered him a shaky nod, “okay,” he exhaled, “you got a name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n…” you uttered before hearing yourself try to correct, “but I–…”

“But what?” the same man croaked. 

“I-I’m not a doctor…”

“God damn it!” someone rumbled as everyone’s eyes flicked to the man who’d captured you, “we can’t fucking trust the new guy to do anything.”

“Well, she’s wearing scrubs,” he tried, frantically gesturing to your uniform, “I just thought–”

“You fucked up, Lang!” the first man who you’d heard speak barked loudly, “and now we’re not just gonna lose one of our brothers tonight, but also the head of the snake. Great fucking job,” a sharp click then caused your eyes to find the gun he yanked out, “and now she gotta die as well–”

“Wait!” you shrieked as both of your palms shot up in the air, “no! Please don’t kill me! I-I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! I can help! Whoever’s hurt, I can help!”

Seemingly superior to the others present, the blonde one stared at you intensely for a while before exhaling a verdict, “shit… well, I guess it’s better than nothing…” his polished shoes then began to shuffle before he gestured to you, “come this way.” 

Hesitantly, you slowly shadowed him out of the living room, down a dim hallway, and into the chamber that bloomed at the bottom of the corridor. In the centre of the dark room, bathed by two glowing pendants, stood a large pool table, and upon the green felt, with colourful orbs haphazardly scatted all about, there laid a man, unconscious and bleeding. 

The brunette’s suit was sodden with crimson, though you couldn’t tell from here how much of it was his own. 

The gangster who was standing by the side and watching over the wounded individual glanced up at your arrival and asked his fellow men, “this the doctor?” 

“No, it’s a fucking stripper,” you twisted your neck at the sarcastic tone as the guy who’d only moments ago pulled a gun on you waltzed past you and entered the room as well, “yes, of course it is, Tony. How’s the boss?”

“Still alive,” he answered in a sigh and cast his glance back down upon the man on the pool table. 

Slowly stepping up, you carefully let your stare wash over the mobster, from the frazzled and blood-soaked attire to the metal-looking hand poking out one of the sleeves. 

“What happened?” you asked carefully. 

“Miss,” someone grumbled as they set a bag of supplies down beside you on the games table, “just fix him.” 

“If you wanna give your friend a better chance, then you give me as much information as possible about what happened to him,” you uttered as you found a pair of gloves and slipped them on. 

Letting out a sigh, the blonde fellow then said, “it was a shootout.”

Snatching up a pair of scissors, you began to snip in the man’s clothes, staring at the sleeve closest to you, “how many times was he shot?”

“I don’t know, he–… a lot of rounds went off,” he grunted, the events of the night weighting his broad shoulders down, “I wasn’t exactly counting.” 

Two bullets. That’s how many you found when his dress shirt was in tatters on the floor. One was lodged in his right arm four finger widths above his elbow, while the other had strayed a bit further north and buried itself in his bulky bicep. You also found other scrapes and scratches along his torso, assumingly from other bullets that hadn’t been as lucky as those two. 

The smallest of relieved sighs flowed from your lungs as you discovered that he wasn’t in a critical enough condition to be in need of a surgeon, at least not from what you could tell with the limited resources currently at your disposal. 

As you carefully set to work, first digging the bullets out before cleaning the wounds with saline, your lips slowly parted as you treaded a curved needle, “…so, not that I don’t love the change to my evening plans,” you didn’t dare shift your glance as you asked, “but don’t you have a regular guy for cleaning up these sorts of messes?” 

“We did… he died tonight, trying to stop that from happening,” the blonde man gestured to the injuries you began to stitch up. 

Blinking up to find his eye, you uttered sincerely, “I’m so sorry for your loss…” feeling yourself, even under such circumstances, uncontrollably slip into those compassionate parts of your profession. 

A slight scoff bubbled out of the gangster, taken aback by your unexpected gentleness, “yeah, me too. Banner was one hell of a guy…”

Once each of the wounds were sutured closed and you’d bandaged him up, you pushed yourself back from the pool table. 

“Alright,” you exhaled and glanced up at the criminals lurking in the shadows of the chamber, “I’m done.”

“Yeah?” one of them stepped up to get a better look, “he’s alright?”

“No, he’s not alright, he was shot multiple times and should be in a fucking hospital,” your eyes briefly fluttered shut as you heard yourself snap, “now, can I please go home?” 

Catching the eye of the blonde one, second in command, you watched as his jaw briefly clenched, the muscles dancing beneath his skin before he breathed, “no, you’re not done.”

“But I did exactly as you asked–”

“Like you said, he should be in a hospital right now, but we can’t have that happen, so instead, you’re gonna stay here till he’s out of the woods.” 

“What? I can’t–”

“You’re a nurse, right?” he croaked to shut you up, “so fucking do your job and nurse him back to health.”

Three whole days ended up passing by before Mr Barnes slowly began to regain consciousness. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” you snapped back into work mode, springing from your seat and leaning in over the bed which he’d previously been moved into. As the mobster instinctively began to sit up, his eyes barely open yet, you laid a soft palm upon his metal arm and uttered, “sir, please don’t move,” and watched as his clenched jaw almost silenced a groan, “one second, I’ll give you something for the pain,” before you shifted a moment to scavenge through the supplies you’d been given. Once the medicine was found, you exhaled slowly as you injected it, gently pressing down the plunger of the syringe, “there you go…” 

You let yourself suck in a deep breath before your sharp eyes washed over him, briefly assessing him as he woke, though as your gaze flickered up to meet his own, initially with the intent of checking his pupillary response, the manner he stared back at you caught you so of guard that a shiver trickled down your spine.  

“Sir, do you know what your name is?” you asked in a clear tone. 

“Mhm…” he hummed and continued to stare at you as if you were an angel, “Bucky…” 

“Bucky, great, that’s good,” you nodded, “and do you know where you are?”

His gaze didn’t shift away from your visage as he then murmured, “heaven…”

“No, I assure you, you’re not dead,” grasping the stethoscope draped around your neck, you shifted it into place to take a quick listen to his heart, “you almost were, a few times, but you aren’t.” 

As the steady thumping of his pulse filled your ears and seeped into your soul, his deep voice washed over you once again and layered atop the beat, “I’m guessing you had something to do with that?” 

Catching his unwavering eye a moment, you then averted yours and muttered, “I was just doing my job…” before retracting the stethoscope from his chest and casting your glance towards the door, “I should probably go tell the others that you’re awake.” 

TWO WEEKS LATER

“…and Mr Jensen in 401 is complaining of a headache, so you might wanna check that out as well.” 

“Alright, cool,” the doctor scribbled down the last of your words on the little notepad in his palm before his gaze flickered up to catch yours, “thank you so much, Y/n,” he flashed you a warm smile. 

Mirroring his expression, you hugged the charts in your grasp closer to your chest, “any time, Dr Parker.” 

“Peter, please,” his thumb extended to click the top of his blue pen before sliding it into the breast pocket of his white coat, “hey, I was gonna go grab a cup of coffee right now, do you wanna join?” he tried to keep his tone casual. 

Blinking back at him, your breath couldn’t help but get caught in your throat, “I–, uhm… I’d love to, but I get off in a little bit. Wednesdays are always just morning shifts for me.” 

“Oh, alright,” he nodded understandingly, though the gentle rejection still tainted his features slightly. 

“But another time,” you offered, successfully brightening his smile once more. 

“Yeah?” his elbow curled up to lean against the supportive railing that lined the hospital hallways. 

“Sure. I mean, I drink coffee, you drink coffee,” you awkwardly began to dig yourself into a hole, “the chances of us bumping into each other at the coffee cart are pretty high–” 

But your sentence was then cut short as Peter’s pager suddenly pinged in his pocket.

Fishing the small device out, his eyes flickered down to the small screen before he croaked, “oh, sorry. I gotta run.”

“Of course,” you swiftly waved a hand and watched as his feet began to shuffle into a run. 

“Talk later!” Peter called over his shoulder before he rounded a corner and disappeared into the maze of the hospital. 

Twisting around, your feet carried you the remaining distance towards the nurses’ station overlooking the ICU. As you laid the stack of files in your arms down on the counter, a familiar voice found your ears right before her visage popped into your periphery.

“Please tell me that that was what I think it was.” 

Your gaze stayed glued on the charts a moment longer as you ignored your friend’s prying, “hello to you too, Kate.”

When your head finally raised and you let her catch your eye, her wide ones questioned you before she expectantly poked once more, “well?”

“Well what?” you shrugged, though your feeble attempts at shutting the pending subject down failed as she shot you a glare, efficiently causing you to crumble with a sigh, “yes, he asked me out again–, or kinda. It was just coffee.”

“And you finally said yes?” she smiled keenly. 

Holding back your scoff, you simply uttered, “no,” before spinning on your heel. 

“Again?” she shuffled slightly to catch up to the pace you swiftly slipped into, “why not? He’s kind, he’s a doctor, he’s hot,” she listed off, counting on her fingers, “he’s literally perfect for you.”

“I know he is…” you tilted your head, almost with an air of shame, “he’s exactly the type of guy that I should be running after…” 

Though you liked him as a person and cared for him enough to call him your friend, those feelings you caught yourself forcing just hadn’t bubbled up yet. He was the kind of man that you deserved, that you should fall for, and certainly not the monster that still haunted you, that for some reason wouldn’t stop popping into your mind, especially at inappropriate times, like very late at night… 

“So then why aren’t you?” Kate asked as you entered the employee locker room.

And though thoughts of a gruff gangster caused your heart to swell, you still muttered, “I don’t know…” as an excuse before you popped open your locker and uttered, “hey… what do you know about mobsters here in the city?

“Other than the horror stories I’ve picked up in the ER, not too much,” she leaned against the row of cubbies beside your own as you dug out your bag and began to change out of your scrubs and back into the clothes you’d worn early this morning when the sun was still only a promise waiting to rise, “though I did grow up here, so I probably do know a bit more than you,” she acknowledged your move to the city only a few years prior, “why? Are you suddenly in the mood for a change in careers?”

Though the truth was on the tip of your tongue, you still found yourself obeying the commands the gangsters had sent you home with. Telling the cops was no use because they were all in their pockets, and confiding in a loved one also wasn’t a smart choice as that would only put them in danger. 

“Have you ever heard of someone called Bucky Barnes?” you asked, instinctively lowering your voice to a whisper. 

The ever light-hearted expression plastered upon Kate’s face fell at the recognition of that name, “yeah…”

“Really?” your brows rose, “what do you know about him?” 

“I mean, other than that he’s the supposed leader of the Avengers, not too much.”

“The Avengers?”

“Yeah, one of New York’s most notorious gangs,” she let out a breath, “from what little I know, they get up to a shit ton of stuff straight out of a De Niro movie or something, but their real money maker is cocaine… I mean, that’s why the head of the group is known as the winter soldier.” 

“How do you know about all this stuff?” you squinted back at her in slight amazement. 

“Went to med school with a few coke heads, might have dated one of them,” she blurted before shaking her head and getting back to the subject at hand, “anyways, Y/n, the point is, you don’t wanna mess with those types, trust me.” 

“I know,” you uttered quietly as you shrugged on your coat and pushed your locker closed, “I wasn’t planning on it, I was just curious…” 

As you dragged your foaming toothbrush over the last of your teeth, a loud knock suddenly rattled your front door, causing you to jump atop the pink bathmat in your tiny bathroom. 

Neck twisted out towards the entryway of your apartment, you briefly leaned over the sink to spit out the toothpaste slowly leaking out of your mouth, before your feet began to carry you towards the exit. 

One of your palms momentarily ran over the edge of your pyjama-clad arm as the night chill soaked through the cotton and made you yearn for the warmth of your bed. 

Though as you pulled on the handle, the haunting figures on the other side of the door caused your blood to freeze with recognition. Standing tall on the other side of the threshold, there stood two of the Avengers’ henchmen. 

“You need to come with us,” the one called Barton ordered coldly. Over the few days the gang had held you captive, you’d picked up on the names of many of the members, including the two that stood before you now. 

“What?” your chest rose and fell rapidly, “I–, please, I swear, I haven’t told a soul.”

Having them knock at your door was one thing, but even just the thought of criminals such as them knowing where you lived sent you into a spiral. 

“Yeah, we know you haven’t,” Scott put a hand on the doorframe, “that’s not why we’re here.” 

“What happened?” you murmured as you were led into one of the many sitting rooms in the mysterious manor they once again brought you to. In an armchair before you, half-empty glass of bourbon in metal hand and the sleeves rolled up on his blood-tainted shirt, there sat the big bad winter soldier himself, panting as he slowly sipped. 

Though when the sound of your voice filled the room, Bucky’s eyes only snapped up to yours for a moment before he shot a glare at his men.

“What is she doing here?” he grumbled lowly. 

“Boss, you busted your stitches,” Lang gestured tensely to the crimson slowly staining his crisp white shirt, “what else were we–”

Intersecting the conversation, the broad form of Steve stepped into the space between the gangsters and swiftly snuffed the pending argument out, “thank you, Barton, Lang,” he nodded to each of them, “you can go,” and you watched the pair that had brought you back exited the room. Shifting his weight, Bucky’s right hand man turned to you and offered you a polite smile, “Y/n, pleasure to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, not masking your disdain of the situation you’d been dragged into yet again, “I wish I could say the same…” before you shifted your eyes to the man in the chair, though still directed your question at Steve, “what do you need me to do?” 

As you shifted closer to the intimidating leader, ever drinking, surely to dull the pain, Rogers murmured as you kneeled down to assess, “I think it’s just the one on his shoulder that’s–”

“Yeah, I see it,” you cut him off, then glanced back over your shoulder at him, “do you still have that medical bag?”

“Yeah, one second,” he swiftly disappeared to fetch it, leaving you all alone with the feared mob boss. 

With the crackling fireplace off to the side as your only source of light, you cautiously raised your hands and asked, “do you mind taking this off?” motioning to the shirt he wore. 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky sighed and sat down his glass before shrugging the item off. Though you’d stared at his bare chest for hours on end before, soaking in his reveal once again for some reason caused your heartbeat to pick up, though you swiftly averted your gaze in an attempt at staying professional. 

Not long passed before Rogers had returned with the supplies, and you’d commenced redoing his stitches. 

“So,” you murmured though your concentration, weaving his skin back together, “do I even wanna know how this happened?”

Blinking down at you, your face close to your work and therefore his skin, Bucky breathed, “probably not...” and as his stare only intensified over the next few stitches, his low timbre once again washed over you as the corners of his lips tugged into the slightest of smirks, “cute PJs, by the way…”

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly get a chance to change,” you felt your cheeks heat up. 

“Oh, I'm not complaining,” his gaze shifted to take in the way the cool night air had caused your nipples to become visible like pebbles beneath the thin stripy fabric, the comment making you shift tensely on your knees. 

Once the last of the knots were tied off and you’d snipped the end of the thread, you wrapped the wounds back up with clean bandages before placing the roll of gauze back into the medical bag. 

“Alright, uhm,” you shifted back, “you’re good now,” a slight winch shot through you as you watched him briefly test out his arm’s mobility, “just be careful, try not to use it too much.”

Catching your eye, he uttered softly, “thank you,” before shifting his gaze to the gangster by the door, “Rogers?” 

“Yes, boss?”

“See to it that she gets home safe.”

ONE MONTH LATER

“I’ve heard the risotto here is really good,” Peter noted as you both skimmed the menus resting on the tablecloth before you, the crystal chandeliers illuminating the restaurant cast a soft glow down upon the choices.  

“Yeah?” you briefly glanced up to catch the doctor’s eye, “well, maybe I should get that then,” you shrugged before shifting slightly in your seat, “hey,” you captured his gaze once more, “could you maybe order for me? I just need to–…” you trailed off, letting the thumb you discreetly pointed over your shoulder in the direction of the bathrooms fill out the rest of the sentence. 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he nodded. 

“Great, thank you,” you smiled as you rose. The long, cobalt-blue, velvet dress you wore briefly swooshed around your legs before the soft click of your heels against the polished floors carried you through the maze of tables. 

It was the third date you’d ventured on with the kind doctor. The third one and yet you still didn’t have any feelings towards him. 

Stubbornly trying as you might, you still couldn’t get the poison out of your system and do the right thing. 

Once you exited the ladies’ room, and big breath of courage in your lungs as you pushed open the door, it all seeped out as you walked through the small hallway that connected the lavatories with the dining space, and you accidentally bumped into two figures that waited in the space. 

Unsure of who was to blame for the collision, you immediately just muttered, “oh, sorry–,” before you glanced up at the pair and your apology crumbled from your lips, your frame immediately freezing up at the recognition. 

“Listen to me. You are going to quietly walk back to your little date, tell him that you’re not feeling well and need to go home,” Stark kept his voice hushed as both he and the other gangster slowly cornered you, the other one grasping your arm to keep you in place, “and then you’re gonna come with us.”

Sucking in a breath, you then tilted your chin slightly, “and if I don’t?” 

“Then we won’t hesitate to make a scene,” Barton shifted the edge of his jacket out of the way to flash you the gun strapped beneath, “so you can either walk with us and safe a life or you can not only have a dying gangster’s blood on your hands, but also everyone in this fucking restaurant.”

With the clench of your jaw, you glared up at them and murmured, “...fine,” before you ripped your arm free and began to walk back into the dining area and the table where Peter still sat. 

Flashing you a smile as you neared, the doctor swiftly said, “so, I ordered this chardonnay that the waiter said was good. You drink wine, right?”

“I–, uhm…” your fingers clutched the back of the chair as you tried to appear as you had before, even though now you felt as if your hammering heart might spring straight out of your ribcage, “Peter, I’m really sorry, but I gotta go,” you briefly scrambled your brain before adding, “the hospital paged me. There was a big accident downtown.”

“Really?” he fished out his own beeper from his pocket and furrowed down at it, “I didn’t get paged, so it probably can’t be that bad.”

“Yeah, but nurses shortage, you know?” 

“Right,” he nodded, disappointment slightly polluting his understanding expression. 

“I'm really sorry,” you uttered as you picked up your small purse from the chair.

“No, it’s fine,” he shook his head gently, “hey, I get it,” he shrugged before waving a hand, “go.”

“Thank you,” you stood there a moment longer, unsure of how you should depart, “uhm… bye,” before you awkwardly shifted closer to his seat and leaned down to press a brief kiss to his cheek as you offered him a half-hearted hug. 

“Who is it this time?” you sighed as you were led into an elegant space, surely intended for parties judging by the long bar that stretched along the back wall. Glaring at the only man seated on one of the barstools, you asked impatiently, “is it you? Did you hurt yourself again?”

Glancing over his shoulder as you halted your stride halfway down the short steps, a smile appeared on Bucky’s face as he leaned a forearm against the bar top and bellowed, “Y/n! Come, have a drink with me,” he waved a hand for you to take the seat beside him. 

Standing your ground, you squinted back at him in confusion, “no, I can’t, I–, where’s the patient?” 

“The patient?” he echoed as if you were speaking a foreign language. 

“Yes,” you huffed, your annoyance simmering into a full-on boil, “the person who’s on death’s door, the reason why I, a medical professional, is here,” you placed your hands on your hips and asked once again, “is it you?”

“No, I’m phenomenal,” he pursed his lips as he snatched up the stout glass waiting for him on the marble counter, “never been better.”

“Okay, so who is it?”

Tearing his gaze away from you, he then uttered, “no one,” before raising the drink up to his lips. As your mouth parted and your glare nearly burned straight through him, the mobster casually added, “you look stunning, by the way,” before twisting in his seat to face you more, “I didn’t know they changed scrubs out with gowns.” 

“No, I–, I was on a date–,” you muttered faintly through your confusion, slightly shaking your head in an attempt to clear it before you raised a hand, “wait, excuse me, no one’s injured?” 

“No,” Barnes shook his head, “no one’s hurt or dying,” then added as if your reaction was a tad bit too dramatic for his taste, “you can relax, it’s fine.”

But instead, the opposite emotions roiled inside of you as you slowly ascended a single one of the remaining steps, “so you mean to tell me that your men threatened me, my date and a whole restaurant of people, then dragged me all the way out here again, for nothing?” you fumed.

“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” he shrugged, “they brought you back here because I told them to,” he kept his ocean eyes upon you as he once again repeated, “now, come drink with me.” 

“No, I don’t want a fucking drink,” you roared. 

But then, just as swiftly as you had raised your voice, Bucky’s steely hand dipped beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a gun.  

“I asked you nicely,” his stern tone rolled off his tongue slowly as he aimed the weapon upon you, “now sit your ass down and share a drink with me.” 

Carefully, you finally followed his orders and sat down at the bar beside him. 

“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he uttered as he sat the gun down beside his drink. Raising up a hand to the silent shadow behind the bar, a glass was soon slid across the counter, one Bukcy pushed closer towards you, “here,” he said as you stared down at the orange peel floating at the top. As you lifted up the cocktail, the gangster beside you raised his own to click yours, “cheers.”

You briefly toyed with the thought of just taking a sip, though opted instead to down it all, both out of the desperate hope that the alcohol would aid the strange evening, but also in an attempt to fast forward a tad closer to your longed-for departure, ripping the bandage off instead of nursing it all night long. 

Though as you sat the glass back down on the bar, the bottom clanged against the marble much more forcefully than you’d intended as the fingers you clutched it with began to tingle. Blinking heavily a few times, your hand accidentally knocked over the empty drink as a numbing sensation began to bloom within your chest and spread throughout your body. 

Trying to get up from your seat, you mumbled foggily, “what the hell?” though quickly stumbled as your legs felt like jelly beneath your velvet gown.

“Whoa, careful now, angel,” Bucky’s calm gaze trailed you chillingly as you tried to steady yourself. 

“The fuck did you do?” you panted as your wide eyes watched him raise from his seat. 

“It's okay,” he uttered softly, “it’s all gonna be okay,” before your world turned to black and you passed out into his arms. 

When you finally stirred, you were no longer at the bar, nor any other room you’d been in before. You were in a bedroom, situated on a spacious mattress and alongside countless fluffy maroon pillows. 

As you sat up, a low rustling found your ears and drew your vision down towards the coldness clinging around your ankle. Strung between the bottom corner of the bedframe and your own foot, there shined a chain, one that, try as you instinctively did, you couldn’t snap out of. 

But then, as the door to the room creaked open and caused your body to flinch, a plea swiftly flowed out of you as you watched Rogers step inside, balancing a small tray with a glass and a tall decanter of clear water. 

“Steve!” you crawled to the bottom of the bed, “I–… help me, please,” you begged, hearing tears thicken up your voice as they rolled down your cheeks, “you’re a good man, deep down I know you don’t wanna stand by and let this happen. Can you unlock me? Please? Help me get out of here.”

But just as you waited for Steve’s lips to part, you instead heard, “shh, don’t waste your breath, honey,” as in strolled Bucky, causing you to swiftly scramble as far back on the bed as the chain would allow. 

Sitting down in a chair just out of your reach, the fireplace opposing the bed, directly behind where he sat, clacked and lit up his spine as he settled into the seat and directed his cold gaze upon you.

“Glad to see you awake,” he uttered calmly.

“Fuck you!” you swiftly spat as you hugged your knees tightly to your chest. 

“And with all of your charms still intact,” he tilted his head, a light smirk blooming on his lips as your vulgar language hadn’t fazed him one bit. 

“Let me go,” you demanded. 

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen, my angel,” his burly arms folded across his chest, “this is for your own protection,” he briefly gestured to the chain, “we wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid or rash now, would we?” one of his eyebrows twitched, “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he uttered as you continued to stare daggers at him, “you need to be kept as safe as possible so you can keep on helping me the way that you have.”

“What? You want me to be your gang’s personal nurse?” you scoffed, “is this your sick and twisted way of offering me a job, because if so, no thanks!”

“Yeah, no, this isn’t a job offering, I’m not interested in those talents of yours,” he leaned further back in the seat before he began to explain, “you see, for the past few years, I’ve had a serious string of bad luck. Deals have fallen through, rats have been found, the feds have been snipping at our heels and countless of my men have lost their lives,” he listed off, “but, then I met you,” his eyes flickered up to capture your own, “and it all turned around,” he uttered, “I tell you, when you’re here, it’s fate herself is on my side and nothing whatsoever could go wrong. Like having you has made me a fucking god or something, that’s the level of power you’ve bestowed in me,” a faint smile tugged at his lips as those words rolled off his tongue, “so no, you can not leave. You have to stay right here where I can make sure you’re safe and sound. Although, just because you get to be kept safe, that doesn’t mean you’re free of any consequences if you step out of line… it also doesn’t mean that I’ll deny anyone of your beauty if it pleases them… so, I guess it’s more along the lines of you just staying alive under my watch.” 

In the blind rage his words threw you into, your fingers wrapped around the bedside lamp before you chucked it across the room. Though just before it could strike the gangster’s head, he casually ducked out of the way, the lamp instead smashing on the floor behind him as a chuckle began to rumble within his chest. 

“That’s cute,” he laughed lowly, “you’ve got some bite. It’ll get you in trouble, but it’s adorable.” 

“I'm not interested in being your good luck charm, you superstitious fuck!” you yelled as he got up from his seat. 

Huffing out a condescending grin, “give it some time, angel,” he fastened the button on his dark suit jacket before smoothing a palm down over the front, “the human psyche is much more fragile than you’d think and can get used to some surprising conditions,” he ignored the scream that desperately tore from your lungs and instead turned to Steve standing by the door and asked him calming, “Rogers, would you mind cleaning that up?” gesturing to the broken lamp on the floor, and as he received a small nod in return, he murmured, “thank you,” before exiting the room and leaving you to your fate. 

“Seriously?” Steve let out a laugh when he finally coaxed the truth out as to why you hadn’t been touching any of the food they’d brought you, “and here I thought you were just a picky eater.” 

“Well, you’ve already drugged me once so what’s stopping you from doing it again,” you explained, glaring down at the plate before you as he attempted to stifle his laughter. 

“I swear, cross my heart, your pasta is not poisoned.”

Continuing to squint down at the food, you kissed your teeth, “prove it.”

“Really?” his brows floated up, “alright,” he sighed as he sat down across from you. Dragging your plate closer, he twirled some of the spaghetti onto the fork before slipping it into his mouth, “see?” he chewed, “I’m fine, and so will you be when you get some food in that belly of yours.”

Pushing it back towards you, hesitantly, you picked up the fork and slowly began to eat. It had only been little things you’d consumed the past couple of days being here, things you could be certain weren’t tainted, like the odd apple and such. 

Though as you chewed and finally began to settle your stomach’s nauseating rumbling, tears began to stream down your cheeks. 

No matter how hard you tried to beg, none of the mobsters would help you, as their loyalty was just too hard for you to crack. 

“Hey…” your bloodshot eyes then flickered up to Rogers as he noticed your weeping, “it’ll get easier, I promise,” he attempted in a soft tone. 

“How?” you blinked back at him hopelessly, “I am being locked up in a room by a maniac as if I’m just some trinket for him to own.” 

Throwing a brief glance over his shoulder, he then leaned in a bit closer to cautiously advise you, “…there might be some things you could do to change your situation…”

“What?” a spark suddenly flickered within you, “I’d do anything.”

“…you might consider trying to get closer to Barnes…” his words remained hesitant, “…if he begins to care for you, then he might treat you differently…”

“Like, he’d let me go?” 

“I don’t know,” he exhaled, “but maybe it could get that chain off your ankle,” he gestured to your foot, “baby steps.” 

ONE MONTH LATER

“Here,” Steve croaked as he suddenly burst through the doors to your room, a big flat box in his arms which he tossed on the bed beside you. Peeking inside, a folded-up bundle of black fabric met your eye, “put it on,” he ordered hastily, “make yourself presentable.”

“Why?” you blinked up at him, your brows knitting gently together. 

“Because the boss requested it,” he answered impatiently. 

“What, he wants to play dress up with me now? Treat me like a doll?”

Over the past month, you had gone from being scared out of your mind, barely sleeping at night, horrified of what they might do to you, till the paralysing fear slowly began to melt away as not much happened at all, in fact so little that you grew bored in your imprisonment, thinking that the big bad gangsters were just all bark and no bite. Perhaps that was a dangerous confidence to develop, growing cocky in your restlessness, but you couldn’t help it. 

Letting out a low sigh, “just put it on,” Rogers’ head tilted before he said, “I’ll be outside, yell when you’re done.”

Popping the lid off all the way, you then slipped into the black gown waiting within. It was long and simple in its beauty as it hugged all of your curves like a second skin. 

Right before you called out to the mobster in the hallway, you leaned in closer to the mirror on the left side of the room. The dark storm clouds visible out the gothic windows that filled up the wall behind you blossomed in the reflection alongside you as you momentarily fussed with your hair to make it match the elegant dress better. 

Once Steve had entered the room once again, the very last thing you expected was what he did next. 

Walking straight up to you, without a word, he bent down and unlocked the chain binding you to the bedpost. At first, a wave of hope washed over you till it was drowned out by the unsettling notion as to where he would take you and just what plans were on the horizon. 

Grabbing you by the arm, he dragged you out of the room and down the dark hallway you’d only seen glimpses of before. You tried to ask him what was going on, though he didn’t offer you any clue in return, only remained silent as he hauled you through the maze-like manor till a wide set of steps found you, leading you down into a garage where a group of the other gangsters already stood beside the black car rolled up by the base of the stairs. 

Standing in the middle with an arm resting against the roof of the vehicle, Bucky’s gaze swiftly landed upon you as you ascended the stone steps. 

“Well,” the mob boss’ eyes roamed your form, “don’t you look pretty.”

Biting your tongue, you greeted him politely, “Mr Barnes.”

“Shall we go?” he cracked open one of the car doors. 

“Where?” you tried, though your question only caused him to breathe out a smile as he ignored it and instead commanded softly. 

“Get in the car, angel,” his metal arm rested atop the door. 

Riding in a different vehicle than you, it was Clint who slipped in behind the wheel of your car and drove you the silent route towards the mysterious destination. 

Though once the car came to a stop, the door to your left cracked open from the outside and there to greet you was an outstretched metal hand to help you exit. 

You didn’t recognise the building that loomed before you, though it was grand and opulent with large steps leading you and all the other arrivals up to what sounded like a party already buzzing on.

“So, you needed a date,” you exhaled as Barnes took your arm and began to lead you up the stairs, a cluster of his men shadowing behind you both. 

“No,” he cocked his head, “I didn’t need it...”

Casting your glance around at the other guests that passed, you asked, “what kinda party is this anyway? Let me guess, human trafficking auction?” you were completely serious, though still managed to make the gangster laugh gently. 

“It’s a wedding,” his chuckle finished billowing out of his lungs, “or a funeral,” he tilted his head, “I'm not quite sure.”

“How could you not be sure?” you shot him a glance as you reached the top of the steps and he dragged you inside the marbled halls, “there’s a pretty significant difference.”

“They all just kinda melt together at this point,” he sighed, “I have at least one of these a week I gotta show my face at, just out of respect.” 

Taking a look around, you uttered, “well, do you at least know who this funeral wedding is for?”

“No fucking clue,” he exhaled before following the signs and leading you into the venue’s ballroom.

Turns out it was a wedding for some couple you hadn’t yet spotted, though you’d already read their names a thousand times with all the stuff they were plastered upon. 

You stayed quiet and lingered by Bucky’s side as he shook some people’s hands and made some small talk before the two of you found yourselves seated at one of the many round tables in the hall. 

Blinking up at the floral centrepiece, your fingers fiddled with the white tablecloth as the hours rolled by. Soon, not only the complementary glass of champagne you’d been handed back when you arrived was sloshing in your belly, but also quite a bit more alcohol as you decided that was a good tool to make the evening more bearable. 

It however also came with the hindrance of boosting your cockiness as you eventually found yourself poking the bear. 

“You know for a big bad gangster,” you stared over at him, leaned back in the seat next to yours, “you’re actually not that scary up close,” you pursed your lips, causing a chuckle to rumble within his chest because of just how untrue that statement was, “smiling at everyone, being polite. Are you sure you really are the big bad winter solider? The king of New York with no heart and only an imagination for torture…”

“Well…” he huffed out a short laugh as he met your gaze, “don’t you have me just all figured out.”

“Some of your guys may have filled me in a bit,” you tilted your head. 

“Have they now?” he continued to look amused. 

“Yeah, well, a bit at least,” you seized your glass and took another sip.

As you placed the flute back down on the table and rested your cheek in a propped-up palm, your stare only intensified into a squint as Bucky’s eyes flickered back around the room.

But as his gaze fluttered back to notice your gawking, he muttered, “what?”

“Why aren’t you mean tonight?” you uttered through the haze fuzzing up your mind. 

Tongue flicking out to wet his lips, his eyes briefly dipped before he uttered, “do you want me to be mean?” a playful smirk twitched at the corner of his lip in a threat to appear. 

“Is it all just a lie?” you asked, the subtext of his previous words flowing directly over your dizzy head. 

“What?”

Squinting back at him, you then breathed, “there’s always a part of me that’s still scared, imagining what you might do to me… but now,” you slowly drew out, “I don’t think you’re actually ever gonna do anything,” you blindly decided, “that’s not really who you are, they’re all just empty threats…” 

“Hm…” he hummed, a slight smile blooming upon his lips as he stared back at you, “okay…” before he leaned in closer to utter, “and just what makes you think that I haven’t already?” your face immediately dropped as his words caused your frame to freeze up, “tell me, Y/n,” his breath fanned across your cheeks, “did you sleep well last night? Or the night before for that matter, or–, well, just during the time you’ve spent here with me?”

As your shock not only showed in your expression but also in your complete lack of speech, he simply grinned back at your stunned features before grabbing you by the hand and breaking the moment. 

“Come on,” he dragged you with him as he then stood up himself, “let’s dance.”

With an argument on the tip of your tongue, the appendage, just as the rest of you, still remained too dumbfounded for it to come to fruition. You didn’t manage to gather your wits once again till he had you on the middle of the floor, wide hand on your waist as you swayed to the music. 

As his hold slowly tightened and he brought you closer to his broad frame, your breath suddenly hitched as you blinked up into his eyes, the air between you growing thick. The hand that grasped your own near swallowed your palm in a dizzying contrast. Goosebumps began to erupt across your skin as you felt your heartbeat thump not only in your chest, but also much further south, a mortifying clue to the dark truth you hoped he didn’t somehow notice. 

Gliding his palm up the length of your spine, it came to rest between your shoulder blades as he then drew you in closer and your gaze fell to the band strumming over his shoulder. 

“Does the thought of me playing with you at night turn you on?” he whispered in your ear and continued to gently sway you to the music, “because if you want me to wake you, all you have to do is ask. Though my attempts so far at rubbing your luck off on me have been rather eventful, I’m still sure it would be better if you gave me a bit of a hand…” 

Tilting your head back to blink up at him, you thought you were gonna spit him in the face for making such an accusation, till your stare acted of its own accord and fluttered down to fixate on his lips. 

It almost felt as if they were calling for you, begging you closer like a stubborn magnet. But before you could close the short distance that kept you two apart, Barton appeared in your periphery and tapped his boss on the shoulder. 

As he leaned in to whisper in his ear, you couldn’t pick up on the words over the music, though watched as Bucky’s face swiftly grew hard. 

“What’s going on?” you asked as the secretive message came to an end and the mobster’s wide hands faded from your frame. 

Ignoring your question, Bucky instead cast his glance over your head at one of the men behind you and ordered sternly, “Stark? Get her home, now.”

“What’s happening?” you tried again, though without success as Tony dragged you away and the remaining gathered to converse in hushed tones.

Perhaps it was because of the chaos of whatever was happening, perhaps just a simple mistake, but when you returned back to the manor, the shackle wasn’t reunited with your ankle. 

Not willing to let that gift slip through your fingers, you soon grasped that opportunity tight and made an attempt at your escape. 

Sneaking down the many hallways, you successfully hid from a handful of gruff-looking men before you realised you couldn’t remember the path to the garage or any other way out of the labyrinth of a building that kept you swallowed in the dark. 

However, your mission turned into a swiftly sinking ship as soon as you rounded the wrong corner and crossed the threshold of the last room you should have entered. 

In the centre of the space stood two chairs, both with individuals strapped to them, though only one of them was still alive. Before the seated pair and with his back turned to your frozen-up form, there stood Bucky. Returned from the party and with both his jacket and tie torn off, his sleeves were rolled up though still tainted in small crimson flecks of the deed he’d just done. 

“Come on, Vladimir…” Barnes uttered as he kneeled down in front of the battered man still breathing, neither he nor the other members in the room haven noticed you in the doorway, “just give me what I want and we can wrap this up.”

Wheezing painfully through his broken nose, the man met Bucky’s steely gaze before fulfilling his request, “…I’m sorry…”

“Hm?” he leaned in pettily, “what was that?”

“I’m sorry,” the tied-up man repeated with a laboured huff.

“Okay, getting there,” he nodded, “what are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for killing Bruce…” the name rolled off Vladimir’s tongue like a crackle to a bonfire. 

“And?” Bucky fished. 

“For hurting you…” 

“See? That wasn’t so bad now,” Barnes straightened back up, “an apology, a life for the one you took from me, and now there’s just one last thing left to do, and then we’re even,” he then took one step back and conjured his gun. Aiming it at the Russian, barely a second passed before a shot deafened everyone’s ears and a bullet blasted through the tied-up man’s arm, mirroring the injuries Bucky himself had sustained. The loud blast and the bloodcurdling scream that tore from Vladimir, however, caught you so off guard that a shriek slipped from you as you flinched, revealing your presence as everybody’s eyes suddenly shifted to train on you. Glancing over his shoulder, Bucky grunted, “what are you doing out? What is she doing out?” he shot his glare in the direction of Steve off to the side, “Rogers? Get her back into bed.”

“Yes, boss,” his right-hand man swiftly nodded before catching up to you in two long steps and seizing your arm. 

And as you were dragged back to your doom, your eyes caught the tail end as Barnes let out a sigh and turned back around to face his victim, “now, where were we? Right! I believe the other one was right around here,” another gunshot echoed in the manor as he shot Vladimir’s arm once more, “and now, we can’t forget about the ones that only skimmed me, so get up and don’t fucking flinch, it’s on you if I hit your lung.”

The chain reunited with your ankle jingled as you twisted on the bed to cast your gaze out the window. Heavy rain hammered against the tall panes as the restless city twinkled through the darkness of the night. In the corner of the room, Steve watched up like a hawk as you continuously failed to find rest. 

But then, just as you thought you felt your heartbeat return to a normal rhythm, the double doors burst open and in paced Bucky. 

“Is she awake?” he huffed, though didn’t wait for an answer before he heatedly went on, “okay, great.”

As his rushed steps halted by the foot of your bed, the look in his eye caused your body to shudder.  

“Rogers?” he kept his cold stare glued on you as he uttered, “go wait outside.”

Though you silently pleaded with your eyes for the mobster to stay, it was no use as Steve swiftly shut the doors behind him. 

As the man before you then shifted, your wide eyes finally noticed the bundle of rope in his grasp as he began to unravel it. Scrambling back, you didn’t manage to crawl far away before Bucky caught the chain and yanked it hard enough to force your frame down towards him. Though your struggling finally fizzled out when the gangster pulled out his gun, the very gun he’d just ended a life with, and aimed it at your head to get you to comply. 

“You know,” he uttered gruffly like a pent-up bull, “I’ve been nice, I’ve been real well behaved, kept my manners intact, been a goddamn gentleman,” the heavy weapon in his hand tilted slightly to emphasise his words, “but evidently, that’s not what you need to learn your fucking place,” he fumed before letting out a low exhale, “that’s alright…”

“Bucky, please,” tears blurred your vision as you held up your palms, “I-I understand, I’m sorry, you don’t have to do this.” 

“Oh, but I do…” he sighed almost softly as he then kneeled down closer and let the tip of the cool barrel stroke your cheek, “…if you don’t break a horse, then she’ll never be tamed…” his eyes trailed after the line he drew before it flickered up to find your own, “now give me your hands,” he ordered and hesitantly, you shakily obeyed. 

Since you couldn’t stay in your place, he simply had to tie you down better. 

Unfurling the rope in his grasp, the mobster then fastened the cord around not only both of your wrists, but also your free ankle. After each of the tight knots were tied off, he yanked each appendage to the nearest corner of the bedframe, spreading your limbs till you looked like a starfish on the mattress. 

Taking a step back to admire his handiwork, his fingers then dipped down into his pocket before a slight furrow found his brow as his touch didn’t locate the item he fished for. Placing the heavy gun in his palm down on the fireplace mantel, he then closed the distance towards the exit and cracked open the door just a smidge. 

“Rogers?” he extended a hand through the sliver, “give me your knife,” to which a switchblade was swiftly placed in his palm, replacing his own which was still lodged deeply inside the corpse of the Russian in the other room. 

Slamming the door behind him, he then crossed the room and silently began to cut your clothes off. The black gown you still wore came off with only a few slices, though your underwear, that he took his time with, slowly grazing the blade over your goosebump-ridden flesh before nicking the cotton clinging tightly to your frame. 

Once you were bare before him, his feet shuffled back slightly as he let his stare soak up every millimetre of you. 

A hand floated up to tug on his tie and loosen it slightly from around the collar still dappled with the blood of his enemy. Folding closed the knife with a faint flourish, he then sank down into the armchair directly behind him. The tattered panties he’d sliced from you were still clutched tightly in his hand as his eyes stayed glued upon your frame. Bringing the fabric up to his nose, his blue eyes then fluttered closed for a second as he breathed deeply, letting the scent of you flood his senses. 

But as he stuffed the cotton down into his pocket and let his palm drift to somewhere else, your eyes grew even wider as you gasped, “what are you–”

“Just shut up, please,” he groaned, sounding like he was at his very last straw as he brashly began to rub himself through his pants, “just for one fucking second, don’t be a brat.”

Your jaw couldn’t help but hit the floor as he shamelessly pulled out his cock, letting the intimidating hardness spring free of its confines before he spit in his palm and enclosed his fist around the fat girth. You wanted to look away, you truly did, but you just couldn’t, a flaw he obviously noticed. 

“You’re unbelievable…” he chuckled as his fist silkily stroked up and down his cock, the mixture of his own spit and the precum beading at the tip caused a sloppy melody to fill the room at each and every twist, “I mean, me being into you, that’s one thing, that makes sense, you’re the closest thing to magic that I’ve ever experienced, so of course that’s enough to get me going, but you… you’re the very textbook definition of a good girl and here you are pining after–, how was it again you put it? A superstitious fuck?” 

Stunned at his accusation, you tried to tear your stare away, “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Really? Well, I didn’t take you for a fool, but hey,” he tilted his head, “some folks are just that disconnected to their own feelings.”

Blinking back at him, you scoffed faintly, “you’re crazy, I’m not–…” but you couldn’t even say it out loud as you, deep down, knew that it was a lie. 

“Oh yeah?” he cocked a brow, finding your flustered state amusing, “then why did you almost kiss me tonight?”

“I–…I was drunk.” 

Letting out a dark chuckle, “alright, sure,” he then rose from his seat and crawled up on the bed with you before he buried his face between your parted thighs, “if you despise me so much, then why are you so fucking wet?” his hot breath fanned across your core. 

“I’m not–,” you tried, though your attempt then fell short as he proved you wrong, reaching out his touch to tickle at your lightly and let the wet sounds of your arousal slosh into your soul. 

“Hm?” the broad pad of his thumb gently brushed over your glistening petals, making them part for him, “if this isn’t because deep down you want me, then why? I’d love to hear you try and explain your way out of this one…”

“I-I–…” your eyes fluttered as you tried to fight the feeling, “I don’t…” 

Laughing lightly through the scoff that then bubbled out of him, he averted his gaze and said, “okay, fine. You wanna play that game?” his eyes flickered back up to find yours, “if you need a bit of help in order to admit the truth, then that’s what you’ll get,” he uttered before suddenly stuffing two of his fingers inside of you. 

Craning his neck, he tilted down to catch a taste. You tried to hold back your moans as his digits caressed you, but the softness of his velvety tongue came as such a shock that a little squeak managed to slip out past your lips. 

“I mean, if it’s any consolation,” his stubbly chin glimmered with your essence as he retracted slightly to smirk, “I personally think it’s kinda cute that you have a crush on me like a little schoolgirl…” 

He then sent his palm down upon your pussy in a wet smack, before repeating the action a couple of times to echo the jolt it shot through your body. 

“Fuck…” he groaned in a low rumble, “you are so much more pretty awake…” he revealed casually, “sure, you make some cute noises in your sleep, but not like this,” you instinctually tried to stifle the uncontrollable whimpers that flowed from your lungs, “you should really be thanking me for all of the time and effort I’ve put into stretching this little hole of yours out,” his fingers continued to pump in and out of you, “if I hadn’t, well then you might just split in two when I finally get my cock in there.” 

And as he leaned down to lap you up once more, you curled your toes as you felt him push you closer to the edge. 

“Mr Barnes…” you attempted with an air of respect through your pants, “please don’t–…”

“Why? Because it makes you want to kiss me again?” he teasingly taunted you before continuing his persistent licks, bullying your clit into submission. 

And as he kept going, even as you gasped, “stop–, a-ah!” he still kept his lips locked around your puffy pearl long after a gush of squirt wept around his fingers, keeping his efforts up till your hips were bucking back in sensitivity. 

But when his kiss finally ceased, he let some of your juices, that had flooded into his mouth, trickle out past his lips and back down onto your pussy, “fuck…” his low groan nearly caused the whole room to rumble, “nasty little cunt…” before he slapped your throbbing core once more, watching as the last little trickle weakly leaked out and soaked the sheets below. 

Lifting himself up to hover above your constricted form, you then squirmed as you felt him nudge the bulbous tip of him against you. 

“Does the idea of liking, or even loving, someone like me scare you that much?” he uttered as he gathered up your slick and smeared it with his cock, “does it make you feel all wrong and icky inside that I of all people make you feel the way that you do?” 

All of the air in your lungs was then suddenly knocked clean out as he, with one long stroke, slipped all the way inside, before pulling right back out to tap the weight of him against your poor clit with the hold he had at his base. 

“You won’t spontaneously combust if you admit it out loud, you know…”

He repeated the motion, plugging you up completely before he denied your cunt the chance of getting used to the stretch. 

“I just wanna hear you say it…”

And on the next time he filled you up to the brim, this time his hips didn’t retract.

Reeling as you fought to comprehend the manner his girth split you open, you gasped weakly, “I can’t…”

“Hmm…” his eyes above you narrowed slightly before he pointed out, “that’s not a no,” and he began to move, “finally getting somewhere…”

The gangster was in no way gentle as he started to fuck your pussy, the selfish force of it caused your body to jostle every time his heavy balls tapped against your slick skin, thereby conducting a lewd beat each time he slammed into you. 

Lowing himself to get even closer to you, his nose ghosted against your own from the proximity. The gesture made you assume that he was about to press his lips to yours, though they never touched, even as your own instincts overwhelmed you and made you dizzily tilt up to try and close the gap, “nah-ah-ah,” he swiftly clicked his tongue and moved out of your reach, “admit the truth and then I’ll kiss you all you want.”

With his length still embedded deep within you, he sat back up. His fingers dented your hips as he grabbed onto them and then began to sink them harshly down against his own, lifting your frame entirely off of the mattress as he used you like a toy. 

“Oh god…” you whimpered as your eyes fluttered down to notice the faint bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, the thrusting imprint of his size visibly showing just how deep he buried himself inside of you. 

Once he’d plopped your hips back down onto the bed, his hands then instead floated up to play with your tits, the rhythm he offered you causing them to jiggle in his palms. Though once he’d fiercely pinched your nipples and parted ways in a brief tap, his fingers then drifted further down south till his right hand found your puffy clit. 

Casting his glance down as he rubbed your pearl, a smirk appeared on his lip as he spotted the way your cream coated his girth. Sweeping down to smear his touch against it, what he did next caught you so off guard that you jostled wildly in your binds in an attempt to hit him for his audacity.

“Ahh!” you yelped as he stuffed two of his fingers in your pussy alongside his already overwhelming girth, “Buck, no, it’s too much!” 

But your squeak only caused him to chuckle as he stared down at the way your little hole struggled to take what he gave it, clinging around him so tightly that loud groans began to billow from him as he soon painted your insides white and pumped you full of his cum. 

With heavy breaths, he withdrew his dick, though let his digits stay inside your warmth. 

“Maybe in time you could become more than just my good luck charm…” he murmured as he flopped down to curl closer to your core, “would you like that?” he nipped at one of your thighs as his load slowly began to leak around his thick fingers, “does the idea of me falling down to my knees before you and declaring my undying love entice you, angel?” 

“You’ll just have to do better,” he continued as his digits began to twist within you, “let me mould you and make you perfect for me,” another one of his fingers was stuffed inside of you, causing your eyes to flutter, “just let go,” he breathed, “shut off your brain and let it become a leaky mess just like your pussy already is for me,” he worked another digit into your creamy cunt before grazing the last one against your stretched out opening, “you don’t need to think, you just need to do exactly as I tell you to and everything will be okay,” his tone was soft as his thumb curled close to the others and sank into your pussy with a pop, “just break for me, it’s okay,” your body was shaking beneath him as his entire fist slowly twisted within you, “you’ll be so much more perfect ruined…”

Tears were streaming down your face as you unravelled once more, trembling violently as your pussy clamped down around his wide hand so tightly that it was forced all the way out, a drizzle of your nectar once again spraying out at the intensity. 

“Alright!” you let out a sob, “alright… I–… I don’t understand it… but, I–…” you caught his eye and confessed, “ever since the moment I met you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… even when I fall asleep, it’s like you’re haunting me in my dreams…” a faint shake found your head as you blinked up at him through your blurry vision, “I don’t wanna feel this way. But–… I do.”

It seemed as though time stood still as Bucky stared down at you, an unreadable expression tinting his features before he finally shifted, slowly leaning down over you and inching closer before he finally pressed his lips to your own.

A faint whimper was muffled against his kiss as you felt the world crumble around you. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it now…” he breathed as he ended the soft peck, “say it again,” his hand slid over your jaw, “practice makes perfect.”

Blinking up into his eyes, you uttered from the bottom of your heart, “I am yours,” a single tear rolled down your cheek as you still trembled beneath him. 

“Damn right you are…” his lips tilted into a smile. 

Fishing out the borrowed switchblade that still rested within the gangster’s pocket, he then sliced through the ropes and constricted you. 

Tangling your arms around his neck as you sat up, you captured his lips once again and felt his touch slide down under your ass before he scooped you into his lap. Your sore pussy wept against his cock, once again throbbing and hard as a rock against your core. As your tongue danced against his own, you couldn’t help but scramble even closer, pressing your body impossibly close to his own as you grinded down against him. 

“You are mine,” he groaned as he manhandled your frame in his hold and sank you back down onto his fat dick, “you are my most prized possession,” your bodies met in sticky claps as the aftermath of the rough round moments before still oozed all over this one where passion crackled behind both of your own desperate efforts, “I will never let you go,” he blinked up into your eyes as you rode him, both of you clinging to each other as the end crept ever nearer, “always need you–,” his sentence was briefly broken up by a moan as you rolled your hips, your pussy gripping around him and squeezing him tightly, “need you by my side…” 

Once your synced-up orgasms had both shuddered your senses and you were sharing each other’s breath, your eyes remained locked as his throbbing cock stayed buried deep within you.

“So, what now?” your chest rose and fell as you whispered into the night, the pitter-patter of rain splashing against your windows once again catching your attention as it swept over and mingled with your laboured pants of breath.  

Not shifting his gaze, his eyes briefly scanned your own in search of any ounce of deception, before his fingers dipped down into his pocket and conjured a tiny key, “now,” and he stretched down to undo the chain at your ankle. The click of the lock felt like a gasp of real air was finally filling your depraved lungs, “I take you to my room,” and he manoeuvred you around to slink one arm in behind your knees while the other stayed fast at your spine. As he rose from the bed, he plucked you up with him as well, carrying you in his hold as he exited the bedroom. 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[yelenasbitch]

Flu Season

Summary: The flu is going around, and Natasha's girlfriend and sister both get it.

Word Count: 1,059

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: Reader and Nat are in an established relationship.

There's a horrible flu going around the entire city, and Tony has brought it to the compound. Or maybe one of the staff or agents, but still: you like to blame Tony. It helps keep him humble (as humble as that man can be, anyway). 

Bruce is the first one to get ill and he keeps trying to sneak into the lab and work, while Tony keeps having to escort him out and back to his room to rest. The big cry baby puts on his whole suit and helmet saying that it ‘keeps out the germs, you know!’ and maybe he was right about that… 

Sam is ill too; the poor guy moves into the compound permanently and gets the flu two days later. You had immediately begun making them both soup, even as you laughed at their misfortune with Yelena. In fact, the two of you had made so many jokes, and laughed for so long, that your stomachs hurt. And didn't stop hurting. And now you’re both in bed, day four of feeling quite horrible, and you don’t even have the energy to yell at Stark. You comfort yourself by planning mean things to do to him when you’re feeling better. It works, a bit.

Steve and Bucky, their immune systems far superior thanks to the super soldier serum, are taking care of Sam, rounding up Bruce, and helping Natasha with you and Yelena. Because your girlfriend is feeling perfectly fine, still. Even when her girlfriend and her sister and several friends have gotten ill. It’s not fair. 

She enters your bedroom and you throw a pillow at her which she neatly sidesteps. Yelena, next to you in bed, laughs until she heaves and you laugh even as you start to tear up, emotions all over the place while you're sick. Natasha looks… tired and fond as she ambles over to the two of you, pressing a glass of water into Yelena’s hand and encouraging small sips, and then walking over and placing a light kiss on your head. 

“I don’t feel well,” you pout as you look up at her, nonsensically hoping she can fix it.

“We don’t feel well,” says Yelena, mirroring your pout.

“Go get Tony, and beat him up in front of us,” you continue, “that’ll help.” And Yelena is nodding, carefully, next to you.

“I’m not going to do that, he’s having enough trouble dealing with Banner and Sam. I don’t know which one is more annoying while they're sick,” Natasha muses, handing a thermometer to each of you as she speaks.

You roll your eyes at her and Yelena chooses to flip her off, though both of you dutifully place the thermometers in your mouths. You’ve both learned. The first time it was handed to you and you shook your head, the stern look in Natasha’s eyes had been enough to convince you. Unfortunately, Yelena had been more difficult and fought so much that she had thrown up while backing away from Natasha, dizziness overtaking her. That had set you off and you were sure you had almost witnessed a murder. Still, neither one of you had gone against Natasha since. 

The thermometers both beep and Natasha takes them, a relieved look passing over her face as she says that “both your temperatures are normal again. You’ll be better in no time.”

That said, she still presses more of the foul tasting medicine into both of your hands, watching as you both take it, wincing at the aftertaste. You glare at her and it sounds like Yelena has said something unkind in Russian, which even though you can’t understand, you agree with on a spiritual level.

“It's still too cold in here,” Yelena complains, and you're shaking your head at her, relieved when you don’t become dizzy (maybe you really are getting better). Strangely, you always prefer a colder room than the tough Russian spy, even when you’re both healthy. 

“Too warm.” 

“C’mon Lena,” says Natasha, before it can turn into a serious disagreement, “you can go back to your room and rest. I turned up the heat for you already.” And Yelena perks up at that, enough that she lets her sister help her up and escort her to her bedroom.

You stay in bed and ask FRIDAY to turn down the temperature a bit more, now that Yelena's gone. 

“Unfortunately Miss Romanoff has asked me to ensure it does not get any colder than the present temperature, as it won’t be helpful to get too cold while you’re still ill.”

You curse and glare daggers at Natasha as she walks back in. She smiles at you, eyes brighter now that you and her sister are both doing better, and you love her so much in that instant that you forget to breathe for a second. It must show on your face since she smiles even wider, and gets into bed with you, tucking you into her arms. You grumble a bit for show, even as you nestle in closer to her chest, listening to her heartbeat and her steady breathing. 

You’re drowsy from the medicine, eyes fluttering while she talks to you about this and that, knowing that you like hearing her voice. And it's at this point, when you’re drifting in and out that you hear her say the word vacation, and you try to pull yourself away from the edge of sleep. 

It works long enough for you to tune in to her for a second, “…a nice beach or something, just the two of us, and I’m pretty sure Tony owns his own island. Or maybe we should visit Paris or Rome, or both, because…”

You lose the battle against sleep, but you aren’t that upset since your dreams are now filled with scenes of Natasha: laughing on a beach, sun on her exposed skin and mischief in her eyes, the two of you walking along the Seine at night, and eating Italian gelato together on cobblestoned streets. 

Thoughts of a vacation, however, are put on hold when, two days later, Natasha wakes up with a fever. 

(You gladly pamper her and repay her for taking such good care of you while you were sick.)

(Yelena ‘helps’ by gleefully giving Natasha the disgusting medicine and taking her temperature more than you really think is necessary.)

[theocddiaries]

Alfred: I don't understand. What are we watching? Bruce [Pointing at a camera footage on the TV]: Okay, look. I fell yesterday at the market. Dick and I have been having a little disagreement as to what happened. Just watch. I stop to fix my shoe, and then Dick… Right there. He makes way for this very attractive woman, whom he conveniently leaves out of his retelling of the story. Now, right here, Dick backs up, pushes his butt into the cart, pushes me into the cans. Do you see that? It's all his fault! Just like I said! I was right! Suck it! Cass: When did you get this? Jason: Oh, my God. That's why you wanted to come separately. Steph: You went to all that trouble just to prove you were right? Bruce: It really wasn't that much trouble. I went to the store, found your friend Jordan, the bag boy, who got me the manager. He gave me the address of the off-site security office. I filled out some paperwork. Sally faxed it to corporate. Three minutes later, I'm buying a pack of DVDs and burning a copy. Piece of cake. Tim: …It's like a sickness. Bruce: What? None of you believed me, so I got proof. You should all be sucking it right now. Kate: Please stop with the "sucking it," Bruce. They're children. Clark: Yes, children are very impressionable. You'll never know what they'll pick up. Lois: Ugh! Okay, Clark, I'm sorry that I blamed it all on you, okay? But we both need to look at our actions. I mean, if we're thinking about adopting another baby, then we need to-- Diana: You're adopting another kid? Clark: That's not the way you make an announcement! Banners! Banners! [Puts on music] 🎶Ah, let's give the boy a hand ���� Jason: What the hell's happening here? Dick: Is that from Footloose??? Clark [Turns off the music]: Really, Lois? You couldn't even share telling our friends. Kate: Why are you upset? This is such good news. Lois: No, we're a little on edge because Conner has been acting out, like he doesn't want a sibling-- Clark: Yeah, because Lois taught him to hate sharing. Lois: And, or, because Clark wears him like a fanny pack. Alfred: Oh, stop blaming each other. No kid wants a sibling. I remember Bruce hated his cousin so much, he stuck her in a dryer when she was two. Kate: You put me in the dryer? Bruce: …I did. But it wasn't 'cause I hated you. My friend Thomas said that it wouldn't run with a kid inside it, and I knew it would. I was right. Dick: Good governor. It's been going on since you were five? Bruce: …Oh, my God, it is a sickness. What would make me have that need at such a young age? Kate: How long was I in that dryer? Because- I-Is this why I'm afraid of tumbling? I had to quit gymnastics! Dick: A childhood without tumbling?! [Faces Alfred]. You knew this, and just stood by and did nothing? Alfred: Okay, okay. What's done is done. All you can do is learn from your mistakes. And in that spirit, I would like to propose a toast to our young master Damian. This week, he did something he wasn't supposed to do, like we all do-- Diana [Interrupting]: Like we all do!. Cheers, my young warrior! Alfred: No. Not yet. Master Damian stood up like a man. He admitted he was wrong, and he took his licks. And I'm very, very proud of him. Diana: Aaaand now we clink. Alfred: No, we clink when I say we clink. So Master Damian made a mistake, but he didn't take the easy way out. He's got guts. He's got integrity. And as far as I'm concerned, he's the best-- Damian: Okay, stop, stop! I didn't do any of that! Miss Diana broke into the locker and threw the necklace inside, and then we ran away like cowards! I'm sorry, Alfred! I'm sorry! Alfred: Aha! I knew it. I was right! I was right! Everyone: … … [In realization]: Ohhhh. Makes sense. Alfred: … [Drinks in silence].

[probablyreadinsmut]

Fallin - Joel Miller X Afab! Reader

Chapter Two - The ties that bind

Remember, images in the banner above are just for aesthetic purposes, reader is you. Carmy is in there bc readers husband looks like him in my head, just to avoid confusion lol.

Summary for this chapter: Reader is pushed to her breaking point when an unexpected letter shows up in the mailbox and an equally unexpected bond forms between her and Joel.

Warnings/Tags for this chapter: Prepare yourselves. This chapter has some heavy topics in it. Don't say I didn't warn you. Financial struggles, Alcoholism. Alcohol abuse. Readers landlord has shitty timing. Weaponised incompetence. Reader belittles herself. Discussions of past physical abuse (this did not happen to reader). Shared trauma. Reciprocating soothing touches (oooh). No beta so autocorrect takes all the blame if I've missed something! Tommy eating with his mouth full, Momma Miller is rolling in her grave! Reader sleeps with socks on - don't @ me, my autistic ass can't sleep without them on, that's my only self insert haha.

Title taken from this song:

A/N: I'm thinking there's going to have to be a chapter 2.5 because there was another part to this that I wanted to add but the transition to it wouldn't have made sense so... There may be smut next half chapter though!

Word Count: 4.3k

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

///

May 31st 2003

It had been a long ass month.

You picked up extra shifts at work, agreeing to help on the line if it meant you could work overtime. It wasn't your favourite thing to do, working with the chefs instead of being tucked away in the back able to get on with making pastries and decadent cakes. They all had short fuses and you had enough of that shit at home, but you desperately needed the money so you did it, even if it meant working six days a week with a bunch of assholes. Honestly though? You were kind of thankful that you weren't home a lot of the time these days.

Matt hadn't got the job, which in turn had sent him into a further spiral of depression and drinking.

You hated seeing him like this, the man you'd loved. The man you'd married. This wasn't him, he was never a big drinker before all but now? Now you're getting belligerent texts from him mid shift, asking you to pick up a six pack on the way home from work everyday. The one time you forgotten to, so drowsy you'd almost fallen asleep behind the wheel of your car, he screamed at you for an 30 straight minutes before he left the house to go to a bar instead.

Your Internet search history, once full of recipes and forums for the hobbies you enjoyed, was now full of frantic searches for 'How to know if my partner is an alcoholic?' 'How to get help for an alcoholic' 'What to do if an alcoholic won't seek help'. He definitely didn't think he had a problem and you couldn't bring it up to him. This new version of Matt scared you, whether it was in the sense that he was so unpredictable in his moods or that you had this fear that he'd get himself so drunk he'd vomit in his sleep and choke on it, who knew? Either way, it was like having a ticking time bomb in your home, just waiting for it to go off.

You'd just about scraped by on paying bills this month too, resorting to selling your beloved kitchen aid mixer and a few pairs of shoes that, yes, you were going to miss sorely, but you'd rather go without if it meant you didn't miss paying your rent, you'd much rather have a roof over your heads, even if you're hardly ever there these days.

You really needed Matt to be out and working again, but somehow, it didn't look like that was going to happen, so this was your life for the the foreseeable future, working back to back shifts, eating at work so you didn't have to buy extra food at home, holding your breath while the tips were being divided at the end of the day with a figure in your head of how much you needed for gas money. You're keeping your head above water. Just barely though.

Your one day off a week was spent tidying up around the house, picking up after Matt where he failed to throw away bottles, empty ashtrays, throw away takeout containers. Another expense, even though you made sure to leave food for him in the fridge while you were out working. It was like taking one step forward and three steps back half the time.

You'd had a lot of time to think recently, really reflecting back on your entire marriage, drifting away getting lost in thought as you cranked out orders at work. Even while not at home, your thoughts were still there.

You'd come to realise that maybe you'd been looking back at things through rose coloured glasses considering how it was now. He'd always had a short fuse, running out of patience quickly. Passive aggressive comments were his forte, although you found yourself laughing them off most of them time, like water off a ducks back. A lot of things had been left up to you, in charge of making sure the bills were paid even before all this. In charge of keeping the household running. You'd argued about it before and he'd told you he was too busy and stressed with his workload to help, you considered yourself lucky that he remembered to load the dishwasher sometimes and even then he expected a thank you for it. A thank you that you never received yourself.

Everything had been put on your shoulders for so long that you'd just gotten used to it. It had you wondering if you'd always been such a doormat? Self deprecating thoughts were nothing new either.

Slowly, you were beginning to wake up and smell the roses. Realising that nothing had ever actually been perfect, he hadn't been perfect. You hadn't been either, but the give and take in this relationship was completely unbalanced from the get go.

///

June 1st 2003

It was your day off today and the second your dry, tired eyes fluttered open that morning, you resigned yourself to the monotony of your day ahead. You turned to look over your shoulder at Matt snoring loudly beside you, out cold. You had no idea what time he'd come to bed last night, leaving him awake and drinking by himself after he told you to fuck off when you asked him is he could possibly throw away the takeout container full of days old food that was now growing an entire ecosystem inside it. There was no point arguing with this man.

You got up and headed downstairs, silently cursing that creaky ass step that was a constant reminder of how broken your household was, in more ways than one.

With a soft yawn, tying up your bathrobe, you poke your head out the front door, to check that the coast is clear, no neighbours to spot you in your pyjamas, which consisted of leggings, an oversized tee and mismatched socks that you'd pulled on in the dark last night before bed. The mailbox flag had been upright for days, you hadn't had time to check it and Matt simply didn't give a shit.

You weren't prepared for what you'd found in there though, regretting your decision to check it before yous caffienated.

"Oh my god" With the letter in one hand, watery eyes scanning it, your shaking hand against your lips, you stare at the words on the page but they all begin to blur together after the first few sentences, you didn't need to read more than that:

'To the tenant(s) at 16 Sycamore Street. We regret to inform you that your landlord has decided to put the property on the buyers market and has received an offer. Completion is expected to commence by the first week of October. Please vacate the premises no later than 10/1/03....'

Eviction.

They didn't even have the decency to name you on the letter, citing you as 'tenants'. Just another number, just another easy paycheck.

Cold and clinical, washing their hands of you. It felt like such a slap in the face after you'd worked so hard, scrimping and scrounging money to pay the rent this month.

Gut punch after gut punch after gut punch.

There's only so much one person can take. You thought about the idea of having to tell Matt about this, it would somehow be your fault. You thought about the stress of having to find another place on one Salary. The home you were in now was a steal, the landlord had offered it to you at a reduced rate if you agreed to foot the bill for minor repairs, such as that stupid creaky step. Being young and naive, you and Matt had accepted those terms. , You thought you'd got lucky with it when you found it, instantly falling in love with how quiet the cul-de-sac was, how family friendly it was. Envisioning maybe starting your own family here too.

The person you were three years ago when you moved here was an entirely different person to who you are now. You're broken now. Broken and openly sobbing on the sidewalk, screwing the letter up, throwing it back into the mailbox before you angrily slam it shut.

You'd been so wrapped up in the grief of all this happening to you that you hadn't heard the quick footsteps of a certain raven haired neighbour crossing the street,

His tone was all concern and a little hesitation as he spoke "Darlin? Hey you okay?"

///

Joel

It had been over a month since he last really saw you, since you'd snapped at him for poking his nose in, not that he'd intended to.

He'd caught quick glimpses of you as you rushed from your door to the car in the morning, looking more frazzled each day. He'd seen you coming home late at night too, six pack in hand most nights, it couldn't have all been for you.

Joel had thought about quickly catching you one morning during one of those times but he decided against it, he'd considered leaving an apology note on your car too but he thought that was too impersonal.

He'd started to piece things together though, Joel was observant by nature. Hearing the loud rattles of glass being emptied into the garbage truck each week, seeing that trashcan full to the brim with bottles, along with the fact that Jimmy had said he'd still been hearing the arguments coming from your house, he'd also noticed that you'd hardly been home... Things definitely weren't good between you and Matt. This wasn't just run of the mill marital problems, it was a hell of a lot more complicated than that.

It definitely wasn't his place to intervene but there was no chance he was going to just stand by and do nothing either, it was just a matter of when and how.

It was still fairly early on Sunday morning when he'd darted out to his truck, forgetting that he'd left his cellphone in there over night, he always liked to keep it by his side incase an emergency job popped up, he could always use the extra cash after all. He hadn't actually noticed you across the street until the slam of your mailbox, making him nearly smack his head against the roof of his truck.

That's when he sees you there, in your pyjamas, bathrobe and mismatched socks, having a complete meltdown in front of your house.

He tried calling out to you from across the street but you hadn't heard him and when he sees you getting increasingly distressed he decides enough is enough, even if he's nervous that he may get his head bitten off again. He's not the kind of person to just pretend he hadn't seen something like that either.

Not to mention it was breaking his heart a little bit to see you like this. So despite his trepidation, he swiftly crosses the street to come to your aid.

//

You sit at Joel's dining table, eyes puffy and red from crying, staring down into the cup of coffee he'd made you. Despite your tearful protests, he'd guided you across the street to his house. You'd been trying to explain what was wrong but it had all been coming out as garbled sobs. Knowing that you didn't want to be the gossip of the street, he'd taken it upon himself to get you calm again.

You can feel his eyes on you as he leans against the kitchen counter, cradling his own cup of coffee in his hands. You didn't want more pity, right now you were throwing yourself the biggest fucking pity party already.

"'M sorry its not the real stuff, if you don't like it I can make you a tea or-" He wasn't the best at soothing people while they're upset but being a dad to a growing daughter meant he had at least some tricks up his sleeve. The day Sarah had come home from school upset over some crush of hers was a horrible one, holding her and stroking her hair until her sobs dissolved into little hiccups. Joel's momma had always had a healthy stock of tea at home for things like this. 'Tea won't solve all your problems, but it'll sure make things a lil sweeter for a minute'. Wise words from Momma Miller.

You sniffle, still staring down into the cup with a shallow shake of your head. "This is fine, thank you" Your voice is so small. Whatever happened has really messed you up.

"Oh!" he says suddenly, pushing off the counter, turning to grab a tupperware container out of the cabinet. "Sarah has actually been baking..." if you don't want to talk, maybe he can distract you instead, walking over to where you sit, shoulders heavily slumped. He sets the container down beside you, just in your peripheral, it's full of homemade chocolate chip cookies. "She's kinda been bitten by the baking bug now, thanks to you. Here, I know she'd be honoured to get get your opinion on them."

Your eyes raise from the cup in front of you finally, meeting his gaze with puffy eyes and a weak smile. You pick the most delicious, chewy looking cookie from the top of the pile and take a small bite, eyes widening when you taste how good it is.

"Oh my god" you half chuckle behind your hand, needing to finish your bite.

A proud smile stretches across his face. "Good right?"

"Good? I genuinely think these are the best fucking cookies I've ever tasted."

"That's my girl. She'll be fuckin' thrilled to hear that. Ever since you gave her that brownie recipe she's been printin' out recipes to test out and she's on my ass about gettin' one of those um... What are they called? The swirly things that cost a fuckin' arm and a leg?" He makes a bowl and mixing gesture with his hands and you can't help but let out the tiniest of chuckles.

"A Kitchenaid?" He snaps his fingers and nods "Yeah... I had one of those, costs a small fortune but honestly? So worth it. I uh... I actually just sold my one recently, if I'd have known you were looking.."

Something in your tone and the way your eyes fall back to the coffee cup again gnaws at him, unable to stop his curiosity getting the better of him.

He pulls up a chair across from you, grabbing a cookie from the tub, staying quiet for a moment to let you speak if you wanted to.

"I uh... There's just a lot going on right now. Had to sell a few things.." You shift in the chair as you begin to open up. "Matt he... He lost his job a while ago and it's been... It's been really fucking hard honestly? I'm doing extra shifts to make up for the loss of his salary and even then we're just barely making ends meet. We were a little short this month so I sold it" A small butter chuckle leaves you before you continue. "it's funny but, I was so scared that we wouldn't make rent this month and um... Then today I checked the mail and... There was an eviction notice in there." You can feel your eyes misting up again as you speak and he notices it too.

For a moment he's silent, going through a range of emotions in the short amount of time that he's listening to you speak, seeing the broken exhaustion written on your face, hearing it mirrored in your voice. "I... Jesus christ darlin'. I'm so sorry."

It's then that he does something that surprises both of you, setting the cookie down, he reaches across the table to rest his hand on your wrist, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth agaisnt the exposed part of skin in a soothing gesture. "How long have you got 'til you gotta leave?"

You manage a grateful smile at the gesture, it's barely there however. "4 months, they want us out by October 1st."

"Does Matt know?"

You didn't even want to think about telling him right now, but you knew you couldn't ignore it either. "No I... That's what all that was about out there earlier I... I went and checked the mail, first thing I get is an eviction notice. Lucky me."

"I take it that it's probably gonna go down like lead balloon?"

"That's putting it simply. I'm glad I was the one that found it but it doesn't mean it's going to be any easier telling him."

He knows there's more to it, he wants to ask, desperately, but he's unsure about crossing the line after last time. So, he swallows the lump that's formed in his throat, about to tell you something he's never shared with anyone else before, wanting to bridge that gap so you know he's not judging you.

"My uh... My old man... He had a drinkin' problem. He'd drink whiskey like it was water most nights and my momma, god rest her soul, she... She tried. She really tried to keep it from Tommy and me. She never wanted us to see him for anythin' else other than our dear old dad." He pauses for a second, just needing to take a breather, he could do this, it was difficult but he'd get through it. "Anyways, we got older and more wise to it. We weren't stupid. We knew he wasn't just 'sleepin' in' or 'under the weather'" His thumb is still rubbing back and forth on your wrist and what was originally for your benefit, is now self soothing, keeping himself grounded. "I um... I was about 15 when my momma started trying to hide her bruises and... She... She begged me to leave it alone. I wanted to strangle that son of a bitch with my bare hands but I couldn't. For her sake. Then... Then one day I came home from school with Tommy and found him laying into her in the kitchen, all over the fact that she'd burned his... Fuckin' toast."

You're on the verge of tears for a completely different reason now, watching his expression go from sombre to aggrivated as he revisits those memories that he'd worked so hard to suppress. "Oh Joel..." Your voice cracks slightly, now it's your turn to extend the gesture, resting your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

He has to finish. He's started now, he's not telling this story for sympathy, but to show you he can relate. "That was the day I lost it... Told Tommy to run to the neighbours and call 911, he was just a scared kid who'd just watched his momma get beaten black and blue so... I gave my old man a beat down. Me. I made it hurt, I made sure he'd never ever lay a fucking finger on her again and you know what the sad part is? The whole time... The whole time she was still begging me not to. The bastard had crushed her spirit so badly and yet there she was with a busted eye socket and broken nose, begging me not to hurt him."

He takes a shuddering breath, raising his gaze to meet yours, his expression is serious and tinged with anguish. "Darlin' I need you to promise me somethin'..." He moves his hand from under yours, grabbing your hand, taking it in his holding it firmly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. "I need you to promise me you'll get out before that happens to you. I know right now he's not hurting you like that, trust me, I'd see the signs and if he was I'd have been across the street beatin' on him in a heartbeat. It don't mean that it's not takin' everythin' in me now not to do that either but... Don't stay. Don't wait for things to get better, cause they won't. Take this eviction as your oppertuinity to start over without him. I know it ain't as simple as that and you'll have a lot of plannin' to do to get there but you ain't alone. If you ever need to talk or--or get away for a while... I hope you know you can come to me, okay?"

You relish in the physical contact, it had been a long time since anyone had treated you with a kindness like this, his hand was big and warm, slightly rough against your softer skin, from years of manual labour. Even despite the heavy subject, you appreciated it and without meaning to, it had ignited a flicker of something inside you. A shared bond, an understanding of what it meant to live under the same roof as a narcissist.

Swallowing hard as you mull over his words, your waterline still damp with unshed tears. "I... I'll try..." You smile sadly, knowing this is as best as you can offer right now and he knows it too

"Okay Darlin'... Okay. A-and I'm sorry by the way... for what happened before... When um... When I kind of accosted you a few weeks back... I... I didn't mean to stick my nose where it didn't belong."

A light chuckle leaves you at that, wiping away your tears with your free hand. "Apologies don't mean shit Joel. Actions speak louder than words and... Everything you've done for me today? Telling me something incredibly personal like that? That meant more to me than you could possibly know so... Thank you. Your Momma sounded like she was a strong lady."

He smiles wistfully at that, she'd have liked you, he sees a lot of her in you. "She was and so are you."

///

Tommy

It's a little after 9am when Tommy is pulling up to Joel's house with Sarah in the back of his truck. He'd offered to have Sarah for the night so Joel could have some alone time, he was always telling him he should use that time wisely, go out to a bar, live a little, encouraging him to find a girl and take her home for some fun. It was a pass time of his to tease Joel about his sex life, or lack thereof. 'Your virginity must be growin' back by now, brother' he was proud of himself for that one. It had always fallen on deaf ears though, that's where he and Joel differed, Tommy was more of a risk taker, not even 30 yet, still acting like a horny teenager running around Austin breaking hearts. Whearas Joel was more closed off to that kind of thing, it just wasn't his scene. The heartbreak from Sarahs mom leaving had been enough to shake his confidence when it came to love, choosing to focus on his baby girl instead.

So imagine his surprise when he sees Joel in the doorway, watching a pretty lady as she walks away across his front lawn, he recognises that look in his eyes and the way he's unable to pull his gaze from her, his big brother was all gooey eyed over this girl... Granted her attire doesn't scream 'Picked her up at a dive bar' but who was he to judge?

Sarah pipes up from the backseat "Hey that's our neighbour, yknow the lady who gave me the recipe for those birthday brownies you loved?"

"Oh reeaaaally? She's purty." He drawls, pulling up into the driveway.

"Yeah don't even think about it Uncle Tommy. She's married."

Married? Joel you stupid son of a bitch what are you getting yourself into here?

///

Sarah has gone upstairs to put her things away, the sound of her latest Destiny's Child cd echoing upstairs, this is why Joel loved weekends. Especially if it was a rare one like this where he wasn't working.

"So..." Tommy starts as he helps himself to a cookie, taking a big bite before he continues, even with a mouthful of food. Momma Miller raised him better than that. "You got somethin' to tell me big brother?"

A heavy sigh leaves Joel, he knows Tommy saw you leaving the house, he can already tell where this is going. Joel's pouring out two cups of coffee with his back to him, replying with a hint of annoyance in his tone "About what?"

Tommy has the manners to finish his mouthful this time before he speaks. Small graces. "Don't play dumb Joel, 'bout that pretty little thing I saw leavin' your house. Now unless you were just havin' a slumber party over her, considerin' her get up..."

"Tommy.." He warns as he turns to face him.

"Joel."

"It ain't like that she's-"

"Married, I know, Sarah told me. But you can't bullshit me brother, I saw the way you were lookin' at her."

Joel's brow furrows, lips stretching into a thin line. "What are you implyin' exactly?"

"What I'm implyin' brother, is that you have a thing for a married woman. Even I'm not dumb enough to go for the taken ones and you know me I'm down to fuck just about--"

Joel holds up a hand stopping him, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other hand "I beg of you, please don't finish that sentence"

Tommy's hands raise in fake surrender, a small smirk on his face. "Alright, alright. I hear ya loud and clear. All I'm saying is-" He takes another bite of his cookie and starts talking with his mouthful once more "-Is be careful with that one. Don't do anything stupid."

Joel knows better than to lie to him, he knows better than to lie to himself too, he had felt something for you today, beyond the sympathy of your shared trauma. "I appreciate the concern Tommy, but I'm not dumb enough to make a move on a married woman." He turns to grab the cups of coffee "And for the love of God, stop talkin' with your fuckin' mouthful, Momma raised you better"

Tommy just takes a bigger bite and gives Joel a shit eating grin.

///

General tags:

@drewharrisonwriter @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @bitchwitch1981 @kirsteng42 @morallyinept @cheekychaos28 @itwasntimethatdidit40 @almostempty @lovely-vamp-princess

Tags for those that asked:

@deepestchaoslove @mystickittytaco

Tysm for reading 💜

[audhd-author]

I definitely have an idea! Lab colleagues obviously in love with each finally confessing their love and making love for the first time

Hey Anon!

Thanks so much for your request, I hope you like it. It was my first time writing for Brucey so I really hope I did him justice.

- Audhd Author

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Lab Partner

You can't deny, you've had an attraction to Dr Bruce Banner since the day you first met. What you didn't expect was for him to feel the same way.

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2,767 words

NSFW (18+)

Soft sex, marking kink, nail scratching, hickeys, fluffy smut, mentions of disordered eating, creampies, nipple play

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Pen in your hand, you look blankly down at the hastily jotted notes from the meeting this morning with Tony, Fury, Agent Coulson, and Bruce. No matter how hard you try, you just can't find the motivation to keep your head focused. Your mind couldn’t be further from work at the moment as you glance up at Bruce, who’s resting his chin in his hand as he scrolls through blueprints on the latest tech Tony’s introduced to the lab. Letting out a groan, he removes his glasses, rubbing his face in his hands as he stares mindlessly at the screen, your breathing deepening at the sight. Quickly averting your gaze back to the notes, you sigh, randomly colouring in the corner of the paper as you let your thoughts take you anywhere else.

Unfortunately, that anywhere else happened to be on a random beach at sunset with none other than Bruce. His hand reaches up to cup your face as he leans closer to you, lightly brushing his lips against yours. His other hand wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer to him as your hand entangles itself in the back of his hair. Gently pulling your lower lip between his teeth, he extracts a breathless moan from you. “Y/N.” He breathes, breaking the kiss as you gasp for air.

“Y/N.” He repeats, the sunset quickly returning to the lab as you struggle to figure out where reality is. Looking up, a crimson heat spreads across your cheeks as you see Bruce, standing in front of your desk. “Ah, shit sorry, what?” You apologise, struggling to look at him without your heart beating through your chest. “Are you ok? I said your name like 3 times before you even noticed.” Your eyes widen as you try to avoid his gaze, the blush appearing more prominently over your features. “Yeah, sorry. I was lost in thought. What’s up?” You reply as he grins.

“Don’t blame you, these new designs of Tony’s are a lot. Are you hungry? I was thinking of heading out to get something to eat if you wanted to come- my shout.” He asks, as you gratefully nod, realising you actually can’t remember when you last ate. “Yeah, sounds good.” You respond, grabbing your phone from the desk as you stand up for the first time in hours. The moment your weight transfers onto your legs, you have to grasp at the desk for stability as your body sways dangerously, dizziness crowding your head as a hot flush runs through your veins. Bruce’s hand reaches for the small of your back, keeping you stable as his features convey his concern. “Jesus christ, Y/N. When was the last time you ate?” He asks, worry evident in his eyes as he looks at you. You shake your head as you take a deep breath before standing up straighter. “I honestly don’t remember. I can’t eat too early in the morning and I forgot to eat last night.”

“Fucking hell.” He curses under his breath, his hand not leaving your back as he guides you through the lab. The mere touch of his fingers has your body melting as you walk beside him. “As a scientist, you of all people should know the importance of regular nutrition.” He says as the two of you walk down to the underground carpark. "I do. I just don't realise how long it's been since I've eaten sometimes." You admit, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck as Bruce unlocks his 2012 Acura. Opening the door for you, his hand doesn't leave your back until the last second before he shuts the door, walking around to the driver's side of the car.

"Do you feel like anything or did we just want to drive until we see something?" He asks, turning the key in the ignition as he does. "I honestly don't mind." You hurriedly say, if there was one thing you hated it was making decisions like where to go and what to eat. Simple questions like that when another person is involved, absolutely not. You'd much rather have them choose than choose the outcome yourself. "Alright, well, what do you feel like?"

Damn it, Banner- you. "I'm happy with whatever." You can feel the red hot flush of embarrassment appear over your cheeks as you say this. "Y/N." Bruce says, letting off a singular chuckle. "Bruce." You respond, a slight grin pulling at your lips as you look over at him. "Do we need to add decisions to the list of things you avoid?" He asks and you can't help the chuckle escaping you as he responds. "Only when it involves another person. I'm happy to go along with whatever."

Exhaling deeply, Banner grins as he shakes his head in defeat. "You are a piece of work, Y/N." You find yourself laughing at his words. "Oh always, but you love me for it anyways." You respond, only realising what you said after you said it, a familiar hot blush spreading on your face. "Oh definitely." He grins before dropping his tone out of earshot from you. "How can I not?"

Turning into a small parking lot, a lonesome diner stands at the end. "I come here a lot on my breaks. It's small but the food is delicious." Bruce says, pulling into a parking space near the door. Putting the car in park, he pulls the handbrake as he turns to you. "Right so are you able to get out of the car or do you need help with that?" He laughs, a grin on his face as you send him a feigned look of offence before laughing. "I think I can figure it out." You chuckle, opening the door and stepping out, ready for the light-headed feeling overcoming your head as you shut the door behind you.

Walking inside the quaint little diner, Bruce follows you to a corner booth, sitting opposite you as he passes you the menu from the centrepiece. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the Chicken Bacon burger combo, your stomach rumbling at the sight as your hunger finally begins to catch up to you. A young waiter comes to the table, a friendly smile on his face as he does. "Hey Bruce, what can I get for you today?" Bruce gives him a small smile before responding. "Just the usual thanks Alex." He says before looking over at you. "And a Chicken Bacon Burger combo with coke, thanks." You say, hoping the order isn't too expensive. "Sweet, two chicken bacon burger combos. It'll be ready shortly." Alex says before disappearing into the kitchen.

A silent sigh of relief escapes you upon hearing Bruce got the same as he chuckles at the coincidence. "So what inspired you to get into the sciences?" He asks, trying to spark up conversation. A reminiscent smile pulls at your lips as you respond. "My father. He was an esteemed scientist, like you, he got exposed to gamma radiation, except he didn't survive it. He had pre-existing health issues and the direct contact with the radiation killed him. I was always with him in the lab working with him and the one time I wasn't, he died. I just always sort of blamed myself for it and decided to keep his legacy going." Bruce's face falls further with each sentence, unsure as to how to respond.

"Y/N… I'm so sorry." He says, gently reaching over to squeeze your hand comfortingly. Shaking your head, you give a reassuring smile. "Don't be, he died doing what he loved. Besides, if that accident didn't happen, I probably wouldn't be working as an Avenger, which honestly? The thought of not, is terrifying." Bruce laughs after hearing your response. "Understandable, you're around something so often that it's terrible to imagine not having them- it in your life." He says, a blush appearing over both of your cheeks as the both of you catch his slip-up. "Couldn't have said it better myself." You respond as a chuckle escapes the both of you.

_______

The rest of the day absolutely flew by. Both you and Bruce were in high-spirits for the rest of the day, engaging in playful banter as you worked on the logistics of Tony's new blueprints. Turning the shower off, you pull on a loose V neck T-shirt and a comfy pair of jeans before walking into the lounge, slumping onto the couch in the living room of your quarters in the Avengers facility. Flicking the TV on, you aimlessly scroll through the shared Netflix account, finally deciding on The Hitman's Bodyguard. A knock on the door stops you from relaxing, a soft groan escaping you as you slowly stand up from the couch. Unlocking the door, Bruce stands outside, a sheepish smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind but I brought you some dinner, just to make sure you have something to eat. I can't have my favourite lab partner losing out on nutrition."

A grin pulls at your face, as you pull the door open more, letting Bruce walk in. "You didn't have to." He chuckles at your response. "I know, I wanted to." He replies, as you walk into the kitchen, grabbing a set of utensils each as he pulls out two ramen bowls. "Make yourself at home, did you want a drink or anything?" You call from the other room, as Bruce takes a seat on the couch. "No, I'm ok thanks." He replies as you walk back into the room, taking a seat next to him, folding your knees up as you hand him a fork.

"Thank you. I hadn't even thought about dinner, to be honest I was planning on just watching movies until I pass out from exhaustion like usual." You sheepishly admit as Bruce sends you a look of disapproval. "And a messed up sleep schedule, it's a wonder you even manage to function." He says as you chuckle. "Hey, I can guarantee Tony isn't much better." You grin, pointlessly defending yourself.

"Tony has Pepper. I care about you, I want to make sure that you're ok." Bruce states before taking a bite of his ramen. A familiar heat spreads over your cheeks as you hear his words, choosing to have a mouthful of food before responding. "Is this from a lab partner point of view?" You boldly ask as Bruce pauses, avoiding your gaze. "Decidedly not." He starts, taking a moment before exhaling a shaky breath. "I genuinely care about you, but lately, it seems to be more than just being your lab partner. I like you, in a more than friends way. I understand if you don't and I hope it doesn't ruin our relationship but I can't lie to-." You lean forward, brushing your lips tenderly against his, stopping his panicked rant. Startled, he pauses before leaning towards you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek before breaking the kiss.

A smile pulls at both of your faces as you breathe for air. "I like you too, Bruce." You confirm before he leans forward, pressing his lips more confidently against yours. Tender and sweet, it was everything you imagined it to be. Your heart beats intensely in your chest as his hand comes up to lightly trail over your hip, fingers dancing over your clothed skin. A breathy moan escapes you as he gently nibbles at your lower lip, a groan falling off his lips as he hears you. Ramen abandoned on the coffee table, he pushes you gently backwards, hovering over your body. His hands get more explorational. His fingers lightly dance over the curves of your side, his mouth trailing from your earlobe, down to your collarbone, peppering gentle kisses as he does. Your breathing intensifies, a hot desire burning in your core as he gently bites down on the skin on your shoulder, running his tongue over the teeth indents. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this." He groans, licking up the sensitive skin of your neck as you shiver in pleasure.

"Shall we take this to the bedroom?" He suggests as you nod. Letting you get up, Bruce takes your hand as you lead him into the next room. Turning back to him, you wrap your arms around his neck as his hands grab your hips, pulling your body tight to his as your lips reconnect. Bruce guides you backwards as you feel the edge of the bed behind your legs. He gently pushes you back, crawling over you as you hit the bed. His lips find solace on the skin of your neck, sucking it between his teeth as hues of purple and red blossom behind. His fingers grasp at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up over your head as a groan emits from his throat upon seeing your lack of bra.

His mouth attaches to your nipple, gently sucking it as your back arches towards him. The flattened tip of his tongue gently flicks over the now hardened bud, extracting soft moans from your lips. His knee moves between your legs, pressing against your core. Your heat throbs with desire as he turns his attention to your other nipple, continuing with the same ministrations. His name escapes you in a breathless moan, pleasure throbbing in your core. Hearing his name on your lips extracts a low growl from him as his knee begins grinding over your heat. "Absolutely gorgeous." He murmurs against your skin, the vibrations travelling straight to your core as you feel arousal begin to drip down your thighs.

"Bruce, please I need you." You breathe as he pauses, looking up your body before lunging forward to press his lips firmly against yours. Your hands reach up to undo the white button down he's wearing as he runs his tongue over your lower lip, asking for access which you gladly give him. Shrugging the shirt off his shoulders, his hand reaches down to undo your jeans. Your tongues fight for dominance, working together to extract breathy moans from the both of you. Pulling both your jeans and panties down in one precise movement, a soft groan escapes him upon seeing your body fully exposed to him. Quickly undoing his pants, he positions himself in between your legs as his arms slide under your shoulders. Peppering kisses over your skin, his tip presses at your soaking entrance as your body shivers in pleasure.

Bliss fills your veins as he pushes inside you, a groan falling off his lips as your walls stretch around him. His thrusts are not fast nor slow, his hips setting a perfect pace that sends stars floating through your vision. You can't help the curses falling off your lips in a breathless moan, each buck of his hips makes him rub precisely over your sweet spot, ecstasy flooding your body. Your arms wrap around his back, nails digging into his shoulder as a soft whimper escapes you. "So fucking perfect." He groans against your skin, sucking it between his teeth as his tongue runs over the indents.

You can feel the coil in your stomach tighten with each movement of his hips, Bruce reading your body like his favourite book. Every ministration of his mouth, hands, and hips pushes you closer to the edge, pure bliss filling your veins as your body begins to shake beneath him. His hand reaches down to where your two bodies meet, his fingers expertly dancing over your clit as you fall over the edge. His name escapes you in a pleasured gasp, your back arching closer to him as ecstasy crashes over your body. Stars flood your vision as breathless moans fall off your lips, a hot flush burning through your veins. Bruce shudders above you, his hips stalling before you feel hot ropes of his secretion coating your walls, a low groan escaping him as the two of you gasp for air. He continues to thrust into you, slowly drawing out your highs as your body begins to regain its senses.

Gently brushing his lips over yours, he pulls his softening member from you, his hand coming up to brush strands of fallen hair away from your eyes. "You are better than I ever could've imagined." He murmurs, as the kiss breaks, his forehead resting against yours before you pull him down next to you. His arms instinctively wrap around you as you place another tender kiss to his lips, basking in the warmth of his bare skin against yours.

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A/N:

Definitely not sitting in my car at uni posting this 🤭

Will add Brucey to my masterlist on my break because I don't have time right now 🤣😅

[crazyunsexycool]

A love as sweet as honey

Chapter 1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 4.1K

Warnings: Some fluff I guess, angst, Steve being 🙁, reader's family.

A/N: So here we go with chapter 1 for this series. So this is set three months after the semi ending of My little love so I'm keeping some aspects of that series that are mentioned in this chapter vague. We are going straight into Honey's family and they are the worst. I kind of wanted to show the difference in Steve and Honey's worlds. I really hope you like it. Also kind of nervous for this chapter...

If you're reading this or come across my series for the first time, I do recommend reading My Little Love first because characters from that series will play a big roll in this one.

Series Masterlist

You glared at the messages popping up on your phone. It was bad enough that both Bruce and Tony forced you out of your lab in order for you to get some rest, now you had to evade your family. They had persistently called and messaged you about the weekly family dinners. The thing was you hated those gatherings. It was just your father, your two brothers and their wives. Even though you were family you had nothing in common with them, so having to endure their company for an evening was dreadful. It wasn’t like they liked you anyway so you didn’t understand why your presence was required. You much preferred to be in your lab working on one project or another. Watching paint dry was preferable to Sunday night dinner with those snakes. 

“I hope you don’t glare at my messages like that.” Steve’s voice broke you out of your thoughts but you still scowled in his direction. He just chuckled in response.

Steve looked so handsome as he made his way towards you. His golden blond hair was slightly disheveled and his workout clothes fit him perfectly. You’d never let on that you were attracted to him. It still baffles you that he willingly hangs out with you even when you don’t make it easy to be your friend. Although it’s mostly during work hours, which is almost always, or the few parties you’d been dragged to. His presence is soothing and it bothers you that he can ease you out of your bad moods without much resistance.

“Depends on what you messaged me about.” You watched as he took a seat on the bench next to you. “Did the science bros send you?” 

“Science bros?”

“Yeah, Stark and Banner. They kicked me out of my lab. Said I needed to rest.” 

“Can you blame them? Especially after that whole issue with Lottie forcing half the medbay staff to come to your aid because she saw you unconscious in a vision?”

“I just fell asleep.” You grumbled as you turned to watch other employees go about their day. Thinking back on it, the situation was now slightly funny. Although poor Charlotte was incredibly worried about you. 

“Yeah well, everyone needs to rest.” 

You give Steve a sideways glance and frown. “Remember this conversation when you go on back to back missions.” 

Steve gives you a lopsided grin. It made you swoon which forced you to be very self conscious of your staring.

“What are you still doing here anyway?” 

“I’m resting.” 

Steve bent forward and turned his head to get a better look at you when you turned away from him. His eyes squinted in suspicion but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. It was overwhelming to have all of his attention sometimes. To have anyone’s attention on you at all made you uncomfortable but to have Steve was something else. He always managed to make you feel something other than annoyed. You were baffled by how easily he did that. 

“Stop staring you weirdo.” You mumbled. Steve chuckles but doesn’t take his eyes off you. 

“You don’t really believe you’ll get away with trying to go back up to your lab when you didn’t go home to rest, do you?” 

You sigh and your shoulders slump. Steve’s eyes drift down to your pouting lips and for a second he thinks he could kiss that pout away. That’s how it had been since he met you. The attraction was almost immediate and you seemed to always have a pout on those pretty lips of yours.

“I’m just so tired. I don’t want to drive.” 

“I could take you if you’d like.” 

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“I’m offering. But if you don’t like that then you should really reconsider taking one of the empty apartments.” 

He’s right. Some of the apartments have been empty for a while and one had even been offered to you. You just weren’t sure how you felt about living in the compound. 

“Just imagine, you maybe can’t sleep and you get an idea. You don't have to wait until the next day to come in. All you have to do is walk across the building and you’re at work.” Steve offers. 

“Enticing but also I like to separate my personal life from my work life.” 

Steve shrugs and gets up. “Still, think about it. I have to go but text me when you get home so that I know you’re safe.” 

“You care too much.” 

“Can’t blame a guy for caring for his friends.” He says before starting to walk away.

“Wait, we’re friends? I didn’t agree to that.” You joke. 

Steve turns around and walks backwards and raises an eyebrow in your direction. You give a small smile in return. 

“Go home.” 

You roll your eyes in response before he waves and walks away to do whatever it is he did. With a sigh you get up and head to your car. There was no way you’d even be able to get into your office so you actually went home. 

Steve had an open invitation into the Barnes home. He was there all the time. His best friends’ home had warmth and laughter and love. It was all of the things he craved. 

When he was first woken up from the ice and realized that he was no longer in the 1940s, Steve decided that the man that wanted a family and love died the day the plane went down. Instead he found solace in fighting alongside the Avengers and his friendships. He was closest to Mrs. Barnes or how he affectionately called her, Magnet. They’d been working side by side since he’d moved to D.C. their friendship bloomed and now they were more like siblings.

 The only thing Steve envied was his best friends’ relationship. From his point of view they had everything, all more than well deserved of course. He was more than happy that after being tortured and used by Hydra, Bucky was able to find happiness even when he found out he had children. Steve wanted that. He wanted his kids to grow up with the Barnes kids and that they be best friends the way he and Bucky were growing up. He never voiced it of course but Mrs. B could read him like a book. So when he walked into the always busy house he knew he’d be asked something.

“What’s wrong?” Mrs. B asked the minute she looked up at him. She was rocking the youngest Barnes in her arms. The newest addition to the family and only three months old.

“Nothings wrong.” 

“Steve-“ 

“Steebie.” Charlotte ran out from the playroom down the hall and straight into Steve’s arms. 

“Here’s my best girl.” Steve soaked up all of the love Bucky’s daughter gave him. “How are you sweetheart?” 

“I’m good. Do you wanna play tea pawty?” 

“I would love to. I’ll be there in a minute, ok?” Steve sets Charlotte on the floor and she runs back as she yells that she’ll get the party ready. 

“Steve? Are you sure you’re ok?” 

“I’m fine Magnet.” 

She gives him a sympathetic look. Steve knew that she knew what he was feeling. They’d have long conversations about the thoughts of having families and falling in love. Those conversations seemed so long ago. They were both different people now. Still at its core their friendship remains the same, just like with Bucky. 

“Saw you talking to Y/N earlier.” Bucky says as he walks in from the door that leads to the garage. “You have to ask her out.” 

“Why would I ask her out?”

Steve’s best friends look at each other as if they knew some big secret. Well they did although it wasn’t a secret but something Steve was refusing to acknowledge. 

“Because you like her.” Mrs. B says.

“It’s so obvious that you do.” 

“She’s a friend.” Steve defends himself. 

“I used to look at Sugar that way. Still do.” 

“Aaww baby. That’s so cute.” 

Bucky sends a wink in his wife’s direction. It was so cute it made Steve sick sometimes. Again he was happy for them but he wanted that too. Steve was ashamed of the envy he felt sometimes.

“That would be like me asking you out, Magnet.” 

“Eeww.” She scrunched her face and Steve was taken aback by the instant reaction. Then she laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just I see you as family so the thought of dating you is weird.” 

“Exactly my point. Asking her out would be like that for me.” 

Bucky looked at Steve with disbelief. “I know you’re stubborn but this is a whole different level.” 

“Give him a break baby. It’s not like you asked me out when you realized you liked me.” 

Bucky had sat down by his wife and took their youngest child in his arms. He smiled and cooed at his baby before looking up at Steve. 

“Just think about it and once you admit that you like her, ask her out.” Bucky said and Mrs. B nodded in agreement. 

“Steebie, tea pawty is weady.” 

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a very important tea party to attend.” 

“Are you staying for dinner?” His best friend asked over her shoulder. 

“If it’s not too much trouble.” 

“Never.” 

**** 

Lottie poured nonexistent tea into Steve’s plastic teacup. She had immediately draped him with fake jewelry, clip on earrings and placed a plastic crown on his head. Steve then sat on the floor at the table the kids had in their playroom. Henry had been playing with legos in the corner and started giggling at the sight before him. He stopped laughing when a plastic tiara was placed on his head and he had to sit at the table too. Across from Henry sat a Lottie’s beloved pink teddy bear.

“So then the ogre tries to stomp on all of the King’s knights.” Steve was telling the kids about the last mission he’d been on. He made it seem like a fairytale though and the kids were hooked. 

“Oh no.” Lottie whispered. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart. The king’s knights were ready and they had a dragon.”

“What? No way.” Henry exclaimed, hanging on every word. 

“Yes way. The dragon came down from the sky and with his magic powers and BOOM! The ogre didn’t stand a chance.” 

Lottie has a hand on her chest while pretending to sip tea. Henry resting his head on his hand while waiting for Steve to continue. 

“All of the other knights joined the dragon in fighting the ogre’s henchmen. When they finally finished they got the treasure and that treasure helped a lot of village people.” Steve finishes. 

“I wanna be a dragon when I grow up so that I can help people.” 

“Yeah me too.” Lottie agrees with her brother. 

“Dinner’s ready.” 

“Alright, you heard your mom let’s go wash up.” Steve says as he gets up and starts taking all of the accessories off.

“Steebie will you sit with me?” 

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” Steve grabs Lottie and throws her over his shoulder before he reaches for Henry and does the same. They’re both laughing and kicking. “But first we wash our hands.” 

Steve can’t help but smile. The ache that sits heavy in his chest from wanting this life dulls while he sits amongst his friends. Their conversation distracts him from the loneliness he’ll find once he goes back to his apartment.

You’d gone straight to bed once you’d made it home. There was nothing else for you to really do so taking a nap seemed the best option. You’d taken off everything but your panties and plopped down right in the middle of the bed. Tony and Bruce had been right. You did need to sleep, you’d never admit it to them though. Just as you were drifting off to dreamland, obnoxious knocking pulled you away. You grabbed the robe that had been hanging over unpacked boxes and put it on, tying it while walking to your door. 

You’d never bothered unpacking because you move so much. So you zigzagged through all of the boxes holding your personal things in order to get to the front door. Before opening the door you looked through the peephole and froze at the sight of who was at the other side. But that feeling of dread turned into anger as you yanked the door open, startling the three women on the other side. 

“What?” You snapped, your tone harsh and unwelcoming. 

The last thing you were expecting was to see your stepmother and sisters-in-law at your apartment. Especially since you never gave them your address. Your stepmother being front and center schooled her expression first. 

“Now is that anyway to answer the door? I’ve taught you better than that.” She admonishes. 

Rose came into your life when you were a baby. She’s the only maternal figure you’d ever known. You hated her. She was your father’s lapdog and a snitch. The moment you were able to leave his house you did. You tried to be around them as little as possible. Somehow they always managed to drag you back in.

You sisters-in-law were no better. Elizabeth was married to your older brother Richard. Alice was married to your younger brother Charles. They were the picture perfect family. The men ran the family and the women well, they did as they were told. They were the perfect stepford wives and then there was you. 

In their eyes you were the rebellious middle child. The one who they said couldn’t just sit down and do as you were told. You just had to question everything and fight back. It didn’t matter that at 18 you left your father’s home and never lived there again. He wanted to control you because he had an image to maintain. And if he had someone track you down that meant he needed something.

“Well aren’t you going to invite us in?” Rose asked as she tried to look over your shoulder. The only thing she could see was the hallway.

“No. Because I didn’t invite you. As a matter of fact I never even gave any of you my address so I don’t know why you’re here.” 

“We’ve called and texted you multiple times and you haven’t answered..” Alice said. “We were worried.”

“No you weren’t. Besides I have nothing to say to any of you. If I wanted to have any sort of relationship with you I’d answer. There’s nothing for you to worry about.” 

“Y/N please, we are only doing what’s best for our family and that’s keeping everyone together.” Elizabeth adds. 

You roll your eyes. 

“So what does Conrad want now?” 

“Your father,” Rose says. “Would very much love it if you joined us for dinner tonight.” 

“I don’t give two shits about what he would love. Who is he trying to impress?” 

Rose huffs, annoyance creeping into her normally well composed face. You loved riling her up. 

“It’s not about who he’s trying to impress, we haven’t seen you in a while. We’d like to catch up.” 

“And we would be catching up in whose presence?” You push for information. 

“A possible investor in his business.” 

“Mmm.” You nod slowly. 

“So you’ll come?” 

“Nope.” 

“I wasn’t giving you a choice. We’ll stand out here until you’re ready.” 

“I’ll call the cops on you if you don’t leave.” 

You saw the flash of red hot anger flash in Rose’s dark brown eyes. She placed her hand on the door and leaned in to be as close to your face as possible. 

“Remember what happened the last time you tried that.” The threat was there and it all but crumbled the bit of resistance you had against them. 

You blinked back tears as memories rushed to the forefront of your mind. Suddenly you weren’t the person you’d worked so hard to become, you were the little girl that had been neglected her whole life. And that little girl did as she was told if she knew what was good for her. 

“I’ll give you thirty minutes. We’ll wait out here.” Rose had straightened her posture and fell back into the loving wife and mother character she’d perfectly crafted.

You sat quietly in the dining room of the family home. Conrad Bramford, your father, sat at the head of the table. Rose was to his right, your older brother and his wife to his left. That left Charles your younger brother sitting next to his mother and his wife next to you. At the other end of the table, and closest to you, was the investor your father was trying to impress Ezekiel Stane.

“I’m so glad you decided to come.” Alice leaned in and whispered. 

“I didn’t decide, I was forced too. Why do you even give a shit?” 

Alice patted your forearm and smiled as if you were the best of friends and were up to no good. 

“You’re so bad.” She giggled. 

It dawned on you that she really thought you were friends or worse that you were like those families where the in-laws saw each other as actual siblings. 

“Oh you sweet summer’s child.” You murmured. 

“Come on, these dinners aren’t so bad. I mean we’re your family. It’s nice that we get to spend time together.”

“Alice, I’m going to be very clear because you seem like a nice person. I hate every single person sitting at this table.” 

Her smile drops just a little. “But you don’t know me or Elizabeth.” She mumbles. “You should give us a chance.” 

“You’re married to my brother, that’s all I need to know. Besides you've only been married what, a few months?” 

She nods.

“Maybe we can get together on your wedding anniversary and you can tell me how much you still love this family.” You give her a tight lipped smile. 

“Well on our anniversary we’ll be celebrating but I’ll still accept that invitation to talk.” Alice smiles again. 

“So Ms. Bramford. I heard that you work in the science field. How is that working out for you?” Ezekiel asked, pulling your attention away from Alice.

He was handsome with blue eyes and chestnut colored hair. He was tall, fit but not too muscular. 

“It’s great. I really love what I do.” 

“Which is?” 

“Research.” 

Ezekiel put on his most charming smile but it felt off putting. Although him willingly spending time with your father should have been the first sign that he wasn’t a great person. 

“What kind of research?” He asks.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss.” 

“Because she isn’t important enough to know.” Charles said, getting a laugh out of everyone at the table, except for you, Mr. Stane and surprisingly, Alice. She just gave you an apologetic look.

“Forgive us Mr. Stane, it’s just an inside joke.” Richard, your older brother, says with a chuckle. 

“Last time I checked a joke is supposed to be funny. Also might I remind you that I work outside of our father’s company so that I can have my independence. Tell me Dick, what is it that you do?” You stare at him expectantly. “Oh that’s right, you’re too busy kissing his ass to actually have a job.” 

There were gasps all around the table as you stood suddenly. The chair you had been sitting in, scraping along the floor before falling over. 

“Sit back down and apologize, you ungrateful brat.” Your father slammed a fist down on the table causing the plates, glasses and cutlery to clatter together.

“I won’t apologize, I don't want to be here in the first place. I‘ll be leaving now. Let’s do this again, never.” You say and start heading toward the living room where your purse was.

You fiddled with your pearl necklace as you raced through the hallway. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. 

“Well I don’t remember seeing anyone as pretty as you in a long time.” The deep voice froze you in place just as you reached the living room. 

You turn around to find Rose’s brother at the drink cart. His eyes rake your body and you shudder. You turn and grab your belongings and quickly turn towards the door.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving so soon? I was hoping we could catch up. You can tell me where you’ve been hiding.”

“Eat dirt and die, asshole.” You say before exiting into the hallway. 

You’d made it to the door just as your father stepped into the hallway. He called your name and a few other choice words but you were already running down the steps towards your car. You managed to lock yourself in and speed away to be as far from this place as possible before he could get to you.

Your phone had been buzzing nonstop from everyone in your family trying to call or text you. It got to the point that you had to shut it off because it was too much. When you finally make it home you take a shower to hopefully rid yourself of the crawling sensation you get from being back at the family home. 

After a lot of pacing and debating you send an email to Tony and wait. It takes about a minute but you get an answer. Even though it was around three in the morning. Now you can breathe slightly easier but your whole body is thrumming with adrenaline and now it is slowly starting to calm down but your hands are shaking. You would spend the rest of the night going over everything that happened that day until you finally passed out.

Steve had checked his phone a ridiculous amount of times. He even got teased for it by his best friends. But he was genuinely worried because he never received a text from you. He was restless wondering if he should reach out to you or not. Reluctantly he opted for the latter as he opened the door to his apartment where he was met with movers. They were taking things into the apartment across from his which belonged to Bucky when he first moved into the compound. He’d forgotten that someone was moving in and that he’d finally have a neighbor again. 

“Hey Rogers.” You said quietly as you made your way from down the hallway where the elevators were. 

“Hey Y/L/N. What are you doing here so early? And in the residential area. I thought you hated this part of the compound.” 

Steve was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“I used to but considering this is my new place, I thought I’d have to get used to it.” 

Steve’s face lit up at the new piece of information. He even stands up straight and watches as the movers take in a few more mixes in. 

“So you’re the one Tony told me was moving in a few weeks ago.” 

You shake your head. “No, I asked him last night if the offer was still good and he said yes. Although I feel bad that the person taking this spot is being moved. I think he said it was Sharon? She was supposed to move here but she’s still out of the country for a few weeks and this apartment is ready so he let me have it.” You look up at him and then at the apartment you’d be living in. 

“Wait so this was a last minute decision but you had your things packed already?” 

“Well I was going to be moving closer to the compound anyway. I just decided that I would prefer my apartment to have security guards at the entrance.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed at that. “Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?” 

You saw the muscle in his jaw tick. 

“It’s a long story and I’d rather not talk about it.” You moved toward the door of your new apartment.

“Wait, if someone did something to you I’ll help you. They shouldn’t get away with whatever they did.” 

You look at him thoughtfully for a moment. “I wish I would have met you a long time ago, Rogers. Maybe you could have saved me then.” You gave him a sad smile. “I’m gonna get settled but maybe we should have a movie night or something soon. We can even do it at my place since you know where I live now.” 

Steve smiles but you could still see the worry in his eyes. 

“I’ll let you go, Steve.” 

“I’m here for whatever you need, ok?” 

“Thanks, I’ll see you later?” 

“Absolutely, neighbor.” Steve grins. 

“Ugh, don’t make me regret it.” 

“It’ll be the best choice you ever made.” He says confidently. 

Truer words have never been spoken. You just didn’t know it yet.

Ch. 2

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[samdeancass]

Doctor Kink

Requested by Anonymous

Prompt: #6, #28 and #48 from my Smut Prompt List; “Call me that again.”, “You’re so tight” and “We’re the sexiest couple I’ve ever seen.”

Pairing: Bruce Banner x fem!reader

Genre: Smut

Characters: Bruce, Y/N

Description: Innocently, Y/N discovers that Bruce has a kink for being called doctor which turns the night into a very different direction.

You were standing in front of your floor length mirror smoothing out the rest of the wrinkles in your dress. Bruce stood in the doorway leaning against the frame, his eyes raking up and down your body whilst biting his bottom lip. You noticed him in the mirror and smiled.

“Like what you see?” He let out a little growl in reply as he made his way towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, leaving slow, wet kisses in his wake causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. 

You moved your head back to lean against Bruce’s shoulder to give him more room. He slowly moved the strap of your dress from your shoulder and began to kiss there as his hands moved from your waist and traveled up your body and rested on your boobs, giving them a slight squeeze. 

“Does that answer your question?” He looked into the mirror and smirked at the sight that he seen. You lifted your head back up and met his eyes in the mirror, your eyebrows raised slightly. “Someone’s feeling rather horny tonight.” 

Bruce turned you around to face him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, can you blame me? You look so sexy in that dress. In fact, we’re the sexiest couple I’ve ever seen.” You chuckled at his sudden confidence. He leaned down and pressed a long kiss to your lips, his hands finding your waist once more. You pressed yourself against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Tongues began fighting for dominance and hands began to roam hair as the alarm went off on your phone to indicate it was time to leave for the party. You both groaned at the interruption as you leaned over to switch it off. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to carry that on later. C’mon, Doctor.” 

You stepped away and held out your hand for him to take but he didn’t. Instead, he stood staring at you, his once brown eyes turned completely black with lust. “Call me that again.” For a second or two, you were confused at his change of actions but quickly figured out what he meant, a smirk plastering itself on your features. “Alright, Doctor.”

Within seconds Bruce closed the distance between you both and attacked your mouth, easily winning dominance this time. He picked you up and threw you on the bed, roughly opening your legs. “No panties, eh? Someone was planning on being a little slut tonight.” Bruce disappeared between your legs and began to suck and kiss on your pussy, leaving you writhing and moaning in complete bliss. 

He could already sense you were getting close with the mere touch of his lips and feather light touches against your skin. Bruce moved away quickly, earning a groan from you. However the sound of a zipper being undone and pants hitting the floor was enough to rile you up even more. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders before leaning down to give you a sweet kiss as he entered you, hissing as you molded around his dick.

“You’re so tight but I know your ready to take your doctors cock.” You nodded as he slowly began to move in and out of you, your pussy adjusting quickly to his size. As you loosened up Bruce quickened his pace, gripping hard onto your hips to keep himself steady as he railed you into the bed.

Your orgasm was coming quicker than you wanted it to and Bruce could immediately tell that you were trying to fight it by the way you were tightly gripping the sheets. “C’mon, baby, cum for me.” He moved one of his hands to your mound and began to roughly attack your clit with his fingers which caused your orgasm to take over as you cummed all over his cock. 

Bruce continued his rigorous pace as he began to fuck you through yet another orgasm. You began to whimper, the over-stimulation becoming too much. “I’m so close, baby, nearly there.” After a few more thrusts, you both orgasmed together, your moans twisting together in harmony. 

Bruce leaned over you and placed a sweet kiss to your lips as he brushed your hair out of your eyes. “That’s my girl.” You smiled up at him, a slight blush creeping onto your features. He pulled out of you slowly and pulled his pants back up before helping you up off the bed. 

You fixed your hair and smoothed out your dress as your phone began to ring. “Shit, it’s Tony. We need to go. This party is for you, after all.” You grabbed his hand before running down the stairs and grabbing the keys from the bowl beside the front door.

“It’s not my fault we’re late, you look so good in that dress.” You rolled your eyes and slapped the keys to his chest. “You can be the one to explain why we’re late, seems as though you have a new kink that I can’t wait to explore more.” 

You winked as you walked out the door, Bruce following quickly behind, eager to get the party over and that dress off you. 

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[mrsstruggle]

The Beast of War - Prologue // Teen Wolf x Marvel AU

This is the second part of the Shadow Wolf Series. Read The Lost Child First if you haven't!

Series Summary: In the aftermath of discovering her true identity and reuniting with her long-lost family, Y/N Stilinski finds herself adjusting to a new chapter of her life in Beacon Hills. With her brother and his friends in their senior year at High School, the town faces a fresh new threat. Y/N must navigate the complexities of her new life while confronting the looming threat that threatens to hurt her and the people she loves.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Death/Injury/Grief/Torture, Possible Grammar Mistakes (please let me know if there is anything else)

Series Pairings: Derek Hale x Reader, Stiles Stilinski x Malia Tate (for now), Steve Rodgers x Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Words: 2.6k (This is short but the chapters will be longer)

Note: This is Part 2 of the Shadow Wolf series! This happens in the time span before the epilogue in The Lost Child. This will loosely follow season 5 (and possibly the beginning of 6) of Teen Wolf.

Additional Note: While this is a Teen Wolf x Marvel AU, not everything is true to the shows/movies/comics. I had to change things for the story.

One Last Note: Y/N was adopted by Tony Stark and Pepper Potts. I did this so more people can see themselves in this story.

***I do not own Teen Wolf or Marvel or any related characters. This is a work of fanfiction and is meant for entertainment purposes only.***

Masterlist

The Beast of War Masterlist

The Lost Child Masterlist

Next Chapter

---

Y/N hums to herself as she mixes the ingredients for Stiles’ favorite pancakes in a glass bowl on the kitchen counter. He slept over at her and Derek’s loft since their dad had to work an overnight shift at the station. She hasn’t seen much of Stiles since everything that went down with Hydra, the hunters, and the Avengers. With getting kidnapped and outed as the dead Stark child to the world, she had a lot of shifts to make up for at the hospital. Today is the first morning she doesn’t have to be in at 5 AM, so she plans to make the best of it and catch up with her little brother.

Letting go of the whisk and bowl, she grabs the tongs next to the stove and flips over the bacon she has sizzling in a pan. Y/N is so engrossed in what she’s doing that she doesn’t hear Derek sneak up behind.

“Holy shit,” Y/N jumps as Derek wraps his arms around her from behind.

Derek lets out a low chuckle, “For a werewolf, you have terrible hearing.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at him, “I was clearly distracted.”

“I’d be happy to distract you some more.”

“Or you could set the table?”

“I can do that too.” Derek presses a kiss into her hair before letting go of her. He notices that she has three different pans on the stove cooking bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns. “What’s with the big breakfast?”

“It’s Stiles’ first day of senior year, and I feel bad that I haven’t seen him that much since everything that’s happened this summer,” Y/N says, pouring some of the pancake batter onto the griddle she has set up on the counter.

“He slept here for almost two weeks.”

“Yeah, but that’s because he was scared that he was going to lose me. Not that he’d ever admit that.” She says the last part under her breath, but Derek is still able to hear it. “We haven’t had time to catch up lately.” Y/N turns to look at Derek and loses her train of thought when she sees him. He’s shirtless and his blue plaid pajama pants are hanging dangerously low on his hips.

Derek pauses setting out the silverware as he feels her eyes on him. Looking up, he smirks at her eyeing him up and down. He’s about to tease her when she hisses in pain and jumps away from the stove.

Y/N rubs at her arm where she accidentally touched it to the hot pan on the front burner of the stove. She was so distracted by Derek that she wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing.

“I blame you for that,” Y/N mumbles, pouting at Derek as he walks over to her.

“I’m sorry,” Derek presses a quick kiss to her lips before grabbing her arm and pressing a kiss to where her arm touched the pan. There was luckily no burn on her. She either didn’t touch the pan long enough, or it had already healed by the time he got to her.

Y/N thanks him and kisses him on the cheek before turning back to the food before it burns. She continues to hum the tune to the song stuck in her head as she finishes cooking breakfast. She hears Stiles come down the loft’s stairs as she scoops the scrambled eggs into a bowl for the table.

“It’s too early,” Stiles whines, plopping down in a chair at the kitchen table.

“It wouldn’t be too early if you didn’t stay up almost all night last night.” Derek rolls his eyes at Stiles.

“How do you know that I stayed up last night?”

“Because thanks to werewolf hearing, we can hear you typing and scribbling all night,” Y/N replies, setting down the eggs and bacon in the middle of the table. “What were you doing anyways?”

“Research.”

“For what?”

“Another werewolf showed up at the school at Senior Scribe. Well, technically two werewolves showed up, but I’m only talking about one of them. He claims to be Theo.” Stiles says with disdain in his voice as he shovels food onto his plate.

“Should I know who that is?” Y/N asks, setting down a plate of pancakes and sitting down in the chair between Stiles and Derek.

“He used to go to school with me and Scott. His sister, Tara, was found dead in a creek before him and his family moved.”

“Oh yeah,” Y/N says in realization, “I know who you’re talking about. Why was he at the school? And what do you mean two werewolves showed up?”

“Some guy showed up and tried to kill Scott a—”

“What?” Derek stops cutting up the pancake on his plate and looks up at Stiles with a slightly angry look on his face.

“He was talking about taking his power and shit. His claws, which were glowing by the way, were in Scott when Scott broke his arm and some of his claws and told him to leave, or he’d break more of his bones. The guy left after that.” Stiles shrugs before shoveling some food into his mouth.

“He just left?” Y/N questions doubtfully.

“Yeah,” Stiles says with his mouth full of food.

Y/N turns her head to look at Derek. She can see he’s thinking the same thing she is. There’s no way a guy tried to kill Scott and then just left when he was unsuccessful. He’s probably hiding out somewhere in Beacon Hills until he heals and then will strike again later. She doesn’t love it, but she sometimes wishes they would stop being so gracious with people’s lives. It seems to cause more trouble than killing them. As seen as what happened with Gerard and Kate.

“How does Theo fit into this story?” Y/N asks.

“He tried to stop the guy that tried to kill Scott.”

“And that’s why you’re researching him?” Derek questions, unsure how that warrants Stiles doing a deep dive on him.

“No,” Stiles huffs in frustration, “It’s because he’s different.”

“Wasn’t the last time you saw him in fourth grade or something like that? People tend to change as they get older.” Y/N says, confused about what Stiles is trying to say.

“There’s just something off about him. Scott doesn’t believe me, but I can feel it in my gut that something is not right about him.” Stiles looks at Y/N with a pleading look, begging her to believe him. Scott thinks he’s paranoid and that he needs to give Theo the benefit of the doubt, but Stiles knows he’s right. Malia also doesn’t understand why he’s suspicious of him.

“If you say there’s something off about him, then I believe you.” She almost asks if she should ask Tony or Bruce to look into Theo, but she thinks that would make Stiles more upset. It’s not that he doesn’t like them, but she doesn’t want it to come off as she thinks he won’t do a good enough job.

It’s been almost three months since she found out she is a Stark. Stiles was insecure about it in the beginning, as was their dad, but they slowly got over their fears as Y/N not only tells them but shows them that she isn��t going anywhere, and they will always be her family. Even though it’s not as prominent anymore, those insecurities are still there.

“Other than this Theo guy, what else is new? How are you and Malia?” Y/N asks, changing the subject.

“We’re good. She got her email that she doesn’t have to repeat junior year. We’re still looking for the Desert Wolf.” Stiles says.

“That’s good.”

“What about you two? What have you been up to?”

“Well, there’s still people pretending to be sick or hurt to meet the long-lost Stark, so not much has changed.” Y/N rolls her eyes thinking about the number of people who show up and disrupt her from helping actual patients just so they can meet her. A few reporters even try to interview her while pretending they need help. Luckily no one has purposefully injured themselves to try and meet her. This has been going on since she went back to work the day after her big press conference.

She’s just happy that nothing about her, Scott, or the others has been exposed. She tries not to think what would happen if the truth about Beacon Hills got out. She can handle people at the grocery store staring at her for being a Stark, but she’s not sure she can handle them looking at her in fear for being a monster.

“Still?”

“People are still showing up at the garage too. There’s not as many as there used to be, but several still love to show up.” Derek says. He wants to complain about it, but all the extra money he’s making is going toward remodeling the Hale house. He will complain about them taking pictures of him though. They think he can’t see when they do it, but he notices when they secretly take pictures of him. He assumes they post them on the internet, but he stays as far away from that as possible.

“Oh, tell him about what happened with those bikes someone left in front of the garage,” Y/N beams at him, proud of what he did with the four motorcycles that were abandoned at the garage. He spent several weeks fixing them up in his free time and even customized them to make them a bit cooler. She will never forget the massive grin on his face when he showed her the first one he finished.

Derek shrugs his shoulders, “I fixed them up and sold them.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at his modesty, “He sold them at some show in San Francisco, and they sold for over $25,000 each. He’s already gotten a few emails from people asking him to customize their rides.”

“Really?” Stiles asks with a shocked look on his face.

Derek tries not to blush at Y/N’s praise, “I probably could’ve sold them for more, but I didn’t think anyone would buy one. I’m currently interviewing for a new mechanic to take some of my work because we’ve got some more bikes coming in from people who have emailed me.”

“Speaking of the garage, when are finally going to bring Roscoe in?” Y/N asks Stiles.

“The jeep is fine and doesn’t need to be brought in.” Stiles crosses his arms in defiance.

“It has more duct tape than I did when I was making duct tape wallets in sixth grade—and I had a bucket full of duct tape.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at her, “What else has been going on? You know it’s not going to hurt me if you talk about the others.” ‘The others’ being her other family.

“Um, well, they are currently back at their compound and will be back tomorrow. I’ve been told they’ve each found places they are going to rent until the new Avengers compound is built.” After a few conversations among themselves, the Avengers decided to move closer to Y/N. She made it clear that she has no intention of moving out of Beacon Hills anytime soon.

The new Avengers compound started building two weeks after the fight against the hunters. Even though they still have the lake house, they decided it would be best to get their own separate places until it was finished. Y/N even went with each of them to look at places to rent. She also made Derek promise to lie to them and tell them there were no available units in their apartment building. She likes them, and she enjoys getting to know them, but living in the same building with any of them would be too much for her.

“Tony and Peter still bring me lunch at least once a week.” Y/N continues, shrugging her shoulders in nonchalance. “Steve and Bucky have even brought me food on some of the days I’ve worked for almost twenty-four hours.” She hasn’t had much time to spend with them with how much she’s been working. She feels like she’s barely seen Derek with how much she’s been working.

“What do you talk about with them?” Stiles asks.

“I mostly just talk about work or Derek, or we laugh at the wildly inaccurate articles people write about me. If they ask, I explain more of the supernatural to them, but even I don’t know everything. We mostly just avoid talking about Pepper, Hydra, the hunters, or anything that happened after Hydra kidnapped me and Peter.”

Conversations with any of the Avengers revolve around telling each other about their days with awkward silences in between. She thinks it’s because they see her as family while she sees them as strangers. She can see this look in their eyes like they expect something from her, but she can’t give them what they’re looking for.

“You talk about Derek but not about me?”

“I talk about you too, but I have a hot boyfriend, and I like to brag about him.” Y/N sends Derek a flirty wink while Stiles groans in disgust.

Stiles stands up and brings his dirty plate to the sink, “I should go. I promised to pick Malia up to take her to school.”

“Okay, are you still coming over for dinner tonight?” Y/N scheduled a little family dinner and invited Stiles, their dad, Tony, and Peter. She knows them all separately, but she wants them to all get to know each other as well.

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Stiles yells out, running up the stairs to grab his stuff.

“Okay, well have fun on your first day of school!” Y/N yells back, watching as Stiles stumbles back down the stairs. “Wait!” She shoots up from her chair and grabs her phone from the kitchen counter, running to catch Stiles before he leaves.

“What?” Stiles groans, his hand resting on the loft’s door handle.

“Smile,” Y/N grins, snapping a few pictures of him. “Don’t roll your eyes at me. You know this is tradition, and I need to send one to Dad—so smile.”

Derek leans against the pillar in their living room, a small smile on his face as he watches Stiles force a smile on his face as Y/N continues to take pictures. “Do you want me to take a picture of both of you?”

Stiles glares at him as Y/N happily hands him her phone. She walks up the few steps up to Stiles and wraps her arms around him in a crushing hug. Derek smiles at Stiles’ embarrassment and takes a few pictures of them.

“I hate you both.” Stiles pushes Y/N off him, pulls open to door, and walks out of the loft.

“Love you too!” Y/N calls after him.

“Should we be worried about this Theo guy?” Derek asks as Y/N shuts the loft door.

“If Stiles says there’s something off about him, then I’m going to believe him unless proven otherwise.” Y/N walks down to Derek and wraps her arms around his waist. He moves his arms around her and pulls her into his chest. “What if we just stayed like this forever?”

“I have no complaints, but I think your job would.”

“I’ll quit.”

“If you say so,” Derek presses a kiss to the side of her head.

“I hope this year they’ll be able to get through school without almost dying several times. Hell, I hope we get through the rest of the year without almost dying several times.” Y/N says after a long moment of silence. She doesn’t need to say who she’s talking about because Derek knows she’s talking about Stiles and his friends.

“Me too. Maybe this year will be different.” They both know that’s a long shot, but they still love to hope.

---

@xxemmarldxx @esposadomd @ladyjenjay @ts1mp0ne @misshale21

@n1ght5h4d3-24 @xoxoloverb

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

I was scrolling through the anti-Sokovian accords tag and I was thinking.

Imagine if Erik Lehnsherr were in CA: CW. He wouldn't need to use his powers; all he would need to do is pull his sleeve up and show the numbers that stripped him of his identity when he was a young boy.

He would look Tony and Ross dead in the eyes and say. "I dare you to tell me that silly document of yours isn't similar to the ones that stripped my people of their dignity and lives. I dare you to tell me what happened to me isn't going to happen to my Wanda."

Or Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson who would read the absolute filth out of Tony and Ross and pull out a printed version of the accords, scribbled with a red pen that points out every human rights violation.

Or Bruce Banner who would say to Tony "Did you forget what he (Ross) did to me?"

I'm 100% with you but I fear if the Russos were in charge of Erik, they would find a way to blame him and pin it all on him.

They were so focused on trying to convince the audience that the Accords were a good thing that they showed the exact opposite. It's kind of a weird "show, don't tell" that shows one thing while the movie is telling you another.

And the worst part of it is that IW proves they meant nothing when it comes to the Avengers... but what about everyone else? Like when Steve and Nat break their pals out of the Raft. What about all the other inmates (or should I call them hostages? "Imprisonment without a trial", as per the Accords literal words)? Like when we're told about Zemo being held there... The guy is a nazi but was he tortured too? Like Sam was? Like Wanda? When not a single movie or series ever mentions that, not even in passing?

That's the whole issue with fascism. They dehumanise a group of people and tell you it's okay, hell we're seeing it nowadays. So in a good movie, Erik would bring that up, Wanda would talk about Sokovia, Sam could bring up racism, Steve about immigration... But that's not what CW wanted to do.

CW stayed in the same lane as all the other movies that defend Stark, blame Fury in the same breath they sanctify Peggy Carter and justify and sympathize with Thanos while laughing and literally slapping Thor in the face. Not even TWS is free of this.

I suppose some of us made the mistake of thinking a superhero franchise would be on the heroes side. But the MCU proved time and time again that they're not.

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #245

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Slam

Following an injury in the field, Bucky goes to check on Steve in the infirmary and confesses his feelings and his fears.

CW: Minor injury, smut, first time. Don’t forget to use lube, folks – unless you’re a super soldier.

Prompts used;

‘Bad Coping Mechanisms’, ‘Mutual Pining’ and ‘Wall Sex’ – Build-a-Bucky Bingo (@buckybarnesevents);

“You Look So Pretty Like This.” and ‘Muscles’ – @stuckybingo;

“I’m Right Where I Belong.” and “You Getting Flustered is One of the Cutest Things I’ve Seen.” – @sebastianstanbingo.

Check it out on AO3 here, or below! Boards at the bottom. Banner by @sarahowritesostucky

Bucky raced through the corridors, the serum’s power flowing through him as his feet pounded the linoleum, heart hammering in his chest.

As soon as the news of Steve’s injury had reached him, he’d been up and running, with fear he hadn’t felt in decades pulsing in his veins. Ever since Steve had been bulked up in the war, Bucky had been able to slowly let go of the terror for Steve’s longevity that had plagued him since he’d met the kid at six years old, scrawny but surprisingly bold – and prone to getting his ass kicked. But the serum Steve had received had made the once-tiny man a hulking mass of muscle and sinew, invulnerable to most things thrown at him, and Bucky had finally been able to relax a little – though he still worried about his childhood friend more than any other member of the team.

Bucky blamed it on their longstanding connection and the camaraderie born from being the only two super soldiers, both displaced from their own time by time in ice (and servitude, in Bucky’s case). It was a miracle they were both here, together, a hundred years in the future and experiencing things they never even dreamt of.

That was it, Bucky argued, when he lay awake at night thinking of the skinny kid from Brooklyn, the strong man he’d grown into. He argued it was appreciation of the smooth curves of muscle that had him fantasising about the water flowing over his back when he’d glimpsed him in the shower after a training session. It was simply concern that had him inspecting his Captain’s bare chest when his suit had been ripped in battle, checking thoroughly for cuts and scrapes.

He'd argued, but it was as he was skidding to a halt and slamming through the infirmary doors that it finally hit him that his argument was a lie.

The sight of Steve lay on the thin medical paper, his back to the doors as Bruce finished stitching a deep wound above his hipbone, had Bucky pausing and panting for breath. It’d been a long time since he’d managed to move so quickly that he was forced to breathe harder, but his strides had barely touched the floor as he’d flown towards his teammate.

“Hey, Buck.”

The Winter Soldier cocked his head sharply, smiling just a little to himself as he saw Steve’s muscles relax minutely. “How did you know it was me?”

“Heard you running. Anyone else would be far more breathless – and definitely couldn’t move so fast.” The grin in Steve’s voice was audible, and Bucky chuckled, moving closer slowly.

“Yeah, well. Nat messaged, and she wasn’t liberal with the details. All I knew was that you’d been hurt.”

“Worried, were you?” Steve’s shoulders trembled as he laughed silently, making Bucky snort as he rounded the table, casting an assessing eye over the shallow lacerations marring the Captain’s bare chest as he took a seat.

“Actually, I was hoping to get here in time to pull the plug,” Bucky quipped, grinning, and Steve rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Your life wouldn’t be worth living without me in it, and you know it,” Steve teased back, lips quirked in a fond smile before he grimaced as the doctor tied off his thread. Buck reached out automatically, squeezing Steve’s hand reassuringly, heat tingling up his palm at the contact. He’d done this dozens of times as a youth, Steve’s fingers clinging desperately to his as the larger boy had carefully cleaned yet another split lip or scraped palm, but it felt different now, with Steve’s palm comparable to his and Bucky’s metal fingers cool against his skin – and Steve’s pulse beginning to pound at the contact.

“I’m all done here,” Bruce murmured, gently pressing an adhesive bandage to the suture line. “Keep it covered and dry for a few days, and the stitches should dissolve in a week or so. You’ll be good as new by then.” The doctor grinned, shaking his head fondly. “If only all of my patients recovered so quickly!”

Steve chuckled obligingly, pulling the edge of his suit a little higher to obscure both bandage and sharp curve of bone. “You’d be out of a job, Dr. Banner. Thanks again,” he added as Bruce rose, receiving a polite inclination of the head for his gratitude.

The boys were left alone, fingers still entwined together, Steve fiddling with the ragged edges of his clothing idly. “I’m gonna have to get a new suit… This one got pretty shredded.”

Bucky laughed, running a palm over the lacerated star hanging over the edge of the table. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I got thrown. Road rash sucks,” the Captain replied with a shrug, and groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. “But you heard Bruce – I’ll be good as new in a few days.”

James nodded, eventually releasing his friend’s hand with a discreet twitch of his jaw. “Yeah. You were always the strong one.” Steve snorted and raised an eyebrow, considering his fellow soldier pointedly, but Bucky only laughed and shook his head. “Maybe, when we were younger, I could pick up something heavier than you. But you were always so… Tough. You weren’t scared of anything.” He smiled softly, head tilted minutely. “Actually, no. You were scared, but you always stood up for yourself anyway. You never let anyone keep you down or underestimate you. That’s real strength.”

Steve chuckled, his cheeks pinkening minutely as he looked away. “Not always,” he muttered, hands knotting uncertainly in his lap. “There were some things I just… I didn’t fight when the insults and assumptions started flying.”

“The assumptions?” Bucky repeated softly, head cocked. When Steve only shrugged, Bucky leaned forward conspiratorially. “You getting flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Steve blinked in surprise, his back straightening nervously. “I-I… What?”

Bucky smiled softly, leaning a little closer. “Those assumptions… Do you mean the ones about your sexuality?”

Steve hesitated for a moment, eyeing his friend nervously. “… You heard about that?”

The sergeant arched an eyebrow, head inclined. “Of course, Stevie. You’re my best friend. Besides… We spent a whole lot of time together. It wasn’t just you that they made those assumptions about.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve replied quickly, looking away as guilt creased his features, but Bucky simply chuckled.

“Don’t be. They were right.”

The words sat in the still air for a moment before they collided visibly with the Captain, sending him jerking backwards in shock.

“They- You- … What?” Steve stammered, his eyes widening in shock.

“I’m gay,” Bucky replied easily, shrugging. “Well, no – I’m bisexual. But we both know it’s not the women you were asking about.” Steve’s mouth worked wordlessly, and Bucky smirked. “So? What about you? Were they right about you, too?”

Steve glanced around uncertainly, examining the empty space as if checking for someone hiding in the shadows. “… Why did you come so quickly, Buck?”

“I asked you first.”

“I’m trying to answer. Humour me. Why did you come so quickly?” he repeated, looking down to where his fingers were knotted in his lap.

“Because… Because I care about you?” Bucky offered uncertainly, and Steve nodded, eyes diverted.

“As a friend?” he prompted quietly. Bucky hesitated for a moment, watching as his Captain struggled silently to find the words he was looking for. “… I’m not gay, Buck.” The sergeant blushed minutely, opening his mouth to respond, but Steve held up a hand to stop him. “But I’m not straight, either. I… I’ve only ever wanted to be with – been in love with – one person. After all these years… It’s still only ever been one person.”

Bucky sat silently for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, apprehensive. “Who?”

“Don’t make me say it,” Steve replied, a wry grin quirking at his lips.

Bucky reached out, fingers finding his best friend’s once more, swallowing nervously. “Tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve glanced up at last, the brush draining from his cheeks with the sincerity of the moment, ice meeting cerulean in an all-encompassing gaze. “You, Bucky. It’s always been you.”

The words released a feral urgency in his fellow soldier, moving forward to kiss him in a clash of lips and tongues, a low whine escaping the brunette as he tangled his metal fingers in the other’s hair.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Bucky muttered, shifting to trail kisses over the broader man’s jaw, his free hand finding Steve’s hip to pull him closer. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time trying to bury my feelings in drinking and whoring…”

Steve nodded weakly, head instinctively tipping back under his sergeant’s rapturous ministrations. “I-I… I never knew you… I never expected…” He swallowed audibly, hips twitching as his arousal became ever more evident under the skin-tight material of his uniform. Bucky let out a quiet groan of desire, fingers trailing over Steve’s hipbone slowly – but the blond grasped his wrist as his fingertips brushed against his increasingly stiffening length. “Wait.”

Bucky winced, drawing back with a quick, apologetic shake of his head. “I-I’m sorry. We don’t have to, of course, I-”

Steve kissed his lover softly to interrupt him, shaking his head with a smile. “I want to,” he breathed, his fingers finding the back of Bucky’s neck to press their foreheads together. “I’ve just- I… I’ve never…”

Bucky’s face went blank as comprehension dawned, lips parting minutely. “You… Oh.” A smile flickered across his features, and he cupped Steve’s jaw gently. “That’s fine, sweet boy. We go as slow as you like, and do as much or as little as you want. It’s all up to you.”

Steve nodded slowly, then more firmly, and pulled Bucky back to him by the neck of his t-shirt, crushing his lips desperately against the taller man’s.

Buck’s hands were gentle as they explored the Captain’s bare chest, tracing the dips and curves of bone and muscle reverently, mapping each detail and committing every modicum of minutiae to memory – just in case. Steve shivered under his touch, the hand on the back of the sergeant’s neck drawing him closer as he lay back, gasping at the thigh that pressed lightly against his throbbing length.

“Buck, please,” he whispered, tugging gently at the other man’s shirt, purring with delight when the material was shed and dropped to the floor. His hands fumbled with the taller man’s belt, hesitating only minutely before pressing a palm to Bucky’s boxer-clad member and blushing shyly at the relieved groan the motion elicited.

Buck’s lips trailed slowly along jaw and throat, over Steve’s collarbone, proceeding patiently over chest and stomach. Bucky’s knees met the floor as his fingers curled in the waistband of the other man’s underwear. He glanced up to receive clarification, and when he was offered a nod, nervous but sure, he slowly slid Steve’s boxers down, trailing gentle kisses in their wake. When he looked up again to take in his Captain in all his glory, his mouth ran dry, tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. He rocked on his heels for a moment, enjoying the sight for a little longer before falling forward, growling hungrily. His mouth encompassed Steve’s length quickly, eliciting a gasp and a whimper from the soldier pinned to the table, his hands tangling frantically in Bucky’s wild hair.

“I- Oh, Buck, th-that’s so…” Steve trailed off into a desperate moan, his back arching instinctively to press himself deeper. Bucky, in his experience, simply swallowed around his amateur partner’s erratic thrusts to take him into his throat, hands finding his hips to help smoothen his pace, earning a quiet, stammering exclamation for his efforts. The feeling of Bucky’s tongue massaging the underside of his cock as it passed between expert, kiss-flushed lips had him quivering and mewling uselessly until the sergeant pulled back, oceanic eyes dancing with joy. “Good?”

Steve all but sobbed in his pleasure, raising his head to nod weakly. “A-Amazing. Please, honey, Buck… I want… I need…”

“Anything you want, baby boy,” Bucky purred, wrapping a loose, coaxing hand around Steve’s length while he spoke – but unable to keep from leaning in intermittently to pass tongue or lips over the leaking tip, delighting in the gasps and jerks the simple gesture invoked. “You just say the word, and I-”

“I want to make love to you,” Steve interrupted softly, pink tinging his cheeks as he spoke, his twitching cock betraying his enthusiasm. Bucky blinked in surprise before smiling tenderly with an amused shake of his head.

“And here I’d had you pinned as a bottom… What a pleasant surprise,” Bucky breathed, powerless to stop one of his hands from grinding against the straining in his sweatpants desperately, eyes blown wide with lust. “I’ve thought about you fucking me so many times…” He winced minutely, expecting a reprimand from his straight-laced captain for his language, but the blond simply smiled.

“I may be inexperienced, Buck, but I’ve overheard enough sleeping in the room next to Tony’s to expect a little cussing in these situations.”

Bucky simply nodded, standing to pull his shirt over his head, and Steve gulped. He’d seen the brunette in varying degrees of undress on countless occasions, but always he had kept his eyes diverted and downcast, never looking up for fear he would give himself away. But now he could let his gaze roam freely, taking in the curve of the sinew and muscle, of strong arms and well-defined pecs, his expression softening minutely as he took in the puckered ridge of scar where flesh met metal. Bucky shifted self-consciously, raising a hand to rub uncertainly at the marred skin, and Steve pushed himself quickly to his feet, catching the other man’s fingers. “Hey… You’re beautiful, he whispered, dropping his head to pepper kisses along the seam reverently.

Bucky stiffened infinitesimally, relaxation gradually easing the tension in his muscles, a soft sigh escaping parted lips as his eyes closed. “I want you, Steve,” he breathed, fingertips trailing through the short hair adoringly.

Steve could only nod in response, hands fumbling with Bucky’s belt as he dropped to his knees, one flushed, pink lip pulled between his teeth. His breath ghosted over the bulge in the sergeant’s boxers, making the taller man shiver with delight. With a slow, nervous exhale, he wrapped his fingers in Bucky’s waistband, eyes widening minutely as the soldier’s cock was freed at last. Bucky smirked, hand resting gently on Steve’s head, letting out a quiet groan as the barest flick of a tongue passed over his tip. “Please, baby boy, I need you to-”

Bucky’s words were interrupted by his own sharp yelp as Steve clumsily but enthusiastically took him, his inexperience making him gag at the depth, but he recovered to bob his head just as eagerly. The taller man groaned, hand knotting in pale strands, head falling back as he attempted to guide his needy lover into smoother motions, but Steve grasped desperately at his hips, still frantically attempting to take Bucky’s length deeper. “Easy, Stevie,” he breathed, shifting one hand to cup the other man’s jaw tenderly, smiling at the soft whine around his cock. “You really want it deeper, hm?” Steve blinked balefully up at him, tongue still eagerly caressing every inch available, and the sergeant chuckled quietly, gently raising Steve’s chin slightly. “Swallow,” he murmured, pushing forward slowly, using the rhythmic motion of his lover’s obedience to sheath himself fully in Steve’s throat with a shudder. “Fuck, baby boy- so goddamn hot… You look so pretty like this…” His eyes found the other man’s, the pale blue shining with joy, lips parted wide around his cock, and Bucky could have come undone simply at the sight. Steve could only mewl with satisfaction, lashes flickering in pleasure as Bucky rocked his hips, driving his length into his Captain’s throat before drawing back just far enough to let him snatch a breath.

It didn’t take long for the brunette’s muscles to begin to tremble and clench, incensed by the sight of his lover stretched and kneeling before him. The fingers in his hair tensed, and Steve’s eyebrow twitched questioningly. “I-I can’t- I’ll- I can’t hold out,” Bucky stuttered, the rock of his hips become spasmodic – but Steve simply dug his fingers into the other man’s flesh, groaning encouragingly. Bucky hissed with the realisation, free hand joining the first, holding Steve’s head still as his thrusts became more forceful. The feeling of soft whimpers vibrating around his length spurred him on, and he stammered out a quick warning before burying himself deeply, fingernails catching  against scalp as he pinned his submissive Captain against him. “Fuck, Steve- Stevie!”

Steve’s eyes closed in pleasure as his sergeant emptied with a guttural groan, swallowing eagerly, licking his lips as his trembling partner drew back at last. “Thank you,” Bucky breathed, unclenching his hand to smooth the messy blond strands tenderly. Steve opened his eyes to meet his gaze, hesitating only briefly before scrambling to his feet to pin the brunette to the wall, earning a grunt of surprise and a dry gulp.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Cap growled, one hand wrapping lightly around his sergeant’s throat, smiling when a quiet whimper and desperate nod came in response. Bucky groaned as he was turned quickly, hands flat to the wall and ass offered willingly, the Captain’s cock pressing against him teasingly. Steve spat in his palm and slicked his length quickly, one hand steadying himself with his lover’s hip as he lined himself up.

“Please- Please, Stevie, I need you, I want you- please, just-” Bucky moaned needily as Steve pressed inside him roughly, his forehead finding the other man’s metal shoulder as he groaned.

“Bucky- Buck, honey, you feel so good…” he grunted, dragging out slowly before slamming home once more. Slowly at first, the movements of his cock inside the taller man felt incredible, the spark of discomfort from the lack of preparation or real lubricant fading quickly until Bucky was rutting back desperately, trying in vain to increase the pace. “Sweet boy, you’re so eager!”

“Yes- God, yes Sir, please, Stevie- Cap, I need you to fuck me, baby boy,” Bucky panted, fingers curling against the plaster. Steve’s fingers found his, pinning his metal hand to the wall either side of his head, while the other wrapped around his already-stiffening cock, stroking him in time as he thrusted harder. Bucky yelped in surprise, back arching. He’d been fucked many times in his life – but never by someone whose strength parallelled his own, his very bones creaking under the strain as Steve pounded against him with bruising ferocity.

Steve was lost in the heat fizzing through his veins; there was nothing but this, the feeling of Bucky wrapped around him, tight and hot, the air full of the scent of sex and the lewd sounds falling from their lips. This was everything he’d ever wanted, and he found his body reacting automatically, knowing just what to do as he drove himself deeper, their hands on the wall creating cracks in the plaster under the power.

“So beautiful – so good, James – I love you,” Steve groaned, fisting his sergeant’s cock faster as he felt his climax approaching, too far gone and too eager to slow down, to take his time in this. Bucky simply whimpered in response, his forehead pressed to the plaster, soft sobs of overwhelming pleasure falling from his lips between pleas and gratitude, rutting  back against each perfect thrust. “Please- Stevie, fuck, just like that- I-I’m going- I-” His spine arched as he came without warning, painting both his lover’s hand and the wall before him, muscles clenching around Steve’s length.

Steve wrapped an arm around his partner’s waist, dragging him against his chest as he fucked him harder still, groaning out a plea for mercy into Bucky’s throat as he finally, blissfully, emptied himself inside his sergeant.

Bucky lay panting with his head on Steven’s chest, sweat-damp and exhausted, his backside bruised, entirely blissful.

“D’you want to get up?” Steve murmured, tracing his fingers gently down his lover’s spine, earning a lazy shake of the head.

“I’m right where he belong,” Bucky whispered in response, pressing a tender kiss to the bare skin under his cheek.

[captaincapsicle83]

The Little Pests

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary- Sam’s friend, an IT worker for Stark Industries turned new recruit, has a crush on an avenger. Being a good wingman (hehe, get it?) does everything he can to get the reader and Bucky closer, even enlisting the help of other avengers.

It’s almost obnoxious actually.

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (main romance, rest platonic), Sam Wilson x reader, Clint Barton x reader, avengers x reader

TW: Cursing, Sam and Clint being silly, “suicide” but like, it’s a bobs burgers reference (you’ll see)

A/N: I was bored, so I pushed aside EVERY OTHER WIP I should be working on (about eight separate ones), left all my drafts open, completely ignored my old, geriatric ideas, and wrote something off a whim

Behold, my capricious work of art

“And, this is our kitchen, that’s our toaster. The toaster is always broken don’t try to use it,” Sam says. His right arm is on your shoulder, the left gesturing around the room, showing you around he compound.

“Why doesn’t it-” You’re cut off by a man with light brown hair swatting the toaster with his fist.

“You whore! I want my poptart!” He grunts.

“He’s why,” Sam shakes his head, and rolls his eyes. Clint Barton; Hawkeye, Destroyer of toasters.

Clint whips around, disgust evident on his face, “Oh, no, no, no, Sir. Don’t act like I’m suddenly the only one to blame here. Take a look at Mr. Banner and his anger issues, the cyborg, or, better yet Sammy, look in the fucking mirror.”

You decided right then and there that you liked Clint. “Sammy” scowled at Barton, before motioning for you to sit at the table. He had already shown you around the rest of the compound, including your room, making the kitchen your last stop.

As Sam rummaged through the cupboards, Clint sat in a chair across from you, groaning and huffing like an old dad with aching joints (Clint couldn’t be more than in his thirties or fourties’).

“Are you here to fix the toaster?” He asks you, his voice sad and his eyes even sadder. He was like those little animals with big eyes of pleading in Disney films.

“No, I’m sorry. I could try,” you suggest the last part, and he perks up. He sits up straight in his chair, rather than sprawling, and shifted to drumming his hands on the table.

“Met anybody else yet?” He asks, Sam still looking for food with not much luck.

“Nada, just you and Sam,” You say, truthfully. You had honestly expected more traffic, but were just the same grateful to be mostly undisturbed.

“Oh, good, you’re lucky. After us, it all goes down hill,” He “tsk-tsk”’s. “Let’s give you a run down. There’s Bruce and Tony, they’re our brains. They don’t sleep. They’re, like, tier two after Sam and I. Also tier 2, we got Natasha and Wanda. They’re scary. I will not elaborate. Tier 3, Vision, Thor, Rhodes, Spider-Kid. Mostly uneventful around the compound, Visions here the most, other three not as much. Then there’s our senior citizens in the bottom tier. Steve and Bucket. If they were a spice, they’d be flour.”

The way Clint was talking, it felt like the scene in mean girls where Janice and Damien find Cary in the bathroom. You were giggly at his little hand motions and theatrical way of painting the scene.

“What makes you and Sam tier 1?” You ask, Sam coming over with two jars of peanut butter, spoons sticking out of them.

“Birds!” They both yell to each other. When you make a face at Sam’s offer of a jar of peanut butter, Clint takes it right away. You watch in wonder as the two bicker with each other, getting the feeling they were the only ones who found themselves to be “tier 1.”

***

You had been with the avengers for, say, about 7 months, finding it easy to make friends and have fun between missions and SHIELD duties.

“Well,” Clint was saying to you and Sam, the three of you sitting at the compounds dining table, coloring with crayons on printer paper. “I’m glad you two are having fun, because I am going to kill myself.”

He holds up a poorly manufactured picture of a duck. You all convulge into a set of late night giggles.

It was four am, and you had all just returned early from a mission. After a mission, especially one where you could sleep on the way back, you sometimes found it nice to unwind with your teammates.

As you all tried to compose yourselves, you didn’t even notice someone else enter the kitchen part of the kitchen, not until Sam called out to them that is.

“Hey, Buck, what’s up?”

“Hmm? Nothing. Coffee,” He looked startled, then straight back to basically being dead tired. The bags under his eyes looked like they just took a trip to Costco.

He looks reluctant, and like his mind has to do a lot of mental gymnastics to convince himself to do so, but ultimately he sits down at your table.

You’re drawing a picture of some birds (well, what was supposed to look like birds) in a little bird house. Your heart was beating about 10 decibels faster, and your hands became more unsteady.

Clint and Sam both privately took note of your change in demeanor. The way instead of using circle motions either your crayons, as you had been, you were pressing harder and going up and down. And how you simply just layer them on the table rather than back in the box. And the short sweet glances sent to one new person at the table….

***

Private messages between Sam Wilson and Clint Barton that you should never have seen, had you not been playing candy crush on Clint’s phone one Saturday morning. You’re a snooper, you snoop, it’s what you do.

Wednesday 5:36 am

Clint: Are you sleeping bbb

Sam: that best better not stand for what I think it does…

Clint: Y/n left me after you and Bucky did. Think the girl needed time to fantasize

Sam: YOU NOTICED TOO

Clint: I see everything, always

Sam: ominous

Sam: Clinton have you ever watched the bachorlette

Clint: I loveeee where this is going

Sam: I think she has a little crush

Sam: we should set them up

Clint: I can already see the kids

Clint: they’ll be names Sam and Clint of course

Clint: after us

Saturday, 9:29 am

Unread

Sam: did you destroy my fucking coin master village 17 times???

Sam: Barton, your ass is grass and I’m gonna mow it

***

Dead. You promised Clint and Sam they were dead.

At first, you thought it was just a joke. Until the advancements started.

It was Thursday, the team gathering for a dinner, as they did every once in awhile. As soon as you entered the room, you saw Clint and Sam basically playing musical chairs to keep an empty seat open next to Bucky Barnes.

“Are…Are you two okay?” Steve asked, genuine fear and concern on his face.

“Totally.”

“One-hundred percent.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“You’re acting weird captain.”

Steve sits, slack jawed, at a loss for a response. As you walk towards the table, your shoulders are grabbed by Clint, who is saying in a sickeningly sweet and chipper voice, “Y/n! Goodness, great to see you! Sit here! There’s a spot next to Bucky! You know Bucky! You love Bucky!”

You were a *mess* the entire dinner, unable to completely focus on anything but breathing patterns.

As the evening was coming to a close and others were dismissing themselves, you made cold hard eye contact with Clint, seated directly across from you. His hands were folded on the table like an innocent school child.

“Barton,” you said, your voice stern. “Wanna play Chinese Checkers?”

He shakes his head violently, but says, “Sam does too.”

Sam gets up from the table, so fast, his chair knocks over and silverware clatters.

You quickly jump up, chasing him down the hall. Clint follows, brandishing a phone camera, a will, and a way.

The rest of the group was frozen now, looking in bewilderment at what was going on. Or rather, their lack of knowledge of what the hell was going on?

“Anybody have input?” Tony asks after a long silence. Everyone looks equally lost.

They all look when a thud sounds in the direction your trio went.

***

Bucky and Steve are walking track to their rooms, later that evening. Steve had mission reports to do, and Bucky had thoughts to process and a diary to write in.

“So, what do you think of the new girl?” Steve pokes the bear, hoping to get a rise out of his friend.

“Hmm, oh. I dunno. She’s nice, I guess,” Bucky shrugs, and Steve’s goofy little smile grows like the grinch’s heart.

“Really? Because you look liked you were having an awful lot of thoughts tonight at dinner. And, you know, you stare at her long enough every other day…”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

Bucky stares at Steve, unknowing of what to do in this situation. He shrugs again.

“So what?”

“So? So you should, oh, I don’t know, have a real conversation with her instead of just breathing into each others general directions. It’s nauseating having to watch Sam and Clint push you guys into the same space.”

Tonight may have been the first time you noticed, but in truth that kind thing happened in many many scenarios. Even before Clint and Sam connected that dots that you liked him.

They wanted their ship to sail.

***

“You took a shower!?” Clint says to Bucky, in a low and shocked voice. He held an incredulous look on his face, one Bucky wanted to smack right off.

“Yeah, try it sometime,” Bucky quipped.

“Y/n’s in her room,” Clint took a sip of his coffee. She has loads of paperwork. Probably will be in there all day.”

Bucky’s mouth opens and then shuts, not wanting to know why Clint was helping him. In truth, he wasn’t. Clint was helping you.

Within minutes, Bucky was outside your door, giving himself the cutest, peppiest of peptalks. Albeit, in his head because he could not handle the embarrassment of the e door opening to you seeing him babbling like a madman.

So when you did open the door, he tried flashing a warm smile. At the sight of it, you thought you would simply just faint. Right there, thud on the floor.

While your brain was debating whether you would prefer internal or external bleeding of the skull (internal, you decided, wouldn’t mess up your hair) Bucky cleared his throat.

You looked into his blinding blue eyes, the way a deer looks into headlights (meaning any minute you would get hit by the car…)

“Hi,” Bucky breathes out.

“Hi,” you say, your voice cracking.

You wanted to choke yourself out.

“I have something to tell you,” he starts. “Or- or I wanna talk to you.”

“…oh…” FUCKING CHRIST! Oh?? That was the best you had???

“Look, y/n I’ve sorta…I like you, quite a lot. And I’ve been nervous to talk to you or tell you about it, because I really don’t like opening up about my feelings. But-”

You cut him off by pouring out, “Ilikeyoutoo!”

“You- oh…Well…this wasn’t as bad as I had thought then.”

You let out an awkward chuckle, “Yeah, guess not.”

He doesn’t say anything, the two of you staring into each others eyes. He starts to lean in, his perfect face getting closer to yours. The action feels magnetic as you lean closer.

You take in his features. His brow, his chiseled jawline. The symmetrical two sides to his face, like if you took a meat clever down the center, you’d have matching halves.

Just as you can feel his breathe on your lips, right before the two of you can make contact, you both jolt apart at the sound.

Clint falls from your ceiling, Sam landing on top of him. The metal grate that filtrated the air in your room was below them, broken ceiling tiles, pink insulation and regret strewn about your flooring.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

[themculibrary]

Tony Takes Care Of Sick Peter Masterlist

Am I A Dying Man? (ao3) - Odd_I G, 5k

Summary: Peter Parker didn’t get sick, not any more. He hadn’t been really sick since before the bite, and that was what? Three years ago?

He was pretty sure it had something to do with his super healing, but he wasn’t completely sure. They never really had to test it out, after all. But he healed fast, so it generally made sense that his weird radioactive spider system also fought off any infections and illnesses.

— OR —

Peter gets sick, is a dramatic little shit, and Tony is just done with everything.

Appendicitis (ao3) - tommyparkerr T, 15k

Summary: In which Peter doesn't realize until too late that the flu shouldn't be this painful, and Tony Stark is right there to both lecture and comfort him (and accidentally call him his kid in the process).

Blankets (ao3) - kiwifeather G, 1k

Summary: Tony cares for an under-the-weather Peter the best way he knows how (which is pretty good, because he's a Dad™ now).

et tu, brute? (ao3) - turtle_bean G, 3k

Summary: Peter rounds the corner and gives a half-hearted hop. “All ready for the mission, Mr. Stark!”

Yeah, no.

“FRI, give me a read.”

“What -”

“101.7 degrees Fahrenheit, Mr. Stark,” Karen announces from Peter’s suit.

--

or, peter is sick, ned’s worried, and tony is... well, tony.

Extra Noodles (ao3) - duskblue G, 4k

Summary: Peter is staying with Tony while May is out of town. Unfortunately, Peter doesn't feel the best, so Tony is on a mission to figure out what's wrong so he can take the best possible care of him. He enlists his good friend, Bruce Banner in this task.

flushed away (ao3) - underpassgraffiti G, 2k

Summary: "I'm dying," he decides, flushing the toilet and resting his forehead against the rim. He feels disgusting. "I'm dying, I'm gonna die. Spider-Man dies to ravioli."

"Should I alert Boss?" Friday chirps, and Peter groans, waving a hand uselessly.

"No, m'fine," he grumbles. "WebMD will save me."

or: peter gets food poisoning & tony takes care of him.

Into the West (ao3) - ChocolateAndRedbull G, 1k

Summary: When a feverish Peter lets himself dwell on the past, Tony makes sure that he’s there to talk him through it

it's in the job description (ao3) - iron_spider_suit G, 8k

Summary: Peter gets sick just in time for movie night with the team. Tony does his best.

lessons in the metric system (ao3) - akapeterman G, 2k

Summary: “Pete,” Tony said slowly, “You’re sick.”

“No!” Peter said more urgently. “I’m hyp’thermic.”

“Trust me, you are the opposite of hypothermic right now, kiddo.”

or; Peter and Tony decide to road trip to Canada. Unfortunately, a peppermint air freshener happens to be Spider-Man's kryptonite. Confusion ensues. And honestly, Peter blames the American school system. They really should be more clear about the difference between Celsius and Farenheight.

Of Chicken Soup and Brooklyn-99 (ao3) - AnnabelleBlack20 G, 2k

Summary: Peter hadn’t gotten sick since the spider bite. But then again, his rotten Parker luck had a mind of its own. Lucky for him, he’s got a superhero in his corner. Nothing but pure fluff between IRONDAD and his SPIDERSON!

shaken up realities (shaking up reality) (ao3) - lemonlillybee M, 5k

Summary: This takes place after Endgame, and it’s a bit angsty, but everyone lives!

Written for the following Sicktember 2022 prompt: Cold Sweat

Sick Puppies (ao3) - OllieCollie G, 7k

Summary: Tony has been through a lot in his lifetime—from being kidnapped by terrorists to saving the world multiple times and just about everything in between—but he may be facing his toughest challenge yet: taking care of two kids with the flu.

Since I Have You (ao3) - lunasquared G, 2k

Summary: He didn’t register the fact that he started falling until he was caught by a pair of arms right before he hit the floor.

“Whoa there kiddo,” Tony said, helping Peter over to the couch. “What’s going on?”

“‘s hot.” Peter mumbled as he laid down on the couch thankful to finally be off his feet.

OR

Peter gets sick and Tony helps take care of him.

we all have a hunger (ao3) - MotherKarizma G, 6k

Summary: “Morgan,” he croaked, throat afire, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey – hey, it’s okay, I’m just…”

“You’re sick.” She mustered up something like bravery, using it to straighten her back and plaster a very grown-up look on her face. “I’ll get Daddy!”

“No!” Morgan jumped, eyes wide. Peter fought to calm his voice. He offered her a smile that couldn’t have been convincing, not even to a five year old. “No, you don’t have to. I feel better now. You don’t have to tell him.”

Morgan’s lips wobbled. Peter knew what her fake pout looked like well enough to know this wasn’t it. “Petey…”

Peter had a lot of reasons to feel guilty. He felt guilty for scaring her. He felt guilty for forgetting to lock his bedroom door, for making scaring her a possibility. He kind of, in a way, felt guilty for doing it in the first place, though not nearly enough to stop.

But more than anything, he felt guilty for this: “Morgan, promise me you won’t tell him. He…he won’t let us swim anymore if you do. And I’m not sick, my tummy just hurt a little bit, but I’m all better now. Promise me you won’t tell him, okay?”

“But…”

“Morgan. Promise.”

When I'm Sick Or Suffering (I'll Still Call You) (ao3) - l_u_c_k_y_c_l_o_v_e_r G, 2k

Summary: Peter comes down with the flu, but a certain superhero makes sure he doesn't have to deal with it on his own.

Wingman (ao3) - Sahiya G, 4k

Summary: Holy shit, Rhodey thought. Tony’s a dad.