#first time I’ve ever drawn Clint I should probably draw him more

[0verseer-o9]

CW: dicc jokes

An amazing video I made (also the character at the end was @pyreball ‘s Lisa oc)

[ialwayscomewhenyoucall]

Next Time

I just realized I never posted this on Tumblr, so here it is...

for @buckybarnesbingo​ and @winterhawkbingo​ !!

by Lira (me!)

square(s) filled: BBB - K1 - knives; WHB - G4 - massage

main pairing: Bucky/Clint

rating: T

major tags/warnings: implied/referenced self-harm (more like self-neglect), massage, nightmares, angst, fluff, first kiss

summary: Clint's nightmares often drive him to the range in the middle of the night, where he pushes his body harder than he should to try to get rid of the images in his brain. When Bucky finds him there, both of them get rather more than they're expecting.

word count: 1741 (+834 in the bonus scene)

*

Clint sends his arrows down the range, one after the other, not even looking to see where they hit. He knows, anyway. He makes intricate patterns–spelling his name, outlining the targets, drawing the shape of a man then shooting it in the eyes, in the throat, in the heart.

It doesn’t help.

He feels the nightmare with every draw. The numbness, the cold calculations, the blind obedience.

The worst part, the part that makes his stomach roil and his head swim, is remembering how good it felt to obey. Blissful. Like putting on a pair of jeans he’s had for five years, washed so many times they’re worn just right. Like the first gulp of coffee first thing in the morning, singing on his tongue and zipping through his veins.

His muscles ache, then burn, but still he shoots, emptying his quiver over and over...and over. A tiny voice whispers if he can just shoot enough, if he can just fall completely into his body and out of his mind, he’ll be able to destroy his personal demons. Or at least exorcise them for a little while.

He lets out a hysterical giggle. Get it? Exorcise? Exercise? You’re a fucking genius, Barton.

When the noise comes behind him he doesn’t think, only reacts. He spins on the ball of his foot, bow drawn, aimed true.

Bucky doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink.

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

Clint lowers his bow. Too out of breath to speak, he just nods.

Bucky nods too, downrange. “Nicely done. Can I help?” Before Clint can answer Bucky’s unstrapping knives from their sheaths and flinging them toward the targets, black and silver flashing in the dimly lit range. The knives thunk home in the man-shaped target Clint made out of arrows–one in the forehead, one in the gut, and one in each knee.

He’s poetry with a blade. Clint’s seen him before, of course, but never like this, never up close and focused and easy.

“Nice,” Clint says. Or tries to. It’s more of an unintelligible croak that comes from his mouth. He tries to clear his throat but his mouth has gone dry, and it’s then he realizes he probably should have had some water, and probably shouldn’t have gone at the training quite so hard.

But he’d had to. Anything, anything, to get rid of the fucking nightmares.

Bucky’s face is doing strange things, and his voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, like maybe he’s standing at the end of a tunnel. But that doesn’t make sense, he’s only a few yards away. He reaches up to check his aids, only then realizing that his hand won’t obey, and that he’s lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. When did that happen? And how?

Yeah, definitely some water next time.

He hears Bucky and JARVIS going on about something, time maybe? Or hours? And then he hears something about water and that makes him open his eyes and hey, when had he closed his eyes?

When he manages to get his eyes open all he can see is Bucky. Bucky, kneeling beside him, leaning over him, giant anxious eyes staring at him. The look is all concern until Clint manages a weak smile, then Bucky beams. The only person Clint’s ever seen truly turn into a beacon of joy like that is Rogers, and that’s never been directed at him before; having Bucky look at him like that…

“You had me worried. JARVIS said you’d been training nonstop for nearly five hours. Without any water.” There’s a bit of reproach at the end there, but Clint focuses on the smile tugging at the corners of Bucky’s lips.

Bucky’s lips. He licks his own lips, suddenly aware how chapped and dry they are from lack of water. Suddenly aware that he’d like them to be softer, nicer, because maybe he’d like to use them for something besides speaking sometime in the near future.

And then Bucky’s arm is around him, pulling him upright, so he can sip from the bottle of water at his lips. Clint doesn’t remember the bottle getting there, but he just goes with it. Most everything seems to be going in and out anyway. Eventually he’ll be all awake again.

“Easy,” Bucky says, his tone low and soothing. “Just little sips.”

The water is the best thing Clint’s ever tasted. He tries to reach up to hold the water on his own, or at least help, but before he can reach the bottle he’s overcome by pain and nausea. He cries out, losing some of the water in the process, and almost choking on more.

Aw, water, no.

“Shoulder?” Bucky asks. His voice is still calm, still soothing, and even as Clint gives a very abbreviated because of pain nod he feels the effects of Bucky’s calm helping to ground him.

“Maybe I pushed a little too hard,” Clint says, avoiding eye contact. Bucky huffs a noncommittal noise.

After a breath of silence, Bucky says, “Let me help?” Clint’s eyes snap back to Bucky’s, looking for something in that mysterious blue. “Just trust me,” Bucky says, and that’s enough.

“I’ve done this too, you know.” Bucky, still holding Clint in a sitting position, eases him to the floor. Then, as if it’s nothing, he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. Clint’s somewhat thankful he’s wearing a t-shirt underneath, though in pulling off the sweatshirt the t-shirt rides up, and Clint is treated to an all too brief glimpse of Bucky’s bare stomach.

Bucky’s still talking, and it takes Clint’s brain some effort to go back to listening to the words instead of thinking about that bare strip of skin. “...elf too hard, and had to pay the price after.” As he speaks, still gentle and low, he rolls Clint onto his stomach, folds the sweatshirt, and puts it under Clint’s head. “Not much of a pillow,” he says, interrupting his own narrative, “but it’ll do.”

Clint closes his eyes and listens to Bucky’s voice, breathes what he suddenly realizes must be the scent of Bucky. Leather, metal, the oil he uses to clean his weapons, and–very faintly–chocolate. It’s a good smell, almost as comforting as the voice swirling around him.

“A hot bath would help, but this is better. Stevie’s always goin’ on about human contact and all that; and please don’t tell him I said this, but in this case I’m pretty sure he’s right.” And then Bucky climbs on top of him, straddling his lower back but keeping all the weight on his own knees, firm on the floor on either side of Clint. Even with all this it’s not until he feels Bucky’s hands on his shoulder that he realizes what it is Bucky means to do.

“Ohhhhh.” The sounds coming from Clint’s mouth are close to obscene, but it feels too good for him to care. “Buck, that’s…”

Bucky chuckles. “Again, don’t tell Stevie. Punk. He’s the one who taught me how to give a proper massage. Said I had to learn so when he gets sore I can ‘ease his suffering.’” Clint can’t see Bucky, but he can pretty much hear the eyeroll. “Such a drama queen, that one.”

“Thank god for Captain fucking America.” Clint’s babbling in between his moans, going on about Bucky’s magical hands and needing this after every mission because Nat’s hands are nice but are too small and the others are great but how do you just walk up to someone and ask for a massage? And every time Bucky’s hands touch the bare skin of his neck his brain just whites out, just stops, because it’s soft and electric all at once and he can’t compute.

But if he says anything odd, or if Bucky notices the odd stops and starts in his speech, he doesn’t say anything. He just keeps going, working the cramps and the stiffness out of his shoulders and arms and neck until Clint feels like he must be just a puddle on the floor of the range.

He doesn’t want Bucky to stop. He doesn’t want Bucky to ever stop. But eventually he says, “Bucky. If you don’t stop soon you’re going to relax me right to sleep. What’re you gonna do then, carry me to bed?”

As soon as the words are out he wishes he could draw them back somehow. Because of course Bucky could carry him to bed; Bucky may be smaller than Clint but he’s the Winter fucking Soldier. He could probably carry two Clints to bed and not break a sweat. But he’s here doing something nice, something he doesn’t have to do, and then Clint has to say something to maybe ruin it just because he’s all sleepy and comfy and suddenly realizing that he wants more from Bucky than someone to hang out on the range with or sit by on movie nights. Those things are great–but so are his hands, and his big blue eyes, and the way he makes fun of Steve while making it clear that Steve’s his best friend and always will be. He’s strong and sweet at the same time, and fuck all if Clint doesn’t want everything with Bucky...and when did that happen?

There are fingers in his hair now; not tugging, just a reassuring touch. When the backs of Bucky’s fingers trace Clint’s jawline he lets his eyes flutter open to see Bucky sitting on the floor next to him, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I really don’t want to undo all that relaxin’ I just poured into your muscles,” Bucky says. “Think maybe we can save the goin’ to bed part for next time?”

“Sure,” pops out of Clint’s mouth before he even thinks about it. Then, “Wait, what? Next time?”

The fluttering in his chest is something new, something unexpected.

It’s hope.

The smile on Bucky’s lips becomes genuine. “You heard that, did you?”

Clint wants to jump up, but he’s still just a puddle. Instead he grins, asks innocently, “Is kissing safe tonight? I wouldn’t want to do anything against my doct–”

He’s laughing when Bucky rolls him onto his back and cuts off his words with a kiss soft as butterfly wings. They smile into each other’s mouths, and Clint’s never had a better first kiss.

Or second.

Or third.

*

Bonus Scene

-for @feedmecookiesnow and @elenorasweet, because they asked 💜

Clint blinks drowsy eyes at Bucky. “So. Are you gonna carry me to bed, or do I have to sleep here?”

His grin is lopsided and tinged with exhaustion, and all Bucky wants to do is kiss that adorable face some more. But he’s more in control of himself than that.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

Because he has to kiss something, he takes Clint’s hand in his and kisses his wrist, then his palm. “I think something can be arranged,” he says. “I don’t want you to wake up on this floor with a stiff neck. Or to try to get back to your floor yourself and trip over your own feet.”

“I wouldn’t–” Clint starts to protest, but Bucky silences him with a finger to his lips.

“Barton, you’re graceful as a ballerina with a bow in your hands, and damn near as pretty, but you have a knack for injuring yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re–” Clint mumbles against Bucky’s finger. This time it’s just Bucky’s stare that stops him.

“Fine. I concede.” Clint’s wink is sloppy with sleep, and Bucky has to hold himself still again. “But only ‘cause I want you to carry me to bed.”

As if Bucky needs to be talked into it.

Kissing Clint’s palm again, he says, “Think you can wait for me to clean up? I don’t particularly want to wake up to a lecture from Stark about leaving my weapons all over the range.”

Clint nods. Bucky can see that he’s still pretty blissed out from the massage and the rather extensive make-out session afterward. Bucky’s pretty far gone himself; he’d gone from waking up screaming from another horrible nightmare to finding Clint at the range to watching Clint nearly pass out to feeling Clint’s muscles under his hands to feeling Clint’s lips against his own. Not exactly what he’d expected from the evening.

The knives go back in their sheaths–”How many knives do you have on you, anyway?” “More than the four I threw…”–and the arrows are returned to their proper place in the armory. The bow gets hung up as well; Clint tells him it’s just a practice bow, not one of his good bows. Those are upstairs. Apparently Clint is a bit of a snob when it comes to his bows. Bucky has to turn away to hide his smile.

“Alright, let’s get you up,” he says, easing Clint up to a sitting position. Clint’s not going to make this easy, he really is about half asleep already so isn’t helping much. His head falls forward onto Bucky’s shoulder and he makes a happy humming sound, burrowing his face a little deeper into Bucky’s neck.

“Can’t you help a little? I can’t even get my sweatshirt back on.” He’s able to grab it from the floor where Clint had been using it as a pillow but before he can begin to even try to pull it on Clint, showing far more alertness than Bucky expects, snatches it away from him.

“Mine!”

Even though he’s fair exasperated, Bucky laughs. “It won’t even fit you. Your arms are twice as long as mine.”

“Makes a nice pillow,” Clint murmurs, clutching at the fabric.

Bucky sighs, then gives in and kisses Clint’s cheek. “It’s yours then, sweetheart,” he says, and he knows then he’s gone soft for this fella. “Can we get you to bed, though? You really need to sleep.”

Somehow they manage to both get to their feet. “Now hold on,” Bucky says, and he scoops Clint into his arms.

It should be ridiculous. Clint’s got so much height on him it should just feel silly, like a toddler carrying a teenager. But somehow it just feels...right. Clint belongs here, in his arms, his own arms draped around Bucky’s neck. Clint’s heartbeat against his chest, his breath tickling his ear.

The walk to the elevator, the ride up to Clint’s floor, it’s all over so fast. Too fast. Before he knows it he’s easing Clint out of his arms and onto his bed.

His arms feel empty.

Clint looks up at him, biting his lip, like he’s deciding something. Bucky’s about to just say goodnight when Clint blurts out, “Stay?”

Bucky freezes.

“Not for sex.” Clint stumbles over the words, trying to hurry in his overtired state. “I’m too tired for sex anyway. But just...stay? I think there’s a pair of sweatpants in the bottom drawer,” he adds, nodding toward the dresser.

Bucky just looks at Clint for another full minute. Finally he says, “Yeah, and I’m sure they’re about three feet too long for me.” But he’s already at the dresser when he says it. He finds two pairs, pulls them both out, and throws one at Clint. “Wear something comfortable to sleep,” he says.

“Yes sir,” Clint says, only a little mockingly.

*

It only takes one night to learn that cuddles are a good defence against nightmares. Even better than time at the range.

[iamartemisday]

Jane Foster Week Day Seven

.07 Free Day

Jane was on another planet. She knew it because the sky was orange and the sea was red. The mountains appeared to be upside down, balanced perfectly on the tips because physics here was broken. A bird flew overhead, or at least what Jane assumed was a bird. It looked more like a flying rat. It landed on a purple tree and squawked before licking the bottom side of its leg.

A crowd of humanoids surrounded Jane. They had already been there when Jane stepped through the hole in spacetime her bridge created, at least fifty by her count. They varied in height but stayed within normal human parameters. Their skin was pale like the aliens in that Star Trek parody movie Darcy made her watch, but instead of plain black, they sported multiple hair colors like they had dunked their heads in paint cans. They had no extra eyes or appendages growing out of their backs. No antennae or tentacles, at least as far as she could see. They didn’t sprout fangs or devour her and they didn’t care her away to jail for trespassing on their planet. For now and unless proven otherwise, Jane assumed they were friendly.

“Hi there,” she said, nervously waving. “I’m Jane Foster. Nice to meet you.”

They smiled at her. Literally all of them at the same time. The effect was creepy, but not overly so. One man stepped out of the crowd and took her by the hand. He felt warm enough despite his skin’s deathly pallor.

“Hello, Jane Foster. You may call me Jenzen” he said, kissing her hand. “We are so glad you’re here. We’ve waited ages for you to arrive.”

Jane stared at him. Was he confusing her for someone else? “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to reach your planet. I’m a scientist and I was testing something called a-”

“Einstein-Rosen Bridge.” Jenzen’s smile widened, as did those of his compatriots. “Yes, we were told you would arrive in such a fashion.”

“....by who?”

“Our former king before his death,” a woman piped in as she stood beside Jenzen. They wore identical pendants around their necks which Jane assumed was their societies version of wedding rings. “He died without an heir, and so he looked into the future and declared our new ruler would come to us on a bridge like a rainbow, and she’d call it an Einstein Rosen bridge.”

“New ruler…” Jane had heard pretty much nothing after those two words. “Did you say new ruler… as in the person who rules you guys?”

“We have spent the last ten years preparing for this day,” said the woman. She had tears in her eyes as she and her husband knelt before Jane. “We cannot tell you how overjoyed we are that you’ve come to us, at last, my Queen.”

Okay, they definitely had her confused with someone else. Someone important who would probably kill Jane for stealing their crown whenever they got back. The rest of the crowd fell to their knees until she couldn’t see a single face in the crowd. Their heads bowed, they were like a swath of colorful polka dots drawn by a child on a murky brown landscape.

“Foster is a wonderful name,” said Jenzen to the woman. “How about Fostera for the planet’s new name?”

“It’s perfect!” The woman exclaimed, clapping her hands. “The best name I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re renaming your planet after me?” Jane screamed.

“Of course we are. Our world must reflect our leader in every conceivable way.” Jenzen then cleared his throat and addressed the crowd in a voice magnified ten times. “Fosterians! Our time of waiting has ended, for our new queen has finally come to us at last! All hail Queen Jane of Fostera!”

“ALL HAIL QUEEN JANE OF FOSTERA! ALL HAIL QUEEN JANE OF FOSTERA!”

They chanted for the longest time, celebrating the joy of having a new monarch. Said queen was decidedly unregal today with her buckling knees and unhinged jaw, but they didn’t seem to notice.

**

Jane was shown to her royal suite in the Fosterian (she cringed when they said it) royal palace. Loki was waiting on the loveseat when she arrived, a book in his lap that looked older than he was.

“Good evening, my Queen,” he said, a wide grin on his face showing all his teeth. “Isn’t this an amusing predicament you’re in.”

“You know, I would be freaking out right now that you’re alive and in my room,” Jane said, “but I just don’t have the energy.”

Jane walked passed him to the bed and sunk into the mattress. She buried her head in some pillows and dug them even further in her ear when Loki chuckled. Such an annoying sound it made Darcy’s snoring sound like classical music in comparison.

“Now Jane, a true queen never lays down on the job.”

“I’m not a queen. These people have the wrong idea, and tomorrow I’m setting the record straight and going home.”

“And how do you intend to do that, dare I ask?”

“None of your business.” Jane picked up another pillow to throw at him. Since she hadn’t looked up it went in the wrong direction and crashed into what sounded like a lamp. Loki clicked his tongue.

“Such childish anger, my dear. It’s not befitting the ruler of a kingdom.”

“Says the guy who invaded earth because you found out you were adopted.” Jane beat the pillow harder into her ear to block him out. “Now go away before I have you kicked out.”

“Do you believe that would work or do you want to know how I got in here undetected.”

Jane read once that deep breathing exercises helped calm you down. She went through every single one she knew, and she still wanted to strangle him when she was done. “Okay.” She sat up in bed. “I give. What do you want?”

He feigned bewilderment. “Want? Why on earth would I want anything? I only wished to visit my dear friend.”

Jane raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, perhaps I was going to offer my assistance in your new responsibilities,” he rose to his feet and stood over her. “As a queen, you are entitled to as many consorts as you wish, though your first should be one adept at matters of ruling, should he not?”

They stared at each other for a good long time. Long enough that Jane was pretty sure the polar ice caps would melt between his finishing his sentence and her breaking out into a massive smile. “You know what? I just realized what’s going on here. It’s so obvious! Why didn’t I think of it before?”

She took Loki’s hand and dragged him to the window, laughing the entire way. “You wanna be king of Fostera, you got it, jack.” She threw open the window. A crowd of Fosterians was already waiting for her because of course. “Citizens of Fostera, as your Queen, I would like to make my first official proclamation.”

“Speak, my queen,” someone in the audience shouted.

“We will abide by your every word,” another screamed.

“Ah, you guys are the best,” Jane giggled. “Okay, so this is Loki, he’s a prince of Asgard. As of right now, I officially declare him my husband and King of Fostera. That is something I can do because I said so. So everyone hail King Loki.”

“ALL HAIL KING LOKI!” They obediently shouted. “ALL HAIL QUEEN JANE! ALL HAIL KING LOKI!”

“Awesome. I will be back with more royal decrees later.” Jane gave them a thumbs up and shut the curtains.

“That was an excellent proclamation,” Loki said. “I’m honored you’ve chosen me to be your king.”

“Don’t get used to it, buddy,” Jane said, crawling back into bed. “As soon I wake up, I’ll be back in my lab and you’ll be dead again because this is all just a vivid dream.  I’m not really ruling a planet. I didn’t just declare us married. It’s all in my imagination.”

Loki nodded thoughtfully. “I see… though on the slim chance this is real, were there any other official decrees you were considering?”

Jane snorted. “Sure, why not? Uh… make every third Saturday ‘World Science Day’ where people come up with a new inventions or experiments and present them in a monthly Expo. Let’s also rename those mountains the Darcy Lewis Range. She’d love that. Also, why don’t you go to earth and get a bunch of hot guys for that consort harem you were talking about?”

“Any candidates in mind?”

“Bucky Barnes for one,” Jane said, ticking names off on her fingers. “He’s a friend of Steve Rogers and he’s beyond gorgeous. You should see him work out. In fact, let’s also get Steve himself and that other friend of his, Sam Wilson. Clint Barton is good too, but please don’t mind control him again. And if there’s anyone else you think I’d like, by all means, bring them along.”

“Noted,” Loki said, practically skipping out the door. “Rest well my Queen. On my honor, your orders will be carried out before you wake.”

“Uh-huh, sounds great.” Jane rolled over and closed her eyes. “Nighty night, dream Loki.”

She was asleep in seconds, as Loki slowly closed the door with an evil smirk. “Goodnight, Jane…”

**

Jane opened her eyes the next morning expecting to see the slate gray walls of her lab and to be in a sleeping bag with an unfinished mug of coffee and some cereal next to her.

Instead, she was in her royal bedroom with a plate full of delicacies being held before her eyes by Loki.”Good morning. Hungry?”

Jane screamed. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???”

“Offering you breakfast,” Loki said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m glad you’re awake. I have the last bit of paperwork you need to officially establish World Science Day and you’ll be pleased to know Darcy Lewis Range has just been christened.”

“But- but- but- but-”

“Also, your consort harem is waiting in the drawing room downstairs. I was able to round up all of your selections. I believe Mr. Barnes might have feelings for you. When I said I was bringing him to you, he assumed I had kidnapped you and attempted to strangle me.” Loki rubbed his neck, which sported a pair of hand shaped bruises on either side. “He does pack quite a punch.”

“Ah… guh... buh…”

“I found Rogers mid-battle. His foe was quite adamant that I wouldn’t end their fight or take the Captain with me. Some foolishness about being the only one allowed to defeat him. It was nonsense, but he seemed similar to the type you were asking for, so I brought him along as well. I believe Rogers called him ‘Rumlow’. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Haaaah....”

“Well, no matter. You will meet him and the others soon enough. Fortunately, the rest were easy to take, though I had to wait for Barton to fall asleep to avoid an altercation.”

Loki led her along in her zombified state, down a hall which had been designed with her favorite colors and refurbished with a planets and stars motif. A life-sized statue of her had been erected on top of the stairwell. Everyone they passed bowed before their ruler, a loving whisper of ‘my queen’ on their lips.

Eventually, they reached a room with wide windows, through which Jane saw five men tied up on the couches, none of whom looked particularly happy to be there.

“Forgive me, dearest, it was the only way to prevent an escape attempt,” said Loki. “Not that it would matter. As it turns out, this planet is all the way on the other side of the galaxy from Earth. I suppose your young friend is right, only Jane Foster would find herself in this situation.”

He laughed and pressed a button on the wall, releasing the lock and allowing the door to slid open. With nothing else to do and a brain just now fully rebooted, Jane Foster of the planet Fostera stepped inside and faced the music.

[the-irish-mayhem]

*hides in a corner & peeps* it's an absurd, absurd request & you are free to burn this ask into Valhalla. But, umm, can I request Jane/Thor smut where Jane asks him to be dominating. Because you have his characterisation so on point and you would know how he would do it, and my warped mind is curious to see just how far he would go. I mean, i imagine him to always be careful in bed and that he would never hurt her - obv. But damn these fantasies... Okay I'll see myself out.

Fosterson Week Day 1: Post-TDW

Jane wants something in bed and Thor is more than happy to oblige. PWP, Dom/Sub. ~6k words. Happy Fosterson Week!

Of all the things Jane had anticipated about being in a relationship with the near-immortal god of thunder, him being a gentle lover was not one of them. His hands, calloused with over a thousand years of battle and training, that she’s seen kill and maim, that command one of the most powerful weapons the universe over, suddenly go soft, glide over her skin with all the tenderness she knows his heart can hold. His arms, so large they dwarf her legs (Tony measured) and can snap a neck in the space of a heartbeat, make her feel safe when he wraps them around her. Everything about him is a study of opposites--his capacity to destroy and conquer, and his ability to love and give. It’s heady to have Thor and all his infinite power contained in an intimate moment, Jane won’t deny that.

But there are moments when she wishes he didn’t always have such iron control with her.

So, at dinner one night, she decides to ask.

“So… you have settings on your strength, right?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your strength. You explained to me once that there’s a way to control your strength so that you can spar with Steve and go all out without, you know, killing him.”

“Ah, yes. All Asgardians are taught how to control our strength so we don’t have any mishaps with visitors from other realms. Not all are as hardy or strong as us. Imagine what kind of a diplomatic incident one could incite if they accidentally crushed a Duchess of Ryloth’s forearm in a traditional Rylothan greeting,” he says with a chuckle.

“Yeah, imagine,” Jane replies, even though the Ryloth reference flies straight over her head. “Can you explain it to me one more time? You made a metaphor about a stick shift you were really proud of.”

Thor laughs. “Ah yes. Your cars are so quaint, and lend themselves very well to this. Your vehicles can only go so fast on a certain gear before they must shift to a new one. There’s no need for my full strength in most instances, so I don’t have a need to shift to the ‘highest gear’ as it were.” He cocks his head. “Why do you ask?”

Jane hasn’t even asked her question yet and already she can feel her face starting to burn. She’s tempted to look at her hands where they’re twisted together in her lap, her palms a little sweatier than she’s willing to admit. “So, when… when we’re in bed…”

A look of pure concern takes over his face. “I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“Oh, no. No, of course not.” She reaches over with her least sweaty palm and takes one of his hands. He doesn’t seem to notice the sweat (or is tactfully not mentioning it) and turns his hand over so can can weave their fingers together. “You’re wonderful. I was just… I wanted to know if it was hard for you.”

He raises a brow and smirks. “Quite.”

She laughs. “I meant is it hard for you to hold yourself back when we’re together. I mean, I was there when SHIELD did strength tests with you. If you can snap the main gun off a tank without breaking a sweat, my tiny human body must be nothing.”

He looks contemplative for a moment. “The control is something that I’ve practiced since I was a boy. I do not have to concentrate to keep it up, if that’s what you mean.” He squeezes her hand. “What brought this line of questioning on?”

She smiles through her mild discomfort. They’ve been together for almost seven months now, so she knows he won’t judge her for what she’s going to ask, but… she’s just her sometimes, and she’s never been very good at asking for things in bed. She’s gotten better; after all, with him it’s not very difficult to be vulnerable in that way. This has always been different, and she’s never had a very positive experience with being dominated in past relationships, but she’s willing to try again if Thor wants to.

She realizes she’s been quiet for a little too long when Thor squeezes her hand again. “Sorry, I’m just trying to figure out how to phrase this exactly.” She decides the best way is to probably just rip of the band-aid. “Have you ever heard of BDSM?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, it’s--wait, what?” He didn’t even have to wait for the Alltongue magic to figure out the acronym.

“Yes, I know what it is.”

“Um. Okay. How?”

“Fifty Shades of Gray. Tony insisted on a bonding night, but I think he just wanted to see Steve’s reaction.”

“Oh god, that is not a good example to follow.”

He laughs, “Don’t worry. Throughout, both Clint and Natasha were sure to point out the safety hazards the main characters were engaged in and both were livid that Christian Gray was quote, ‘an awful dom.’ I asked them more about it later and they gave me some good avenues of research.”

“So did you ask about it because… you might be interested in it?”

“I’m always interested in Midgard’s subcultures,” he answers.

She felt her excitement sizzle a little. “So not… as something you’d ever want to try?”

He leans towards her, elbows on the table. “Jane. Are you interested?”

She can’t seem to find her voice and settles on a nod, her eyes fixed on their hands. Oh god, why does she have to be so not good at this?

Thor brushes a thumb across her cheek. “There’s no need to be ashamed, my love. I’m as interested as you want me to be.”

She groans. “Yeah, but I want you to be interested in it because you want it as much as I do. Because I’ve tried it before with partners who weren’t really all that into it, and it wasn’t fun for either of us.”

“I asked Clint and Natasha for those resources so that I could be prepared if you ever were as interested in exploring this as I was,” he replies easily.

“You aren’t just saying that to be nice, are you?”

He chuckles. “No.”

“So do you want to do this?” she asks.

“I’d love to. I learned that your BDSM isn’t too different from some Asgardian sexual proclivities that I’ve participated in.”

“Really?”

He nods. “As both a dominant and a submissive. Which would you prefer I be?”

And the thought of him submitting to her is definitely something worth exploring at a later time, but right now she wants one thing, and one thing only.

“Dominant,” she says, her shyness gone and replaced with a desperate need to have.

He bites his bottom lip and slides his chair closer to hers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answers, breathless already.

“Now, or do you want to wait?”

“Um…” They were both free for the rest of the night, and had the weekend off, now that she was thinking about it, so… “Now?”

“Was that a question, or an answer?” he growls, and yes. Yes, this was a very good decision.

“Answer. Definitely an answer.”

“Ground rules first,” he says and starts to pull away from her.

She agrees before taking advantage of the fact that they haven’t technically started playing yet and grabs his shirt to haul him down to kiss her. She doesn’t press for much, just a quick, heated exchange before she murmurs, “Thank you,” against his lips.

He pecks her in return before he replies, “No, thank you.”

Jane feels a smile creeping over her face and says, “I love you.”

He gets this bright, happy look on his face that makes her stomach go into knots whenever she says that, and this time is no exception. “I love you, too.”

There’s a brief pause, and then she asks, “I am curious, though. What was Steve’s reaction to Fifty Shades?”

“He mostly made snide comments about the lack of plot and would occasionally throw a hand over his heart and yell ‘I can’t handle all the fondue.’ To which Sam replied that he knew for a fact that Steve could handle much more fondue. I don’t think Tony’s goal for the evening was to give them an opportunity to flirt, but that’s what he did.”

Jane laughs. “They’re cute.”

“Heart-wrenchingly so,” Thor agrees. “But we should get back on track.”

“Oh, yeah. So. Limits, probably,” she says.

“Yes,” he says. “Mine are rather common. I do not want to draw blood or have blood drawn, no watersports,” he says, unsure as though the Alltongue couldn’t even parse that one out, “I’m also not particularly fond of playing at humiliation on either side. And boundaries that you can push… I think if we decide to do this again, I’ll worry more about those. If anything comes up, I’ll use a safe word.”

“Speaking of, we need to come up with those. I was thinking standard red, yellow, green?”

“I think that will do splendidly.”

“Okay great,” Jane says. “I think my limits are the same as yours. Except I think I do have a soft limit I might want you to push.”

“Aye?”

Her face is flaming, but it’s a bit easier to talk about now since they’re both being so frank with each other. “Um, anal? I want to try it, but go slow.”

“I can do that. We haven’t done anything like that before, so I won’t push you too much this first time around.”

Jane breathes, feeling some of her nerves dissipate and her excitement ratchet up. “Okay.”

“Say ‘red’ if you want to stop at any time,” he reminds her.

“I know. I’m ready.”

When she says that, suddenly, something in him shifts. He straightens, pulls his shoulders back, tilts his chin up just a bit, but it’s more than just physical. Thor always has this presence about him, something large, protective, and just a little bit dangerous. She has never truly felt the danger until now, and she loves it. He’d never truly hurt her, so she couldn’t be safer, really. The freedom to enjoy that hint of danger that he always carries with him, knowing that he’s going to be bringing the warrior in him out to play just for her sends a twinge of desire through her. Oh, this is going to be a great night.

“I want you to go to the bedroom, and take off your clothes,” he says, the ring of command in his deep voice. “When you’re naked, lie on the bed with your legs spread and wait for me.”

His order sends a shudder down her spine, and she can feel her nipples hardening already. There’s a yes, sir on her lips, but it doesn’t feel quite right. She doesn’t think she can just call him Thor. There always seemed to be a special name in these situations. Or at least, in Jane’s fantasies there was.

So she sort of just goes for it. “Okay, your Majesty.”

He gives her a bit of a sharp, surprised look. She has to stifle a grin. She might want to submit to him in bed, but she’s not going to suddenly gain a submissive personality. She can see a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, so she knows he’s not truly annoyed by her presumption.

But in true Thor fashion, he can’t let her win. “It’s actually your Highness,” he says, and she thinks he was going for a haughty tone but doesn’t quite get it right. There’s too much cheek in it. But he finds his dominating feet again quickly. “I believe I gave you an order.”

“I’m sorry, yes. Your Highness.” She turns for the bedroom and doesn’t look back. There’s a flutter of excitement through her belly, and maybe a hint of nervousness too, but she knows that Thor will take care of her. She thanks her lucky stars that he was dropped in front of her van all those years ago, and that the steps they took after that had led them here.

She strips as if her clothes were on fire, tossing them in the hamper and throwing her boots in the general direction of the closet. Jane flops on top of the covers with little fanfare.

She wonders idly if she should perhaps take the comforter off. It usually ends up on the floor when they have sex anyway. If today will be particularly enthusiastic, maybe she should just… yeah, she’s nothing if not proactive, so she starts removing the comforter.

She’s just backed off the end of the bed to settle the comforter at the floor when she hears from the doorway, “Disobeying already?”

She jumps a little, having forgotten how sneaky he can be, and turns to face him.

She nearly moans out loud at the sight of him in his armor. He’s leaning against the door jamb, casual as you please, with no cape or chainmail but the bracers and chest plate are more than enough fantasy fodder.

“I--” Jane can barely recall what he just said to her, distracted as she is. “I--I’m sorry. I was just trying to help.”

Thor bristles, coming off the door jamb and standing tall. “What did I ask you to do for me in the kitchen?”

She swallows, her heart thudding. “Um. To strip and wait for you.”

He starts slowly moving forward. “Wait for me how?”

Jane can feel herself going a little red in the ears. “With my legs spread for you.” She’s never been very good at dirty talk, but she’s proud that she got through that without stammering once.

Thor’s answering smirk says he’s pretty proud too. “And was stripping the bed anywhere in my instructions?”

He’s standing right in front of her, the backs of her legs pressed against the foot of the bed. “No. Your Highness,” she adds, realizing she’s getting lax with the title she’d suggested in the first place.

He places a gentle hand beneath her chin holding her in place as he leans down. She licks her lips in anticipation, almost pushing up on her tiptoes to be closer to him. Instead, she stays still.

Their lips are a hairsbreadth away when he says, “I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished.” Then he brushes his lips over hers, just once and not nearly enough; a dark promise of more.

When he straightens and steps away from her, Jane becomes hyperaware of her chest heaving, the heat in her chest and the throbbing between her legs. She’d be embarrassed that she’s just staring up at him, utterly speechless, but he’s not much of a judgemental man and she wants him far too badly to care.

With a sharp jerk of his chin upwards, he commands, “On the bed. On your knees, hands on the headboard.”

Pleasure sparks in her nipples and flickers down to her clit at his words. She moves hastily to fulfill his order. Their headboard is a modern piece, varnished reclaimed wood cut in geometric patterns that leave plenty of good handholds should the need arise, but for now Jane settles her palms on top of the frame and digs her fingers in.

She can hear him moving behind her, but she doesn’t look back, just strains to listen. The creak of his leather chestplate. The slight groan of the floor beneath his boots. The soft squeak of the bedsprings and dip of the mattress as he climbs in behind her.

Jane would bet quite a bit of money that she’s already wet, but she doesn’t dare move anymore than she has to to keep her balance.

She expects him to do or say something, but instead silence falls over them and Jane’s tension only rises. Another visceral spark of desire runs through her, making her quiver in anticipation.

“What shall we do with you?” he finally says after a good minute and a half of quiet.

“Something to make me remember to follow instructions?” she suggests.

Thor chuckles, dark and sexy, and Jane wishes that she could see his face. “And what, my love, would make you do that?”

Jane swallows as she realizes he’s going to make her say it. Seems he’s going all in on his role as dominant to make her talk dirty. It makes her smile, just a little bit. She’ll get him back for that. Later.

“I’m not a cruel man. I won’t punish you without your input,” he continues, obviously trying to prompt her.

She feels the bed dip behind her. She doesn’t expect his hand at the base of her spine, running slowly and methodically up towards her neck. His touch lightens so that only his fingertips are grazing her skin, drawing nonsensical waves and swirls over her back. It doesn’t send a jolt of arousal through her like the anticipation had, but rather it makes a suffuse heat spread over her body and her heart rate to pick up even further.

“I want…” The words get stuck. She shivers a little, her arousal making the ache between her legs almost unbearable and his instruction to not move commanding a good deal of her focus. “I--” she tries again, but still the same result. She makes a distressed sound because she can do this, she knows she can.

“Where are you at, Jane?” Thor asks her then, a bit urgent, and she realizes he’s prompting her if she’s not using a safeword.

“Green,” she affirms. “Still green. Your Highness,” she adds with a smile, keeping her eyes focused forward.

He jumps straight back into character, and she’s sure he’s probably grinning too, at least a little. “Good, because I’d like to start your punishment, but your lack of cooperation is disheartening.” He curls his fingers against her back and drags his fingernails down her skin towards her ass. Jane shivers again, and she swears her arousal must be an oasis at this point. Her inner muscles clench around nothing, and her heart races in her chest.

“I’m still waiting for an answer,” he says.

“I want you to spank me, your Highness,” she finally says and lets out a breath of relief.

Thor chuckles deeply next to her. “I was thinking just the same thing.” The bed shifts as his fingers glide past the end of her back, trailing off to one of her cheeks. He rubs his hand over her ass, warming her skin but not taking any liberties and dipping between her legs, much to her frustration.

“Perhaps we should start with five?” he suggests. “After all, it is still early. Wouldn’t want to exhaust you before we’ve truly begun.”

Jane’s practically delirious with want at this point, so she nods and says, “Yes, your Highness.”

“Good girl,” he croons, and Jane practically melts. It’s all she can do to keep herself still.

The first smack is unexpected, and she jolts forward a little with the impact, gasping with the impact. He’d clearly been careful to not go too hard with his first strike, intent on warming her up first, but there was still enough pain to fizzle in her skin and cause another rush of arousal to go to her core. She releases a sigh of pleasure, and as Thor runs his hand over where he’d struck, she feels anticipation crawl up her spine at the prospect of another smack.

The next is lower, closer to the top of her thigh and this time she barely feels the pain before she feels the hot pleasure with it, his smack having reverberated straight to her core. Her back arches with the sensation, her mouth drops open, and she buries her face in her shoulder to try to get a hold of herself. She releases a soft moan, and Thor chuckles quietly. “Remember, my love,” he says, “stay still.” Two fingers tap in the middle of her back, physically reminding her of her inability to follow instructions.

Jane braces her hands a little more firmly and answers, “Yes, your Highness. I’m sorry.”

He smacks her for a third time, on the opposite cheek this time, and Jane imagines that she can hear the wood straining under her fingertips with how hard she grips the headboard to keep from moving. Her chest is heaving, but otherwise, she’d managed to remain as still as possible. Her accomplishment makes satisfaction swell in her chest.

His hand rubs over her skin once more, easing the pain of his strike and running down to the top of her thigh.

She braces for the next hit, knowing that this will feel good.

The fourth smack leaves her thighs shaking and an embarrassingly unsexy squeak escapes her parted lips as she feels the force of his hand vibrate through her pussy. The pain was barely even noticeable this time, incomparable to her aching clit.

“Spread your legs a bit more for me,” he says, and Jane does so without hesitation, bracing her knees a bit wider on the sheet.

Thor continues to draw his hand across her thigh, this time running towards the inside of her leg but not where she’s truly desperate for him.

He withdraws his hand and repositions himself on the bed so that he can reach around her front, drawing his fingers gently across her pubic bone. It takes everything Jane has in her to stay still.

“I saved the best place for last,” he says, and it takes a second for his words to make sense to her arousal-addled brain, but when they do, she shudders and her clit pounds.

He wants to spank her pussy.

“Would that be a fitting punishment?” he asks her.

She nods before he even finishes speaking. “Yes, your Highness,” she breathes. She trust him to do this, to be gentle enough to not truly hurt her but give her enough pain to make it pleasurable.

With her knees wider, she can feel cool air on her inner labia and she holds her breath as his fingers trail down to the thatch of hair over her cunt.

He shifts behind her again, and she can feel the heat of his torso at her back. Getting a better angle, she realizes with a start, and she barely even has time to process her excitement before his fingers lift away from her skin and he delivers a stinging smack straight to her clit.

Jane nearly comes on the spot. Her elbows give out, her hands just barely managing to hold herself aloft, because even if she’s broken Thor’s ‘no moving’ edict, she’ll be damned if she lets go of the damn headboard because he’s too good at working her up. Her moan is downright pornographic as the pleasure sings and fades through her core.

When she gets a hold of herself, she laughs. He’s always been good at this, but this is something else.

“Okay?” Thor asks, and her gentle lover is back, checking up on her yet again.

“Never been so close to coming after just one touch,” she answers. “Your Highness is very skilled in discipline.”

The use of the name cues him that she’s still ready for more, and she hears the shift in tone yet again. “Perhaps if you continue this insolence in the future we’ll have to explore other punishments.”

“I’ll be good,” Jane promises breathlessly, her mind already whirling about what ‘other punishments’ might look like.

His hands close around hers, gently encouraging her to loosen her death grip on the wood. “You can let go for now,” he says before the warmth of him is gone from her back and she can feel him settle at the edge of the bed. “Turn over,” he says.

Jane drops down to the best with a sigh before turning onto her back. Her ass is only a little tender, given that the punishment was pretty tame, so it wasn’t too uncomfortable to settle onto her back and let herself relax into the sheets as she looked down the length of the bed at Thor.

He was still wearing every inch of the casual armor he’d worn into the bedroom, the only difference now being that it was clearly getting a little hard to tame his erection in his snugly fitting leather pants.

He nods at the headboard. “Reach up and take hold of it again.” Once she settles her hands into some relatively comfortable grooves, he says, “You are not to let go.”

“Yes, your Highness,” Jane answers.

She wonders what he’ll do, if he’ll tease her some more, find a way to work her up without giving her what she wants--

Quicker than any human man could move, Thor is between her legs. He reaches under the small of her back and lifts the lower half of her body clean off the bed so that she’s resting on her shoulder blades. He maneuvers her thighs over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around them to stabilize her, and then he wastes absolutely no time in licking a firm stripe up the center of her pussy, finishing with a firm suck to her clit.

She aches to bury her fingers in his hair, but she can’t. Her fingers have a death grip around the headboard and Jane decides that this might be worse than if he’d used actual restraints.

He must note the frustrated nature of her next moan, and he has the gall to just chuckle right over her clit. “Perhaps this would’ve been a better punishment,” he says. “Not letting you have what you want.” He punctuates his statement with a firm, slow lick over her aching nub.

“And what do I want, your Highness?” Jane manages to ask.

Thor pulls away slightly. Sends her a smile, those electric blue eyes boring into hers, and answers, “To use your hands to push my face as deep into your cunt as you can have me.”

“Oh god,” is her only response as he goes in again, the wet sound of his lips against her obscene.

He eats pussy like no one she’s ever shared a bed with, unbelievably skilled and outrageously enthusiastic. He moans straight into her core as his mouth devours her, his tongue sliding from her opening to her clit and back again.

Jane can feel her orgasm racing towards her like a goddamn Mack truck, and she aches to thrust her hips into his face, impossible with her position and his arms holding her firmly in place.

In the not-pleasure-delirious part of her brain, she wonders if he’s trying to edge her, as he pushes her towards her peak and then eases her back from it with a frustrating amount of skill. He had her so worked up from the spanking that she can’t believe she hasn’t come already. Her inner muscles flutter in frustration, aching for something to be inside of her.

“Fuck,” she says as his aggressive eating turns careful and she feels the peak slipping out of reach once more.

“Is there something you want, Jane?” he asks.

“You know there is,” she grits out.

He pulls away from her entirely, and she nearly shouts at him. “I shouldn’t make any presuppositions,” he teases, far too reasonable for their current activities.

She groans again, but doesn’t answer.

His tone shifts, the more commanding tone returning as opposed to the playful and teasing, “Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you, darling.” One of his hands drifts to her ass again, palming the skin there and reminding her of her past punishment. “I seem to recall asking you a question, and I want you to give me an answer.” His fingers dance towards the middle of her ass, running up and down the crack there.

Her heart is pounding in her chest as she answers. “I want to come, your Highness,” she says. “Please let me come.”

Thor grins then and says, “Good girl.” Then he goes. He focuses straight on her clit, sucking it into his mouth and playing it with his tongue. The pleasure sings through her veins and she barely notices when the fingers that were caressing her ass make their way up to her core. He doesn’t plunge a finger inside, but rather gathers some of her wetness before sliding his hand down to her puckered hole.

She gasps as he gently massages the ring of muscle at the rim, the slight pressure a different kind of stimulation now, but with his ministrations on her clit, it just feels good. Before long, the tip of his index finger is inside her, gently massaging and stretching, but Jane hardly as time to coherently appreciate it when she finally, finally soars straight over the edge.

Thor doesn’t attempt to control her writhing as her thighs leverage her hips into his face. She can hear the echo of a scream in her ears that she knows came from her and swears she’s never come so hard in her life. It’s supernovas and explosions and every cliche ever written in any of the steamy romance novels she has ever read. Thor sucks her clit to push her higher and then slowly eases the pressure as she starts to come down. God, she just wants him inside her so much.

“Oh my god,” she laughs, flexing her fingers around the headboard. “I can’t believe I didn’t let go,” is the first thing that pops into her head.

Thor unwraps her thighs from around his neck, gently easing her back down onto the bed and smoothing his hands up her sides. He teasingly drags his thumbs on the side of her almost entirely neglected breasts. “You followed instructions to the letter. As a reward--” he says, pausing to lean down to whisper in her ear, “--you can choose how you want to be fucked.”

“Like this,” she answers almost immediately. “I want you to fuck me just like this.”

His hips pin hers to the bed, and she can feel the hard ridge of him through the smooth leather, the cool chest plate pressing against her nipples, and yes. This is just how she wants him.

The look in his eye and the raise of his brow tells her that he knows exactly what she wants and he’s more than inclined to give it to her. He leans down towards her lips, and she leans up to meet him, but just before she can actually touch him, he says, “Ask me nicely.”

At first she doesn’t get what he’s asking, but quickly catches on. “Please fuck me like this, your Highness.”

He grins. “As you wish.”

He lays a quick kiss to her lips before pulling back and unlacing his pants. He groans in relief as his cock is finally released from the confines of his pants, and he strokes it a few times. Probably unnecessarily, Jane figures, as he’s been at least half hard this whole night.

Neither of them will last long.

He reaches under the small of her back so that her ass rests on his thighs, lining them up enough so that when he starts moving his hips, his cock drags across her clit. “So wet for me,” he murmurs, repositioning his hands until they grip her hips.

Jane nods, a frantic mmhmm her only verbal response.

“Beg me for it,” he says. “And be specific.”

That can only mean one thing. He wants her to talk dirty and he wants it explicit. Oh god.

The head of his cock catches her clit on an upstroke in a particularly pleasurable way and her hips jolt and she has needed him inside of her since this whole night started and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get it as soon as possible.

“I want your cock inside me,” she says, and soon it just starts spilling out of her. “God, I want you so badly, spreading my pussy open and pounding into me. It’s all I want right now, and I need you to give it to me. I need your big, hard cock--”

Without warning, he thrusts into her, and she chokes. Normally, he works himself into her slowly and gently, making sure she’s adjusted before he starts thrusting, but today there’s none of that. He doesn’t pound straight in (he hadn’t used his fingers on her at all, really, before this) but the swiftness with which he buries himself to the hilt is new and downright intoxicating.

He gives her little time to relax into the feeling of him being inside her before he starts thrusting, smooth and deep, with as much force as he’s dared to use in the past. But Jane knows that she wants more tonight. Before she asks him though, she spares a moment to enjoy looking at her beloved. His eyes are focused on where they’re joined, and the sounds that he makes, the little whines and moans, tell her that he’s pretty far gone.

He’s never been one to be quiet in bed, always talkative and never shy to make some pretty pornographic sounds when he comes, but it’s these little… almost accidental noises, like little slips in his iron control that Jane loves the most.

“More,” she says. “Please, your Highness.”

His eyes flick to hers, connection and concern and understanding and love filtering between them in a few heated heartbeats of time. Thor gives her his most devilish grin, nods again towards where her hands are still clutched around the headboard and says, “Hold on tight.”

He slams into her with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs and he manages to hit her in a pretty great spot, and soon he starts up a rhythm of that, of hard, fast, and perfectly placed.

They’re both pretty far gone, Jane just barely manages to keep enough presence of mind to keep her fingers wrapped around the headboard (god, at this point she wouldn’t be surprised if there were scorch marks when she lifted them away) and Thor’s sentences have been reduced to fragments of feel so good and so wet for me and love you like this. Jane can’t say she’s much better, answering his fragments with broken fucks and yes right theres.

He shifts over her suddenly, leaning down over her so that her thighs are pressed back and she’s opened even wider to him. His flat thrusts make it so his pelvic bone is now dragging across her clit, and Jane only lasts a handful more thrusts before she’s gone again, riding an insane high that only feels better and better the more he thrusts into her.

She can tell he’s close because now he’s no longer saying words, just dirty grunts and heaving breathing and he’s buried his face in her shoulder, his face pressed tightly against the side of hers. With a few more rough strokes, he’s right there with her, coming with a loud groan muffled into her hair.

Out of breath and sated beyond belief, Jane laughs.

Thor raises his head to look down at her. “Not the most encouraging sign after having made vigorous love to a woman,” he says.

That makes her giggle again, but this time his mouth is within kissing distance and so she does. “I didn’t kiss you enough during that,” she says before leaning in again. “I wanna make up for it.”

Thor makes a small sound of agreement as he kisses her back, not making any effort to move off of her or pull out just yet. “Still doesn’t explain the very offensive giggling,” he says, his eyes flicking upwards for a moment. “Jane, I think you can let go of the headboard now.”

She just laughs again, and lets her fingers slide away from the headboard. She feels pretty boneless but she musters enough willpower to throw her arms around Thor where he’s still hovering over her.

Thor can’t quite remain aloof as he starts to laugh along with her just a little bit. “What?”

“I just… I really love you. And honestly, I think we were pretty good at that.”

He grins down at her. “I think so too.”

Jane raises a brow. “So you wouldn’t be entirely uninterested in doing it again sometime? Maybe with a bit… more?”

“Jane, I think that may be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Well, I think my Foster Theory papers that are gonna get me the Nobel would beg to differ.”

“That’s fair.”

[marvelous-heroimagines]

Little Notes

Requested by: @bluehairprincess98 (Here are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Word Count: 1K Warnings: Fluff

A/N: I hope I did what was requested!

Bucky’s POV

It was still odd for Bucky to feel fully rested after sleep, one of the many perks that was thanks to T’Challa and his team of genius doctors. Without the trigger words, and with months of therapy, Bucky was able to sleep through most nights without horrible nightmares.

His sleep was so good that everyone eventually discovered he was the heaviest sleeper on the team. When Steve first discovered, having to literally pull his heavy best friend out of bed to wake him up for training, the Avengers went mad. Every single prank that anyone could think of was played on Bucky for a few months. But by now, they had grown tired of the pranks, and let him sleep in peace.

Except you. You were fairly new to the Avengers, having joined around the same time Tony welcomed Bucky into the compound, but you made fast friends with everyone. Especially Bucky. There was just something about you that peaked his interest, maybe it was because when he saw you he felt instantly calm and like he’d just arrived home from years at war. As soon as you met Bucky, you were fascinated by his metal arm - his new one, thanks again to T’Challa. It wasn’t long until you were asking to draw on it, promising that you wouldn’t use permanent marker, or draw anything he wouldn’t like.

You’d kept that promise. And once the team had discovered that it took a super soldier hauling him out of bed to wake him from sleep, you quickly took to sneaking into his room at night and drawing on his metal arm while he slept. Usually cute drawings of animals; pandas were your most frequented subject, as they were Bucky’s favourite animal.

It really didn’t take much for Bucky to fall in love with you. If anyone could have made him believe in love at first sight, it was you.

Stirring from sleep, Bucky’s stomach flips as he notices that his metal arm had been pulled from beneath the covers. You’d visited while he was asleep, and he was excited to discover what masterpiece you had drawn today.

But instead of cute pandas having a picnic or dancing, Bucky only finds words. His heart beat quickens as he forces himself to focus enough to read them.

There’s something I haven’t told you. Follow the pandas…

Bucky is frozen for a moment, his skin crawling with the thought of what you had been hiding. The scariest thought he had, one that made him feel sick, was that you had been Hydra all along. That he truly hadn’t escaped.

Snapping out of his panic, Bucky jumps out of bed and throws on the first clothes he can find. Tearing open his door, he’s immediately met with a yellow post-it note stuck on the wall across from his door. The post-it had a small panda drawn on it, pointing down the hall to his right.

Bucky hurriedly follows the post-it’s silent direction, and finds a few more along the way; the pandas had speech bubbles that told him he was “Going the right way,” and to “Keep going.”

His brows furrow as he notices that the post-it pandas are leading him towards your door. Sure enough, on your door was a collection of four post-its, forming a large one. A larger panda was drawn, crossing a race finish line. His hands shake a little as he reaches for the knob. He slowly creaks your door open, peering inside. You were nowhere to be seen, and he’s about to run off looking for you until he spots the dozens of post-its stuck to your mirror.

Approaching your mirror, he can’t help but smile as he looks at all the pandas. It looked like every panda you had even drawn on his arm was here. And in the middle, a stack of post-its.

His hands shake again as he starts pulling them off, one by one, probably how you’d intended for him to read them.

I know I’m being dramatic… But you always say I had a flare for it… So here it goes… (I had to write it down…) (Because I’m afraid that when we come face to face…) (I’ll lose my courage…) We’ve been friends for months now… But it feels like I’ve known you my whole life… And every time I see you, my soul kind of… Sighs and says “Ah, there you are”… James Buchanan Barnes, I love you…

Bucky didn’t realise that he’d been holding his breath the entire time he’d been reading. But when he exhales, it’s shaky and staggered. Adrenaline is pumping through his body so fast, he feels like he could stop a train. He can’t stop reading and rereading your last post-it. You loved him. Never did Bucky think he would be so lucky, but he had dreamed. His dream had come true.

Glancing up, he’s startled when he sees you standing behind him, looking shy and embarrassed.

“Hey,” he coos, not able to hide the smile on his face as he spins to face you,

“Hi,” you squeak, “I see you followed the pandas well,”

Bucky stays silent, still shocked by your post-it confession. He stares at you, a smile on his face.

“Anyway,” you nervously chuckle, “There it is…” when Bucky doesn’t speak, you seem to get jittery and start talking faster, “I mean, yeah I love you… But I mean, it doesn’t really mean that our friendship has to be over, if you don’t feel the same…”

Bucky only grins, he’s always loved watching you get flustered. Thinking back, it should have been obvious to him that you loved him. Although, apparently you didn’t think he could love you.

“Please say something,” you barely whisper.

Bucky steps closer to you, and gently places his hands either side of your face, “If you think, that I don’t love you, then you’re crazy,”

Bucky feels your body relax, and you melt into his hands. The next moment, his lips are on yours, and it’s everything Bucky ever dreamed of, and more.

Suddenly there’s loud hooting and hollaring from behind Bucky and you. Breaking apart, the two of you whip your heads around to find Nat, Steve, Sam and Clint all cheering from your doorway.

“Finally,” Steve groans,

“Goddamn it, couldn’t have waited another month?” Clint asks with a frown before handing a $20 bill to Nat, who is looking extremely pleased and proud.

Tags: @redstarstan, @klutzly, @goldenlifevsgutter1996, @hantu369mc, @plumsforbuck2016, @rosyfluffyprincess, @heismyhunter, @addictwithafandomblog, @leahhavoc, @coffeeismylife28, @invisible2niall, @aboveaverage-fangirl, @impala-moose, @meep-meep22, @buckyandsebsinbin, @caitsymichelle13, @pleasefixthepain, @spn-worm, @buckyobsessed, @specs15, @sebstanwassup, @wunnywho, @thedarknesswarrior, @girlwith100names

[thesuperhero-sessions]

The Superhero Sessions - Chapter 14

Coffee Shop Soundtrack

Sedona’s life had gotten back to the grind but an unexpected guest changes things.

*Author’s note:  Hey everyone! So, the last installment was in October - let’s consider that a mid-season hiatus while the network and producers decided if the show would be canceled or not. Well, thanks to THIS FUCKING PHOTO OH AND ALSO THIS ONE my muse came back long enough for me to take 30 min and write up this chapter. I really want to rename these as episodes because I’ve been viewing this as season one pretty much all along. I don’t owe any one an explanation, but basically the following 3 things happened that killed my muse: Tr*mp. Falling head over heels for one Mr. Sebastian Stan. Getting busy with work and kinda just forgetting how to be creative for a while. I don’t know if/when the next chapter will be posted, but here’s this. xoxo

Also, i titled this after i wrote it, but the song linked in the title kinda inspired said title

Tag list: If you’d like to be included, please follow and message me :)

@always-an-evans-addict @lillianfromaccounting

@ariallane @theycallmebecca @emilyevanston @thelookingglassalice @ss-buckybarnes @rogersxbarnesx @mewsiex @welp-heregoessomething @heather-lynn @alievans007 @mculove1 @knittingknerdy @toc1985

Triggers: None 

Word Count 1560

Masterlist

The light trickled in through the slats on the blinds, and Sedona winced, rolling over to try to stay asleep. She cuddled up against something warm and hard, her nails scraping gently over flesh as she breathed in the scent of mocha and leather. She felt her body pulled flush against the other and nuzzled her face into the broad chest.

“I feel you stirring.” The honey-coated voice spoke out, starting to pull her from her dreams.

“Mmmm not yet. Five more minutes. I don’t have class or work today. Please. Just let me.”

A finger ran up and down her shoulder blade. With all the use and manual labor, his hands should’ve been rougher, but his body would just rebuild. They were softer than silk. Sedona opened her eyes to come face to face with his chest, her fingers  finding the freckles on his pale skin to trace constellations. He laughed - a deep rumbling in his chest. “That tickles.”

Sedona’s chin was lifted to look at the man in her bed. A thick but well maintained beard speckled with hints of auburn in the sunlight. His hair had grown out more, and was now a rich mahogany. But those eyes were still the same. A pale turquoise sparkling like the ocean, yes, with hints of green. Those green flecks that she’d come to memorize. “What happened to five more minutes?” The man asked, his plump lips falling into a lopsided smirk, his brows arched as he regarded her.

Her body felt warm and tingly and soon she realized that there was a satisfying ache between her thighs. A welcome reminder of the night’s events, only fading to have a new desire take it’s place. “Maybe those five minutes are better suited doing something else.”

Steve smirked. “Five minutes? Since when has it ever been only five minutes.” He rolled them over and lowered his lips to her ear. “Babe, you’re not leaving this bed today.”

Sedona jostled awake as her alarm went off, which she promptly shut off. Another was set for 40 minutes from now. He groaned and nearly sobbed for a moment that the bliss was all just a dream. Again. They’d gotten more frequent over the recent months,and what frightened her most was that it wasn’t just simple sex dreams. It was cuddly morning afters. Simple dinners. Grocery shopping. Okay, well, the grocery shopping one involved a unicorn on roller blades and an alligator wearing a hat and trenchcoat trying to sell them insurance for a rocket ship...but other than that it was completely normal.

Months had passed since her trip to Clint’s farm, and she got lost in her rigorous classwork. Sam would touch base with her, especially since she started running the meetings for him. He wanted to be kept in the loop with those he’d been helping. Tony dropped by her apartment unannounced on more than one occasion, and she thanked the gods of every religion that she was always walking in on him  sitting on her couch rather than him walking in on her hanging out in just her underwear. He’d tried to give her an apartment in the city, but she kept telling him no, that it didn’t feel right. Tony finally stopped but the following month she’d found her tuition and student loans to all be paid off. She was frustrated, but couldn’t be mad at him. He was throwing money at...well, not at his problems, but at his lack of them? Pepper still hadn’t taken him back, he missed his friends, and he still hated the government. He had problems - real world ones - and the were harder to solve than aliens, gods, and sentient robots combined.

But it was the day that Steve showed back up in her life that had floored her. She was locking up her office when she spotted a tall, handsome, and vaguely familiar man speaking with someone, who pointed her way. When he smiled and gave an awkward wave, her knees felt like they were going to buckle under her. His hair was a dark brown, as was his full beard.

“Steve! Hey!” She made her way over to him and into his welcome arms. He gave her a squeeze and pulled back enough to look at her.

“No, um, it’s Grant.” he said, nodding with a serious face that dissolved into a smile. “Do you wanna grab some coffee? Catch up? I’ve been doing some soul searching since you left...and I could really use someone to talk to.”

“Is everything alright?” Her face flashed from elation to worry in a millisecond.

“No, no, everything and everyone are fine.” He said, letting his hands hold her shoulders as though she’d drop at any moment. Relief washed over her and she nodded, letting him lead the way.

“So, what are you doing back in New York? Can’t possibly be just for little ol’ me.” Sedona teased.

They sat with their drinks and his eyes twinkled. “And why not? Are you not worth of someone making a trip to see you?”

She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks, and took a sip of her still too hot chocolate to mask it.

“No, I did come out here to start seeing you again. I think you could really help me out. All of us. I just have this knot in my stomach that things won’t be peaceful for long...and I’d really like to have my head on straight for once in my life.  I know you can’t fix me overnight, but I’m willing to start. I’ve never run from a fight, so now I should probably start battling my demons, huh.”

Sedona was a little disheartened that it was basically just a patient visit, but she was still pleased. “I’m surprised no one’s recognized you out here, Grant. Pretty brave risking getting caught.”

He just laughed. “No one has any idea.” He shook his head. “I kinda like it, though. For the first time since I strapped on those tights...I get to just be me.” He stroked his beard. “To risk a pun, this is really growing on me.”

His good mood was infectious. This wasn’t the man she met a few months ago, nor the one she’d studied for so long. She realized how creepy that actually was and knew in that moment she’d never be able to have a relationship with him. Obviously he was a patient and that was illegal, but how do you tell someone you’ve practically obsessed over them since you were a toddler? She shook the thought out of her mind as he mentioned having a gift for her.

“Ste-Grant...you shouldn’t have, really.” He produced a folded piece of paper and slid it over to her.

“I’ve started drawing again. I forgot how much I loved it - and not just doodles, full portraits and scenes. I’ve started to use it to help process my emotions. There was this one that I drew back during the war, a monkey on a -”

“unicycle...I’ve seen it. Tony has it in his office.”

“He does?” Steve paused, looking thoughtful, shaking his head with a light laugh. “Well, go on, look at it.”

She unfolded it and it was a photographically rendered portrait of a woman. Her back was to the viewer and she was practicing archery. It was drawn from midback up, and only a quarter of her face could be seen. Even with the rest hidden, it was clear she had a determined gaze and furrowed brow. She almost looked pissed, but was drawn with such care to make her still look beautiful. The piece was signed, dated, and titled Artemis.

“Is this…?” She furrowed her own brow, looking at it in greater detail, looking up to her companion.

“Yeah, that’s you. From when you were shooting with Clint. I saw you look over after we’d laughed and the expression on your face...You looked like a hunter about to destroy their prey. It was captivating. And...I just want you to know that us laughing had nothing to do with your archery.” He waved his hands across the table, gesturing as he spoke.

“This is….I can’t even...words.” She laughed. “This is amazing. No one’s ever given me something like this before. Thank you. I’m going to get it framed.” Sedona reached forward to give his hand a squeeze.

A woman with long wavy blonde hair had entered the cafe and took her sunglasses off as she looked around. She approached their table and smiled, resting a hand on Steve’s shoulder as she said hi to Sedona.

“Hey!” Steve stood and melted his body against the woman, kissing her cheek. The woman looked to be under 30, but had a hard demeanor. She’s seen some shit in her life and had to toughen up. But the way she smiled back at Steve showed she was kind behind it all. A strong and confident woman, like the rest in the Captain’s life, she reached a hand across the table to Sedona in a firm handshake.

“You must be Sedona.” For once, her name was used instead of qualifiers or job descriptions. “Steve’s told me all about  you.” She rested her hand on his thick pectoral. “I’m Sharon, it’s great to finally meet you.”

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Once Upon A Time in a Shattered Mind Ch. 32

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 pt. 1 & pt. 2 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 pt. 1 & pt. 2 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19  | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 | Chapter 31                        

AO3 Link

“And that should do it.” Rhodey slammed the hood of the Volkswagen down. He held out Natasha’s keys to her. “Feel like taking the old girl out for a spin?”

Natasha snatched up the keys without hesitation. “You have no idea how delighted I am right now. Walking may be healthier, but driving is much more convenient.” Natasha tugged open the front door and slid into the driver’s seat. She gripped the steering wheel experimentally and mentally sighed at the familiar feel of the wheel under her fingertips.  

A small smile curled her lips.

Perfection.

Natasha closed the door, adjusted her mirrors, and buckled up. With a short but polite wave to Rhodey, she turned on the car and backed out from the garage.

The engine purred like the world’s most contented cat, and Natasha couldn’t wait to take the car through more desolate roads in town and really test it out.

Driving the car felt better than it ever had. Natasha wasn’t sure what Rhodey had done, but everything about the way the car drove was smoother. She’d have to find some way to thank him.

Probably paying off the rest of the bill would be a good start.

Being a Sheriff Deputy—her temporary job while she stayed in Storybrooke—had given her a more steady income, but she still wasn’t drowning in cash.

Natasha shoved down thoughts of her financial situation and focused on driving. She turned down one of the narrow roads that led into the woods. She picked up speed and rolled down her window, enjoying the wind in her hair as she drove.

She didn’t expect to see a man strolling down the road in the middle of the day.

Natasha cursed and swerved off road.

The man threw himself in the opposite direction.

The car screeched to a halt and Natasha set the break and killed the engine. She sprinted across the road to where she had seen the man fall, her heart thundering in her chest.

“Are you alright?” Natasha crouched next to the man.

“Fine,” the man mumbled, forcing some cheer into his voice. “I just didn’t expect anyone to come down this road. No one is usually here during this time of day.”

The man struggled to his feet and stumbled.

“Your ankle,” Natasha said, rising quickly to help the man stand. She mentally paused as she took in the man’s boyish features that contrasted with the hint of dark stubble along his chin. She felt like she knew almost everyone in Storybrooke by now, yet she couldn’t place seeing this man anywhere.

“It’s fine, I’ve walked on worse,” the man said, shrugging off her attempts to help him.

“No, it’s not fine. You’re clearly hurt. At least let me drive you home,” Natasha offered.

The corner of the man’s mouth quirked and his eyes shimmered in amusement. He tucked his winter coat tighter around himself. “I don’t know. If rumors are true, this isn’t your first accident on the road. I might not be safe in your car.”

Natasha mentally paused as it became clear that the stranger knew who she was, but she didn’t know him (not an uncommon occurrence since she’d arrived in Storybrooke).

The man smiled and held out his hand. “Bucky.”

A memory sparked in Natasha’s head. “Steve’s friend?”

“I’m more than that, but I’m not surprised that’s how you’ve heard about me.” Bucky shifted his weight onto his uninjured leg. “I think I may take you up on that offer. Just try not crash into anything, please,” Bucky teased.

Natasha nodded and helped Bucky to her car. She eyed him as they went.

He was a lot different than she had expected. She’d heard that Steve’s friend was a bit of recluse but a successful entrepreneur. Odd at times and a little quiet, but overall a nice person. Natasha had mistaken quiet to mean shy, but so far Bucky had proven to be friendly and humorous.

It intrigued Natasha.

Once Bucky was seated in the passenger seat and strapped in, Nastasha went over to the driver side and joined Bucky in the car. She started the engine. “Where to?”

Bucky smiled. “Just a little ways up the road.”

Bucky kept up the fake limp was he moved about the kitchen. He picked up the tea kettle off the stove and poured a cup of the hot brew for Natasha. He set the tea cup on a saucer and pushed it toward Natasha across the kitchen.

Natasha took the cup, holding it between her hands as if gathering warmth from it. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to.”

“Think of it as a reward for not crashing. My therapist mentioned positive reinforcement is a great way to modify human behavior.” His therapist was also the reason why Bucky was not trying to force Natasha to see that everyone in town was a fairy tale character right that second.

It had taken Bucky a long time to come to terms with the two lives living in his head, and even longer to accept that his current reality in many ways wasn’t real at all. Yes, the people were real and the town was real, but the lives--the histories--that everyone had were all lies.

“Not going to let that one go?” There was a twinkle to Natasha’s eye that gave away her entertainment at Bucky’s razzing, despite the seriousness of her tone.

“Eventually, but for now, no.” Bucky poured himself a cup of tea and took a sip. He set the cup down and hobbled out of the kitchen to his study. “You said something about the town map at the station being useless.”

“You need to sit down unless you want to aggravate that injury,” Natasha cautioned.

“I will.” Bucky grabbed a stack of papers he’d been working on for the last few weeks to help with Natasha's transition from unaware to fully aware of Storybrooke’s history. He then rummaged through the files in his desk and pulled out a few hand drawn maps he’d been working on over the years.

He returned to the kitchen and spread the papers out across the island counter. “Sorry about all the papers. I’m not the most organized person.”

Natasha bypassed the maps and instead plucked up one of the pages Bucky had hoped would draw Natasha's interest.

It was a drawing of Clint Barton in the woods, dressed in his huntsman attire. His arm was raised and his hawk hovered just above the appendage with the intent to land. Natasha flipped the page around as if to show off the image to Bucky but paused as her eyes landed on the text on the back of the paper. “I was going to say you’re quite the artist, but it looks like you’re a storyteller too.” Her eyes skimmed the page.

“Didn’t used to be, but I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands.”

“You? Aren’t you an entrepreneur?”

Bucky kept his expression lighthearted even though he wanted to frown at the reminder of his current role in this world. “It’s as if the company runs itself.”

Natasha turned the sheet over. Her brow pinched as she studied Clint’s face.

Bucky picked out the page that would follow once he bound all of the papers together in a book. “This is the next part.” He tried not to look too long at the image of Tony.

Natasha took the page, her attention more on Clint, who had his bow drawn and was aiming an arrow at Tony’s heart. “Is this supposed to be Snow White and the Seven Dwarves but with a man in Snow White’s place?”

“There are some similarities, but the overall story is different.” Bucky gathered up a few more pages and slid them to Natasha. “Feel free to take look at some more, or even read the passages.”

Natasha quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not an editor, nor am I interested in becoming one.”

“I don’t expect you to be, but you might be interested in having a look at those pages. I’m no good at making up stories, but taking old fairy tales and combining them with what I see around town, that I’m good at.”

“So in other words, you like to superimpose your neighbors onto fairy tale characters.”

Natasha set down the pages, no longer interested in them.

“More like I know a lot of secrets, but since I can’t say them aloud without getting into trouble I find more creative ways to express them.” The urge to grab the pages and shove them at Natasha was great, but Bucky tapered down his desire. Slow and steady, he reminded himself. Let Natasha learn at her own pace. She was destined to break this curse. He could try to find ways to speed up the process, but he couldn’t force Natasha’s interest or curiosity without risking the opposite occurring.

He’d waited over twenty years to be reunited with Tony; he could be patient just a little longer.

Bucky grabbed one of the town maps he’d pulled from his files and spread it over the pages. “Now, back to the real reason I brought all these papers out. I’m still an amatuer at catrography, but this map should be up to date. It also includes the mines under the town as well as a few caves I found in the woods. There is also a well that I haven’t been able to find on any other map.”

Natasha leaned over the counter, interest piqued. “You really do know a lot about the town.”

Bucky smirked. “I may have a reputation for being a recluse, but trust me, other than Wanda and Steve there is no one else who knows this town better than me.”

[inpeacemayuleavetheshore]

I’ve kept it for you

Bucky Barnes/OFC

Warnings : maybe a few bad words, little bit of angst at the end and mention of past torture.

Since the very first time Bucky met Lallie, Clint's little sister, he's been dying to say the words he knew were marked onto her skin. But he never did... until that one time.

                                    The fifth time : The Drawing

He’s been avoiding her. It’s been three weeks since the cookie night and ever since, whenever she entered a room he was in, he’d just leave, not even bothering to find an excuse. He would leave, careful not to brush past her but to keep some distance, his eyes down away from her own, his body tense like she personally offended him. It hurt. Every single time. But she would swallow it down, keep smiling and greet everyone like he didn’t just wrecked her heart. She’s been trying to figure out why he was acting the way he did and the only explanation she came with was that she made a fool of herself when she flirted, and now he was embarrassed and didn’t know how to turn her down. She told herself she would make it easier for him and started avoiding him as well. She figured the less time she spent in his company, the more he would think it didn’t mean a thing. He’d see she moved on, so he would too and stop acting the way he currently did.

She turned down several of Nat’s offers to come by to the compound. Her bestfriend knew her astonishingly well and was starting to notice something was up. Lallie’s way of looking at the long-haired man drew her always-careful attention and the last thing the blonde wanted was for the red-head to do the maths and understand that Bucky was the reason she had been avoiding the Avengers facility. It would only bring an unwanted discussion about some feelings Lallie wasn’t sure she wanted spoken out loud. She wasn’t even eager to admit them to herself and talking about them would make it all too real, including Bucky’s rejection.

But because she couldn’t eternally avoid the compound, she had to finally agree to Nat’s suggestion. The former Russian spy had a soft heart when it came to the Barton family and its newest members. It’s been weeks since the red-head last saw her nephews, knew how much they loved seeing the rest of the Avengers so when Laura and she talked about it over the phone, they came to the conclusion that Lallie should bring them to the compound and let Laura have a day of rest. How could she say no to that?

The kids’ smiles were worth it, Lallie thought as they entered the building. Plus, it didn’t mean that she had to see him. The compound was big enough not to run into him and the fact that he was trying to avoid her too would probably make it easier. It was a good thing right ? She was trying to avoid him and he was avoiding her so no problem, yay ! Except, despite her attempts to make it sound chipper, there was still a pang in her heart. A pain she knew only one person was able to make disappear…or time. Yeah, time seemed like a more plausible option.

Clint had just returned from a mission so he was presently there too before taking his children back home tonight but the kids weren’t interested in their father. Who would hang out with their parent when they could be with Captain America, Iron Man and the Winter Soldier ? And what Lallie had been trying to evade finally happened. Her eyes fell onto his silhouette as soon as her feet had passed the gym’s threshold. He was laying on a bench, lifting weights above him and damn, he was a glorious ! His biceps were bulging from the effort, calling to be worshiped, veins drawing blue streaks on his forearms, and his large hands wrapped around the bar. A band of skin was visible between his very-fitting white shirt and his gym shorts, subtly reveling his lower abs and Lallie felt herself getting suddenly hot. She caught herself fantasizing about all the things she’d like to do to him, licking and kissing every inch of his perfectly shaped body. A tug at her left hand tore her away from these pleasant pictures and she looked down at Cooper.

“Can I go watch Steve ?”

Lallie nodded and without missing a beat the boy was running towards his hero and marveling at his strength as the super-soldier was doing push-ups, making it seems like it was as easy as breathing. Lila let go of her aunt’s hand as well but Lallie didn’t worry about it too much, it might be the safest place in the world and they were surrounded by superheroes, and kept looking as Steve offered to teach Cooper how to punch into the bag. She watched with a half-amused half-affectionate smile as her nephew tried to kick the bag with his leg, lost his balance and fell onto his ass.

“It’s not nice to make fun at your nephew.”

Lallie didn’t notice Natasha by her side before the later spoke up, not that this was surprising.

“Please, when Nathaniel was born you called him fat !”

“How do you know that ?”

The blonde raised an eyebrow at her bestfriend.

“You told me. Getting old, Любимая моя ? (Lioubimaia moia)

“I tell you too many things. And you’re cute, learning Russian for me, sweetheart.” Natasha smiled at her before speaking again. “You on the contrary are keeping something from me.”

“What do you mean ?” Lallie feigned.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“There isn’t Nat, don’t be so paranoid.”

It was her turn to rise her eyebrows at the blonde.

“Fine.” Lallie surrendered. “But I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

The red-head only reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers, letting her know without words that she would always be there for her. With a grateful squeeze Lallie looked up until her eyes settled upon her niece. Lila was standing next to a sitting and slightly confused Bucky. Her backpack was on the floor, open with her coloring pens’ case coming out of it. The brown-haired girl was drawing something upon his metal shoulder, her tongue poking out of her mouth, deep in concentration. Next to her Bucky was bending his head, looking at his shoulder being adorned, his face impassible. From where she was standing Lallie couldn’t see whatever it was that her niece was drawing but soon the girl was done with her piece of art, looked up and with a dazzling smile turned around to call out to her aunts.

“Auntie Lallie, auntie Nat, come see what I drew on Bucky’s arm !”

It happened to be a heart drawn with a red pen, matching the red A of the Avengers just above it. Her own heart skipped a beat when she read what was inside of it. L + B. She wasn’t a fool, she knew her niece meant it as Lila + Bucky but for the briefest instant it felt differently. Her eyes slid up along the shining metal arm to find the eyes of his owner and she noticed he was looking at her for what felt the first time in forever. He didn’t divert his gaze like she thought he would and something in his grey-blue pupils told her that maybe he thought about the same thing. Of course Lila had a crush on Bucky, how could she not when he was this handsome and cute with a light blush under his five-o’clock shadow ? No, Lallie wouldn’t go down this path again. She was the one to break the visual contact to fix her eyes upon her radiant-looking niece.

“I’m sure Bucky loves your drawing honey, but maybe we should let him work out ?”

Lila, bless her, nodded without losing her enthusiasm and waved at the man.

“Bye Bucky !”

It was seconds later that he finally responded, Lallie had already turned her back when she heard his voice.

“Bye.”

It wasn’t loud but it was still a word. A word that wasn’t directed at her but at her niece while she never got a single one out of him. She clenched her jaw, forbidding herself to let her emotions show but rather chose to grin at the sight of her beaming niece.

She spent the rest of the day pushing any thought of Bucky out of her head and made the most of her stay for she knew she would reduce the frequency of her visits. She wasn’t one to make herself hurt on purpose and if a certain man with a bun wouldn’t reciprocate her feelings then fine. After all her soulmate was still out there, waiting to be found.

She left the compound with a renewed resolve. She would find her soulmate, forget about Bucky and be happy. She deserved it. Clint was putting the tired kids in her car. Lila was already sleeping and Cooper’s head was dangerously dropping to the side. The hours of playing heroes and villains exhausted them and Lallie knew it would be a quiet drive home. The Avengers were coming outside to bid them their goodbye and the former Winter Soldier stopped at her right side. From the corner of her eye she saw the heart still on his left shoulder and her own twitched despite herself. Forgetting him was easier said than done, she thought with bitterness.

“You still have it.” She stated, forcing her voice to be neutral. “It’s cute but you should wipe it though.”

And with that, without waiting for a response she knew he wouldn’t grant her anyway, she left his side, climbing up behind the steering wheel, never catching the hurt look Bucky was giving her.

Bucky had been through a lifetime of suffering and both mental and physical torture. Some could certainly say he had a pretty high tolerance to pain. Although, when Lallie walked away after telling him he should remove the drawing, basically expressing him how she felt about L + B, he couldn’t prevent the ache to show on his face. It had been like a blow, brutally punching him in the stomach, taking his breath away for a second. He didn’t expect it and it hurt even more. He was on the verge of saying the words, god knew he wanted to, when she kicked him to the ground with only a few words.

His whole body was urging him to go to her, to take her in his arms, feel her intoxicating scent, caress her hair and never let go. His hands were hungry for the softness of her skin, his fingertips tingling, his lips avid for her kisses. He had been an idiot. How could he have ever thought that loving her from afar would be enough ? As he watched her sitting in the driver seat, her gaze focused on the horizon in front of her, her hands gripping her wheel until her knuckles went white, he made his decision. He would tell her soon.