#i think it's interesting that in the future the others are grateful to nat for what she did | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wri0thesley · 4 years ago

Note

I'd love to request more Naoya smut with him and a now pregnant!reader from that breeding fic because him busting a nut thinking about how good they'll look knocked up really made me feel some type of way!!! maybe reader-chan will even finally get a smooch from this HORRIBLE man. If you are not into doing continuations on requests no worries tho and thank you for your incredible writing as always, Nat!

reader can have a little smooch. as a treat. don’t let naoya hear you say he’s not a good husband <3

Expecting - Naoya x Fem!Reader (3.3k)

Both of you got what you wanted. Naoya got more than he bargained for. sequel to covet.

warnings: not sfw, minors dni! afab reader, fem pronouns. pregnancy sex, light lactation, misogyny, power imbalance, breeding kink, mentions of alcohol, naoya perhaps having some Feelings???.

[comments/reblogs are much appreciated! // my jjk masterlist]

Naoya catches you every so often for the next month and you easily roll onto your back for him, helpless under the brush of his fingers and the snap of his hips. He smirks at you when he passes you in the corridor, but you have nothing to show for all of the times you’ve warmed his bed �� yet.

When you do, though – when a month and a half passes, and you are beginning to feel sick in a morning, and your monthly bleed has still not made itself known – you go to Naoya with deference in your eye. Once a servant, always a servant – and you are not stupid. You know that what you carry inside you is a bargaining chip.

Naoya wants someone who will submit, and you want an end to the life of drudgery and roughened hands and back-breaking work, of being ignored or reviled or mocked for having the misfortune to not be born with Zenin as a surname. Naoya takes you to a private, discreet physician with an iron grip on your arm and his light eyes sharp.

It’s amazing, how quickly a man like Naoya Zenin can set things in motion – when it’s not simply confirmed that you’re carrying his child, but that you’re carrying his son. His heir.

It’s so easy for him.

Suddenly you are no longer a maid, but Naoya’s betrothed – and though the other members of the household look at you in disgust, knowing that you spread your legs for the title, none of them dare risk Naoya’s ire by being outright rude to you. He and his family spin it like silk; not that Naoya took advantage of a servant, but that you have been part of some grand, beautiful Cinderella story – that Naoya is in love with you.

(It’s probably for the better that the Zenins prefer servants who can see cursed spirits, at the very least – if you had not had any kind of talent for jujutsu, who knows what would have happened to you? Naoya would not have risked his son being born utterly ordinary).

And then you are Naoya’s wife. It wouldn’t do, of course, for the future head of the family to have his heir and son born out of wedlock, even if society have progressed enough that you falling pregnant with said son was before the betrothal. The latter is a disgrace; the former is a laugh over a cup of sake in the dark, a toast to Naoya’s virility, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge at how lucky Naoya is to have found someone who gives themselves up so utterly and completely and easily, including their virtue--

You know that Naoya is not in love with you. You are fairly certain that the only thing Naoya loves is his name, and the power imbued therein. Still. You share a bed with him, and you’re given silken kimonos and pretty hair ornaments and anything that you ask for, and you are . . .

Respected is not quite the right word. Not for a woman who is Naoya’s. Certainly, he does not respect you.

But you are not reviled, not ignored, not beholden to the demands of your betters. Now, you are one of the betters, and if your fellow servants are frustrated that they have to bow to you in deference, they do not dare show it knowing that if you asked Naoya, he would have them punished for the transgression.

You had perhaps thought that once you were bearing his child, Naoya would lose interest in you. You know as well as anyone that nobody would bat an eyelid at Naoya seeking his pleasure somewhere else; it’s almost expected of him to have a mistress, a concubine, to go and sow his wild oats just in case the one he has placed inside of you does not yield the crop expected--

But he doesn’t.

Naoya hates you out of his sight. He is always touching you; hands sliding over your hips, cupping where your bump has become soft and round and pronounced, snapping servants to attention if he thinks you look tired or wan or pale. You accompany him almost everywhere. He looks up from speaking to his father to seek you out, as if to reassure himself that you are still there – and some tension in his shoulders seems to drain away.

He is still Naoya, of course.

You are still swiftly reprimanded by him if you speak out of turn, he still gets servants to do anything for you so he doesn’t have to do it himself, you still walk three steps behind him with your head bowed unless he bids you to do something else – but as time goes on, and your hips widen and your stomach grows and you feel the baby kick, something in him softens.

And something else hardens.

His desire on your flesh, on your form, does not wane. You grow used to the feeling of tangled silken bedsheets below you, of Naoya’s handsome face above you, of the groan and the whine as he spills himself inside of you for the third time that night. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

That initial thrill, of being wanted by someone like Naoya, doesn’t fade at all, even though you too are now bowed to in the corridors and the people below you have to jump at your command. And Naoya is not cruel for no reason. Despite the arrogance in his tone, the condescension that drips off of his slow, drawling words, the particular way he has of raising one eyebrow and letting his gaze crawl over you – you have come to enjoy being his.

You did not want equality, after all. You knew your place.

You just wanted better – and Naoya has provided you that in spades.

He’s got his arms spread out over the pillows, his shoulders strong, his eyes hungry as he watches you strip off the kimono you have been wearing today. Your wardrobe now is the height of luxury; all beautiful embroidery, delicate colours, fabrics that cost more than your former monthly salary. Kimono are not made to cling to your body; though people can tell that you are pregnant, it does not over-emphasise your hips or the newly swollen, heavy breast, or the curve of your stomach. Those are things that Naoya never tires of seeing, as the fabric pools around your ankles and the hadajuban is discarded and so are your underwear, and you stand before him utterly bare and unmistakably carrying his child.

“Stay there,” he says, “let me look at you.”

You are a good, well-trained, obedient thing. You stand there as Naoya’s gaze roves over you, straying over and over again to where your hips have filled out even more, where your stomach is curved – where your breasts have begun to droop a little from how heavy and swollen with milk they are. He sighs as he looks you over, and it is the sigh of a man who is indeed very pleased with his work.

“You can move,” he says. He moves the covers off of him, and you are not surprised to see that he is bare; that his cock is already stirring, heavy and thick between his thighs. “Come.” He crooks a finger at you, and you are grateful to be able to move, to take the weight off your ankles as you’re permitted to sit on the bed beside him. His arms wrap around you – they are strong, and certain, and he holds you like you are his property.

Which you suppose you are. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder and he makes a soft huff of amusement, but doesn’t say anything about how brazen you are. You are permitted some special favours, now that you are Naoya’s, and now that you are fulfilling your purpose so beautifully.

Naoya’s lips brush your ear, his tongue lapping at the curve of your neck, the joint between throat and shoulder. You sigh prettily, the warmth of his mouth on you making you shiver. One of his hands curls around your breast, enjoying the heavy weight of you in his hand. Thumb and forefinger gently pinch your nipple.

He was rough with you the first time, but now he treats you like porcelain – and the idea that you are precious to Naoya Zenin sets your stomach aflame, makes your breath stick in your throat. He tugs at it softly, coaxing you to sigh, a drop of liquid leaking from the sensitive nub as you squirm backwards into his lap. His tone is lightly warning as he says;

“Come on, be good. It’s a good sign, sweetheart.”

He calls you sweetheart in front of other people and the ones who have bought this rags-to-riches Cinderella story exchange looks that say ‘isn’t she lucky?’. You hear the light edge in it, the smirk, the loftiness – but it always seems to break into something that’s almost fond, when he’s inside you and touching you and his teeth bite into your neck.

“Just that your body is doing what it’s supposed to do,” your other nipple is subjected to the same treatment, and you feel Naoya’s breath hitch, his cock stir behind you and dig into the small of your back. “I think the moment he’s in his nursery I’m going to fuck another son into you, dearest.”

“Mm?” You say, a little breathless as his hand goes lower. He sweeps his palm over the curve of your stomach, pausing where the skin is tight and swollen. His cock twitches once more at the reminder of how utterly his you are, and how wonderfully you are doing your purpose. How lucky he is, to have found someone submissive and well-trained and obedient and sweet, who looks so luscious full of him.

You drive him to distraction even when you don’t realise he’s looking at you.

“Thighs apart,” he grunts, into your ear, and you comply with the docile nature of someone raised to serve. He loves that about you. Loves, too, when he dips his fingers between your legs and your slick coats his digits, a soft whine catching in the back of your throat as he circles your clit and little shocks spark all through you, making you almost clamp your thighs back around his hand.

You do not, though. You are well-behaved. And you and Naoya have played this game enough times that you know that this is leading to relief for both of you.

One of his long fingers slides inside of you and you widen your thighs more, your soft whimper breaking and pitching – it’s such a servile, sweet little noise that Naoya cannot help but crook his finger, let it rub against the textured spot on your inner walls that has you clenching and gasping.

Since your pregnancy, you have become so sensitive. Naoya is the kind of man who hates working to pleasure a woman – who considers your orgasm a choice, and his a foregone conclusion. But with you swollen and full with his seed, he is slow and indulgent – and it is so easy, now that a brush of his palm makes you shiver and a tug of his teeth on your earlobe makes you gasp.

The finger is pulled out of you, and Naoya raises it to your lips, hooking his finger inside so you open your mouth and let him press your own slick onto your tongue.

Your tongue gently suckling at his finger reminds him of the insistent pounding of need inside of him; the stiff cock, leaking pre-come. He’d gotten so distracted touching you and enjoying you he’d almost forgotten about his own pleasure, and he sighs as he props himself up on pillows and reaches for you.

“Get comfortable,” he tells you.

His preference is to have you beneath him; that, he thinks, is his wife’s proper place. But it has begun to be difficult, with your stomach so distended – and he is nothing, he thinks to himself with more than a touch of smugness, if not an indulgent provider. A good husband.

(That’s what he thinks, anyway. You are not hurt. You get pretty things, and him in your bed, and the estate’s servants at your beck and call, an expensive wedding ring on your finger and the honour of his name affixed to yours, and his seed taking root inside of you. What else could you ask of him?)

So you are permitted to spread your knees, to climb on top of him – to gently sink your tight, wet, heat about his cock and seat yourself comfortably on the muscle of his thighs and the flat planes of his stomach.

“If you had my view,” he says, teasingly. “Mm, you were really made as breeding stock, weren’t you?” The words make heat rush to your face as he cups your hips in his hand again, squeezing the new covering of plush flesh that you’ve acquired since your pregnancy. “My wife.”

The words send a quiet thrill through you. You sigh as he bottoms out, as your body meets his entirely; your hands splaying on his shoulders. He is not flat against the bed – that position is too weak, not fitting for a man of his stature. But he is propped up with pillows behind him, so that he can admire how you look as your teeth bite into your plump bottom lip and you lift yourself just a little off his straining cock, before letting yourself fall back down.

He lets you set the pace. If you are to be permitted to ride him, he thinks, you may as well be the one doing all of the work. Part of him, too, is afraid of touching you too much – of hurting you, when you have something so precious inside of you. He would not admit that to himself – that’s not a thought process befitting of someone of his stature. But . . . it nibbles at the corners of his consciousness.

He cares about you. He does not want to hurt you. He does not want you to be uncomfortable – not when you are doing such a good job, when you are so lovely for him, when he is so grateful to have found you--

It’s no more than I deserve, he reminds himself.

And to brush back thoughts that are not proper for his elevation station in life, he lets himself watch the bounce of your breasts. Lets his fingers dig into the even softer, rounder thighs. Enjoys the sight of your mound bouncing on his cock, the feel of your slick walls clinging to his cock.

You are so beautiful, swollen with his child.

It is the first time he has ever looked at a woman and saw power in them. There is, he thinks, a power in what you have – in the glow about your skin, the brightness of your eyes, the curves and roundness and soft, supple flesh. The thought almost frightens him – but then, you push up again and your eyes meet his own for just a moment and he remembers that you are swollen with his child and have the power of him inside of you, and it becomes comforting.

Without him, you’d be nothing.

So he watches you with hungry eyes as you move your hips on his cock; as his length sinks inside of you, as you angle yourself just so – so that every stroke of your hips makes his cock rub against the place inside you that earlier had you seeing stars. Your breath is getting faster and faster, your fingers on his shoulders flexing as the tight string of your release is wound inexorably closer and closer.

Naoya allows himself a groan; a light thrust of his hips, in time with your own. The chase of your warm, tight walls as you try and pull away. He lets his gaze wander to how his cock is coated in your slick, all wet and shining in the light of the bedroom – and he is once more reassured. This is his. You are his. This wetness, this need – this is all for him. The way your body has changed is because of him.

His own release is creeping up on him.

Today, though, he decides he will be merciful – he reaches forward , curving his fingers just so, so that he can toy with your clit as you continue to fuck him. He rolls the bud with the pad of his fingers (soft; he wields just one weapon, and most people do not get to see it. Most of his harder work is done with his technique, and you have seen him apply expensive hand cream to keep himself handsome), knowing your body as well as he knows his own.

He prides himself on that, and you have spent enough nights in his bed that it is second nature to him. Women are predictable, he thinks, smirk on his face as your channel clenches around his hard cock and you come, whimpering out his name--

(In bed, he prefers Naoya-sama, and you are a good wife. Your tone is servile, soft, obedient – and in return, Naoya is almost sweet to you.)

He thrusts his hips roughly up into you, chasing his own release as your body spasms and trembles about him. You are still so tight; so hot and taut where the aftershocks are making you tremble. It’s the sight of your body, quivering under your release, that does it in the end.

Your hips and stomach and breasts and thighs, all rounded with the miracle of bearing life. All softened and plump; meek and pliant, a perfect little wife. His perfect little wife.

As he feels the tension inside of him snap, one of his hands winds about the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Naoya’s grunt of pleasure is lost in the kiss, his mouth against yours hard and hungry. He is not willing to give up his dominance even here – but . . .

He has not kissed you so intimately before.

He has always avoided your mouth, preferring his lips on your chest or neck – turning your face away if it had seemed you might go for his mouth (later on, he had not bothered – he knows you well enough now to know that you would not dare.)

He tastes like wine. Like fancy, expensive sweets; the kind that you could have never afforded before you were his, but he has had at his disposal for his whole life. Like a cross between freedom and a prison--

He groans as he fills you up; his cock twitching, shooting out thick ropes of his come to land thick and heavy in your insides. Your whimper at the sensation is lost in his mouth, but Naoya fails to miss it – the fingers around the nape of your neck stroke through your hair, almost comforting, as he pulls back from you.

His lips are shiny, full and pretty. The grin that he gives you is crooked – and though you know it should not, though you know you should hate him for being arrogant and cruel and considering you lesser than him, the grin sends a rush of affection all through you.

If you were sentimental, you would say that the affection is mirrored in his own pale eyes.

(Naoya is glad you are not; you cannot see, beneath the triumph that you are claimed and carrying his heir and the hunger for your body and the pleasure that you are exactly the kind of wife that he wanted, that perhaps he does care about you.)

“My little wife,” he says, and he brushes his thumb over your cheek, hot with the rush of blood. “You’re so good for me.”

And you’ll carry on being so.

You’re so lovely when you’re expecting.

#naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya x you #naoya smut #jjk x reader #naoya zenin smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #not sfw #afab reader #fem pronouns #pregnancy for ts #breeding kink for ts #misogyny for ts #Anonymous

1K notes · View notes

reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

Text

Invisible String

Ship: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid

Warnings: None, this is just fluff.

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Spencer Reid don’t know it, but you’ve almost met quite a few times. What happens when you do?

A/N: This is potentially a bit on the wrong side of the cheesy line, but I was listening to invisible string by Taylor Swift and couldn’t get this idea out of my head. Pls bare in mind I’m from the UK and my only understanding of the US college system is from Google searches, so pls be forgiving of any misunderstandings about that.

November 6th, 2007

Dr. Spencer Reid. As you sat, thumbing through the article he’d written about the formation of ionic compounds in a chemical whose name you could not for the life of you spell or pronounce, you couldn’t help but resent the man.

Sure, the paper was very well-written and as cohesive as possible given the complex subject matter. But Dr. Spencer Reid, whoever he was, was the current source of your resentment at selecting chemistry to make up your science credit. Highlighting the name of a substance you’d have to look up later, you sighed. It was getting late but you had to hand in a critical summary of the paper on Friday.

It didn’t help that Dr. Reid was: a) a triple doctorate holder by the age of 22, or b) that your chemistry lecturer was none other than his old chemistry lecturer from Caltech and practically glowed with pride whenever he got to bring him up.

You chew on the end of your pen, having now distracted yourself from the notes. Not that you were particularly focused anyway.

In another life, maybe you’d have been a budding chemist who could describe an ionic lattice off rote. In this one, however, you’d just have to settle for slogging through the list of chemical processes and hoping you understood it well enough to please Dr. Reid’s biggest fan.

***

April 16th, 2008

Spencer hated flaking on commitments. It caused him a great deal of anxiety, the feeling of disappointing someone. He didn’t have much choice in this circumstance though.

Diana had taken ill over the last weekend. Nothing serious, some stomach bug or other. She’d become severely dehydated though, and had been hospitalised as a precautionary measure. Truth be told, he might not have gone if she hadn’t caught him on the phone. He was already feeling guilty for not having visited since Christmas. He wrote her letters everyday, yet still felt like he was neglecting his duties as a son. Rubbing his hands over his face, he lets out a deep sigh. Then takes out his laptop, to send another email.

Dear. Dr Abraham

I sincerely apologise again for my last minute cancellation. Excluding any unforeseen circumstances, myself and SSA Hotchner will be available to present the lecture on May 12th.

Yours sincerely,

Dr. Spencer Reid.

***

May 12th, 2008

Considering this was your third year on campus, you sure were bad at finding your way around. In your defence, they were doing maintenance in one of the main buildings, meaning that lectures got shuffled around and relocated. You probably had a higher change of attending the right lecture by accident than on purpose.

It doesn’t help that you’re running a little late this morning. You rush into Room 203. A lot of the seats are taken, you have to meander your way past quite a few people until you end up sat almost directly in the middle. Only moments before the lecture starts.

“I’m SSA Hotchner, and this is SSA Reid. We’re members of the BAU which is based at FBI quarters in Quantico. Today, we’ll be talking to you about profiling.”

This is not your forensic linguistics lecture.

Panic hits you, hot in your gut. Scanning the room anxiously, you suddenly become conscious that you’re drawing attention to yourself when you feel the eyes of the man who is not SSA Hotchner on you. Fuck.

There’s no way for you to escape now, not without disturbing half the lecture hall.

So you sit back in your seat, resigning yourself to sit awkwardly in the lecture you’re not supposed to be in and hoping nobody notices.

But then, it’s really interesting, actually. The work that Dr. Reid does sounds similar to work you’ve done in forensic linguistics, analysing patterns of speech and minor phrase formations that can give things away about the perpetrator. By the end of the seminar, you’re sat leaning forward. Enraptured by almost every word coming out of their mouths.

It seems to be the general mood: everyone is enamoured. People are clammering to speak to them at the end. After a brief inner battle, myou decide that you should talk to them too.

What’s the harm?

You’ve decided that you’ll speak to Dr. Reid, since he seems to share more of a field focus. However, as you’re heading down, you spot him. Dr Adams, your chemistry lecturer from last year. Oh shit, it’s that Dr. Reid.

Speaking to SSA Hotchner will just have to do instead.

----

“I’ve been majoring in forensic linguistics and criminal psychology,” You tell him, “Do you think ... I mean, I know it’s a pretty exclusive team to get on to. But is that the kind of thing that could maybe get me there one day?”

Hotchner nods, “Forensic linguistics is something that comes in very useful in the investigative aspects of cases. The FBI is always looking for new angles and perspectives, those are both good subjects to study if you were thinking of signing up to the academy.”

"Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” You say, suddenly a little bashful as you notice the queue of people lingering behind you, “That was a really interesting lecture. It’s definitely something I’ll think about.”

“You should talk to Dr. Reid if you have a particular interest in the linguistic aspect of profiling. He’s more specialised in that area than I am. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to discuss any research you’re conducting at the moment and suggest materials that might be helpful in furthering your understanding of the area.”

“Thank you,” You smile, and he nods at you again.

Stepping away from Agent Hotchner, you look to your right. Dr. Reid is still engaged deeply in conversation with Dr. Adams. You glance at your watch. There was time before your next class, you supposed, so you could wait. It couldn’t hurt to find out more, could it? It wasn‘t like you were getting your hopes up or anything.

It’s then that you feel a pair of arms around your waist, a familiar scent of cologne.

“Hey!” You whip around to see your boyfriend, grinning widely.

“Hey,” You reply, “How’d you find me?”

“I was walking past when I saw you talking to that FBI agent. Seriously, FBI?” He asks, with a disapproving quirk of his eyebrow, “You want to grab a coffee before Psych?”

You want to say no. But he’s got his hand on the small of your back, leading you out of the room before you even get a chance to reply. You glance back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Dr. Reid for all of two seconds before you’re swept away.

“Seriously though babe, FBI?”

Unsurpisingly, you don’t mention your potential change in career path to him.

***

March 8th, 2009

“Come in,” Hotch calls. He looks up from the paperwork on his desk to see Spencer entering the room, clutching a report in his hand.

“That last case we were on. I was doing some more research, just for future reference about linguistic patterns. Have you read this?” He asks, sliding a copy of your paper across the desk.

Hotch gives it a cursary look over, nodding, “Yes. It’s interesting. She’s signed up as an NAT. I believe I actually spoke to her at one of our lectures last year.”

"Her work is really impressive for somebody whose only studied this at a master level.”

Hotch almost smiles, “Yes. That’s exactly why I’ve recommended to the bureau that she signs up for profiling classes. Her work shows a lot of promise. They’re sending over a copy of her completed thesis, if you’d like to read it.”

“Yeah, I’d like that, thank you,” Spencer says, struggling to conceal the smile playing on the corner of his lips.

“I’ll email it to you as soon as I receive it.”

Spencer nods, smiling properly to himself as he leaves the room. It wasn’t unusual, exactly, for him to share new research that was relevant to cases. It was important that they all kept themselves fresh and acquainted with new theories about the field. Hotch, however, didn’t miss the excited way Spencer had presented it to him. Talking about how impressive you were, as if to subtly hint. He thinks it’s quite typical, actually, that Spencer could take such an interest in someone he only knew via an essay.

Although Spencer’s response does get Hotch to send a follow-up email, inquiring about whether you’d agreed to the classes. If Spencer was this impressed with your work, it must be good.

***

June 1st, 2009

The Metro that morning is packed. It doesn’t help that you’ve not been living here long, and don’t exactly know the route from your flat to the station off by heart yet.

You'd also had to make a detour to the post office. Your, firmly ex, boyfriend had mailed over the last of your things. Really, it was good riddance. His hounding you about your choice in job had only worsened. The relationship had been hanging on by a thread long before you’d moved away last month. You were more than a little grateful that it was finally over, that you could draw a line under it all and focus on your career.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t stopped you having a little cry to yourself on the way over.

Rushing, you make it onto the Metro just as the doors are about to close, falling against the railing on the left side. You grip onto it for dear life.

On the other side of the carriage, Spencer notices someone hurrying for the train. He had been buried deep in the paper he's reading, but the bustle had pulled his attention. Your back is to him, and there’s a scarf at your feet. He wants to say something, to try and get your attention, but he can’t from where he is.

“Miss, I think you’ve dropped something,” The woman you’re standing in front of says, gesturing to the scarf pooled at your feet.

You meet her eyes, sniffling slightly, “Thank you.”

Spencer watches as you pick it up, back still to him. Crisis averted, he turns his attention back to what he's reading: the published copy of your thesis Hotch had emailed him last week.

***

September 2nd, 2009

"This is SSA ____, the newest member of our team. She’s recently graduated from the academy and has an excellent knowledge of linguistics that the bureau feels will be a great advantage to this team. She’s had her induction and now will be joining the team on a probationary basis. She’ll be spending a little time with each of you in between cases to make sure she forms well-rounded knowledge of all aspects of what we do.”

It’s a little overwhelming, having everybody’s eyes on you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Emily is the first over, offering her hand for you to shake.

“You too, it’s really nice to meet all of you,” You say, shaking hands in turn with her, Morgan, Rossi, J.J, and Garcia.

“Hi,” Spencer calls from behind you.

You turn around to face him. You remember what Hotch had mentioned to you about him being a bit of a germaphobe, so you keep your hand by your side.

“Hi,” You say, “Dr. Reid, right?”

“You can call me Spencer,” He says, a little bashful, “I read your thesis, the study about you did about the construction of passive clauses as an indicator of guilt in adolescent offenders. It was fascinating.”

You feel yourself getting a little warm under his gaze, “Thank you. I'm surprised you’re even aware it existed.”

Hotch interrupts then, “Reid, do you want to sit with ____ while she goes over the case file? It’d be useful if you could go over how you’d go about constructing a linguistic profile.”

That’s how you end up spending much of your first day: with Spencer, huddled up over case files as he explains his profile-building process to you. Spencer’s an incredible teacher, you think. He explains his thought process without ever being condescending, leaving little gaps for you to answer.

You’re incredible, Spencer thinks. You seem to grasp exactly what he’s saying, filling in the gaps based on the clues that are actually in front of you, not letting yourself be guided too much by bias.

***

October 29th, 2009

Spencer loves everyone at the BAU. They’re all the family he never had, and he has relatively good friendships with all of them. Just, they aren’t quite the same as they are with you.

He struggles to put his finger on it, exactly. It’s a unique relationship. He shares very familial bonds with a lot of them: he and Morgan are brotherly, Rossi is fatherly, Garcia’s somewhat like an overexcited little sister.

The friendship he has with you is special. You always listen to him, even as he rambles on about inane things that anybody else would tell him to shut up about. In fact, sometimes about the exact things that they do tell him to shut up about. Just last week, he was rambling on about Star Trek when Morgan told him, not altogether unkindly, to “give it a rest, kid.”

“What was that you were saying?” You’d asked, sidling up to him, “I’ve never watched Star Trek but I thought the quote was beam me up Scotty.”

He’d looked at you, considering you for a moment, “You don’t have to-”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know Spence. You think I’d ask for a 15 minute lecture on Star Trek if I wasn’t interested in it?”

A warm feeling flooded his chest. The look on your face was so genuine, and you’d perched on the edge of his desk as he gesticulated, getting deep into the lore and how the misconception had come about. He still didn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, until he got to the end of his spiel. And then you asked him a question. You asked him a question to make sure you understood what he was talking about. You were listening the whole time, and you genuinely cared about the point he was making.

It's then that he realises, it was hard to pinpoint because it wasn’t friendship. He likes you. Shit.

***

November 2nd, 2009

You like everybody at the BAU. They’re all quite patient with you, really, happy to walk you through how they do things. Morgan’s taught you quite a bit about the tactical side of things already, and Rossi has been working with you on your interrogation techniques. Emily’s generally just a great mentor, always happy to listen and support however she can. She’s more experienced, but still relatively new to the team too, so you feel like there’s a certain understanding between you.

However, you’d definitely be lying if you said the person you hadn’t learnt the most from, or spent the most time with, was Spencer.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the team, either. You seemed to gravitate towards one another, forever sitting side-by-side on the plane. Sharing a line of thinking that usually led to devolved rambling, and scribbling, until you came up with something coherent.

It isn’t until November 2nd that you realise you have feelings for him.

You’re sitting at your desk, filling out a case report that Emily had promised to go over with you before she left for lunch.

“Hey,” Spencer’s familiar soothing voice comes, as he sidles up to you, “I got you something.”

Looking up, you notice the coffee cup in his right hand, “You are my caffeine lifesaver.”

He hands it to you, smiling a little nervously, “It’s actually not that.”

“Oh?”

His other hand is tucked behind his back, and he pulls it foward towards you, brandishing a red sweatshirt.

“I know you uh, left your red sweater behind at the hotel on the last case. And I know it was your favourite one, and I was shopping yesterday and I saw this and...” He trails off, embarassed, “It’s not the exact same, but it’s the same kind. I just thought you might like it.”

You swallow, hard, “Spencer that’s so sweet. C-Can I hug you?”

He nods. Standing up from your desk, you wrap your arms around his frame.

“That was so thoughtful.”

He squeezes you a little, really leaning into the hug, his face pressing against your shoulder. His tousled hair tickles your nose a little and you smile, clinging onto him, relishing in the feeling of safety and warmth.

It hits you then. When you realise you don’t want to let go. When you realise he makes you feel fuzzy. Loved. Cared for in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Eventually, you have to let him go, and it’s in a daze that you return to your desk. You’re so concentrated on your overwhelming realisation, you don’t realise how reluctant he is to let you leave his embrace.

***

December 22nd, 2009

Driving Spencer home from the office was really just an excuse to get some time alone with him. You’d said something about the Metro being busy, one of the services being cancelled. He hadn’t factchecked you on that.

The BAU had tentative plans for boxing day, with the caveat being that no emergent cases arrived in the meantime. It was only really four days you wouldn’t see him, but that was longer than you’d ever gone without seeing him in all the time you’d known him. You worked together everyday, and it was unusual for you to go a full weekend without seeing each other. Recently, you’d got into the habit of going out for Sunday brunch together.

Pulling up outside his house, you hear him sigh.

“I know it’s only four days, but I’ll miss you.”

Smiling, you turn to him, “I’ll miss you too.”

Something in you changes then. He’s looking at you. You may be relatively new to profiling but you can see something behind his eyes, feel the charge of unsaid words electrifying the air.

“Can I hug you?” He asks.

“You can always hug me,” You reply, undoing your seatbelt and opening your arms for him.

He embraces you the way he always has: tightly. Like he doesn’t want to let go, couldn’t imagine ever letting you go. His face nuzzles to the crook of your neck, and then you feel his thumb brush your chin. Tilting your head down.

You exchange a look. His eyes flicker from your eyes, to your lips, and back. You nod your head, just slightly.

He kisses you then. Tender. You melt into one another, lips moving quickly as you drink one another in. Kissing each other breathless, your fingers intertwine in his hair and his hand comes up to cup your cheek. Nothing has ever felt so right.

***

June 10th, 2011

Neither of you have ever really believed in fate. It’s hard to - especially in your line of work - to want to interpret the workings of the universe as deliberate. Maybe you’d think a little differently though, if you knew about all the near-misses. All the times you could have met. But fate knew better. She waited until you were ready.

And as you exchange vows, promising each other your forever, you both know you couldn’t possibly deny that this was meant to be.

------

Taglists: @takeyourleap-of-faith @sassiest-politician

(let me know if you would like to be added to/removed from this list!)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #imagine spencer reid #criminal minds x you #imagine criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagines #pls like this it took me so long

430 notes · View notes

barnesandco · 3 years ago

Text

Little Hands (V)

Series Masterlist

Bucky treats you to a day out.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1625. Square filled: “Lucky (Clint’s dog)”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Police. Sad child.

A/N: This is so late and I am so sorry. Let me know what you think! And massive thank you’s to anyone who is still reading this disaster.

Morning brings a new perspective, a new ease in the way Bucky moves around Ana. He pretends he doesn’t know that you witnessed the way they bonded last night, and for that benefit you don’t bring it up. It’s discussed and laid to rest with the intelligent smile you give him, one that he lets dissolve through his sternum and curl around his heart. Tendrils of soft hope, wisps of quiet connection, strengthening the friendship you’ve established and glinting with promise of something more.

Something more might have to wait, but Bucky thinks you’ve made it clear that it is there, on the horizon, awaiting you both. A future, one that, on his part, also involves the little soul that sits on top of the kitchen island, swinging her legs into the cabinets. Children are early risers, and so are superheroes, but today, on this cool morning, Anastasia has them beat.

So, it’s just the three of you. Bucky, and Anastasia, and you. You’re cutting up fruit and washing berries for the pancakes he’s making while you also remotely monitor the tea. A minty brew, warm, topped with honey and lemon, sharp enough to wake lingering drowsiness while still soothing, syrup-soft. You know your stuff, and Bucky’s glad to have a change of pace after a fast week of too much too strong too sweet coffee, even if he chooses to have it that way.

This particular change of pace would give him whiplash if not for the fact that he got a good night’s sleep, Anastasia’s nightmares notwithstanding. It has strengthened his resolve to find her a child psychologist, somebody who can help her better than he can, once this ordeal with Tobias Zola is over and they are all safe.

He needs to keep her safe. It was her mother’s – no, her final caretaker’s – last wish and request, and now that they are tied by blood, it has become his. She really looks so much like him. Her hair hasn’t developed the same brown yet, it’s still a shade lighter, with hints of golden for the lesser age, the summer sun bleaching that has yet to pass. It’s curly like his never was, likely an affectation of whatever female contribution is in her genetics.

Her genetics. Bucky shakes his head at the frying pan. He doesn’t want to sound like one of the scientists that put her into this situation, into this cruel, cruel world.

A clearing of your throat breaks him out of the thought bubble, and he flips the last pancake out of the pan and onto a plate, much to Anastasia’s delight. The ensuing giggle is the closest thing he’s heard to laughter from the kid. That’s not good. Children need laughter. He makes himself, and Ana, a silent promise to be more uplifting.

“Do you think we could leave the Compound, today?” You ask, out of nowhere, as you place the assorted fruit on the table. Ana, whose hands is halfway to the strawberries, stops as she waits on Bucky’s answer. Clearly, this is something she wants, too. Who is he to deny them?

“Sure. Fury might want us to take some security measures, but we should be fine.”

-----

That’s how they wind up at an ice cream parlor by 10 am, after the security has been cleared with Fury and Sam, and the only addition to their little team is Lucky, a dog apparently shared by Clint and his protégé in the city, one Kate Bishop. They’ve been told that while not a trained security dog, Lucky has sensors that will let Kate know if they’re in danger, and she can provide and send further backup. The rest of the Avengers are busy with tracking down leads to Zola.

Bucky knows he can protect you and Ana just fine, should need be, and isn’t worried about the fact that the only bodyguard they’ve been provided with is canine. Ana has bonded with the dog and walks with one hand in the fur by its shoulder and the other in his own hand, her eyes flitting between the sights of the city and her companions. Her caretakers. Her guardians.

The ice cream place is a little business that another one of Steve’s children is working at on weekends. is a head shorter than Bucky, and terrifies the living wits out of him. She’s one hell of a people watcher, she has a sweet tooth and a thing for Jane Austen, and the world is lucky her foremost interest is in dessert making and not something far more nefarious, like say, espionage.

She greets Bucky at the door with a hug and shakes both your and Ana’s hands, and lets you all sit outside so you can be with Lucky. The rusty fall sun makes Lucky’s fur shine like spun gold and light Ana up in hues of ruby and topaz, and you turn your face to the light and sigh.

For a moment, the world is quiet. For a moment, the scent of sugar crystallizes on his face like the sensation of rightness does. And when it ends, it’s not with a crash landing. It’s a gentle reorientation. You open your eyes, look at him with immeasurable affection. Ana pets Lucky. Vivien says, “Let me know when you’re ready to order, Uncle Bucky,” and puts a menu on the table.

You decide on a mango ice cream shake, Bucky wants an Oreo sundae, and Ana, of course, demands the largest dish on the menu, the one whose picture is emblazoned across a good quarter of the laminated card. A massive ice cream and berry split.

When your order arrives, Anastasia laughs for the second time. Bucky thinks he should say something, make a joke, conversation, but in this moment, nothing else could feel so forced. He’s a man of few words and many services. That’s how he chooses to love, and Ana can see that. You can see that.

It's why you nod affirmingly when he meets your eyes over Ana’s mountain of ice cream. You carry entire sentences in your glances, words of silent confidence, the fuel he is feeding on right now.

-----

Ana is happy. The world, if for a few hours, is right. He knows it cannot last, even now, walking back to the car after a morning and afternoon of joy, arms laden down with bags of new things, treats he never had but can now provide. Despite the resignation that has started to weigh on him, he reminds himself: his daughter has a home. She will be safe, and he will take care of her, no matter what it takes.

-----

The car ride back is louder than he anticipated. You give the music a go, playing something by Raveena, a sweet voice he likes but that Ana talks over, making quite the chaotic symphony that he likes even more. Lucky contributes the occasional bright bark that makes Ana laugh, pausing her incessant chatter, if momentarily.

Mostly, she talks about what she saw, the things she has now started to process, asks questions about the stores she did not previously have the luxury to, presumably because her previous guardian didn’t have the means, and besides, they were on the run.

He’s grateful to her. Irene. Before he was confused but now it is obvious: Ana is his daughter, and he wants her as much as any other parent does their child, even if the way she was thrown into her life was unconventional, to say the least.

Looking at her in the rearview mirror as she twists in her seat to reach Lucky in the back, he knows he will move heaven and earth to remove the threats in her path. It makes him dangerous. It makes him a father.

“You okay?” You ask, following his gaze, and Bucky smiles, eyes returning to the road.

“Never better.”

Your hand finds his where it takes a break from the steering wheel to rest on his knee. He twists your joined hands until he can hold yours. Squeezes it, as if to say, thank you. As if to say, we’ll all be okay.

-----

Turns out, he’s wrong, and this is why you should never rely on routines. Promises are made to be broken. When they get back, the NYPD is waiting, and not to update them on the case. He sees the waiting handcuffs, and he knows you do, too.

You make the right move, trying to usher Ana out of the room with some excuse or other, but it’s too late. Her instincts have latched onto the fact that something is very, very wrong.

The DA says, “James Buchanan Barnes, you’re under arrest as a suspect in the murder of Irene Orlov,” and Ana screams, and screams, and screams.

Bucky tries not to close his eyes, knows it’s too late to put his hands over his ears as cuffs close around his wrists. Besides, he needs to show that he understands the charges, and yes, they’re reading him his Miranda rights, and yes, he understands.

He’s innocent. And his team will prove it. But it’s no use arguing with these people, so he goes silently, even as he hears Sam, Steve and Nat going at it with the police chief in the dull background of Ana’s roar. It’s no use. The police wouldn’t be here without reason, and they’ll let him go when his team finds them reason to.

Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself. It has to. Because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if it isn’t.

Bucky sees you, tear-sodden and holding onto a distraught Ana, in the reflection of the glass doors before they slide open.

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #avengers #avengers fanfiction

66 notes · View notes

sugaftrm · 4 years ago

Photo

♡ sweet sope ♡

love notes for my mutuals hi everyone, this past week has been full of extra love and wanted to share my appreciation, not just for this joyful community, but for the people who brighten up each day with their presence!

@blueandtaes - hi my sib, i love you. being in this fandom together is a godsend. through the weeping, the cackling, the impulse purchases, the city adventures and home dance parties, i’m so blessed to be doing it all with you.

@zmalik - sabrina shonaaaa you’re one of the first people i followed on this website (i legit think you were the second person after my sister), i dont know why you followed when you did since i was a chaotic mess back then but i am so so thankful that you did! i remember our early convos and i still fantasize about deshi food hangouts in the city, whether that’s yours or mine. you’re the kind of person who in many ways I aspire to be, because you say what’s on your mind without the fluff. I’ve been meaning to ask you why you hate ji changwook btw but I’ve been scared! one day let’s talk about it over chaa nastha? Love you, and sending all my affection to you and ur new kitten!! @yoonglet - hello angel aahana! I feel as though no matter how I try to word how I feel about you, it will always fall short. You are one of the most generous, strong-willed, friendly people I know. Your aura is bright and I am so honored to witness you, even if it’s through this limited window of armytumblr. thank you for believing in me, when I didn’t believe in myself! Your support means everything <3 @artsyjoons - anj! i distinctly remember an early convo we had where we were talking about namjoon doing an srk pose lmfao thank you for understanding what i was rambling about in the tags and initiating a convo with me! every morning i wake up and i see you enriching my feed with your thoughts, your humor, and your captivating energy! please share with me the secret to being so sweet and cool?? @rosebowl - my sweetheart Sharika, when I think about you honestly… I feel anxious and giddy! Because I wonder what luck I must have accidentally stumbled upon to find a desi army friend right here in New York, and that too someone who shares so many of my own values and interests!!?? Sounds like a dream, hope I never wake up! My adoration for you grows every day, please know that I am rooting for you and support you, just how you show up endlessly for all of us! Can’t wait for our future adventures xoxoxo @taefiore - hi my darling raabia! (I hope you’re resting and not stressing when you read this, but if you are stressed I hope this makes you smile) I feel like I have to thank run-on for bringing us together?? I have enjoyed every single one of our conversations and interactions, you’re easily one of the most clever and sweet people on this site! thank you for listening to my dreams, for all your kind/witty commentary on things I post, and for being an all-around incredible person! i know how hard you work and I hope your future is just as bright as you are, love you! @bibillyhillsbaby - lovely helena, are your legs tired? Cus you’re running through my mind oooooh! we’ve said this to each other many times, how fun it is to chat about shows, about our love for these men,™ and more! but have I told you about the times you’ve generated warmth and peace for my soul? your compassion has not gone unnoticed dear friend <3 you’ve made so many of us laugh and smile, lended kind words when we’ve needed them the most. I hope that when you see flowers and trees, you think of all our love blossoming for you! @kithtaehyung - oh ryen! when you created the ‘still with you’ gfx you officially stole my heart! but then you went and kept it for good when you made the ‘magic shop’ gfx during a challenging time in my life. your empathy and your cheerfulness was a clearing for my foggy mind! you’re a stellar person and i get such a burst of joy when i see you on my feed. if i could handwrite notes for you everyday, i would! <3 @pinkjjoon - sara i can’t remember our first conversation, but i could’ve swore it had something to do with the term “namjaan” lmao! though we’re timezones apart, i am glad the internet brought us together cus i really need more desi army visibility! i appreciate your candidness, your humor, as well as your kind words during hard times. i hope bts gets their act together and holds a concert where you are cus you more than deserve it! @hazeltae - allison, ive been trying to put to words why i feel so drawn to you and why you always make my day and i think it’s bc you’re a capricorn sun/pisces moon!!! no wonder you have this way of making people feel steady, held while also relating to them on an emotional level! i love talking to you about rj, about yoongi, about totally normal shopping habits <3 thank you for all that you are and for being such a sweetheart! @gimbapchefs - hello nat!! even though we’re newer mutuals, there’s such a refreshing ease in our conversations that i truly appreciate! i find myself resonating with your thoughts and reactions, and cackling at things you reflect in the tags! i also admire your dedication to your studies, even when you get a little distracted ;) we need more people like you in the field, i’m so excited to see where your journey takes you! @intronnevermind - hi raf! it’s such a pleasure to be connected here! we haven’t spoken much but your posts and content leave me with a great sense of joy/admiration! i am so impressed by your style and am looking forward to anything you create in the future. thank you for sharing sweet remarks about my amateur content and for being such a lovely part of this community! @ourownwings - wings :) i am so in awe of the creations you provide for the community and all the tender labor that goes into relaying the BU stories here! i can only imagine the time it takes to do that, but you’ve done above and beyond - and i’m so proud of your milestone! i was delighted to chat with your about your life outside tumblr, and wish you all the best in your future endeavors! thank you for being such a sweet, supportive presence in my orbit! @jintae - padya, it’s likely you’ll see this if/when you return from your hiatus but you should know that i appreciate our exchanges and how excited i was to connect with another nyc bengali army! i hope you are taking care and finding enjoyment during your days <3 i think about your written piece about the impact bts has had on you as well as the publication you created for the community, and am so proud to know that you’ve spearheaded these meaningful spaces for others. i hope our bond can grow over time, universe-willing, and that you get every happiness you absolutely deserve!

to my lovely mutuals who amaze me every time with their creations & their talent, and have given me much laughter/much comfort, i am grateful for you. i have much warmth in my heart for you all and appreciate the conversations we’ve had about life, about bangtan, and anything in between. thank you for being here: @duckjinnie @ayosuuga @yoongisshadow @userjiminie @jinbestboy @mykrokosmos @marvelousbangtan @jimindelune @floraljimin @flowerseokjin @dinamitae @zhujieqiong @thegoddessly @kooseokss @dalbichigom @jinjagi @joonsrack

#well in true t fashion #i poured out my soul when no one asked for it???#i'm sorry.... for the rambling but you all signed up for this when you became mutuals with an emotional psychotherapist #i also apologize if i left anyone out!!#ALSO no pressure to reply to this!!!#i really wasnt expecting to do much connecting when i started this blog not too long ago #but here you all are and i feel so blessed #glad we're all here going through the motions of being bts fans together #i picked this sope moment bc in my mind we're laughing together while listening to music #and being sweet and tender with one another #:]#mygifs

158 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

My Timid Hello, My Clumsy Goodbye (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, canon semi-compliant?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader Word count: 8900 (...sorry)

Summary: You’re spending the evening and the night before your wedding with the two most important men of your life.

When the sun rises again, you’ll say your ‘I do’ in a close circle of friends and family. It’s not a goodbye to your old life and it’s not a hello to some enormous change; but you will no longer be a Barton. You will be a Rogers. Why not reminisce a bit?

Warnings: mention of an abandoned baby, blood and injuries, alcohol, implied possibly rougher sex (nothing graphic) ...mature?, language, so much sappiness... let me know if I missed any

A/N: For what-is-your-backupplan-today 10th anniversary of CA:TFA challenge. Prompts in bold. Thank you for coming up with this wonderful theme and hosting this challenge! Long live CA:TFA!

A/N: Throughout the fic, you’ll find snippets of lyrics from SYML’s "Everything All At Once”. Honestly, the song has a completely different meaning to me, but tearing it out of context works for this story just fine :) When you’re done reading, I recommend the music video. It friggin’ broke me in the worst and best ways. Enjoy!

This is my hello This is my clumsy goodbye I'm putting my glass down I wanna remember tonight

Tony rented an island for you. Clint nearly passed out learning about it and grumbled for days about having a hard time to top that, which, no arguing, was understandable.

It was an incredibly extravagant thing to do, throwing around money that could have been used for a much more honourable cause, but you couldn’t complain. One should not look a gifted horse into mouth – and so you didn’t.

Because Tony Stark renting an island was his premature wedding gift. The fact that your brother bitched about not being able to top that, well, that was his problem. You were certain that deep down, he knew you didn’t need any fancy gifts like that.

Then again, Tony’s gift might have been epically overpriced, but not exactly unthoughtful; along with a private island came a private jet and you being literally flied under radar so no single paparazzi knew where you and America’s golden boy Steve Rogers would seal the deal with your ‘I do.’ So, you were everything but ungrateful to your friend that he succeeded at pulling off such covert operation; and frankly, this place was nothing short of wonderful.

The golden sand was pleasantly warm under your toes as you as you and Clint walked towards the two single beach chairs facing the ocean. Wearing bikini under the baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sunglasses on top of your head, because why would you deprive yourself the gorgeous view of the sun beginning to set down, you followed your brother – not in blood but in every other sense – to the seats, allured by the view, the serenity and the cold sixpack in his hand.

You had already had a traditional bachelorette party with your girls – with the team, with your family. Natasha, Wanda, Pepper, Sharon and Maria. The night had been the perfect blend of what was considered typically feminine, dress up, fanciness and wine and gossip, and a fun night out with shots, dancing, karaoke and pool. That particular night sadly was interrupted shortly by an annoying photographer, but he soon understood it was not very clever to annoy three and a half Avengers or the CEO of Stark Industries for that matter.

Clint however… Clint deserved a special evening with you. With the rest of the team in various state of chilling out, scattered around the luxurious small houses and gorgeous beaches, you two were left the privacy such moment required.

Even if the special moment consisted of simple talking and drinking beer while watching the sun set, a symbolic end of one phase of your life – a phase that was undeniably tied to the famous and yet barely known archer, one of the seven defenders who rushed into the Battle of New York to save the Earth.

One of the seven had been your brother, having previously been controlled by the monster who brought an army from outer space; there was no questioning whether you would join the fight or not, no matter how you preferred the latter part of your field medic job title to the former.

Another of these brave people, as it turned out, was your future husband. A man you had met for the first time that day, but whom you didn’t hesitate to push back down when he got hit by a freaking alien weapon and stood up, wanting to shake it off as if it was nothing. Your medical training told you not to let him; and your stubbornness had been just a touch stronger than his that day.

Apparently, Steve found you always standing your ground to be one of your most endearing qualities.

What a fancy way to express it instead of simply calling you a stubborn pain in his ass.

“You’re lost in your head, Twinkie,” Clint hummed, playfully nudging your ribs with an elbow, bringing you back to the present.

Your nose automatically scrunched at the childhood nickname.

“You gotta stop calling me that, Bobo,” you retorted, a grin spreading on your face as it was his turn to grimace.

You knew it was nothing but an act and that he in fact loved that nickname, because it held so much sentiment, so many memories… as did his endearment for you.

Bobo had been your first word or so Clint always claimed. Obviously, you wouldn’t remember.

You wouldn’t remember your parents, having been only two days old when your mother left you with a damn circus which was in your hometown at the time. You couldn’t recall how you wouldn’t stop crying until you heard a seven-year-old Clint humming a lullaby for you, with silly replacements of lyrics that always made you laugh later on when you could understand them.

How he started calling you Twinkie, because he was a sugar addict and apparently, you were sweet and small and he liked you; so much that he soon appointed himself to be your brother, your bro, your Bobo.

Once you were older and learned that your involuntary nickname for him also meant ‘crazy’ in Spanish, you were sold to that Bobo endearment forever.

Including the night before your wedding.

“You keep zoning out on me, Kid. Getting cold feet?” Clint hummed, casually handing you a can of beer, opening it up for you.

You automatically reached out and took a sip, eyes fixed on the warm colour on the horizon. What a ridiculous question… but kind and caring, with a hidden promise of getting you out of here if you just asked. Your amazing, protective, crazy brother.

You couldn’t but smile widely, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

“You offering to kidnap the bride, Clint? I’d like to see you try. You were always better at trapeze than at being an escape artist.”

Clint scoffed. “Please. These are amateurs. I bet I could pull it off.”

That drew a laugh from you.

“Are you calling the Avengers amateurs? Better yet, are you calling your wife an amateur?” you teased him, watching his face lose colour when he realized that he did exactly that. You leaned over and patted his thigh. “Don’t worry, Bobo. I won’t tell Nat.”

Clint visibly relaxed, but a shadow of worry twisting his expression.

“Seriously though. Where’s your head at, Kid?”

You just shrugged, smile resting on your lips as you wondered if you ever felt so relaxed. It went along well with the reminiscing of the past and despite the fact that tomorrow was a big day and you should probably be nervous, you weren’t. Not in the slightest, more like the opposite. You were giddy even; it dawned to you that nothing in your life had ever felt so right.

No moment in your life offered you such serenity to your heart, your shoulders free of any weight, body light as air.

“Just taking a trip down the memory lane. Thinking about how lucky I was to be dropped at your circus of all circuses of the world,” you grinned at Clint, your tone remaining completely serious.

Because you were being serious – words couldn’t express how grateful for everything that led to this moment you were. How grateful you were to your brother for watching over you, making sure you would always see the light of a new day, guiding you when you found yourself in a dark.

Clint didn’t react beside his fingers twitching and you knew he was giving you the chance to say what you needed to say.

“About how you taught me pretty much everything I know. About how while I might not be the best person in the world, my brother, who is the best brother ever, made me into a decent person and I owe him everything I am. And how I should probably feel guilty for tying myself to another guy who just swept in and whisked away your little sister.”

Clint stared at you, gulping as his eyes gradually filled with tears. You found yourself in a very cheesy moment, bordering on absurd and it was almost too much to handle – but Clint took a deep breath, cleared his throat and swallowed his tears.

“Well, that bastard did steal my greatest life achievement with way too little effort,” he remarked, voice cracking slightly, the image of him causing your eyes to burn as well even if his words made you both tear up and burst out laughing.

“Dammit, Clint, stop making me laugh and cry at the same time…”

“You started it!” he pointed his index finger at you accusingly, taking a large sip of his beer to drown his sentiment. “But for the record, you should not feel guilty. It’s not like you’re leaving me.”

“I know, but-“

“And if you were, you’d be leaving me in good hands.”

“That’s true, Natasha does have a grip on you and might keep you outta trouble-“

“She’s the one who gets me into trouble half of the time!” Clint cried out in protest and you would have argued if it wasn’t the truth.

But before he had met her, Clint was able to make up his own trouble just fine – he was more than half of a reason why while doing a bit of trapeze yourself, you also grew interested in medical care. Because who else than the little sister should treat her big brother’s wounds when he got too crazy?

“In all seriousness, I’m proud of you, Twinkie,” he said sincerely, one corner of his lips raised in a lopsided smile. “You’re entirely entitled to have your own life and if there’s one guy in this whole damn world I’m willing to trust to have you… well, I guess it’s that big blond dumbass.”

“He can be a bit dumb of ass occasionally, can’t he?” you mused lovingly. “I guess it’s right what they say… we do pick our partners similar to our parents, maybe not only in looks. I didn’t really have a dad, I had you, so…”

Clint sighed, smile widening, before it slipped from his face as he caught up on the not-so-hidden insult.

“Hey!”

You couldn’t but laugh at his shocked expression, accidently spilling a splosh of beer on the sand.

“Just… maybe make sure that even married, you still find time to hang out with your big dumb of ass brother every once in a while?” Clint suggested, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

Your whole demander softened, a little pang of guilt stinging in your heart as he took your words too seriously – and at his worry.

“Clint… I will always find time for my amazing brother.”

“Well, you’re marrying a pretty amazing guy too, so, you know, I understand the dilemma…”

You snorted when he seemed to genuinely fawn over your future husband, shaking your head before downing the rest of your drink.

“As amazing as Steve might be – and gosh, he is, don’t get me started – you still own a pretty big chunk of my heart.”

“Good. You are a Barton at heart,” Clint hummed, pretending that a few tears didn’t roll down his cheeks, leaning towards you as his expression once again grew serious.

Your chest tightened. Oh no. He was gonna say something to make you cry too – as if you already weren’t at verge of crying, emotions bubbling under the surface.

“Clint-“ you warned him silently, but he spoke up anyway and you gulped, bracing yourself.

“Just… whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect housewife, but a good woman.”

That was not what you were prepared for, as touching as the sentiment was.

You burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands clutching at your stomach as it actually hurt with the sudden clench. Tears did spring from your eyes, a perfect blend of touched and infinitely amused at your brother’s words.

“Har, har, that’s what I get from trying to speak from heart…” Clint muttered grumpily and you willed yourself to calm your hitching breaths as you looked at him, the pout of his mouth causing you to cackle again.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… I am moved, I really am. Thank you. But me? A perfect housewife? And you realize I’m marrying Steve Rogers, right? The epitome of a good man? He would probably threaten to sock me in a jaw if I tried to change into something I’m not just for his sake and actually sock me in my jaw if I turned into a bad woman.”

Clint’s eyebrows jumped, a smirk appearing on his face. “That’s a lot of punching.”

“My thoughts exactly,” you agreed, reaching for another can, pausing when a thought occurred to you. “Just so we’re clear, I might turn into a bit of a housewife when we have kids, alright? And I want to be a good wife, a good partner to Steve, which is what I’m trying to do even now.”

“I mean, yeah, sure, wouldn’t expect anything less. But… just promise me you’ll stay you and that you’ll keep giving him a run for his money, keep him on his toes a bit,” Clint shrugged with a grin, drawing another chuckle from you.

You saw his point – and you fully intended to keep Steve on his toes. You had a good reason to believe that your future husband enjoyed when you did.

“Oh Clinton… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He nodded contentedly, picking up another beer and raising it for a toast, his can clinking with yours.

“Cheers to that!”

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you then, a quiet joy wrapped in one moment; the sun ending its quest, the warm breeze in your hair, the waves whispering of a journey you were about to take off to. And all that with a wordless comforting presence of your family, ready to offer you a shelter if a storm rocked your boat and the wind caused you to lose course.

As your mind wandered, you had to laugh at yourself – it was almost as if you were raised by pirates and not circus performers. Perhaps it was the little bit of free cheeky spirit these life journeys had in common what brought the metaphor to your mind. It was a bit like working with the Avengers too, always on a road, adrenaline in your veins even as you mostly stayed on the jet, ready to assist them… yet here you were pondering that maybe, you were yearning for settling down a bit more.

“Cap wouldn’t punch you anyway, right?” Clint remarked, breaking the silence and you blinked yourself back into reality, taking a moment to figure out what he was talking about.

Oh. Right. Steve punching you if you changed yourself significantly for his benefit.

You smiled softly, heart swelling in affection when the answer to that question appeared obvious.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Good. He’d try once and I’d put an arrow straight between his eyes,” Clint promised darkly, almost causing you to choke at the sudden violent note. He quickly fixed it with a ramble, lightening the atmosphere yet again. “Minus training of course. He’s allowed to try in order to improve your hand-to-hand. Not that he would ever land a hand on you anyway. Always so soft on you…” he grinned, seemingly alright with that attitude if not slightly calling the big strong supersoldier out.

Oh you could be cheeky too alright if that was what your brother wanted.

“That you know of.”

A confused huh was the only reaction you got – that and a puzzled look.

“He’s always soft on me,” you repeated Clint’s words, turning to him, lips slowly spreading in a wicked smirk. “That you know of.”

Clint’s brows furrowed for a short moment and then his features twisted in a disgusted grimace, face growing a tint crimson.

“Gross!” he complained, more blood rushing to his cheeks. “You know what, I changed my mind. We’re leaving. You’re not marrying him. I’m kidnapping the bride and never returning her, locking her somewhere far far away-“

You snorted at his indignation, your grin undoubtedly battling the one of the Cheshire cat.

“No will do, Bobo. I’m marrying Steve and you can’t stop me.”

This time, Clint didn’t even protest, eyes misted over, nose still scrunched at the mental image, lamenting as the night slowly settled over the paradise-like island.

“Oh god, please help, I can’t unsee it, can’t unhear it--- ew-”

Your laughter was carried away by the breeze as Clint seemed to be unable to look at you.

You swung your beer around, thinking that yes – nothing quite ever felt so right as being here in this moment. Relaxing with your brother, teasing him relentlessly and counting down hours to when you’d say ‘I do’ to the only man who in your eyes ever battled the mantle of the best man in the universe.

In one unending moment You fall within my reach I'm close enough to whisper Hold on to me Hold on to me

You weren’t sure what time it was when you snuck into the beach house, one of few, which had been wisely chosen to be occupied by you and Steve only. You attempted to be quiet and liked to think you succeeded, in your even barely tipsy state, but your effort turned out to be in vain as you found Steve perched against headboard of your bed; reading a book, thin white t-shirt and sleep shorts on display as the soft sheet had been kicked away, scrunched up by his feet.

He was gorgeous – he was gorgeous and yours, a momentary picture perfect of peace, appearing to feel just as light as you did and somehow the dullness of the moment, just him relaxing in bed with a good read as you came home… it was more alluring than one would think.

Steve looked up from the book when you wavered in the doorway, soft lopsided smile spreading on his face.

God, that smile. It might be over two years since you saw it for the first time, but it could still make you weak in your knees.

And somehow, it was now even more charming now than the day you met, more tender than just before you kissed for the first time, sweeter than when he proposed.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted you, appreciative gaze roaming your figure and the little too much skin on display – something you regretted when the warm sunrays had bid you goodbye, raising goosebumps. And Steve, the attentive man he was, noticed, his smile earning a teasing edge. “You look a bit cold in there.”

You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out.

“And you look pretty cosy in there. Thought you’d be either asleep or with Bucky.”

Steve shrugged, not letting go of his unfinished chapter just yet, knowing you had a routine to go through before joining him.

“Maybe I missed you. Maybe Bucky is an old man and needs his sleep.”

You chuckled, not rising to the bait – you knew what would follow if you dared to say Steve was just as old. Not that you would complain about Steve trying to convince you about the opposite. You could never.

“Well, I bet he still made you a promise of breaking a bone of mine or two if I ever hurt you. He’ll find energy for that, centenarian or not,” you hummed nonchalantly as you bounced off the doorframe, heading to the bathroom and leaving Steve puzzled by your remark.

“How did you know?” he called out after you, endearingly confused.

“That’s what big brothers do, love!”

Short silence was your answer as you reached for your toothbrush and begun your nighty ritual.

Steve must have figure out what did it mean for him, considering you had a protective brother of your own, because a moment later, his half-amused “noted!” reached your ears.

You chuckled and shook your head, smile spread on your face which you didn’t think could be erased as long as you were in this paradise – free of worry, full of joy. And why wouldn’t you be? You were about to marry one of the smartest, kindest, sassiest and most beautiful men that ever walked the Earth. What was not to love?

You couldn’t but let your mind wander again; if you had only known the day you met, right from that moment, that you’d end up here…. well. It felt a little surreal, knowing that by this time tomorrow, you’d be Steve’s wife; then again, Steve’s life story was surreal enough on its own.

Who would have thought that the stubborn handsome man in the ridiculous suit and you, equally stubborn about you at least checking on the wound upon half-dragging him to a quiet corner in a middle of a battlefield, would grow so close?

It hadn’t been simple. Steve wasn’t the most open guy and while friendly enough, he wasn’t exactly offering his heart on his sleeve, not to strangers. But it hadn’t been too hard, once you were meeting on regular basis. Piece by piece he revealed his true colours and soon after he did… you started falling; hard and fast.

Not necessarily swooning, not on the outside at least; you were a professional, after all. The safety and the well-being of the team was your priority.

It was just too bad – or the best thing, you supposed – that Steve had the same goal as you with one significant difference; as far as he was concerned, the responsibility to look after his team sometimes excluded him.

Oh, was he wrong about that.

And boy, did you let him know you thought so. You still kept proving him wrong to this day and was planning on nurturing his own acknowledgement of his self-worth till your last breath…

“Get your ass in here, Steve!” you called out after him, slowly losing patience as you had tried asking politely the previous two times with no result but being dismissed.

The change of tone and language made his head snap to you from where he was talking to Sam, an offended scowl on his face.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Captain. Don’t be a stubborn jerk and get your ass in here so I can clean your cuts.”

A few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to talk to him like that; to the great legend, Captain America. At least you certainly wouldn’t have called him his first name and maybe, just maybe, you’d be a little less crass. But now? He might be Captain America still, a hero who deserved all the good things for the sacrifices he made for the world’s safety, but first and foremost, he was just Steve to you.

A colleague, a teammate, a friend. You might not be a part of the team per se, not the way Clint, Natasha or Steve were, but you still belonged. And you were all friends.

Friends irritated each other sometimes and frankly, Steve was often battling with Tony for the mantle of the most infuriating one.

Friends also needed to call each other out on their bullshit by any means necessary when the time was right and now the time was as good as any.

Usually, Steve slipped through your fingers, because he was a supersoldier and the others weren’t, so their injuries took precedence; today, it was only Natasha, Sam and Steve, and the captain was the only one whom you hadn’t checked yet. And you knew there were things to check, the trickle of blood from his eyebrow probably the least of your concerns.

“I wouldn’t argue with her, Steve. She can be pretty stubborn. Clint wouldn’t stop complaining about it,” Natasha supported you from the pilot seat and you fought yourself so you wouldn’t grin at her in victory – it would only irritated Steve further. “She’s almost as bull-headed as you are.”

At that, your smile would have slipped. But honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

“Don’t I know it,” Steve grunted, sparing Sam another glance and when the Falcon himself beckoned to you as well, wordlessly asking Steve to get himself checked up.

The captain sighed irately, but made his way back to the separate and well-lit space of your examination room.

He didn’t try to hide his annoyance – in fact, he squared his shoulders and his steps sounded a bit loud for anyone to believe it was a coincidence. Also, the scowl of exasperation never left his otherwise handsome face.

“This is completely unnecessary. A stupid waste of time,” he hissed as he walked past you and you took a deep calming breath, exchanging an eyeroll with Sam before you disappeared from sight.

“Captain. I respect you and your position, but you say one more time that my job here is unnecessary and stupid, you’ll be looking for a new medic,” you retorted as he stripped the upper part of his uniform angrily, revealing his white-tank-top-clad torso.

Well, at least the fabric used to be white – now a blood stain the size of both of your palms was seeping into the material at Steve’s right side, gushing from what definitely appeared to be a knife wound.

You were gonna murder him one of those days... unless he got killed himself first.

“Seriously?!”

“It’s just a graze-” he started to argue but you cut him off when you tore the fabric away. He winced as some of the dried blood had acted as a glue, having stuck the cloth into the wound, and now was violently ripped off.

“Tr to insinuate again that I’m incompetent at recognizing what’s just a graze, Steve. I dare you. This is a cut wide and deep enough for stitches! Haven’t you had the serum, you could have been bleeding out to death on this table!”

“But I do have it-“

“Or for fuck’s SAKE, stop being a baby and let me treat the bloody gash in your right mesogastric area! The serum accelerates your healing, but it doesn’t make you invincible OR immortal as far as I know--- Jesus fucking Christ-!”

He bristled, taking a deep breath to fight back, but he never got the chance, because you started working and the words died in his throat. Surprisingly, inspecting the damage, poking around a knife wound that might have already begin to seal itself thanks to Erskine’s formula but had not been just a graze hurt and coincidentally, it pulled the rug from under his feet.

To his credit, Steve barely even hissed at the pain.

“Just so you know, I’ll be using the disinfection that stings worse,” you noted, voice dripping venom, because you were genuinely done with Steve’s bullshit.

You lied through your teeth though. You wouldn’t. No matter how infuriating Steve was and how difficult he made your life – causing you to fall for his stupid martyr ass and pine after him among other things – you would never purposely hurt him.

And he must have sensed that, because your remark didn’t earn you a murderous glare or a retort – much to your surprise.

In fact, Steve fell entirely quiet, watching you work without protest, not even objecting when you applied enough local anaesthetic to knock out an elephant and sewed the tissue together so it healed easier. He let you inspect the rest of his torso and bandage his ribs, vigorously shaking his head when you asked him if he was injured anywhere below the waist.

He observed you as you kept an eye on his face for any minute sign of pain he’d be hiding, but all you could see were his irises, startlingly bright blue, pools of honesty and something you had trouble decoding. He seemed… humbled almost. It silenced the anger inside you, the flames of rage – and fear for his well-being, if you were being honest with yourself – turning into a barely smouldering pile of ash.

When you moved on to his head, gently pushing away the strands which obscured the gash on his eyebrow, his eyelids slid shut. You knew how unpleasant facial injuries were, especially around one’s eyes and so you took care to be extra careful as you cleaned the wound and the area surrounding it, most definitely not using the stingy disinfectant.

Not that Steve could get an infection as far as you knew. It was more force of a habit than anything else… and it made you feel better. He had this idiotic mask of an invincible hero he put up sometimes and it drove you insane, because you knew he was only human, a beautiful kind soul, but god, could he be an ass.

“Almost done,” you whispered soothingly when you noticed his jaw tightening as you had to apply a bit more pressure to get a tiny piece of gravel from the cut. You certainly didn’t want that to stay under the newly healing skin.

The moment you retreated with the bloody gauze, Steve’s eyes were back on you, wide and regretful.

“I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, a genuine apology that sounded almost absurd after you two were hissing at each other like damn hellcats. “I didn’t mean to--- I’m sorry for being rude and ungrateful. Thank you for taking care of my injuries.”

One glance into those deep irises and benign hesitant smile and you were done for. How could you stay mad at him? Well, you were still mad at him for the absolute disregard of his own health, but… well. You also understood he felt like he needed to stay strong for the team and put them first and how he actually was in pain.

Pretty much everyone was a pain in the ass when in pain.

You sighed as you searched for few band-aid strips to cover the cut.

“It’s alright, Steve. I’m used to old men being grumpy and not meaning things they say when they are,” you offered lightly and he hung his head with a chuckle, clearly not taking the old man remark personally – and understanding you were referring to your brother.

His smile was wider when he looked up again. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”

You shrugged, carefully slipping two fingers under his chin to angle his face so you could stick the strips over the wound.

“Well, I deserve it sometimes. I don’t mean to… to be overbearing and make you feel like you’re incompetent or something,” you added hesitantly, worrying your teeth over your lower lip as the tone you’d been handling him with caught up with you. Perhaps you could have been nicer.

You smoothened the stripes of band-aid, gulping as you felt Steve’s gaze boring into your face while you continued.

“I know you’re not incompetent. You’re very capable, you’re the best. It’s just… I still--- worry- for all of you. For the full-time Earth’s mightiest heroes. Silly, huh?” you muttered self-depreciatingly and when your eyes met, you were startled by the intensity he watched you with as you laid your fears bare in front of him, leaving you vulnerable. You swiftly looked away and dropped your hands. “Here, almost as good as new.”

A lump grew in your throat as you stripped your gloves, tossing them into the bin. Did you reveal too much? Didn’t it sound silly indeed as you said it out loud? Yes, you were all friendly with each other, but you were supposed to be a professional, focused on your task, not getting distracted by-

-by Steve gently grasping your wrist, causing your heart to skip a startled beat. Definitely not getting weak in the knees when you shot him a surprised glance and he just… brought your hand to his face, lips briefly skimming over your knuckles.

Jesus Christ, Lord have mercy with me.

“Don’t you ever apologize for caring. Don’t stop caring. Silly is the last thing I’d call it.”

Your cheeks felt like set on fire, stomach fluttering as well as your heart. You could feel the ghost of Steve’s lips on your skin, sending your heartrate sky-high, causing your head to spin a bit, your body hot all over.

Did he really—did he just-? And did it mean that… did it mean anything at all?

He let go of your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles, but held your gaze adamantly as he gave you a sad smile and rose to his feet, clearly ready to leave.

You, on the hand, stood there frozen, mind racing.

Why had he done that? Was he really just trying to express gratitude and say sorry for his previous behaviour? Because that was not the way it was supposed to be done, because such tenderness left you entirely bewildered. Was he trying to tell you he was somehow interested in something more than friendship? Was he just high from the anaesthetic, mind you, local one that was not supposed to mess with his brain? Was there any sign of a head injury you missed?

“Thank you, again,” he whispered softly, moving to sidestep you and your hand instinctively shot out, latching onto his forearm… gently.

You gulped, heart stuttering when he glanced at you, puzzled.

One part of you wanted to sink into the floor in embarrassment at your unwitting reaction. Another part of you observed him so closely that you would swear that there was another emotion in his eyes and it was neither apology nor gratitude. You wistfully hoped for longing, the same longing you felt when you were near him, sometimes distant and barely there, other times so acute it hurt.

With your stomach somersaulting in doubt, you willed yourself to raise your free hand slowly, purposely giving him a chance – Lord, please, don’t let him take it – to stop you before your palm settled on his cheek.

You were certain you experienced a small cardiac arrest when Steve not only didn’t avoid the touch, but actually leaned into it, gaze fixed on your face, eyes brighter and softer than you ever remembered seeing. Your gaze flickered to his mouth deliberately, throat turning dry. Too daring? He kissed you knuckles, surely you could reciprocate some affection?

Swallowing against your dry throat, you leaned in before you could change your mind and dropped the briefest peck to his lips, causing his eyelids to flutter shut.

Oh no. Oh no no no no, you totally crossed a line-

You went to retreat your hands from him, but the second you moved, his eyes were snapping open, hand covering yours on his face to keep it there, the other cradling your face and then there was a warm and soft sensation on your own lips as he seized them with his.

Your mind went completely blank save two single thoughts: Steve is kissing me. I really like that.

A small sound escaped you, a blend of surprise and contentment, breaking you from your trance and turning you into an actual participant of the pleasant and entirely unexpected activity.

You drew in a small breath, head spinning from the scent of Steve’s shampoo, disinfectant, sweat and something you couldn’t quite put your finger on and not caring.

He tasted faintly of blood, but otherwise was nothing but sweet as his lips caressed yours, gently tugging at your lower lip and then the upper, the lightest graze of teeth and tease of tongue, finger pressing into your jaw to pull you closer, thumb stroking your cheek.

You whimpered involuntarily when his lips parted from yours, soothing as they returned for a short peck, to drop a brief kiss to the corner of your mouth, to brush your cheek.

Your name was a breathy whisper between the two of you, barely audible as all you could hear was your heartbeat pulsing frantically in your ears, growing aware of your fingers clutching at Steve’s still unzipped armour and nearly sinking in his hair, his hot breath tickling your skin.

You didn’t dare to open your eyes – what if you dreamed it up? What if you looked at him and saw regret – it didn’t feel like he would be regretting it, but… still. Insecurity tugged at your mind as it slowly cleared from the literally breath-taking kiss.

Steve repeated your name with urgency that was unheard of, the single word sounding almost as a plea.

“Please say something.”

Oh.

You blinked your eyes open, surprised to be met with his searching gaze, a minute furrow of his brows. It seemed you weren’t the only one whose mind was being the worst of one’s enemies.

Perhaps your brain was being stupid. Perhaps you both wanted this. Perhaps you felt exactly the same.

As you forced yourself to move, fingers actually slipping into his hair to caress his nape, Steve inhaled shakily, shoulders slumping. The tinniest of smiles tugged at his mouth, tempting red and minutely swollen from the kiss; you had to resist the urge to just taste it again.

Instead, you licked your lips only, savouring the previous sensations, smiling unwittingly.

“That’s… uhm, that’s a really creative new way of driving me crazy.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose along with one corner of his mouth, relief written all over his face.

“Oh? There are other ways in which I’m driving you crazy? Because I couldn’t tell...”

You narrowed your eyes, but you didn’t think he bought you unconvincing act of being irritated with him at such remark.

“Don’t push it, Captain,” you warned him, but your treacherous mouth kept curling up in a smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of the kiss.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Uh-huh… s-sure,” you stuttered briefly as his thumb caressed your cheek, bright smiling eyes watching only inches from your face – and yet it felt like he was too far.

“You’re driving me crazy too, you know,” he noted in a breathy voice, causing you to gulp as his gaze flickered to your mouth, clearly implying how you do so… among other ways… like your stubbornness practically matching his.

“Oh really? I do? I couldn’t tell…”

He chuckled, his hand slipping to your nape, soft tickle of his fingers making you squirm.

“I’m gonna kiss you again now if that’s okay,” he whispered, not waiting for your permission and erasing the distance between your lips again.

Still, you whispered your approval to his mouth.

“So okay…”

Long moments later when Sam called out to warn you that you’d be landing soon, you said yes to the grumpy old man’s request to let him treat you dinner.

Oh if you only knew by then how far you’d come…

Lost in thought, goofy smile on your face, you exited the bathroom, ready to snuggle your future husband… and to fully take the opportunity to make love, last night before you officially became his and he became yours.

You had a brief second to register that the bed was empty, your heart skipping a started and disappointed beat. The second you stepped out though, you were literally swept off your feet.

A yelp erupted from your throat as you found yourself with no ground under your feet and high in the air, one of Steve’s arms under your knees, the other under your back. Your hands frantically gripped at the nearest firm point, Steve’s shoulder and arm as you finally realized what the hell happened and was met with a cheeky grin and sparkling blue of his eyes.

That traitor was waiting just by the door to ambush you! Why?

You slapped his very much bare shoulder playfully, hissing a curse, not unaware of the heat radiating of him and seeping into your skin.

“You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!” you complained, but he didn’t even have the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

Steve grinned wider, shrugging and pulling you closer to his torso, nuzzling your temple and dropping a placatory kiss there.

“Still looking a little cold.”

“No, I look like this because you scared me,” you emphasized, vainly trying to resist the seduction; a mixture of playfulness, sweetness and blatant display of strength as he still held you with ease. It was hard not to be temped. “And you look like you’re awfully warm, parading here without a shirt.”

“Well, I’d call us even since you’re parading around in these absolutely sinful shorts. Makes me hot. I can warm you up,” he mumbled to your skin, lips moving to your ear, causing you to shudder.

How was it so easy for him to make you all hot and bothered? You guessed that at least, as he said, it made you even... it wasn’t difficult to get him riled up either.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Driving you crazy?” Steve offered, sounding awfully delighted at the idea and you only melted into him further at the reminiscence of your first kiss and what followed.

“Always,” you confirmed, deadly serious, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips or the mewl that escaped you when his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, warm breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

“But you love it.”

“Uh-huh…”

“I can live with that with that then,” he said, stalking to the bed determinately. “Now let me drive you so crazy you can barely speak and the only sound you’re making is whimpering my name.”

He all but tossed you on the bed, a yelp of his name in fact erupting from your throat, followed by a fit of giggles that only died when his mouth seized yours, his lips only leaving when heading south to indeed drive you crazy.

And yes; you loved it.

And you loved him too.

In one unending moment I fall within your reach My song a sweet surrender Hold on to me Hold on to me

Before the girls could steal you from him, Steve decided – with your enthusiastic agreement – that you should once again try how it felt to make some morning lovin’ outside marriage. With the ceremony planned for the late afternoon, you had plenty of time; and needless to say, it was bliss. Then again, you believed that marital sex with Steve would be just as delightfully pleasant, thank you very much.

Then, it was a whirlwind – make up, hair, dress, a tear or two spilled when you saw the result in the mirror.

More tears spilled when you glanced out of the window and saw the tastefully and modestly decorated arch, the path created by few scattered rose petals, the male part of your almost family sans Clint in the suits, effectively hiding Steve from you; and you from his just in case, because no one wanted any bad luck.

Your staring was interrupted when your brother went to pick you up to lead you down the aisle.

Upon entering the room and setting his gaze on you, he promptly looked away with a sniffle. It both warmed your heart and made you laugh as did his remark.

“Nope, not giving you to him. In fact, I’m never giving you to anyone. No one will ever be worthy, so I’m keeping you.”

“Hush, Clinton, you’ll still have me,” Natasha winked at him as he took a deep calming breath before carefully eyeing you again.

Clearly, it hadn’t done the job, because few tears still found their way down his cheeks.

“You’re a knock-out, sis,” he sputtered hastily, but no less honestly – clearly moved to tears.

And yet… you snorted at his choice of words and he rolled his eyes, quick to compliment your beauty instead.

You wouldn’t have it any other way though, even appreciating his first remark more for it came from the bottom of his heart rather than from what convention required.

Embracing you carefully in fear he would mess up the work of art his wife and other girls created, he held you in his arms for a moment, as you retuned the hug, clutching at his suit with a little too force. From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bridesmaids clearing the room.

“It’s not like I’m leaving you, Bobo,” you hummed with a smile, throwing his own words from last night at him.

And you weren’t leaving him; your heart swelled with love for your brother, your father figure, your long-life friend.

With sniffle, he let go of you and looked you up and down, proud smile spreading on his lips.

“It’s okay. If you are, I have the best spy in the world for a wife, we’ll drag your ass back home.”

You just slapped his chest playfully and took a deep breath – it was time. Clint grasped your hand firmly then, elbows interlocking, and went to step out just a moment after the bridesmaids left to join the groomsmen.

Well-aware everyone was going to stare and that Steve awaited you at the end of the aisle to marry you, your legs were shaking minutely as the magnitude of the event finally dawned to you.

“Getting second thoughts now?” Clint teased you, eliciting a chuckle from you and shake of your head.

What a question.

“No. Just… please don’t let me fall,” you muttered to him, entirely serious and grateful for your choice of footwear – simple flats hidden by the long flowing skirt of your dress. Better chance of not spraining your ankle on your wedding day.

“Never.”

Clint squeezed your hand under his warm palm and you took a deep breath, stepping into the doorway. Soft melody welcomed you, your very own wedding march Bruce was playing on a mouth organ – something you had previously had no idea he was capable of.

Looking up from your skirt, you feasted your eyes on the company and the beautiful scenery for only a regretfully short moment, grateful for Sam’s Redwing programmed to record and take photos.

Your gaze instinctively searched the small crowd instead, until it fell under the arch where three men stood.

One of them was Sam himself, having obtained a licence so he could be your wedding registrar; he looked positively dashing. So did Bucky, who patted his best friend dressed in his old-fashioned green captain uniform on the shoulder, his smirk visible even from tens feet away as he stepped back.

Naturally, your gaze lingered on Steve, your feet acting of their own accord and following your brother’s lead.

Gosh, your future husband was the most handsome and absolutely hottest specimen to ever walk the Earth. Hair combed neatly to one side and in his old army uniform, he truly looked like the gentleman from another era he was and yet, he undeniably belonged exactly where he was. His eyes were bright and blue just like the sky, lips slightly parting before curling up into a brilliant smile which somehow still carried the tenderness he treated you with when he felt particularly affectionate.

He must have uttered something under his breath, because Bucky pressed his lips together as if he was holding back laugh. The absolutely best best man, ladies and gentleman.

Your found yourself smiling just as widely, a stray tear tickling the corner of your eye and you had to fight the sudden urge to ditch Clint in order to gather your skirts and run the rest of the way just to jump into Steve’s arms.

But in reality, there was no rush – here, on the damn island Tony rented, there was so much time that one short walk meant nothing in comparison.

“Alright, maybe I’ll give you to him,” Clint whispered, making you bite the inside of your cheek so you would cackle.

Leave it to your brother he would find Steve Rogers so fine he’d be willing to give you out just to have him become a part of your family.

One corner of Steve’s lips twitched in amusement – supersoldier hearing didn’t miss the remark then. Good. Then Bucky heard it too and you had a witness just in case Clint would change his mind. Again.

Finally, with your heart almost in your throat, you reached the end of the aisle, Clint gently putting your hand into Steve’s… without letting go.

“You be nice to her, Cap. And I mean really nice, you hear? Or else-“

“Hush,” you hissed good-naturedly in your brother’s direction, winking at him before you returned your gaze to Steve. “Hey there, handsome.”

Steve chuckled under his breath when Clint stepped back. He returned the greeting with soft ‘hey there, beautiful’ and then proceeded to lift your joined hands, brushing your knuckles with his lips – just like the day you shared your first kiss.

Well now you truly found yourself on the verge of crying. And Lord, you wanted to kiss him so much-

Sam cleared his throat loudly, casting you both a meaningful look as if he could read your mind and wanted to remind you that there were a few things to go through before that could happen.

Ugh. Formalities. Just let me kiss him…

Steve licked his lips – the audacity! – and turned, lightly tugging at your hand so you both faced your friend who held a little leather book open, beckoning towards the guests: Bucky and Natasha, the best man and the best woman, Clint, Bruce, Tony, Vision, Wanda, Sharon, Pepper. Just your closest friends and family.

Sam cleared his throat again.

“Alright. We all know why we gathered here today. To get these two amazing people married, so they could officially become a special team within our team.”

You grinned, peripherally noticing Steve eyeing you as well. Team indeed.

“This is the part where I would ask all of you, bride and groom included, to speak up now if you’re aware of anything standing in the way of this wedlock or to remain silent forever. But frankly, if you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself. Just let these lovebirds get married…”

Muffled laughter and giggles erupted from your group. Honestly, you wouldn’t say it better. You noticed Clint shifting and Natasha forcefully holding his hand down; you bit down on your lip so you wouldn’t laugh and sent her a grateful smile instead. The best maid of honour ever.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear, folks. We have the rings, correct? Great. Just so you know, these two saps asked me to read one vow which they are making to each other, because they didn’t trust themselves to say theirs individually without bursting into tears. So now it’s left to me to cry instead. Thanks for that.”

Your cheeks were honestly starting to hurt from smiling so wide, but tears prickled in your eyes acutely just at the thought of the vow you agreed on. You spent countless hours thinking about what you wanted to say and realized that your vow would be too long and that you would in fact start crying and that you could never name all the things you loved Steve for. It had been a relief to find out that Steve shared the sentiment and the deal was made.

Natasha and Bucky dutifully laid the rings on the pillow Wanda’s powers held levitating by your and Steve’s side – not without Bucky finding a split second to compliment your appearance and earning a brief smirk from Steve.

“I know,” Steve uttered and you wondered if there was a dare going around as to who would make you burst out laughing first.

This was your wedding dammit. You could be at least a bit a lady and remain collected.

Hardly.

“With this ring,” Sam started, breathing in and out and you knew you already lost, first tear rolling down your cheek as you gazed into Steve’s inviting eyes, “I give myself to you without giving up myself. With this ring, I surrender to you for I have faith you understand the value of wielding such power and for I deem you worthy of it. With this ring, I promise to love you, to respect you and to support you to be your best self as I trust you to do the same for me, for us.”

You blinked away the waterfalls, reaching almost blindly for Steve’s ring and with fingers trembling – with giddiness, not nerves – you somehow succeeded at slipping it on his left ring finger.

“I do,” you whispered, your voice cracking even in such simple sentence and the watery smile Steve graced you with made your ribcage feel too small for your swelling heart.

Fingers equally clumsy, he slipped a ring on you as well, shoulders squaring as if in pride.

“I do,” he said firmly, the damp path down his left cheek only adding severity to his vow.

“You may-- uhm, okay, you may kiss the bride, your wife--- I mean, Mrs. Rogers. You may kiss the groom, your husband…” Sam mumbled under his breath until he didn’t, because Steve pulled you in for a kiss the same moment Sam said the first ‘may’ and incidentally, the same moment you practically threw yourself at Steve.

Laughter and whistles erupted from the group of your friends as Steve bend you back dramatically, the determined press of his lips to yours not at all disrupted by the change of angle, claiming your mouth in ways that made you shudder and stirred flames in your belly.

Years and years later, you’d recall that kiss and realized an amazing thing; how it felt just like your first kiss, your last one, and every single one in between.

With you still practically horizontal, Steve’s crinkling eyes met yours, delighted smile on his kiss-swollen lips.

“I love you, Mrs. Rogers,” he hummed, adding a cheeky grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“The horror,” you muttered back teasingly, pulling at his nape, demanding another kiss, your own declaration whispered to his mouth. “I love you too, Mr. Rogers.”

And you did. Gosh, you did.

S.R. masterlist

(divider by firefly-graphics)

Well. This turned out SO DIFFERENTLY than I anticipated and SO MUCH LONGER. If you feel like leaving feedback, I’ll be grateful. If not, well. *shurgs*

Excuse me while I go and continue dreaming of ONE fictional man. Ugh. Anyway.

Thank you for reading!

And once again, thanks to WIYBUPT for hosting and for just being awesome in general :)

#catfa 10th anniversary challenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #barton reader #barton reader fic #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers fafiction #steve rogers fanfic #my timid hello my clumsy goodbye #anika ann

216 notes · View notes

hrtthrbromanov · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Boy

summary - Its been a long, long time.

word count - 3033

Warnings - smut, fluff, maybe angst if you squint?

Notes - Hi! I cannot write smut, so I’m deeply sorry about that. I just wanted to try my hand at it. However, if you do have any requests for future works please let me know ! I’d be more than happy to write it.

________________________________________________________________

Two years.

It's been two years since the incident in Lagos. Two years since the team split. Two years since you've seen him.

You run your palms nervously up and down your thighs, the friction doing little to subside your nerves. Your mind was spinning, thinking of everything that could happen. Everything that could go wrong. You were pissed, sure, but just the thought of seeing him again made you cram whatever petty thing you wanted to say to him in the far corner of your mind.

‘What if he doesn't want to see me too? What if we can't put this past us? What if-’

“We're here.”

Your debilitating thoughts stop at once. You stand, forcing yourself over to the window. Everything was so beautiful. So advanced. You can't wrap your head around it all. You thought pointing out everything you saw was a good way to ground yourself and quell the anxiety, but once you felt the jet lowering to the ground, your nervous habits got to you again, and you have to will yourself to not wring your hands raw.

“It's going to be okay, Lady Y/N.” A firm hand was placed on your shoulder as Thor offered you a few words of encouragement. You smile up at him, tight lipped and nostrils flared, still not convinced.

“Yeah, what's the worst that could happen? They call you a traitor, turning their backs on you and never speak to you again?”

You turned to face the talking raccoon, scrunching up your face in confusion. “I really should've skinned you a long time ago.” You retorted, tugging at his ears as he pawed at you in protest. “Cut it out, you're gonna give me tetanus, you rat.” You giggle, briefly forgetting about your impending thoughts.

“I am groot.”

“Yeah, what he said. Suck it, Y/N.” Rocket hisses, pulling away from your assault. You went to reply, but before you could you felt the ground shudder below you. ‘We've landed.’ You realize. You quickly smooth down your suit, going over yourself one last time. ‘Whatever happens, happens.’ you reason with yourself. You felt a gush of wind rush past you as the doors of the ship opened, revealing tall, eccentric buildings, complemented with a deep blue sky.

You hold your breath as you step out of the ship, unsure of what to expect. You let out your breath when the palace came into view. Your heart thudded in your chest when you made out a huddle of people right in front, no doubt waiting for you. Taking it a step at a time, you made your way over. As you neared the group you could make out Rhodey, Bruce, Natasha, Bucky, and Steve.

“Two fossils in one place? I didn't know this was a paleontologist convention.”

As if on cue, they all turned to face you and you could've sworn the world stopped for just a second. You didn't know what to do so you just stood there, offering a meek smile.

“Who you calling fossil, dollface?”

Bucky was the first to approach you, his arms open and a grin you missed so much on his face. You threw your arms around his neck as he encased you with his, squeezing nearly all you had left in you out. The hug ended all too soon as another pair of hands was pulling you two apart.

“Share some with the rest of us, hog.”

It was Nat. Your smile only grew upon seeing her. She pulled you into her, her hand going to cradle your head. “It's been too long,” she mumbled into your ear. You nodded against her, pulling back slightly to take in her face.

“Hey, Y/N.”

A small but unmistakable voice called from behind you. You pull away from Natasha's embrace to greet Bruce. He looked as nervous as you felt. “Now here's a face I haven't seen in a while. How you doing, big man?” You attempted to ease him as you took him in your arms.

“I've had better days,” he said, the reply muffled by your shoulder. He patted your back as a friendly gesture after you escape from his hold. His expression became softer, as if he were more sure of himself now.

“I hope you weren't thinking you could skip me.”

You turned to Rhodey to see his smug grin. You grabbed his hand in yours as he clasped a hand on your back. “Now why would I have such a thought,” you chuckle as he stepped back.

This left one person. The one person you haven't heard speak since you set foot in Wakanda. You knew he wanted to say something, to scoop you into his arms and say sorry, how he wished it'd never had happened, how he shouldn't have let you go. You could feel his eyes burning a hole into your head. Mustering all the courage you had, you turn to face him. But before you could say anything, a booming voice sounded from behind you.

“Bruce and friends! Come look at my ship!”

You could hear Rocket bickering with Thor about how it was his ship, not Thor's, and how he was just some homeless pirate who needed to take a hike. You roll your eyes as everyone made their way over to take a closer look. Everyone but Steve. You two stood there, neither one of you making a move to speak. The silence wasn't normal for you two, uncomfortable even, so you said the first thing that came to your mind when looking at his face.

“So, did you just not have razors, or were you going for a new look?”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief, followed by a chuckle soon after. He stood up taller before he spoke, “You know, I thought I'd look cool, but now, I just feel.. old.” It was nice falling back into your silly exchanges, especially after such a time apart. The ache in your heart slowly dissipated as you looked into his eyes. You grin, tilting your head to the side, “Well, it's about time. You're only 70 years too late.”

Steve threw his head back as laughter erupted from his throat. As his laughter came to a stop, he was the one to pull you into a hug. You melt into his arms, taking in his scent as you bury your nose into his chest. You missed this. You missed him.

You held each other in silence for what seemed to be an eternity until he said it first.

“I missed you.”

“Getting all sentimental on me now, old man?”

“Y/N..” he chuckled at your attempt to minimize your feelings, though, by his eyes, you could tell it was no joke to him.

“I know, I know. I.. I missed you too, Steve. Man, I have thought about this moment for a long, long while. I-I don’t even remember everything that I wanted to say.” You were stumbling over your words, emotions getting too thick, it’s evident in your voice.

“Hey,” Steve ran his hands up and down your arms to soothe you, “we don’t have to talk about this. Not right now, at least. Let’s just catch up. Enjoy being back.” He smiles, and this time you could see the genuine happiness and relief in his eyes. He was gorgeous without even trying, and you’d punch him later for it.

“I’d like that. Thank you, Steve.” Your breathing finally evened and your words flowed once again. He never pushed you, and for that, you were grateful.

“But I do have to ask..”

“Steeeeve..”

“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s just been eating at the back of my mind. According to Rhodey, you left a note on the fridge six months ago saying ‘brb’?” He used air quotes to punctuate your silly informalities.

You laugh softly, looking down, “I called up some old friends, told them I needed a getaway, traveled the galaxies for a bit..”

“And Thor?”

“You know, we just got him a whole, I don’t know, two hours ago, but man has he eaten literally everything in the ship.”

You two share a laugh as you looked over to see Bucky berating the raccoon as he tried to pry his metal arm from his body.

“Should we leave them to it?” Steve looked back to you. His eyes fluttered over your face, taking in every detail. He left deliberate glances to your lips with no attempt to act on anything. You roll your eyes playfully, “Yeah, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

—————————————————————

“It’s so beautiful.”

You and Steve had made your way into the palace, now standing in a room high above the colony. You were looking out of the windows, which touched from floor to ceiling, still stunned by the advancement of Wakanda.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

You could feel Steve’s presence behind you now. Even from behind, you could feel his eyes rake over your body. He was trying to memorize every curve, every muscle, every ripple in your skin.

You turned to face him, as he didn’t seem as infatuated with sightseeing, more so interested in you. You tilted your head to the side as you caught the longing look in his eyes. “I was talking about this place. Wakanda.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“That may be what you’re talking about, sweetheart, but I was talking about something twice as stunning.”

“Always such a charmer, Steven?” You rolled your eyes at his sickeningly sweet attempt to woo you. You didn't want to admit it, but even after all this time he still had hold of your heart.

The wind was pulled from your lungs as he grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled you flush against his body. Your eyes found his as he studied you more intently now. His grip on you not letting up, as if he was afraid you’d run or disappear.

His face was closer now, his breath fanning your face as he spoke, “I miss you. I want you.” His voice came out as a low grumble, vibrating your entire body.

“And as much as I miss you, I think I want the old cap back. What do you say we get rid of that bear growing on your face? Don’t get me wrong, it’s sexy, but..”

“I get it, I get.” Steve chuckled as he pulled back, but not before placing a faint kiss to your lips, the feeling lingering just a little longer as he turned away, making his way to the bathroom.

You stood there for a second, watching him disappear into the bathroom as you contemplate your next move. Once you realized he wasn’t going to come back for you, you hastily made your way after him, eager to be close to him again.

Steve’s body hovers over the bathtub, adjusting the temperature of the steady flow pouring into the tub. You move to stand behind him, your fingers running up his sides and he shivers, leaning into your touch a bit. Your lips find their way to his neck, placing careful kisses along the curve of it, all the way down to his shoulder.

“You gonna let me take care of you, Cap?” Your voice comes out soft, and you’re almost embarrassed because of it. But you knew it didn’t really matter, because you knew he loved it. He turns to face you, grinning like the cocky shit he’d become as he caged you in against the bathroom sink.

“S’that what you want, sweetheart? To take care of your captain?” You shiver as his hands slide their way up your shirt, caressing your skin lightly. You roll your eyes, biting down on your bottom lip, trying to hide the smirk that desperately wanted to escape. You knew what he was getting at, and honestly, two could play that game.

“Yes, captain.” Your response doesn’t take any thought, and neither does his next move as he pulls your shirt over your head, flinging it into the corner of the room. You give his shirt the same treatment, and he chuckles as you struggle to pull it over his broad shoulders. He gives you some help, taking it off the rest of the way. You let your eyes travel down his chest while your hands go up it, and his hands find their way to the clip of your bra. Your back arches as he unclips your bra, letting it slip down your arms and onto the floor. He audibly growls and you laugh, pushing him back a little. You begin to wiggle your way out of your pants, never breaking eye contact with him. “Come on, Steve. I’ve never known you to be this slow. You can keep up, can’t you?” You tease him, giggling as you watch his eyes grow darker. Stepping out of your pants, your panties are the next to go. You can feel the nerves bubble in your chest, but it just makes this moment all the more exciting.

You saunter over to the bathtub, stepping in and lowering yourself down slowly. You quirk an eyebrow up at him, silently telling him to get on with it. You settle yourself into the water, hissing at the feeling of the warmth that covered your aching body. Before you know it, the water was rippling once again as his much larger body made its way into the tub with you. You watched him for a second before scooting down towards him, and he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his lap.

“Missed your pretty face..” Steve nuzzles his nose into your neck and you giggle, bringing your hands up to run your fingers through his hair. You shift so you’re straddling his lap, your hands resting on his broad shoulders, pushing him back gently to rest against the wall. You let your hands travel to his beard, smirking as your fingers tangle themselves in it. You reach for the clippers resting on the side of the bathtub, tilting your head as you eye him, curiously.

“I don’t know if I actually want it gone so soon.. It’s startin’ to grow on me. Maybe just a little trim.”

“Maybe… Maybe you let me take what's mine first.”

“Just as impatient as always.. Relax, golden boy.” He snorts at that, letting his fingers run up your sides, occasionally dipping below the water. You just hum, running the razor carefully over the hairs of his face. Before you could make a move, you felt his hands on your hips, hoisting you out of the water. Your yelp of surprise turned into a quiet whimper when you felt his hardening member graze the inside of your thigh. “S-Steve..” He shushes you, his half lidded eyes running over your form, causing you to shiver in his hold. “It can wait. I need you, babydoll.” His voice comes out in a thick, slurred drawl. You roll your eyes, setting down the blade.

“You’re lucky I don’t knick you with that.” Your threats are empty, of course, and he knew that too. It was all in good fun. The fun was cut short when the breath was knocked out of your lungs as he thrusts into you with no warning. You whimper, hands flying up to his shoulders as your nails dig into his skin. You bite your lip to hold in a moan as he slowly pulls back out.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. Want to hear you. Hear how much you missed me.” his thumb comes up to your mouth, pulling on your lip until you release it. He then takes that as a go ahead to resume, lifting his hips up and pushing back into you. He lets his head fall back against the wall with a thud, his mouth falling open. “Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. You been savin’ this pussy for me?” he growls, taking on a brutal pace, making the water slosh up and over the side of the tub.

You nod vigorously in response, nails raking down his chest. “Yes, sir. Waited for you.” You whine, bouncing up and down to meet the powerful thrusts of his cock. “That’s right, babydoll. This pussy is mine. And mine only.” his eyes are dark as he watches where you connect.

His mouth goes to your neck, kissing you gently, a nice contrast to everything else. Bringing your hands up to his face, you pull him away from your neck and up to your face, capturing his lips in a deep kiss. He wastes no time sliding his tongue past your lips, yours immediately submitting to him.

Suddenly, you cry out into his mouth as you feel his thumb on your clit, flicking harshly. “Steve, steve please.” your hand goes to his wrist, holding it in place to chase that feeling. He smirks against your lips, pulling away.

“Use your words, princess. What do you want, huh?”

He’s driving you mad, and in any other instance you’d leave to finish off yourself just to spite him, but you need him. “Please let me cum, steve. M’so close.” you pant, grinding against him. He gives you what you want, pushing on your clit just a little bit harder, sending you over the edge. You squeeze around his cock, taking him with you. He moans, holding you in place as he cums deep inside of you and you squeal.

“Steven! You know i don’t use birth control, you dumbass!” You quickly pull off of him, stepping out of the tub. You grab a towel, wrapping it around yourself. You turn around to glare at him, head tilted as if to wait for an explanation.

He laughs, stepping out after you. “Just doing what I should've done a long time ago, doll. Gotta make you mine. We’ll work out the details as time goes, but I want this with you. I don’t want to leave again.” Your face softens as you nod, walking into his arms, laying your head on his chest. “I want it too. Whatever it is. Promise we’ll stick together this time? No matter what?”

“I promise.”

#steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers x reader smut #smut #marvel #avenger #bucky barnes x reader #bruce banner #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #nomad steve

229 notes · View notes

olivarryprompts · 3 years ago

Text

Fanfic Friday #11

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I post a new here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/33567529

{fancy suits from dad}

Ships: Peter Stark & Tony Stark, Pepper Pots/Tony Stark

Warnings: swearing, just fluff otherwise :)

Wc: 2,319

Here’s the thing, Peter Parker grew up in Stark Tower, which eventually became Avengers Tower of course. So whilst his whole class was buzzing about their field trip, all he could think was, “shit, shit shit.” His dad was going to embarrass the hell out of him. His Aunts and Uncles were going to endlessly tease him.

So, no Peter was not looking forward to the field trip. Not in the slightest. He still wanted to go, though. He knew that the rumors of his internship being fake were started by Flash, the annoying teen. He also knew that Flash had not once said his real name, preferring the name Penis Parker. It didn’t bother him as much as it used to. Also since highschool began, Flash had calmed down with his bullying. Well, maybe Flash hadn’t calmed down and high school was just bigger and he had thicker skin. And a new support system with plenty of people to go to.

Peter had been adopted by the Starks when he was a mere ten years old. At first, he was terrible at receiving any gifts or even too much attention. Slowly but surely, he got more and more used to it. Now, he wouldn’t not know what to do if any of that was taken away. Plus, he really did find a liking for expensive suits, however shallow. He looked good in them, and his father always insisted on buying him more and more. Tony would always find an excuse to spoil the kid a little more, however much Pepper tried to stop him.

“Peter, please see me after class regarding an urgent matter.”

Brough out of his thoughts, Peter swiftly nodded his head.

He looked at the board to see the words from before still written on them, “Field Trip to Stark Industries!” It might as well have said, “Dig Peter Stark’s Grave!”

“So, let’s get started with today’s lesson, graphing imaginary numbers on the complex plane!” He’d done this one a while back with his father. Something about not only learning applicable science and engineering. Peter tapped his glass, and the episode of Arrow he’d been watching on the car ride over began playing. He’d be ever grateful for his father’s gift of EDITH to him. Pepper had tried to ban him from wearing them to school, but hastily gave up when Peter pulled the spiderman danger card.

“Alright, class dismissed. Please remember to do this homework pages 11-18 on this unit’s homework handout.”

Peter, forgetting his teacher's previous request, was very glad to be on his way home. He was one foot out of the door when the teacher called his name. Now, his day had gone pretty well up to that point. Bucky made pancakes for breakfast, which were delicious. There was wayyy less traffic on the way to school. He’d aced an essay and a couple of quizzes, and then he even participated in PE effectively. But alas, all good things had to come to an end.

“Mr. Parker? The discussion.”

“Right,” Peter thought, joining the teacher at his desk.

“Peter, you are truly a great kid. I know you’ve been through a lot recently and in your life, but it is no excuse to make up an internship. We both know that it is not real. Now, acknowledging that you have a bright future, the administration and I have come forward with an offer. If you agree to write an apology, expressing that you understand what you did was wrong and immoral, you will both be allowed to come on the trip and no punishment will be given to you. If you choose to not take this opportunity, you will be banned from the trip and will be chastised.

Peter just stood there, not really comprehending. Apparently Flash’s little rumors were a lot bigger than he anticipated.

“I-i-I’m not lying,” was all he could manage. He had filed all the right paperwork and proved his internship.

“I’m sorry to hear that you will not come forward with the truth. You have up until the day before the trip to hand in the letter if you change your mind. Goodbye Peter.”

Peter just let his legs take him out of the classroom, then out of the school, and then to the road, a couple blocks away, where his dad picks him up from.

“Hello mini-me.”

“Hey,” Peter said, jumping into the passenger seat.

“‘Hi Dad, thanks so much for taking time out of your busy schedule to pick me up each and every day. Sick new car by the way! I’d love to drive it sometime!”

Peter just rolled his eyes with a smile, “Car looks great dad. McLarren’s are superior yet.”

“Ungrateful, so so ungrateful. What’s got you in a mood then?”

“Nothin,” Peter said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh come on, tell me. Tell me or I’ll call Ted.”

“Ned, Dad. We’ve been friends for like three years.”

“Not the point.”

“Just something at school.”

“Wow how very descriptive. You know I’m trying to do the whole feelings thing here, and you should appreciate that coming from my emotionally stunted self.”

“You’re so dramatic. Basically we’re having a field trip to your tower, and I’m not allowed to go because the teacher doesn’t think I really have an “internship.” Which, to be fair I don’t but that’s on you and not me.”

“Nah na na. I offered you an internship, and you said I’d be bored.”

“It would be. Doing a project for your company under strict supervision of some person would be sucky. I mean I can do anything I want from the lab you built me.”

“I know, but remember technically you are my intern. Remember we did that whole personal intern bullshit for the school.”

“Oh right. Is that why you keep harassing me about submitting all my completed projects.”

“No, that’s all your mother. Something about not wanting a lawsuit over a fake internship.”

“Make sense. She tends to be a lot smarter than you.”

“Ah, I feel so attacked. The abuse I suffer.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I am internally crying, kid. Sobbing.”

“Shut up,” we laughed.

“Who’s home?”

“You saw Buck and Sam this morning. Nat and Steve came back from their mission this afternoon. Thor and Loki are back for dinner tonight.. Strange might be coming round, not sure though. Cliff and the family aren’t back for at least a couple weeks. Oh and Bruce is wholed up in his lab as usual.”

“Shit. Everyone staying till the end of the week.”

“Yeah, oh the field trip. You’re screwed. You should have not told me.”

“Ughhhhh!!!”

“I love your life Petey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen and saw Steve reading a newspaper.

“Uncle Steve! Your back!” he smiled, dropping his bag off near the sofa. Steve got up to give the smaller boy a hug.

“Yep. Mission completed.”

“Nice. Can you tell me about it?”

“Yeah, it was nothing too interesting. We just needed some more intel into a terrorist organization stationed in the US. Most of the mission was recon. The next steps are being taken in a couple weeks.”

“Good to know there’s an active terrorist organization out there,” Peter said lightly.

Steve just smiled, not quite understanding the modern humor.

“Where is everyone else?” he said, realizing the living room was not in it’s normal chaotic state that he’d come to love. The chaos was his favorite reminder that he had so many people. He liked having lots of people, even after all this time.

“Nat and Buck are training, they invited you to join if you want. Bruce is in his lab, and dont worry he slept and ate last night. Not sure about the rest.”

“Right, thanks. I think I’m going to go train.”

Before he knew it, it was Friday morning, and his school was coming to his home. He was going to try very hard to ignore them. To do so, he asked his mum to let him sit in on some meetings. He had an easy in to the R&D and mechanical side of the company via the other interns. He was actually planning on hanging out with some of the “other” interns later that day. They were always happy to let Pete in on their projects and let him give them a hand. But he was always interested in getting more detail about the business side of the company, and he liked to get a window into it. Pepper was always happy to show her son the ropes. I mean he was heir to the company after all, even if he didn’t know yet.

He asked his mum to only schedule meetings after 12 as he requested a sleep in. Pepper was always happy when Peter slept as he was a little too much like his father. So, he woke bright and early at 11:00 o’clock.

After a scroll through his phone and a quick shower, he was ready to pull on his far too expensive Brunellio’s custom suit. It was one of his favorites. His father had got it custom made when he was in Italy, and told him he simply could not resist getting one for the kid. Pepper just smiled.

He had a large breakfast (enhanced metabolism) and headed towards the 34th floor where his first meeting was located. He’d been shadowing his mum for almost a year now whenever it was convenient, so he had the rointine down. He was almost sure he could take over a few of her meetings.

“Hi honey,” Pepper said, giving the boy a quick kiss on the cheek on the way to her own chair beside him. Peter blushed before resuming his professional posture and facial expression.

“Good morning everyone, as you can see Peter will be joining us today. I want to talk about some of the services we provide for our employees and their feedback. I’m aware we have a large portion to talk about so Kendra please take it away on that front.”

The first meeting went smoothly as planned. It was a discussion on the progress of the internal services, aka the IT department. Peter hadn’t learned much about their IT department, so it was good to listen in to. Pre these meetings, he, of course, does research into the background stuff, so he’s not completely lost. Pepper’s assistant usually provides him with a packet of info about the Stark Industries side of things. He is also given a list of key words and concepts he might want to make sure he understands. The research is fun for him, it makes him feel all professional.

Usually he spoke during the meetings, asking a couple questions and suggesting some ideas, but for this one he just learned and took in. The next meeting, however, was very much so his field. He’d spoken a lot with advertising, becoming very interested in the data analysis behind it. He even took a stats class so he could keep up. In that one he asked questions Pepper was on the verge of asking twice. He also contributed to the analysis of data once. Pepper usually liked him to participate as it was good for him, but he always felt bad suggesting stuff to the senior adults. He usually spoke to his mum or dad about projects for the company, preferring that.

They hung back in the room of the second meeting.

“Good job in this one Pete. Took two questions right off my tongue.”

“Thanks ma,” he said, always appreciating some approval.

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, kid. Rest of the stuff is, ya know.”

“Course. Thanks for these two. It was good to learn about internal affairs a bit more. Have a gap of knowledge there.”

“Yeah. Was that the first time meeting our CIT?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, next time we have a broader IA meeting, I’ll pull you outta school,” Pepper suggested.

“Really? That’d be epic.”

“Course, hun. Jarvis, sort that out please.”

“Of course Mrs. Potts.”

“Thanks J,” Peter yelled.

“Anytime mini-boss. No need to disturb the entire floor.”

“Are AI supposed to be so snarky?”

“Dad programmed it, what else would it be?”

“Valid point.”

“Right, got to run. See you later.”

“Bye, love you mum!”

“Love you too, Pete.”

“Jarvis, could you send me the tour plan for the visiting tour today?”

“Absolutely, sir. They’re on your phone now.”

“Thanks J.”

Looking at the plans Peter smiled. He had successfully avoided them the entire day. It said they were supposed to head back to school at 2:30, and it was about to be three. Smile on his face, he trotted down to the lobby to grab a coffee before going to meet Loki at the arcade. Don’t judge them, it was their thing. Taking the private lift down, and then walking straight to the coffee stand and ordering.

“Mr. Parker!” he heard the angry voice of his teacher, “How dare you show up here aft-”

Shit. shit. Shit.

“Edith, call dad, and tell him it’s urgent in the lobby.”

“Of course Peter.”

“Peter, are you listening to me! You are going to face extreme consequences for this.”

“Your coffee,” the man said, not realizing it was Peter, level ten personal of the tower, that was being yelled at.

“Thanks.”

“How dare you get coffee! In this building! Security!”

Tony arrived spotting his son instantly.

“Kid this best be impor- I see.”

“Hey Mr. Stark,” Peter said weakly.

“Mr. Harrington is it? Please stop harassing my intern.”

“H-he, he is y-your intern?”

“Yes. My favorite. Please exit the building and never question him again. You will be hearing from me.”

Let’s just say, Monday was an interesting day. At least Flash backed off, he was definitely an intern at SI, and no one embarrassed him on the trip.

#peter parker field trip #irondad #ironfam #iron man #tony stark #pepper potts #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #avengers fanfiction #the avengers #mcu fanfic #bucky barnes #domestic avengers

43 notes · View notes

harryspet · 5 years ago

Note

Could you possibly write some dark Bucky Barnes ? Maybe the reader is super innocent and he takes advantage of it?

party princess | bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark bucky barnes x innocent reader, natasha x reader (sort of), nanny reader, manipulation, affair, drunk consent (dubcon?), little editing

A/N: I’m gonna be honest and say that I basically DNF’d this one-shot after working on it for awhile. I liked the idea at first but then towards the middle my interests in it got a little iffy. anyways, I hope you can still enjoy it for what it is. I’ll def try to write more stories like this in the future!

In which married Bucky takes advantage of the birthday party princess.

word count: 2.5k

“Okay, let’s see, who wants to have their wish granted?”

The crowd of first graders erupted but you quickly held up your hands to shush them, “Before I can use my magic on any of my little friends, I have to make sure you’re all good little girls and boys. How many of you are kind to your friends and listen to your Mommies and Daddies?”

Hands raised and you smiled, “That’s very good, my friends. If you want to be a princess like me or a prince, then are certain things you have to do. Princess’s are polite, kind, and most important of all …” A hush fell over the crowd as they listened patiently before you suddenly exploded with giddiness, “They like to sing and dance! Will you sing a song with me, friends?”

Bucky watched from behind the glass door as you twirled around on the terrace. He sipped at his bottle of beer, noting how your eyes lit up as the group of children gather around you. They wanted to touch your ball gown and have you tap them with your fairy wand so you could grant their wishes. You seemed to be in your element and you hadn’t fallen out of character once as you pranced around in your fairy princess costume. It was a character from the latest Disney junior show that his daughter had recently fallen in love with and Natasha had the idea of hiring a party princess for her fifth birthday party.

Both Natasha and Bucky were surprised when you volunteered to do it. You loved makeup and the idea of making their daughter’s birthday spectacular seemed like fun. Besides, you had only been nannying with the Barnes family for a couple of weeks and you wanted to make even more of a good impression.

“I’m starting to think she actually has magic,” Natasha commented, and Bucky turned to see her placing candles on their daughter’s birthday cake, “I can barely handle our baby girl alone and yet she’s tamed fifteen of them.”

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Bucky smirked and Natasha grinned, lighting the candles.

“Keep it in your pants for now,” Natasha stated slyly, “C’mon Daddy, let’s sing happy birthday.”

As he opened the sliding door for Natasha, she rolled out the cake and the entire terrace erupted with singing. Bucky joined along, of course, watching as his daughter grabbed your hand and dragged you over to the cake. You sang happily, encouraging her to blow out the candles and make a wish when the song had ended.

Natasha took a million pictures of you and, out of the corner of your eyes, you could feel Mr. Barnes’ gaze on you. You hoped that meant you were doing a good job. Keeping a smile on your face for that long was quite a lot of work. You watched as the birthday girl ran up to her father and he swung her in his arms.

You had already noticed what a beautiful family they were and how incredibly lucky they were to live in such a nice part of town. You hoped to have something like this one day and to find someone as attentive as Mr. Barnes. You were holding a little girl in your lap as she was asking if you personally knew Mulan before you heard a gagging noise.

Before you knew it, icing colored vomit was dripping down the bottom of your dress.

Her mother came quickly, swooping the little girl from your arms, “I’m so so so sorry! She must’ve had too much cake,” You only smiled, trying to hide any disgust that you felt.

“It’s okay,” You stood, making sure the little girl wasn’t embarrassed, “Even princess’s get tummy aches. Besides, I have lots of dresses in my castle.”

You felt a hand on the small of your back and turned to see Mr. Barnes, “The princess will be back in just a moment,” He spoke to the crowd of first graders as if to say that he’d personally help out with your accident.

“I’m just going to return to my castle for a moment, friends” You assured the little ones with a smile, as Bucky helped you with the long train of your dress. Natasha had spent a fortune on the dress just to make sure it was realistic. He helped you inside, and as the sliding glass door closed, you let out a breath of air.

Your smile fell a little though you didn’t want to appear completely tired in front of Mr. Barnes. One hand carrying your train and the metal one on your back, he led you towards the master bedroom. At first, you blushed but then you realized that was probably where the most room was.

“You looked like you were having fun out there,” Bucky commented.

“It’s nice making them smile,” You spoke earnestly and part of Bucky told him to beware. You were too pure for him to dip his fingers into yet he still wanted to taste you.

“Do you want to take off your dress?” Bucky smiled evilly as your eyes widened and your cheeks heated with embarrassment.

It took a minute for you to realize what he was actually asking, “W-Well, the show must go on, right? I think I can just try to wipe it with a wet washcloth and hope for the best. I don’t want to let this ruin the party.”

Bucky nodded though he added, “My daughter loves you so I doubt you could ever ruin anything.” That made you genuinely smile because you knew then that the impression you were trying so hard to make was definitely good. Natasha had even said you deserved a raise before you’d gotten thrown upon.

Bucky led you into the bathroom before he retrieved a washcloth and ran in under the sinkwater for you. You couldn’t help but admire the luxury of it all, the tall ceilings and the chandelier that hung. You could fit the size of your entire apartment in their bathroom.

You sat down on the tub and began to scrub at your dress, “I really appreciate you guys giving me a chance. I know I didn’t have as many qualifications as the other girls,” Bucky knew you’d be grateful for that. Your interview with them was good and Natasha liked your personality but Bucky wanted you because of your beauty and youth.

“You’re a hard worker, Y/N,” You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue like you could hear the satisfaction in each syllable. “Natasha and I were thinking … I’m not sure she’d want me to mention it yet-”

“What were you thinking?” You looked up with curious eyes, “I mean, of course, you don’t have to tell me, sorry.”

Be patient with her, Natasha had told him. But looking down at how the heart shape neckline of your dress exposed your breasts, patience was the last thing on his mind.

“We wanted you to stay with us, join our staff full time. Nat wants to start working more and it’s hard for both of us to keep up with things around the house.”

“Really?” You perked up, your eyes wide with excitement, “I’d love that. I’d love that so much, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky admired the light in your eyes and knew the power he held over your life. You wanted this job desperately since it was probably the best you were going to do. You’d probably do a lot to keep it as well.

“I’m sure Nat will be glad to hear it …. and you can call me Bucky, Y/N. Might as well drop the formalities if we’re going to be getting closer.”

Closer in proximity is what you thought he meant, “Sounds good, Bucky.”

It had been a few weeks since you’d moved into their luxurious home. It had been a complete dream especially with the huge pay raise that it had earned you.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Y/N?” You looked up abruptly from where you were wiping down the kitchen counter. Natasha was sitting down at the island, typing away at her laptop, while she looked you over. You still had paint on your hands and on your cheek from the painting session you had with her daughter. Now the little girl was down for her night and Natasha thought it was the perfect time to get some information, “I mean, you just never mention anyone.”

“I-I don’t,” Your cheeks heated from embarrassment, “Dating isn’t really … my thing.”

“Why’s that? You’re a lovely girl, Y/N.”

Why was she saying all this? Why the sudden curiosity? Was she worried you’d bring someone around her daughter?

“I-It’s just hard. With kids, I’m confident but, with adults, not so much.”

“Bucky used to be that way,” You weren’t expecting to hear about him, “When I met him, he was very closed off. He thought dating was still like it is in the ’40s. Sure, it’s nice to settle down but everyone these days is so … open. You know what I mean?”

You tilted your head to the side, “But you and Bucky settled down?”

“Yes, we love each other and I wanted kids so it made sense. But we still like to keep things interesting. We want to make sure each of us happy.”

“How … How do you do that?”

Natasha bit down on her lip as she thought for a moment, “Let’s have a glass of wine,” She spoke, getting up from her seat.

“Oh, I don’t drink,” You rushed out nervously, “I mean, I’ve never done it before.”

She was still moving towards the wine cabinet, “There’s a first time for everything, right? C’mon have a drink with your boss.” Your boss, right. She was speaking so casually that you had almost forgotten the line between you.

“Are you sure? What about-”

“Bucky won’t be home until late and the little one is fast asleep. We can have some girl talk, it’ll be fun. One glass won’t do any harm,” Natasha sat the two glasses on the counter before she started to pour you some red wine.

You’d probably be good after one glass but the universe didn’t work in your favor that night. There was a second after the first glass and now you were a giggling mess.

Natasha managed to reach into the deepest parts of your past and had you laughing at the same time. You were exactly as she had previously predicted. You had a sheltered life, you grew up disadvantaged but had religious parents. They shamed you into not doing a lot of things but Natasha manages to drill into you that “you shouldn’t be ashamed of anything you do”.

When Bucky strolled in later that night, he found you and Nat sprawled on the couch in the living room. Whatever plan Nat had was working on, it was clearly successful, “Bucky, honey, come sit with us!”

You set your glass down, realizing how comfortable you had gotten, “Don’t be shy now, Y/N,” Nat said to you as Bucky took a seat beside her, “Y/N was telling me about her love life.”

You stared at Nat in disbelief. You understood talking about this stuff with her because she was a girl but with Bucky? “It’s exciting, I hope. There are lots of people in New York.”

“A-Actually, I-”

Natasha placed a hand on Bucky’s leg, taking another sip of wine before saying, “She’s a virgin.”

Bucky looked you over with a smirk, “And I thought the fairy princess stuff was an act ... “

You weren’t sure if you should be offended so you only said, “It’s not like that. I still know things ... “

Natasha handed her glass of wine to Bucky before standing and walking to where you were sitting on the couch. She held her hands out to you and you took them hesitantly. She pulled you up so you were standing impossibly close to her, “How much do you know, honey?”

“I … “

“Don’t you want to learn some things? So you can please the man in your life?”

“You won’t be much use to your future boyfriend if you don’t know how to please him,” Bucky interjected, leaning forward.

You hadn’t even thought of it that way …Maybe it was the wine or something because you didn’t object to their words. “I don’t think I can ... “

Natasha still held your hands as she guided you over to where Bucky was sitting, “Of course you can,” Before you knew it, she was pushing you into his lap. You felt his hands tightening on your waist and you began to panic.

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes-”

“It’s okay,” Natasha grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at her as his cold hand roamed over your thigh, “We’re gonna help each other out. You can’t go the rest of your life without knowing how to please a man. How I please Bucky is with girls like you, understand?”

It was so far from anything you had ever experienced that you weren’t sure if you did understand. That didn’t stop Bucky from pressing his front to you, grabbing at your breast and rubbing circles against your nipples through your top, “Let me teach you, Y/N, I promise I won’t bite” He whispered into your ear and it must’ve been the wine that makes you whisper back, “O-Okay.”

You’d be lying if you said you never thought about Bucky in that way but the thoughts had never gone far because of Natasha.

Natasha stepped away from a small grin on her face. After Bucky got his hands on one of the innocent dolls like you, it seemed to turn him into a complete animal in bed, and Natasha loved dealing with the consequences, “Bucky’s going to be very gentle with you, honey. Just give a shout if you need anything.”

Bucky watched as his wife stepped away, knowing he liked to watch her go. He turned his head back to you, dipping his face into your neck, starting to kiss the sensitive area there. It sent fire through you, not only to your cheeks but all over your body, “What do you know about kissing, Y/N?” Again, he could tell you were only pretending as you stuttered over your response, “Then I’m your first?”

You nodded. Nat had really hit the jackpot. He was going to thank her really well later.

Bucky’s hand stroked your bottom lips for a moment, “Just relax,” You did your best but you couldn’t help but tense as he leaned into you and pressed his lips against yours. You thought it would be a short moment but his hands roamed over your bare legs as the tip of his tongue began to pry open your mouth.

You let him and soon you were trying to copy his movements by moving your mouth against his. When he finally did pull away, you thought you might have totally embarrassed yourself, “Was that bad?”

Bucky immediately shook his head, “You’re a natural, baby.”

i really wanted to write more but i kinda just lost inspo : / and I didn’t just want to not post it.

#mcu smut #marvel #dark fic #au #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes au #dark bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #buckynat #one shot #harryspetrequests

1K notes · View notes

alloftheblackwidowfeelings · 3 years ago

Note

Almost every reviewer on YouTube wasn’t satisfied with this movie IMO they said it was just Marvel combined some elements from other marvel movies so they could throw fans a BW movie so we could stfu, it didn’t do justice to the the character ,what do you think, is it really that bad.

To be honest, I've been working on this one for a while but I keep writing and deleting my response. Because all the things I want to say sound gatekeeper-y, in one of several ways.

I think you can be a Nat fan and not read the comics. I think you can be a Nat fan and never talk about her. I don't think you need to know everything about canon and be an "expert" to be a fan. I'm not interested in a locked-gate version of fandom. I don't think this movie should just be for die-hard Nat fans. And I don't think that all Nat fans will like this movie, for a variety of reasons.

Despite all of that, a lot of the comic book/movie expert reviews I've seen feel, to me, like they were evaluating a movie that isn't the one this movie was ever trying to be, and missing some of what the movie explicitly says it is because that doesn't fit what they want from it.

A bit more spoilery and a lot longer under the cut. I am so sorry I'm like this.

This movie felt tailor-made for me. Not because I loved every answer they gave, but because the questions they asked are ones I've been waiting to hear since 2012, when I first saw Avengers and then immediately went back to see the rest of phase 1. I think people disliking the answers is a legitimate opinion, and I'm looking forward to detangling that with people. What surprised me in reviews was not reviewers disliking the answers, which is legit, but not even seeming to realize the questions had been asked.

Most prominently, what felt like the huge thematic arc of the movie to me has been nonexistent in so many reviews that I've started to feel like I made it up, even though I took notes of exact quotes so I could reference them. The movie isn't a Nat origin story, and it's not about her as a cool edgy villain, so not seeing either of those didn't bother me. It's a movie about Natasha's trauma and how that manifests, and how her attempts to break free of it have harmed others in the past, and how she can move forward from that. We never get the key that unlocks the history of Natasha's past, so if you approach this as a puzzle box, it's going to fail.

THIS INDENTED PARAGRAPH IS THE CLOSEST I GET TO DIRECT PLOT POINTS, FEEL FREE TO SKIP

Specifically most of the reviews seem to view Nat's motivating guilt as over how she escaped the Red Room, particularly one casualty she deemed an acceptable sacrifice. But as I interpreted it, Nat's guilt in this movie came from a much closer place: the other Widows were all she'd had, and Nat being able to escape the Red Room made the Red Room hold on to the other Widows that much tighter. She thought she'd taken it down, but she was wrong. So her freedom, essentially, came at their expense. Natasha working to take down the Red Room this time is personal both to avenge her own trauma and to make up for her guilt in the Red Room still existing and creating more trauma for her peers. Without this context (and to be clear, I have gone back over the quotes several times to see if I'm misinterpreting and I really don't think I am), the idea that all of her guilt is over what she did to a single person makes more sense, but it also makes the movie a lot less interesting. If Natasha is justified in blaming Alexei and Melina for condemning her back to the Red Room, how could the other Widows not blame Nat? To me the entire story swings from that, and by not acknowledging Nat's (inadvertent but still very real) responsibility for continuing the cycle, the movie would feel hollow.

PLOT POINTS OVER.

Many critics they seem to feel like the potential this movie introduced was wasted because Nat's dead, so what's the point. First of all, the point is she's Nat and we care. It's not like we went in to Iron Man expecting that we'd have a decade of a franchise; we cared in the moment, and this movie is asking for the same thing. It delivers for over two hours of NOT murdering Natasha, which is more than I can say for Endgame.

To be clear, BW does set up other things for the MCU, and it's but if you're only watching it for what it's going to tell you about the future of the MCU (and I get it, because that's how I'm watching Loki, and it's a very different type of watching than I did for FATWS), this probably IS going to be a disappointment, because this isn't a big crossover event movie; I mean, none of Sam's "Big Three" show up at all. But again, that's about the movie someone wanted it to be, not the movie this was aiming to be.

Is this like a lot of other Marvel movies? Kinda. It's definitely taking a lot from Civil War for its set-up. Its arc felt like a close mirror of to Winter Soldier to me, to the extent that I'm planning to rewatch that on Thursday so I can see how much that's just me projecting my fave onto it. The third act is very Marvel-third-act-y, as adapted to Nat's character; the adapting to Nat's character are the parts I like and the rest is kind of what I consider the MCU price of admission.

I also kind of hate that it feels like the last few movies- Black Panther, Captain Marvel, now this and some rumblings about Shang-Chi- have all been kind of dismissed with "it's just the Marvel formula." It is, but that doesn't change the fact that different protagonists make it different. Dr Strange is pretty much just "Iron Man 1 with cool magic" and people didn't mind, but "how does this formula change when the protagonist is fundamentally different than the archetype to this point?" is apparently not different enough. I get Marvel fatigue, I really do, but for me it's tempered by how, in this case, Nat doesn't have the moral clarity Steve or Thor or even Tony or Scott has. No one in this movie lets her forget that she's a trained killer who little kids look up to.

Again: there are parts of this movie that don't work. I also don't ever ever EVER want to seem like I'm saying that if someone didn't like this movie they're not a real Nat fan or they're wrong. I know there are reasons to not love this movie, and I'm sure I'll figure out more the more I watch- it may not make me not love it, but it will at least complicate it for me, and i think we all know I live for that shit. Moreover, I intimately know how much it sucks when something you've been enthusiastic about and anticipating for ages doesn't pay off and everyone else seems to like it- it's isolating and upsetting and you just sit there wondering why no one else understands, and that's bullshit and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. People who don't like this movie are valid!

But if someone has a history of seeing Nat as just background, or considering her as a T&A deliver system more than as a character, or caring about hot women with guns but not care about the trauma that turned them into that, or saying they like movies about women but just not THIS woman for every comic book movie about a woman not there for them to ogle, or claiming to be experts in all things comics while doubling down on their theory that Yelena wouldn't appear because she was in Agent Carter (YES THAT HAPPENED, MORE THAN ONCE, THE NORTH. FUCKING. REMEMBERS. AND WISHES THEY KNEW WHERE THEY SAVED THOSE SCREENSHOTS), I don't need to weight their reviews heavier than the adrenaline rush I felt watching this movie.

So in answer to your question, I don't think the movie was really "that bad." I think this movie delivers in very specific ways, which definitely are not the flashy ones or the "every Marvel movie builds to the next great EVENT" ones or the male power fantasy ones, and if those ways aren't the ways you care about, it's going to be a disappointment. Even if those AREN'T the ones you care about, it could be a disappointment for any number of reasons, some of which I noticed during the movie and some of which I'm sure I'll be surprised to read about Friday morning.

But it wasn't one to me. For whatever it's worth, despite the movie's flaws, I loved it, I haven't stopped thinking about it in five days, I can't wait to see it again, and I hope that whether other people do or don't like it, they want to roll around in it as much as I do to pick out every single shred of canon worth overanalyzing.

If this is all we ever get for Natasha- and it is a CRIME if this is all we ever get for Natasha but that doesn't mean it's not so- I am grateful that this is what we got.

#allofthereplies #Anonymous #Black Widow movie spoilers #BW spoilers #I mean I tried to make this not that spoilery but I'm sure I didn't completely succeed #also warning for long post #extremely long post #again: I am so sorry I'm like this

31 notes · View notes

scarletdawnxx-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Nightmare Chapter 2

Continuation

When you finally woke back up it was dark out. Blinking you could see you were in the med bay. Sitting up and groaning, you grabbed your head, it was pounding and the bright lights weren’t helping.

“You really overdid it today,” Bruce said from behind you.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you dim the lights please,” you asked the A.I. that ran the complex. Instantly the lights dimmed and your brain thanked you. Bruce handed, what you suspected was something to sooth your throbbing head, along with a glass of water to you. Thanking him and taking it willingly.

“What happened in there today? That man will need a padded room for the rest of his life after you got to him.” Bruce asked, taking the glass from you and looking you over.

“I don’t know. I was able to feed him fear without touching him. That’s never happened before. I was able to magnify it, I felt his mind breaking in my hands.” You said looking down at your hands noticing a little dried blood on them.

“Your powers seem to be growing, but also looks like they are taking more out of you, you will want to work on not only mental but physical stamina. I’m going to suggest increased training time for you as well as meditation. But first, nurse what I can only guess is a massive headache, and get some rest.” Bruce said with a smile.

You nodded and hopped down from the table. Ignoring the hunger pains in your stomach and going straight to your room. Rushing to your bathroom you scrubbed your hands nearly raw trying to get the man’s blood and sweat off. You looked at yourself in the mirror, uncomfortable with what was staring back. You were never the type who wanted to hurt people, you had wanted to become a doctor for crying out loud. But today, you had enjoyed hurting that man, it made you feel powerful, strong. You liked hearing his screams. You turned your shower on, hoping it would clear your mind, sat on your bed in just your towel and fell back, too tired to move. You were woken by screams again. Bucky’s screams. You must not have been asleep long, because your hair was still damp, and your towel was still firmly wrapped around your body. Not bothering to put clothes on you quietly made your way to his room again and calmed his mind. This time was easier and didn’t take as much out of you. Your abilities were certainly growing.

In the weeks that followed you took Bruce’s advice and increased your physical and mental training. Seeing how far you could push your mind, body, and abilities. You no longer needed to touch someone to use your powers. Some you needed to at least be able to see to affect them, except Bucky now. You didn’t even need to be in the same room as him to quiet the nightmares. They were barely able to begin before you quieted them. Like an invisible thread held the two of you together now. His attitude had been changing. Like a weight was being lifted off of him. He smiled more, laughed more, joined the group as a whole more often. More and more you could feel all the hurt he had endured replaced with something else, a sense of calm and belonging. Natasha was the only one who knew the change in Bucky was your doing. That was until one night Steve caught you sitting outside of Bucky’s room. A Blanket draped across your lap, your nose buried in a paper about something called the X-gene. Wondering if it could be the key to understanding your abilities.

“What are you reading?” He asked, sitting down next to you, leaning against the wall.

“An interesting paper that could help explain why I am, the way I am,” you said, setting it down in your lap. “What are you doing up in the middle of the night?”

“Why are you sitting outside of Bucky’s room, looking like it's where you plan to sleep?” He asked back. You stared at him, not really sure what to say, looking down at your hands, almost feeling ashamed that you had been caught doing something wrong. “Does it have anything to do with the fact Bucky’s nightmares have almost stopped and I have been seeing my best friend come back? With what happened with the Hydra agent last month? The bruises on your neck?” You looked up at him shocked. How did he know about the bruises? Had Nat told him? “We saw them when you passed out. Bucky had caught you before you hit the ground and carried you to the med bay. We saw them as Bruce was looking you over. He knew you had been in his room, he knew he must have done it.” Steve explained.

“His screams had woken me, he didn’t know what he was doing, I didn’t want the team finding out, thinking he was crazy and a danger,” you offered.

“How many nights have you sat out here quietly taking care of him?” his eyes looked sad, like he had failed in some way.

“Not as often as when he first arrived.” You looked back down at your hands in your lap “I think I might be able to help him though, to end the nightmares once and for all. To remove what Hydra did.” You confessed. “I’ve been reading and developing my abilities. I think I could remove the programming.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to give him false hope?” Steve asked, searching your eyes.

“I want to at least try and help him. Steve the screams, what he feels all the time, it's overwhelming, like drowning all the time.” You closed your eyes, taking a steadying breath.

“You are a good person Y/N, even if your abilities scare me a little sometimes,” he joked, nudging you with his shoulder. “When do you think you would be ready to try?”

“Soon, do you think he will let me? I’ll have to take a walk around his mind, every thought, every memory, every emotion he has. I’ll know it and feel it all.” You asked.

“I don’t know, but we have to at least try.”

You both sat in silence for a little while longer before Steve bid you good night and headed back to his room. Bucky was deep in peaceful sleep, so you made your way back to your own bed. Would he let you help him?

Even without the invisible tether that you felt with him always, you two had grown close over the last month. He pushed you harder than anyone ever had in training. You were grateful to him for it. A friendship was blooming and he was more at ease every day, yet the nightmares always returned, and the constant threat of Hydra always lingered. As long as what they had done to him remained, he would always be at risk and you swore that he would never fall into their hands again and you would protect him at all cost.

Your powers had been steadily growing since the incident with the Hydra agent. You could now walk through someone’s mind like you were watching a movie. Nat had volunteered to let you practice on her, the first few times were difficult. She had lived so many lives through her spying it was hard to see what was true or not, but soon you could flush it all out and even learned how to plant false memories and change the emotions attached to others. You could even leave suggestions for future behavior. Essentially brainwashing them to do whatever you wanted. The first time it happened it made you sick. You erased it from Nat’s mind and felt like you had betrayed her, but if that information got out, that you could mind control people now, bend their minds to your will, there was no telling how people would weaponize that. You didn’t even trust Tony and Steve with that info. God forbid Nick Fury ever learn about it. You saw what being someone’s weapon did to a person and you would not let that happen to yourself.

A few months after that first night Steve caught you outside Bucky’s room he sought you out again, asking if you were ready to approach Bucky with your plan. The Hydra attacks had become more frequent and the last lead you had all those months ago you had unfortunately turned to mush and he was no use in figuring out their plans. He had been secretly sent to a mental facility and you had locked yourself away for a week after hearing the news. You wished you had never received this power, or learned how to use it. It was Bucky who finally pulled you out of the slump. Convinced you that if you didn’t learn to control it and accept it, it would eat away until there was nothing left of you.

“What if I make it worse, or I ruin his mind completely?” you worried to Steve.

“We have to at least try. I hate to say it but as long as his mind is susceptible to Hydra’s influence, he is a liability and in danger and I can’t lose him again.” Steve said, rubbing his hand along his face.

“Lose who?” you both turned and saw Bucky leaning in the open-door frame, arms and legs crossed, looking oh so casual.

“Hey Buck, what are you up to?” Steve asked, giving his friend a smile and hoping he hadn’t heard the conversation.

“Was just passing by,” he said with a shrug.

“Well since you are here there is something Y/N and I would like to talk to you about.” Bucky’s eyes flicked from Steve to you, and you wished the bed would swallow you whole.

“Sounds serious,” Bucky said with a tone that was trying to keep the mood light.

“Well as you know, Y/N powers have been growing, and we think her powers could help reverse what Hydra did to you.” Steve said hoping Bucky would agree without a fight.

“No.” he stated simply

“No?” Steve asked. “Buck we have a chance to get that crap out of your head and you say no?” he was getting angry.

“No, I’m not gonna let Y/N walk around my brain, she’s been through enough, I’m not going to expose her to the crazy that is in there,” He motioned to his head getting more heated. He knew she had been using her powers on him to quite the nightmares, he hoped that she hadn’t gone further than that, trusted her that she hadn’t gone further than that.

“That is shit Buck and you know it,” Steve yelled.

“Hey! Language.” You reprimanded him. “You two will not engage in a screaming match in my room.” You stood and placed yourself between the two super soldiers who were nearly chest to chest at this point. “James, I really think I could help you, I want to help you,” you said, turning to him and he just blinked at you. No one called him James, not in a long time, not even you. Always calling him Barnes or Sarge.

“You can’t know that for sure, I do want to be rid of this but what if it doesn’t work,” What if you can never look at me the same ever again. He wanted to say.

“Will you at least let me try?” You asked, searching his eyes. Forgetting that Steve was in the room anymore. All you felt and saw was Bucky. You wanted to reach a hand out to his face, to try and soothe and comfort him. Steve, however sensing he was not needed or really wanted, quietly slipped from the room.

“What if I hurt you again,” Bucky asked quietly.

“Hurt me, you have never hurt me.” You stated.

“That’s not true, we have never spoken about it, but I know those bruises on your neck were from me. I know you came into my room that night. What were you thinking, I could have killed you.” He sat down on your bed, shoulders hunched, looking at the ground, not able to meet your gaze.

“You did nothing wrong, you didn’t even know you were doing it, so deep in that nightmare. I couldn’t let you lie there and scream.” You said and stood in front of him. “If you don’t want to do this, that’s fine, we will find another way, but know that I will never let anyone or anything hurt you, not even the nightmares.” You said quietly.

Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly. This wasn’t the first time he had touched you. He had laid you flat out a few times in the training room, but this was more… intimate. He was so tired, tired of fighting, tired of not being able to trust himself or his mind. You placed a hand on top of his head and stroked his hair. “Please, let me try.” You asked again. “As long as what Hydra did to you is still in there, you will never find peace. I want to help you find peace and calm.”

“You have already,” he whispered. “I know you what you have been doing almost every night,” He admitted to you and you felt the guilt.

“I’m sorry, I know it is an invasion of privacy, I never went further than quieting the nightmares. I would never…violate you like that.” You told him.

“I know, you are a good person Y/N.” Bucky said looking up at you.

“I know that until Hydra is out of my head, I will be hunted and put the team at risk. If you think you can do this, then let’s do it. Just try not to make me any crazier than I already am” he said, giving in. You sighed in relief hugging him back, standing there and not letting go until he did.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #Avengers #reader insert #steve rogers #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #@mjaudrey @impala1967666 #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #captain america #black widow #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

theawkwardterrier · 4 years ago

Note

8+25 for a Steggy drabble

Amicus Curiae

Summary: Spending her Sunday watching high school students argue the same fake case is starting to seem like something Judge Carter might regret, until the Brooklyn Community High School team shows up. Or rather, until their teacher does...

Peggy is perfectly aware why she had volunteered for this. She knows why she should be proud and excited to be here, can mentally list through all the positives, the importance of it.

By her fourth session of the day, she has given up reminding herself of these things and is just hanging on.

It isn’t that the students are terrible - many of them are actually quite good. It’s only that listening to the same case being argued repeatedly over the course of several hours has the tendency to put a bit of strain on a person.

Perhaps it is especially grating because she had specifically only signed up to work for the morning today; she was planning on indulging in some actual relaxation over this weekend, or at least a bit of it after she had finished giving the keynote at the Women and Law conference on Saturday and spending Sunday volunteering, then finishing up on some work, and so long as her neighbors’ newborn actually took a break from indulging in a seeming undying passion for crying….

Well, not being around to listen to that was one blessing of having been begged by the very harassed tournament organizer to stay for a bit of extra time when Thompson had begun vomiting after lunch and needed to go home (Peggy can’t say she’s sorry about it, and she suspects that students will appreciate not having to put up with his tendency to pontificate).

Still, it’s hard to remember all the benefits, the meaningful logic, when the next set of teams has settled into her courtroom and she has to push back her shoulders and enter for yet another round.

“Just one more to get through. I’ll text the café and put in an order for your usual,” Rose mutters out of the corner of her mouth as Peggy passes, then raises her voice to announce, “All rise, the superior court of New York is now in session. Judge Margaret Carter presiding.”

Peggy scans the crowd absently as she gives her now-standard introductory speech. There are Zola and Schmidt, who have served as faculty coach and legal advisor for Hydra High over the past several years. She doesn’t envy the students on their team; the two might have a fairly steady winning record, but their personalities are miserable and they have a reputation for being harsh leaders.

Her gaze shifts to the other side. She’s never even heard of Brooklyn Community, guesses that they have never made out of preliminary rounds before. They are serving as the prosecution, with two young women and a young man as their attorneys. The three have their hands folded atop the table, listening to her attentively, but as she wraps up, she notices them sneaking glances toward their chaperones.

She is almost certain that they aren’t looking for reassurance from the lawyer accompanying them. She knows Howard Stark, although then again everyone does. He hasn’t argued before her, but he takes high profile cases and makes them even higher profile. If he wasn’t actually a talented and thorough attorney, she would dislike him quite a lot for how well he plays the media game, turning the law and people’s lives into sound bites and cable news clips. It’s a surprise to see him here - she would not have thought him the type to volunteer his time, especially not for something as small as a high school mock trial tournament - but no surprise at all to notice that he is glancing down at the phone in his lap, typing surreptitiously.

The thought of penalizing him for that crosses her mind, but before she can say anything, a tall student in the front row shifts and she can see whose eye the young prosecutors were trying to catch.

Their teacher is young, Peggy realizes as she directs Rose to read the name of the court case on the docket (which she already knows extremely bloody well by now). Not as young as some of the bright-eyed-bushy-tailed types she’s seen, but she’d wager that he’s in his thirties, perhaps a year or two older than she is. The smile he directs toward his students is not a flashy, movie star sort of thing but more solid than that, real and reassuring, and he meets the eyes of his charges and nods with firm encouragement toward them before sitting back to watch.

Incidentally, he is also incredibly good looking.

Peggy honors her commitments, prides herself on that, in fact, and so she takes as much care in overseeing this trial as she does with those which come before her in a more official capacity. Still, between watching the excellent prosecutorial team and noting some of the more interesting choices being made by a few of the witnesses, she manages to keep an eye on the teacher - Steve Rogers, according to the file she had glanced at.

He watches the trial carefully, making notes as he does, but it isn’t like Zola, who only jots things down when his team has made a misstep. Mr. Rogers seems as likely to mark things done right as those which could be done better. He nods along with his students, smiling especially widely at several points; Peggy would venture that those were things that they worked on particularly hard in practice. And every so often he turns to look at her before turning swiftly back toward his students.

It’s the way his eyes widen and shift quickly away which makes Peggy suspect that his gaze isn’t entirely to do with analyzing how she is perceiving his team.

He keeps his eyes on hers, however, when she returns from her brief recess and announces that his team will be advancing to the next round. It’s only for that moment, though. The next he is turning to congratulate his team, who have all swarmed around him, patting their shoulders and speaking quietly to them, turning to shake Howard Stark’s hand.

With one last glance at Schmidt, whose face has turned sour with rage, and Zola, who is trying to calm him even as he shakes his head at the team, Peggy allows Rose to announce her exit, and goes to absorb the quiet of her chambers. As nice a distraction as Steve Rogers was, she knew that it could not be for long.

Still, she’s a bit regretful when she, divested of her robe and carrying her briefcase, returns to the courtroom to take the stairs down to the back parking area and finds it empty.

Then she hears something.

“Gotcha,” a voice says, and Steve Rogers stands from between the benches of the gallery where the Hydra team had been sitting earlier, a crumpled paper cup in his hand. He spots her almost immediately, and she can see the awkwardness come over his face even with the courtroom lights dimmed.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says. “Your Honor, I mean.”

“It’s no trouble, Mr. Rogers,” she says, walking nearer. “Have you forgotten something?”

He glances down at the cup he is holding and winces. “Oh, no. I—When we were in here before, I saw that there were a few things left behind. I figured I’d come back to clean up a little once I saw my team to the subway.”

“You don’t have to do that. Really.” They are at comfortable speaking distance now. “Tidying after other teams isn’t precisely within your job description.”

He shrugs, wide shoulders looking a little helpless. “I was here and I could take care of it. No reason that the custodial staff should have to deal with extra just because some people weren’t as respectful as they should have been.”

The response seems to make something warm and expansive trail through her chest, but she only says, “Hmm,” in return, tilting her head to one side. “Well, I should hope that you didn’t entrust the well-being of your students to Mr. Stark while you came back to take care of litter.”

“They’re city kids, they’ve been taking the subway by themselves for years. And if anything, I’d trust them to take care of Howard instead of the other way around,” he says. A smile touches at his mouth, and although she’s seen him smile many times over the course of the afternoon, it is different when it is directed at her.

“Well, let us hope that it won’t come to that. I did wonder, actually, how you managed to convince Mr. Stark to participate. I only know him by reputation, but I wouldn’t think it his sort of activity.”

“I might not have thought so either, but I know that it never hurts to try, so I got in touch. Turns out that he got his start on a team back in high school too. He still has a soft spot.” He shrugs. “I was lucky to get him. My kids deserve the best.”

“I’m disappointed not to be asked then,” she says. His eyes widen a bit before he realizes that she’s teasing.

Still, he sounds truthful and serious as he tells her, “If you weren’t a judge, you would have been on my list. You got yourself on the bench even though you’re young, a woman, and if you’re a naturalized citizen you already have to be pretty self-directed and able to go through all that’s involved in that...I know that none of that would have made it easy. People with vision about their futures who were able to achieve their goals despite obstacles - that’s exactly who I want around my team.”

She shifts her briefcase a bit, knowing that she’s already eaten through most of the day and that the journey home will lose her even more time. But it feels so nice standing here talking to him, not just small talk, not just because of the compliments, but because it feels like the start of something. So instead she says, “I apologize, by the way. I haven’t congratulated you.”

“They did a great job,” he says, immediate, eager. “It’s our first year even offering Mock Trial and I wasn’t sure how well it would work out, but they’re doing themselves proud. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear about some of them making partner one day - or making their own way to the bench. Nat, who did the cross, she—” But he cuts himself off, blushing a little. “Sorry, I know I can get carried away, and you probably don’t want to hear it - you already spent the whole day knee deep in this, after all, and I don’t want you to think I’m trying to bias you somehow.”

There really isn’t a word for the pink in his cheeks other than fetching. Well, perhaps darling would do it.

Just earlier today, she would have said that her life was quite full enough, perhaps even overfull. But somehow, she thinks that a space could open for him, for speaking with him and seeing him and more, if she wanted it to. So she takes a breath and says, “I actually won’t be judging any further rounds this season, so there can’t be any sort of conflict of interest at all. Even if you were to, for example, join me for a bite to eat sometime soon.”

For a blink, she wonders if she might have misjudged, if she has mistaken politeness for something more, but then his mouth curves back into that smile which sends warmth running through her and which she is already beginning to like so well, especially when it is being aimed in her direction.

“I’m free tonight if you are,” he offers, something a bit worried still lying beneath the offer he has laid plainly at her feet. It makes her want to take his hand, to lean her head against his shoulder and promise that he has nothing to be nervous about.

Instead she says, all thought of taking off her heels and climbing into a hot bath forgotten, “If you’ve finished neatening things up around here, I know a place nearby.”

His smile gets just that bit wider. “Let me toss this out. Then you can lead the way.”

She’s happy to.

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Peggy Carter #Steve Rogers #fic memes #sorry this one came out weird and probably inaccurate to actual mock trial #I did skim a bunch of stuff to try to get it at least a bit accurate #thanks to the New York State Bar Association for putting their finals videos online #(I also should have specified in my original tags that when I refer to a drabble it is a story of exactly a hundred words #This and the rest will be...a bit more than that)#Anonymous

57 notes · View notes