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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years ago

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This Is Still Marvel, Right?

Summary- 2.5k Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes x Wade Wilson x You. Deadpool the character from the comics is sitting across from the table from you, real right in front of your eyes. Not only is time travel a thing, but dimension travel is as well, and he is here for a very serious reason. Warnings- swears. Written for @what-is-your-backupplan-today CATFA 10th Anniversary Challenge. Prompts are highlighted.

Masterlist

“You came from where?” Sam questioned with a tilt of his head, arms folded across his chest as he raised a quizzical brow at the man in all red.

“And why the clown suit?” Bucky right next to him asked, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“I’m from the X-Men verse, you know… bald dude in the wheelchair, Wolvie with butter knife hands, we have our own pigeon boy. Not as sweet as your wings though.” Wade said with a sigh. “And we had a Peter, but the winds… god the winds were too strong. I will never forget you Sugar Bear.” He sobbed in his hand a moment, sniffling a moment.

You were thoroughly in shock, your jaw was dropped to the floor as Wade mother fucking Wilson sat in the interrogation chair, one leg crossed over the other, his ankle jiggling as he leaned forward on his elbows, planting his chin in his palms as he made an cooing sound at the two men. “Aww, they are so cute when they are confused, aren't they cute? The cutest little puppies.” He went to boop Bucky's nose, but Bucky reared his head back away from his hand and a whir of his hand closed around Wade's wrist, which caused the masked mercenary to gasp out excitedly.

“THE WINTER SOLDIER ARM, VIBRANIUM UPGRADE. I keep telling Cable he needs this hook up, his isn't nearly as cool as yours. Mister Bucky Barnes Sir, can you sign my suit? I’m a super fan.” the white eyes of his mask widened and you finally managed to close your mouth watching all this.

Whatever this was, you were actually wondering if you weren't in some drugged hallucination right now. Mission gone wrong? You had eaten that turkey sandwich out of the compound fridge, maybe it was drugged and this was someone's payback for stealing their food.

“Come on man.” Sam snapped out, still trying to get a straight answer out of him. Bucky let go of his hand which Wade muttered to himself.

“I'm never washing this hand, not ever.” He cradled it to his chest. “Just wait till I tell Chrome Dome who shook my hand.”

“ANSWERS!” Bucky yelled out and Wade gasped at the outburst. Bucky reached over to grasp the mask and yanked it off, grimacing as Wade's appearance showed. Both Sam and Bucky recovered quite quickly, you were still freaking out in the corner and Wade gave a suggestive wink to the two of them.

“Names Wilson, Wade Wilson. No relation to this saucy stud though.” He eyed Sam up and down with a purr, who scoffed at the sudden attention. “Don't worry, I know that one is crushing on you hard. The chemistry. I won't make a move on you. Winter Soldier though is fair game, eh?” He made a chef’s kiss motion after pointing at you. “So are you two… do you… fondue?” Wade asked, Sam and You looked at each other and made disbelieving faces at one another. “Oh we're not admitting feelings? My bad. I jumped ahead in the comics. So much sexual tension.” Making a donut shape with one hand and a pointer with the other, meshing them together, you could feel your throat close up and Sam’s eyes widen. Bucky was struggling to keep his calm at this point, Sam too. Wade made a motion to stand and get up.

“Do we have any eats here?” He puts his hand on the handle to open the door and a knife flung through the air, landing right next to his face. Wade paused and turned around. “Here I thought this was still Marvel and not Dc. Tony would have offered me a snack by now.” He grumbled while sitting back down. “A falafel, blueberries, I know he likes to snack, I've seen the movies.”

You finally got over your shock and went to sit across from him. “Mr.Wilson…”

He put up a hand. “Pool please, Deadpool. Or Wade. Or you can call me Captain Deadpool. Too much?” He glanced up at Sam and Bucky. “Yea too much, just call me Wade.”

“Wade.” you started again, trying to figure out how to approach this. “We’re confused, because you are a comic book character.” You pulled up your phone and pulled up a screen clip of his movie.

Wade gasped and grabbed at your phone, studying it. “Look at that handsome son of a bitch. I'm so glad they picked Ryan Reynolds for the part, he looks just like me.” He held the phone up next to his face. “He’s so good looking, it's the Canadian genes.” Then handed it back, you tucked it away and he leaned forward to toss what looked like a beat up comic book on the table.

“What’s this?” You question, pointing at it.

“A comic book. You guys are just comic book characters and I'm here to fix your story. What? You seriously didn't know you are comic book characters in another universe?”

“Our story?” You pulled the comic towards you and sure enough plastered on the front was Sam in his Falcon Suit, Bucky with his own gear and you were soaring in the air above slightly out of focus.

“Yes, your story. Listen Cable, you all know Cable right? He's like a moodier you Buckaroo…” The name caused Bucky to growl a bit, but Wade continued without noticing. “... hooked me up with this cool device. Not like those stones you all have, this is some actual batman kind of future fuckery that I got rigged to not just travel back in time. But other dimensions. Whoo... “ He made wiggly fingers. “It's like magic right? Cool.”

You were flipping through the pages as fast as possible, skimming the storyline. Amazingly all of it was there, the mission report Nick Fury brought Sam this morning, you and Bucky sparring and how he pinned you against the mat, the heart to heart about how you two missed Steve.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose while Bucky looked over your shoulder at the comic book. “I'm getting a headache, or I'm losing it. Did I get hit in the head?” Sam rambled a bit and you got to the end of the comic, seeing that the mission Fury had given you three was completed, successfully.

“Says there we did just fine.” Bucky said and you closed it before pushing it towards the center of the table.

“It's not all just fine.” Wade threw up his hands in exasperation and you shook your head so confused.

“Explain it to us Wade.” You grasped the comic again, flipping through it, scanning the pages as quick as you can.

“Go to page 53.” He tapped his finger against the steel table and you did, the panel showing you and Sam standing on a roof top about to enter a building from above and Bucky was shown in another panel scaling a building.

“I don't see it…” you shook your head confused as to what he was talking about and Wade pointed at the bottom, that was just barely in view. A hot dog cart.

“You are here, from another dimension of life… because of a hot dog cart?”

Wade nodded firmly. “If we don't protect that hot dog cart, bad things will happen.” His voice lowered, turning shifty. “Spooky stuff… anal stuff.” He shuddered and sat back, staring at the hot dog cart in the bottom of the picture. “If we don't protect that hot dog cart, it causes issues you couldn't even fathom. Another life just poof… what did y’all call it? Spanked out of existence?”

You just automatically corrected him. “Snapped.”

“Spanked sounds better, maybe consider changing it to spanked?”

Sam cleared his throat. “You traveled through dimensions to get here so we could save a hot dog cart? I'm just- trying to keep it all straight. This isn't entirely the weirdest thing I have heard, but it's close.”

Bucky scoffed. “I say this guy needs some help, maybe his brain got scrambled like mine.”

“Nah, I didn't get the mind trip you did. I was tortured by a guy named Francis.” Wade snorted gleefully. “Called himself Ajax, like the dish soap!” Slapping his knee, he busted out laughing heavily, starting to cry.

You rubbed at your face and looked over your shoulder. “I think we should trust him guys. What if what he says is true? We’ve dealt with crazy shit before.”

“You can't be serious Y/N.” Bucky shook his head and Sam looked doubtful. Wade giggled as he wiped a tear from his eye, pointing a finger at you.

“I like you, you're the smart one here I can tell.”

You all turned to Sam who hadn't said anything yet. He sighed and rubbed at his face a bit, before finally saying under his breath. “I'm never going to hear the end of this… Lets take him.”

Wade did a fist pump in victory, leaping up to grab his mask back from Bucky. “X-Force Ass-” You were quick to cover his mouth, leaving the “-emble” garbled.

“He's going to get us killed, Wilson.”

“I said to call me Deadpool or Captain Deadpool.”

“I WAS TALKING TO HIM!” Bucky jerked his thumb at Sam, gritting his teeth while he yanked open the door and left the room. Deadpool followed after him, the next thing you heard was Bucky hollar. “I'm going to kick your ass Prick.”

“Will you? You're making me all excited. Like a fairy making a little girl's wishes come true, I feel like I could fly.”

Then you and Sam heard something loud crack and Wade’s cooing grew fainter. “Nice boots, Tinkerbell!”

You snatched the comic book and stuffed it in your back pocket. “Uh we probably better go stop Bucky. It's pointless for him to try to kill Wade and will just tire himself out.”

Sam opened the door, holding it open for you. “Should we really take that away from him?”

“True and it sounds like Wade is having himself a fan moment anyways and doesn't care.” You stepped out to see Bucky and Wade tangled together wrestling.

Just as the comic stated, You and Sam were able to go in from the top. You could see Bucky below you using rigging to scale the building. Down further below you could see a red dot pushing a hot dog cart down the street well out of harm. Speaking into the comm’s, your wings folded to pull you into a spiral, spinning towards the roof. “Wade’s got the cart moved, and were clear to enter.”

There was a grunt in the comms and Bucky's voice crackled through. “Well damn, I'm glad the hot dog cart is safe… for reasons spanning an entire dimension that we still don't know.”

“Who are we to question it, Bucky? I mean, we’ve seen some pretty strange shit.” You stated as Sam landed next to you, shooting at the door and ducking inside together. “Maybe this is just another one to add to the pile.”

Silence descended on the group as you each made to fulfill the mission. Once the building was clear and the three of you were working on exiting, Wade was waiting on the roof, sitting on the edge eating a hot dog and had three more lined up next to him. “I brought you all lunch, you guys do that sort of thing right? Good Mission? yes I bet. Buckaroo has the happy murder gleam in his eyes.” He took another bite of his hot dog and chewed while studying Bucky closely.

“Don't do that.” Bucky shuddered a bit and Wade proceeded to pop the last bite into his mouth and chewed slowly while rolling the bottom half of his mask down.

“Do what Buckaroo?”

“Stare at me or call me Buckaroo.”

“While eating a hot dog? Only way to properly eat one. I know you love it James. Well my mission here is done.” He pushed off the ledge to give you a hug and handed you a manilla envelope. “This is for you, it explains everything. Toodleloo Kiddies, it was fun knowing you. Oh and if you see Hugh Jackman on the street, tell him his coffee sucks and bitch slap the prick.” He jumped back on the ledge and looked over the edge. “Oh this is gonna kill my knees but this is a true superhero moment. Wait for it…” He gave you all a salute and stepped over, plummeting down. Sam and Bucky rushed the edge, looking over.

You knew better, a superhero landing wouldn't kill him.

“NAILED IT!” you three barely heard, then in a flash of sparks, Deadpool was gone.

“I thought for sure he was going to pancake down there.” Bucky said with a hint of sadness and Sam shook his head.

“We gotta get out of here before we're caught and get this back to Fury.” Sam held up a chip that held the actual intel of the mission.

You silently agreed and together the three of you made your way off the building and back home.

Afterwards once you were back in the tower and changing out of your suit, you glanced at the manilla envelope Wade left you.

Sitting down on the bench, you opened it and peeked in. What looked like another comic book was in there as well as a letter. Pulling out the letter, you scanned it.

~To the Super Duper Trio,

Thank you for believing me. It was crucial. We're not the only comic book verse out there living our lives. Sometimes they cross intersect in ways that I can't explain, go find the wizard, he can tell you more about it. Also ask him to your next party, because he can do the COOLEST TRICKS. But if you take out the comic book enclosed you will see on page 23 there is a hot dog cart as well as a familiar looking dork named Jake Jensen. Alias- Capt Jensen.

Perhaps your Captain is alive in some way, the DC universe having changed him to a loveable, cat hating, Petunias loving, super smart idiot.

Tell Birdman thanks for the vote of confidence, caw caw mother fucker.

Tell Buckaroo he forgot to sign my suit, I will be back. He is my favorite after all.

And what I wanna tell you is take care of those idiots so they dont kill each other.

With Love,

Captain Deadpool

Ps- Yes Cap’s as awkward with women in DC as he was in Marvel.

Pss- Welcome to X-Force! I will be in touch.

You pulled out the comic book and glanced at the cover seeing six people staring down, the title of the comic- The Losers. Flipping to the page, you found a photograph tucked in between the pages, showing another version of the page. One where the street looked demolished and a man lying crumbled by a cart. Also a familiar hot dog cart leaned on its side, demolished.

Setting the picture aside, now you glanced over this panel to see the same man making a show of pulling out a crossbow, the bubble above his head with the words “That’s right, bitches, I got a crossbow!”

The scene didn't really surprise you that much, more like the character now alive in the comic looked just like Steve.

A thinner version, he had facial hair, and the entire get up was never anything Steve would have willingly worn.

But it looked just like Steve Rogers and for the second time that day your jaw dropped.

Maybe Wade Wilson was right, after all…

Nothing was off limits and stranger things have happened.

#this is still marvel right?#amber writes #sweater writes #catfa 10th anniversary challenge #bucky barnes #sam wilson #wade wilson #jake jensen #avengers #deadpool #the losers

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geminiwritten · 4 years ago

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heatwave ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: you’re not a huge fan of the hot weather until a certain super soldier finally gets his arse out of bed and gives you a reason to love it

notes: i wrote this over quite a few days so i’m really sorry if its disjointed, and i’m so sorry if its repetitive of my last piece! i’m still trying to get through a bit of writer’s block, so i hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 3359

The heat seemed to wash over you in waves. Pulses of warmth rolling through your body and stealing your breath. Every inch of your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, drawing all the hydration from your body and draining any energy you might have possessed if it wasn’t for the heatwave currently sweeping through New York City.

“Ugh,” you groaned, your head lulling to the side where Natasha laid, “I think I’m dying.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re not dying.”

“I might be.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Sam hollered from the pool a little way across the balcony, “have some fun for once in your lives!”

Natasha propped herself up on her elbows and squinted over the top of her sunglasses, “With you idiots? No thanks.”

“Why are you always such a killjoy, Romanoff?”

“Why are you always such a pain in the ass, Wilson?” you called back, mimicking Natasha on your elbows.

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from the whiniest member of the team.”

Your frown deepened, this time out of anger and not because of the bright glare from the sun.

“Watch it, Wilson,” a voice called out from behind you, “or she’ll come over there and kick your ass.”

Both you and Natasha whipped around to find Bucky. He had probably only just woken, his mop of hair tied up into a loose bun with escaped tendrils sticking to the hot skin of his neck and forehead. This time, it wasn’t the heat that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Nice to see you’re alive, Buck,” Steve chuckled as he waded through the pool toward where Sam was leaning against the edge.

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something smart but having his breath stolen as he stepped out of the shade and into the sun. “Holy shit,” he gasped, “it’s hot.”

“Sharp observation skills, Einstein,” Natasha quipped.

“At least Barnes will get in the pool unlike you two party poopers,” Sam said, before copping a volleyball to the back of the head thanks to Bruce’s poor aim.

He spun around quickly, ball in hand and ready to hurl it back at his attacker.

“Well then,” Bucky sighed, now standing beside you, “I guess it’s time for a swim.”

He looked down at you sprawled across your towel, one arm draped over your eyes to shield from the sun and the other resting on your bare stomach. You suddenly felt exposed, nervous under the gaze of his pale blue eyes.

“Want to join me?”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to get in the water with him, but the sound of shouts and spraying water reminded you of the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’ll have to pass,” you replied.

He pushed his bottom lip forward, “It’s your loss, doll, this heat is a killer.”

Your limbs turned to jelly at the sound of that pet name rolling off his tongue.

“Ugh,” Natasha scoffed beside you, “you two are sickening.”

You wanted to turn around and bite back at her, but what happened next had you paralysed. Every nerve in your body ignited, goosebumps rising across every inch of your skin in spite of the steamy weather. Bucky’s fingers curled under the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head to reveal his sculpted body beneath. His abs rolled and tensed as he rid himself of the material and discarded it on the ground, making your mouth water and your head spin with a thousand different unholy thoughts.

A shriek from the red headed woman beside you broke you out of your trance, and only then did you notice the spray of pool water that had washed over you and most of the balcony.

“You’re an arse, Barnes!” Natasha yelled, standing and angrily snatching up her towel.

You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose as you let your gaze settle on the giggling men in the pool. Bucky’s now wet, broad shoulders glistened under the sunlight, his alabaster skin taught across the landscape of muscle.

“Do you want some lunch or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?” Natasha asked as she stood over you.

Your gaze hardly wavered, “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed, her lips curling into a smirk, “because I think you’ve got a little bit of drool on your chin there.”

If Bucky wasn’t pulling himself out of the water right at the moment, you might have turned around to poke your tongue at her, but instead you opted for flipping her the bird while your eyes remained trained on the pool area.

The rest of the steamy day went by far too quickly. Despite your hate for the heat, you stayed out on the balcony until the sun began to set. Only when Bucky and Sam wrapped themselves in towels and declared that it was time for dinner did you finally put your book away, not that you had managed to read even a single page of it.

“Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?” Sam asked as the three of you stepped inside.

“Yeah,” you replied, “and the day after.”

“I bet you’re happy about that,” he chuckled, watching disappointment sweep across your face as Bucky pulled his shirt over his head

“Shut up.”

He chuckled at your feeble attempt to jab his side, easily evading your attack.

“Alright, children,” Tony called from the kitchen, “dinner’s ready.”

Like moths to a flame, the rest of the team gathered around the kitchen bench where Natasha and Tony had laid out the pre-cut ingredients for everyone to make their own burgers.

“I’m going to have a shower before eating,” Bucky said, to no one in particular as he draped his damp towel over his forearm.

“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, his grin evil, “Because I’m sure Y/N would love-”

“Sam!” you snapped.

Thankfully, Bucky remained oblivious, his brows knit into an adorable frown.

“Never mind, Buck,” you said, “I’ll make sure they save you some food.”

His face broke into that familiar smile that melted your heart, “Thanks, doll.”

Once again, your legs wobbled like jelly and you had to steady yourself on the back of the lounge.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, “I can’t wait until they day you two finally fu-”

“Language,” Steve interrupted with a disapproving glare at Sam.

You poked your tongue out before turning toward the array of burger ingredients, your empty stomach rumbling at the sight.

The next day rolled around just as the weather forecast had predicted. The air was thick with humidity and the sun blared down just as it had yesterday. Once again you found yourself on a towel beside the pool, half of the team splashing around while the other half laid languidly in the shade.

“Still not getting in today?” Steve asked as he approached the bar fridge near where you had placed your towel.

You shook your head, “I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire of an overly aggressive game of chicken.”

“I mean, you could play the game with us, maybe even get to climb onto Bucky’s shoulders.”

You whipped around, your glare lethal, “What the fuck, Rogers?”

He chuckled, “Sorry, Sam told me to.”

“You are the last person I would expect to stoop to his level,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly.

He shrugged, “Well, no one has told Buck, if that makes up for anything.”

“I’m guessing everyone else knows, though.”

He didn’t respond, only smiled sheepishly.

“Ugh,” you sighed.

“In my own defence, Natasha told me about your crush months ago and I haven’t let it slip once. It’s been-”

“Sam,” you interrupted him, “I know.”

He took a generous sip of water before crouching beside you, “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Steve knew he couldn’t say anymore. He knew nothing he said would convince you to tell Bucky how you felt, and he knew he couldn’t betray his best friend’s trust by divulging the fact that Bucky really had confessed his feelings for you before. He decided to let you be, gathering three more bottles of water before heading back to the pool.

The day passed almost identically to the one before it, and so did the next. It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning on the third night of the heatwave that you felt a sudden change. You awoke abruptly, a shiver running down your spine as cool air blew through the open window and brushed across your bare skin. You frowned at the night sky before tiredly pulling your duvet up to your chin and falling back asleep.

By morning, the heat was well and truly gone. Clouds blanketed New York City, threatening to rain as they rolled angrily across the grey sky.

“I guess it’s back to work today, Avengers,” Tony said from behind his tablet.

Almost everyone was awake, crowded around the kitchen bench awaiting Clint’s famous French toast.

“What work?” Peter asked.

“Homework for you, kid,” Steve replied, earning an indignant frown from Peter.

You couldn’t help but giggle into your mug of coffee, before almost spraying it back out at the sight that then exited the elevator.

Bucky. Shirtless. Again.

You began to wonder what you had done to be so lucky, your heart thrumming against your rib cage so hard you worried that someone might hear it.

“Oh, my, Barnes,” Tony gasped, “you know it’s still in the A.M., right?”

Bucky simply rolled his tired eyes before slumping onto the lounge, mumbling, “Hungry.”

It wasn’t long before Clint served breakfast, everyone scoffing their food as if they hadn’t eaten in days, and soon after that, Peter dismissed himself for school and Tony and Bruce made their way to the lab.

“I think I need to get back into the gym today,” Clint sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

You sighed, “Same.”

“Bucky and I were planning on heading down there in the afternoon actually, we could do a group training session,” Steve said as he filled the sink, ready to wash everyone’s dishes.

“I’m in,” Natasha replied, “I was going to head into town for some groceries this morning, so the afternoon is better for me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint added, “Count me in.”

“Me too,” Sam said through his last mouthful of toast, “and obviously Y/N will be there too.”

You turned to him quickly, a frown already etched between your brows, “What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckled, “Steve said that he and Bucky were planning it, so obviously you-”

You elbowed him sharply in the gut before standing from your seat at the dining table and stomping over to the kitchen.

Natasha sighed, “You better be careful, Wilson, you’re playing with fire.”

“But it’s so obvious that they both like each other, why can’t they just fuck already.”

Steve’s ears turned red and Natasha laughed, but neither of them seemed to notice as Bucky finally made his way over from the living area.

“Who needs to fuck already?” he asked, brows knit.

“No one,” Steve answered quickly, “Tony wants help moving a new delivery, I said we’d help him out. Come on.”

He ushered the confused Bucky out of the room, but not before shooting daggers at Sam.

After breakfast you decided to go with Natasha into town. The compound was running low on a few things that Tony always forgot to add to the weekly grocery delivery, so you took your time shopping and chatting. It was nice to simply enjoy the feeling of not having sweat drip from every inch of your skin, though you couldn’t help mourning the sticky weather that would encourage Bucky to constantly walk around shirtless.

It was almost four o’clock when you finally changed into your workout gear and headed for the gym. Most of the team were already in there, and those that weren’t had kindly declined the offer of a group training session.

Steve, Sam, Tony, and Bucky were gathered around the sparring mats each taking turns at attacking the training dummy, while Clint was over by the weights alone. You quickly found Wanda and Natasha on the treadmills and decided to start there.

“Afternoon,” Wanda greeted you, her smile sweet as she swiped the sweat from her brow.

You grinned back, “Fancy seeing you out of your room.”

“I don’t do heat,” she said, “but Nat has just been telling me about how much you’ve been enjoying it.”

You tossed your gym towel at her, gasping, “Oh, shut up!”

The two red heads giggled, thankfully too amused to notice the way your eyes drifted across the gym to where Bucky was training.

After almost an hour on the treadmill, chatting idly about nothing in particular with Nat and Wanda, Steve called the team to attention. Everyone moved in from around the gym, forming a misshapen circle around the sparring mats that he and Clint had just hauled from the storage room.

“It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Sam said as he plopped down on the floor and began stretching his legs out in front of him, “is the air on, Tony?”

Tony, who was chugging half a bottle of water, simply shrugged and waved haphazardly at the control panel by the main entry doors.

“I’ll check it,” you offered before turning on your heel.

You tapped the screen and it came to life, but the display wasn’t the same as the one in your room. It had more options and dials for more variables than just the temperature, but on the top right of the screen was a little green button that you assumed meant it was on. You chose the dial that looked like it controlled the fan speed and turned it all the way up.

“All good, Y/N?” Steve called.

You nodded before hurrying back to the group, bending your right leg up to your buttocks in a quick stretch. Steve and Nat then took their positions in the middle of the circle and began demonstrating the fight sequences that they wanted the team to practice.

“Now partner up, pick a mat, and practice until you can do it as fast as you can,” Steve said, before looking directly at Sam, “without hurting each other.”

Sam sighed with exasperation as he turned to his partner, Bucky. You turned to Wanda while Nat joined Clint on a mat and Tony stepped up to where Steve was. Each pair started slowly mimicking the moves that had just been demonstrated.

“It is hot in here,” Wanda said, her breath heavy as she ducked your fist.

You simply nodded, too focused on your movements to be able to speak.

Grunts, huffs, and the thud of heavy feet on the vinyl mats echoed throughout the gym for fifteen minutes before Steve called a break. You practically dove for your water bottle, only to choke on the first mouthful of water when Bucky yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. Wanda caught your eye, giggling as you spluttered.

“I thought the heatwave was over,” Clint said.

Tony nodded, “It is, I think the air-con is playing up.”

“It’s broken?” Wanda gasped.

He shrugged, opening his mouth to respond but stopping when Steve spoke first, “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get back into it.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Wanda’s fist made contact with your shoulder, your abdomen, and almost your jaw if she hadn’t quickly noticed that you were too distracted to block her swing. Her foot then collided with your hip twice before she finally gave in on trying to get your attention.

Your eyes were glossed over and glued to the super soldier duelling Sam. His exposed skin glistened with sweat, muscles rippling under taught, alabaster skin. His stare was hard, eyes almost grey as they narrowed on every move that Sam made. Your palms began to sweat, knees wobbling as you watched his tongue swipe quickly across his pink lips.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, her fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to face her, “focus.”

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered.

You raised your shaky hands, trying to block out the shirtless man still in your peripheral vision.

By the time Steve called the training session to an end, the air was almost as dense as the storm clouds outside. Everyone was soaked in their own sweat, hair clinging to sticky skin and muscles beneath burning from use.

“I swear to God, Tony,” Wanda said as she draped her towel over her shoulder, “if the air-con is broken, I’m not going to let you sleep until it’s fixed.”

He chuckled, fingers already moving swiftly across the tablet in his lap, “It’s not broken.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Sam exclaimed, arms gesturing wildly toward the gym’s huge windows that were completely veiled in condensation.

Tony nodded toward you, “Y/N turned the temperature up instead of down.”

Heat blossomed in your chest, crawling up your neck and to the tips of your ears. Every pair of eyes landed on you, a mixture of irritation and amusement etched across the faces of your teammates.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I got confused.”

Most of the group simply chuckled or shrugged, collecting their things and heading for the door, but Sam took his time. The devilish smirk adorning his lips made your pulse begin to race.

“Far out, Y/N,” he said, “you didn’t have to torture all of us just to get Barnes to take his clothes off.”

Your eyes went wide, brows shooting up toward your hairline as every coherent thought left your head. Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears.

The team was suddenly silent, those closest to the door hurrying out and the rest quickly rushing after them. Wanda stuck her elbow into Sam’s side before dragging him out by his shirt collar.

Bucky remained, paralysed feet still glued to the ground as he quickly tried to catch up on what had just happened.

“Sam was just joking,” you finally managed to speak, “he’s an arse.”

Bucky blinked slowly, “Yeah… such an arse.”

You nodded, mouth dry as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Okay, well, I’ve got to-”

“He is an arse,” Bucky interrupted you, blue eyes wide with curiosity, “but he doesn’t usually lie.”

You didn’t know what to say, your nervous fingers tangling behind your back. His stare was heavy, pressing down on your shoulders and holding you still as he slowly stepped closer.

“Do you like me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I like you, Buck, you’re-”

“No,” one last step and his breath fanned the exposed skin of your neck, “do you-”

This time, it was your turn to interrupt. Every bit of pent-up tension and suppressed desire propelled you toward him, coming up onto the balls of your feet and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your lips crashed into his, so hard you might have worried about bruising them if the thought of a mark left by Bucky wasn’t so thrilling.

He hesitated only for a moment before his hands found your waist, practically lifting you off the ground and squashing your body against his. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue glided across your bottom lip, begging for entry. A low, almost feral growl rumbled up from his chest once you allowed him in, tongues clashing.

You only parted when breath became absolutely necessary, your lungs burning for air. He let you back onto your own feet, though his strong arms stayed wound around your waist.

“Um, yeah,” you said between gulps of air, “I really like you, Buck.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s a relief because I really like you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling away completely and wrapping his gym towel around his shoulders.

“I need a shower,” he said, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the door, “and it’s your turn to take your clothes off now.”

END.

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years ago

Text

The Dark Team (part 12)

<<Previous part Masterlist Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx)

Warnings: alcohol.

Disclaimer: pic not mine.

After the sun came completely down and the night bathed the city, making the flashing lights of the buildings and cars look like the sky had spat all of its stars, you gathered all your work and called it a day. Thor, Steve and Bucky were able to go through everything you told them to, and everything was in control. You had managed to solve a chaotic situation from the distance, and the pleasant feeling of doing things right gave you the last push to close your laptop and join Peter and Loki.

Opening one of the windows, you let the fresh wind hit your face and unfurrow your brows, releasing all the tensions you had been accumulating all week long. Peter sneaked up from outside the building and hung upside down from the frame. You gasped, forgetting for a brief moment he was sticky and not completely out of his mind.

“Are you joining us, older?”.

“Yes, little. I’m going”, you laughed at the comeback of the nicknames. Standing for older sibling and little sibling Tony had baptized you with, years ago. Loki chuckled.

“You two are the epitome of adorability, sometimes”.

“Oh, we can get worse”, you laughed.

You had ordered some food in, without wanting to ever touch the mess of that kitchen again, and a bottle of wine. Nobody was there, else than you three; might as well have fun. As you waited for dinner to arrive, you decided on a slide presentation night. You gave each other no more than twenty minutes to arrange it all, so the chaos would be absolute and uncontrollable.

Peter presented first, with a long powerpoint ranking things the Avengers did in “vine-vibes” ascending order. You two tried (and failed miserably) to explain to Loki what a vine was and why something would have its vibes without being actually a video.

Loki’s presentation was titled “Seven hundred reasons why you shouldn’t worship the God of Sparkly hands”. There were actually only six reasons; two of them were about mass murders he was about to commit, and most of them talked about annoying things he did as a child. There was an extra one where it was just a white background and tiny letters in the middle saying “he dyes his hair blonde, he’s actually a redhead”.

Your presentation was titled “Seven hundred and one reasons why you should worship me instead”. No need to elaborate. They all differed except for Friday; she clapped with her electronic hands.

Two board games and some chess later, the food had already arrived. Peter was famished and ate more than you could’ve imagined a boy was capable of. He got so full, so quickly, that he instantly got sleepy. Loki could not bite his tongue and had to say “just like a baby”. It did not help that you snorted, and Peter shot his webs at you two; Loki avoided them and you couldn’t, so you ended up stuck to the roof. Peter started to walk to his room, leaving you up there.

“Hey, hey! Don’t leave, I’m still here!”, you called him. But he was gone. What an avenger. Loki chuckled, and raised his hand to free you with magic, and you instantly realized you were six meters away from the floor. “Wait! I’ll fall!!”.

He didn’t stop, and dissolved the net with a simple spell. As you fell down, you closed your eyes and tried to cover your head, knowing you’d have at least a broken bone. Peter has done this before, you knew there was no way to actually leave unharmed. Loki’s arms tightened around your body, avoiding you to fall flat against the floor.

As you looked up, you met his face, closer than ever. Closer than it ever has been. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew you had to think about something else than the feeling of his chest against yours, his hands in your back, how he was holding you so gently, how he was looking at you so dearly. You knew you had to think about something else; for he could be reading your mind. He surely was. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t stop focusing on his peach lips and how soft his cheeks looked from up close. You couldn’t see anything else than the movement of his Adam’s apple when he swallowed hard, and how his hand trembled a little in your back.

He let you down slowly, still holding eye contact, still with his arms around you. Not the threatening gaze he would hold against everyone else on the compound. Not the lustful gaze he would sometimes draw while stealing some glances at you changing on your suit (he thought you didn’t notice, you certainly did). Not the concentrated gaze he would hold still on his face while reading one of those books he always carried around.

It wasn’t any of those. You had studied them thoroughly, meticulously, every inch of his facial expressions, every inch of his being while he wasn’t aware of your eyes on him. God, how you hated to look at him this way, but how much you couldn’t avoid it. Your brain knew you shouldn’t get attached. You had no chance at all to be with him; he was a God, a criminal, and he’d go back to Asgard. And, foremost, he didn’t feel the same. He had a lover, and his mind was still there, stuck in that person, undeletable.

And, as much as you could have read him like a children’s book the entirety of the past week, right now, you had no clue what those green eyes on you meant. You had no idea why the blush on his cheeks was in there, and why he let out a tiny (the tiniest, ever so subtle) gasp. Parted lips that shone, looked so…

You shook your head, closing your eyes. He didn’t let go of his grip around you, but your feet were already on the floor. You could’ve walked away if you wanted to. And you wanted to, you definitely did not want to stay there, and sink your nose in his neck. You certainly did not want to play with his hair while staring at those pair of emeralds he couldn’t keep away from you. You couldn’t read him. He looked at you in a way you’ve never seen him before. Yet it felt so… right.

No, it wasn’t right. God, what were you thinking?

He pulled away, and the cold breeze from the window surrounded your body. You didn’t realize how much body heat he was warming you with until he left. Or maybe it was your own. Your face was still burning. You visibly cringed at your reaction, and could not play it cool at all. He chuckled, again, and walked to the kitchen.

You didn’t say anything. Your face still burned, and your chest was tight. You haven’t felt like this in a long time, why now? Why in the middle of an important mission? Why just now, that he specifically told you he would not stay, and that once he left he would not come back? Why now, that he was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen, and pouring it in two glasses?

Opening the balcony’s doors, there were two metal chairs (those with delicate designs, that would usually belong to a grandma’s garden) and a round and tiny glass table, just waiting for you two to sit there. You needed fresh air, so you did, sinking in all the city, the active flashlights of the cars, the minute people running around, or walking.

Two glasses of wine clicked against the glass table, and Loki sat in front of you with his eyes fixed on the city, too. You observed him from the corner of your eye, and he did the same. A subtle smile drew across his tightened lips.

After a glass of wine, a refill and about an hour of small talk, he uncrossed his legs and stretched his arms and back with a yawn. The blush still remained intact on his cheeks, and it couldn’t be because of the wine. If you weren’t drunk, much less him. He looked back at you, and chuckled uncomfortably.

“What?”, he asked.

“What what?”.

“You’re staring”.

“Oh, sorry”.

“No, it’s fine”, he said, and you furrowed your brows. He specified, “I don’t mind. I wonder what you’re thinking while you stare, nothing more”.

“So you’re not reading my mind?”.

“No. You said you didn’t like that”.

“Ah”, you gave your glass of wine one last sip and emptied it. It was such a simple gesture, yet you didn’t expect him to actually have listened. Of course he would, he wasn’t actually as bad as he was portrayed by Stark, or so you have seen so far of him. “I just… I wonder about you”.

“About what?”.

“You’re difficult to read. My job here is mainly knowing how to read people”, you explained, and he nodded. “It’s almost like you’re purposely hiding. Like you’re shifting your microexpressions into whatever they are now, so nobody can see what you actually think or feel”. He let out a short chest laugh. Probably sarcastic, but how would you know.

“Who would actually want to know what goes through my mind?”.

“I do, just told you”.

He looked down and played with the empty glass in between his fingers. It looked small in comparison.

“You don’t want to, believe me”.

“Are you afraid of letting people in?”.

“No, it’s not that”, he said, trying to let you know he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You ignored it and opened your mouth, but the words died in your tongue as he added, “please, don’t”.

“I wish I knew you better”, you said after a few more minutes of silence. You swore you heard a creaking foot on the stairs, peeping in the conversation. You ignored it; if Loki was to talk to you, he would also say it in front of Peter. Not like you had some sort of special bond, or even friendship. You kind of wished for it, though.

“Why?”. His knitted eyebrows showed how actually curious he was about that. He believed you. He was certain you were telling the truth, but he simply couldn’t put his head around it. Why would anyone want to know me better? What is it about me that you care? And you wished to know the reason, too. If you knew why you were so drawn to him, maybe you could’ve stopped yourself.

“I feel like I’m missing out on something”.

“Something like what?”.

“Something great”.

“There is no greatness in me, it’s all an act”.

“I know it’s all an act”, you said, referring to his whole I’m a God and you’ll kneel before me and I’m superior. “I don't mean that kind of greatness. You’re hiding the wrong things”.

“You’re not missing out on anything”, he insisted, and not for humility, but because he wanted to brush you off. Keep you away from him.

“Don’t you think we could ever get along? Friends, even?”, you pressured. You knew you shouldn’t have, but Loki didn’t take it badly. Instead, he finally looked at you, drawing a sad smile.

“I’m going back to Asgard after the mission. I don’t intend to make new friends”, he said, but a softness in his voice hinted he wasn’t being mean; simply stating the facts. Exactly as it should be.

“Why did you come only for this mission?”, you asked. You actually wanted to ask do you even have friends back there?, but you knew better.

“I owe Stark. I messed up and wanted to fix at least something with him. He’s not taking it too kindly, but I think he understands the intentions”, he explained, sitting back up on his chair and getting his eyes back on the city.

“A peace offering?”.

“More like an apology. Redemption, even”.

“Redemption? Do you see yourself as a villain to him?”.

He didn’t answer right away. Took his time to find the words.

“I wronged. I did things I shouldn’t have”, and then you realized, he wasn’t apologizing for the New York incident. It was personal. You even wondered, maybe… was he…? Was Tony actually the...? No, imposible. “I know helping out on a mission won’t cut it, but if I can at least be a little bit of help to his planet…”.

“May I ask what did you wrong him in?”.

“I tried to take over Midgard once”, he said, and you didn’t believe him.

“If you ask me, it’s not Stark’s place to accept that apology. He doesn’t own the planet, even though he thinks that”.

“Does he?”.

“He acts like such, at least. He has a big ego, but also a big heart. He’s the closest thing I have to a father”.

“I know”, and you weren’t sure what he had said I know to.

The night was kept awake with more small talk you wouldn’t remember the next day. You saw the sun rising from behind the buildings in silence, with a bad aftertaste of wine, takeout food and unspoken words that would stay just like that.

#loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x you #loki of asgard #tom hiddleston #marvel #loki mcu #mcu loki #loki x y/n #loki fanfic #loki headcanon #loki fic #loki fluff #loki angst #thomas sharpe

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 years ago

Text

Wicked Romance

Chapter 3

Character : Mob!Steve Rogers x Retired Assassin Female Reader

Summary : Steve was hoping to meet the right one until he met her. But is he ready to be with her? He thought his life already dark because of his job. He wouldn’t able to find a woman that strong enough to face the hardship to stand beside him. Turn out his life is nothing compared to her.

Warning : No smuts, since I don’t know how to write it. Peace y’all.

Today (Y/N) drive Peter to his workplace; the business still close, but Wanda wants him to come to discuss which recipe they should use for the grand re-opening.

Usually, Peter use his bike to go to work. But (Y/N) offers to use her car since she’s also going out.

Peter notices a big back on her backseat. “Where are you going?”

“My friend needs my help.”

“Hmm.” He was silent if (Y/N) mention ‘help’ means including guns, explosions, and deadly battle.

“Who’s your friend?”

(Y/N) felt nervous, she bit her lips. “John Wick…??” She answered him with questions because she knew he doesn’t like it when dealing with underworld stuff.

The atmosphere suddenly became quiet.

She felt nervous because he became quiet. “Are you mad? Don’t worry Bambi, I’ll be back before you know it.”

She glanced a bit to see his reaction wondering if he’s mad. Well, she’s right cause Peter’s head is looking out his window and he already put on his earphones. (Y/N) sighed inwardly, she couldn't help it when her former comrade asked for her help.

Their ride was silent until her car stopped at Peter's destination. From her view, she could see the restaurant almost done with the renovation. The worker put in new furniture and chandeliers.

“Have a good day Peter.” (Y/N) rests her on the steering wheels; she smiles sweetly at Peter, but he still give her a cold shoulder.

She doesn’t like it when he ignores her, so when he gets out of the car and closes the door, (Y/N) open the car window and screams, "Bye, I love you!!!"

Honestly, he didn’t play any song to his ears; he only put it on just for show because it’s too early to argue with (Y/N). How shocked he was when he heard her sudden shout.

Peter was embarrassed because there are many people in front of the store and pedestrians right now. All eyes and giggle are directed to him; he pulled down the hoodie to hide his face.

(Y/N) giggled like a maniac, she shouted again, “Peter, I won’t go until you say it back!!”

Peter huffed before turning around and ran to the car again. “Love you too, don’t get killed and don’t ruin your new carpet with blood this time.” After he said that, he ran into the building. He wishes he could dig a hole and hide right now.

(Y/N) feels satisfied after knowing he’s talking to her again. She drove the car, heading to her battleground.

When Peter stepped inside, he saw his colleague chuckled when they looked at him. He tries to act cool and walks towards Wanda table.

Peter felt a big shadow covering him; it made him stop walking. He glanced through his shoulder and saw his boss, Sam, Steve, and Bucky, looking at him with a weird smile.

“Ehm, can I help you sir?” Peter's shoulder became tense; he has never been this close with them.

Bucky put his arms around Peter’s shoulder. “Have you had breakfast Peter?”

“Yea… Waiitt….” Before Peter could finish his answer, Bucky carried his body like a potato sack.

Peter doesn’t understand why he got treated like this. They enter the private room that is only reserved for the elite patron.

Bucky drops Peter to the seat while Sam offers the kid an apple juice. Steve is standing in front of him.

“That was a nice car Peter.”

A light bulb appears in front of Peter; he could figure out what they will ask him about (Y/N).

Peter is right; three of them are curious even before they heard a woman shout towards Peter.

Why?

Because of the car.

Today (Y/N) drove using her car of the day, which is a Lamborghini Aventador.

Even the sound of the car engine made everyone turn their head to see it—no exception for Steve, Bucky, and Sam.

####

Before Peter arrived.

Steve, Bucky and Sam, are already at the restaurant to supervise the working progress. They were heading out after making sure everything was fine until they heard a loud engine sound.

How surprised they were when they saw Peter step out from the car. Steve could see it was a woman who drove the car.

“Hmm, Peter usually drove a bike here.” Said Pietro, who joined them.

“He acts like a poor kid turned out he’s rich.”

They are still looking outside, trying to see who the driver is. Lucky for them the car window rolled down.

Steve almost popped out his eyes when he saw the woman he was longing to meet is the car owner.

“Hmm is that Miss Lilly?” Pietro recognised his favourite customer. His hunch was correct all this time; Peter and she knew each other.

“Bye, I love you!!!”

The adult male gasped when they heard her shout towards Peter.

“Oh my god, Peter is a sugar baby and Miss Lily is his sugar mama.” Pietro gasped.

Steve knocked the bartender's head lightly. “Go help your sister.” Pietro rolled his eyes and left to help Wanda.

Bucky looked at Steve, who had a jealous expression on his face. “Ask the kid.” He knew his friend had been looking for the mysterious girl for weeks, but they found nothing. It turns out the one who gives them the information is here.

“Thank you, it belongs to my sister.”

How relieved Steve was when the word ‘sister’ came out of Peter's mouth.

"You never mention you have older siblings. "

"Step sibling actually."

"Hmm."

"So her name is Lily Parker?" Bucky opened his notebook and put her name in the database. He thought they could find something, but they didn't.

Peter raised his eyebrow.

"Come on Peter, you know what we do. Our boss here is interested in your older sister."

“We didn’t share a last name. Her name is Lily Belcher.”

Bucky immediately types the last name. He smiled after they finally found what they’re looking “Steve, come and take a look at this.”

Steve looks at the screen; he could see her occupation as Special Project Analyst, skills in archery, karate, and Muay Thai.

“In which industries she’s working?” Steve asked Peter.

“Automotive.”

Steve can’t be fooled; this is must be fake info of her. There’s no way an analyst hide a dagger under her dress. There’s a lot of question in his head right now, but he needs to wait until everything is ready.

Peter and others are having lunch together until Vision turn up the TV volume. Usually, they let it on without any voice. But today, breaking news is different because they could see a camera moving and show Brock and his lackey are asleep on the plane runway.

“Today in the middle of the city, there’s a guy riding a horse and shooting a certain group and some witnesses said a female helping him. Then a private jet that belongs to Mr Rumlow got stolen by them. The culprit put the passenger to sleep as you can see.”

The big bosses are laughing out loud in the office; they could hear it from outside.

“Hahaha, who is this guy? Who ever did this to Brock, I owe him a drink.” Bucky has the loudest laugh.

While they were laughing, Peter almost choked to death. He was drinking water when he heard the news—only one brave enough to steal in daylight.

#####

Inside the stolen private jet, a woman treats a wounded male with blood everywhere on his body.

“Does it really necessary to steal from him? There’s a lot of empy jet that we could use.” John Wick is lying on the small couch while closing his eyes because (Y/N) stitching his open injury.

(Y/N) answer while trying to finish her job. “That guys annoyed me, because of him my tea time got ruined.”

John chuckled, hearing her childish reason. “Remind me not to get on your bad side (Y/N).”

Another day,

Another challenge.

Finally, Steve business re-opened again. He and his friends are welcoming their guest together. But secretly, he’s nervous, thinking if she will come or not. He kept dreaming about her.

“Punk, your girl is here.” Bucky alerts his friend.

Steve turns his head to the entrance. He became dumbfounded at one moment when he saw her step into the building. She was beautiful, and when not smiling, she looked more dazzling, her presence hypnotising her spectators.

“Great party Rogers.” (Y/N) compliment the host party while handed him liquor as a gift.

Steve was surprised when she gave him a gift. “You don’t have too.” He prepared to decline in the polite matter, but Pietro grabs the bottle.

“The Dalmore 62??!!” He almost screamed when he saw the label. Because of his job, he knew a lot of expensive liquor. The one he’s holding is costly. Even with his salary, there’s no way he could buy this drink.

“Thank you Miss Lily.” Pietro looks at Steve with a big smile. “I’ll put this into your collection boss.”

Steve rolled his eyes to his childish bartender, he felt annoyed, but he became less tense when he heard her giggle. He ordered a drink from Pietro assistant for both of them.

The beautiful couple talks like it’s only them who inside the room.

"Lily Belcher is not your real name right?" Steve twirl the whiskey glass in his hand.

"Maybe, why do you think that?"

"Can I know your real name?"

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Steve smirked; he lowered his head to get closer to her ear and whispered something that made her giggle.

"That sounds fun."

"How about a bet? If you win I will tell you my real name."

"But if you win?"

"I'll get free food everytime I come here."

Steve chuckled, then he let out a big laugh. He never thought a girl like her would ask this from him. Somewhat refreshing actually; well, he won't mind if he lost because he could see her every time she came here.

"Deal."

Steve hug her waist intimately. "What exactly is the challenge?"

"How many spies we could find in your party."

Steve looked at her face with a big question mark.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and act playfully in front of him. "Ah, come on Steve I know this grand party also a silent announcement that this place is neutral. Like where the law enforcement and mobsters could enjoy their drink and food together."

Steve was impressed with her judgment.

"My guts tell me you already figure who it is."

She tapped her lips"Yeah, not the police cause they don't want to deal with mobster. My guess is…" She whispers to him, "C.I.A."

Steve gripped his wine glass; he felt annoyed he got an uninvited guest tonight.

"They won't target you tonight. I assure that."

"I fell safe already cause an angel like you guarding me." Steve responded.

(Y/N) laugh bitterly that's what man calls her like love, baby, and another sweet nickname, but after they break up, she gets called bitch, or satan.

"Who could figure who the spies the most won."

"Deal."

(Y/n) is walking away from Steve, but he holds her waist. "Let's do it together." Since he doesn't want to let her wander around, other males will try to flirt with her. Nope, not on his watch.

“I forgot to tell you, there’s a time limit.” (Y/N) move away from his embrace; she taps her watch. “We have 30 minutes. Time is ticking Rogers.”

Steve’s hand felt empty when she stepped away, but he more determined to finish their bet. "Okay."

####

Bucky, Sam, are looking at Steve, who acts like a lovesick puppy. They could tolerate Steve for leaving them to attend to their guest. Since the main reason for today party is to impress her. It seems like the plan is a success. Steve and she are inseparable.

Sarah and Joseph Rogers enter the party together. Usually, Steve would welcome them immediately, but they didn’t see a glimpse of their son.

Sarah approach her son best friend to ask, “Where’s Steve?”

Bucky smiled at her. “He’s with a special guest tonight.”

Joseph smirked since he understands what Bucky just said: “I would like to meet her.”

(Y/N) use her skill to seduce the spies; most of them were unprepared for a beautiful lady like her to approach them. They are here to get information. Her method was quiet; she put sleeping pills into their drinks. One by one, the spies excuse themselves to the bathroom to wash their face. That’s where (Y/N) knocked them down.

While Steve uses his status as the host party. He is a proper host; he gave a warm welcome to the spies. The spies knew they are done. They want to refute, but they are already in the wrong since they fake the invitation. Steve is considerate and doesn’t want to make a scene asking them to go back to their car.

When Steve walks behind the spies, he sees her already standing leaning to the car.

“20 minutes, not bad. How many that you found?”

“Three.” Her finger pointed to the three male who fell asleep.

Steve smirked. “Four.”

“No way.”

“Look like I won.”

(Y/N) clicked her tongue. “How?”

“I have the upper hand from the beginning since I’m the owner. I knew who the guests were and the people who work under me.”

“Ah, I haven’t checked the kitchen. My dress-code won’t allow me to enter.”

Steve nodded. “There’s one waiter who I've never seen before, he works alongside Pietro, your favourite bartender.”

The spies felt like a light bulb for the couple; they excuse themselves quietly by dragging their team, who fell asleep, back into their car and drive away. They bet the couple doesn’t notice nor seem to care about their presence. It’s uncomfortable watching the mob boss flirting.

They were right; the couple doesn’t care at all. They went back to the building where Steve takes her to the terrace; he already arranged it to be beautiful; he requests to make the light illuminate the flower perfectly.

“So my mysterious guest would you tell me your name?”

Under the light, Steve saw her beautiful smile “(Y/N) Parker. I’m pretty sure you already know about me and Peter.”

Steve nodded. “He’s lucky to have a beautiful sister like you and your name sounds perfect to my ear.”

He put his arm around her waist and leaned his head near her ear. She could feel his breath kinda tickle her neck. “(Y/N), what kind of reward will you give me since I successfully redecorated this place and won the bet today?”

She always likes a straightforward person like Steve. She doesn’t mind his aggressive touch. This time it (Y/N) turns to whisper in his ear. What she said almost made Steve’s leg become jelly. If he didn’t maintain his self-esteem, he would lose at this moment.

“Oh, I’m sorry I thought this place is empty.” A guest interrupted.

Steve sighed; another one tries to disturb their private moment. He asked her if she wants to come to his house, to which she immediately agreed.

“Not saying goodbye to your brother?”

(Y/N) doesn’t worried about Peter since she taught him lethal self-defence. There’s a lot of sharp weapons if someone tries to hurt him. “He’s fine.”

Both of them get into the car; Steve drives back to his place.

When they headed to their destination, they got attacked again. (Y/N) and Steve’s make-out session got disturbed.

‘BANG’

Both of them knew it’s a bullet that hit Steve’s car. He already prepared for this kind of attack, all of his car already modified with bulletproof.

Guess who? Brock, he’s made a fuss since he didn’t get the invitation.

Steve felt guilty looking at his date, but his worries are all gone when he saw her look excited.

“Keep driving.”

“What?”

(Y/N) hand move to touch Steve blazer that made him shocked because of her hand touching his abs.

“(Y/N) now is not the time.” Steve hold his breath.

(Y/N) she laughed because Steve seemed misunderstood; she didn’t say anything that made him more frustrated. If the situation is different, he wouldn’t mind.

Her finger found Steve’s gun that attached to his belt. “I’m going to borrow this for a moment.”

“That’s dangerous, let’s stop here.”

Before he stops the car, (Y/N) opens the window; her body still stays on the seat; she puts out her right that holds the gun. She saw her target through the car window.

“Drive to the left a little bit Steve.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Steve does as she told. It gave her a clear shot at Brock's car.

‘BOOM.’

Steve gasped, his head kept turning back, looking at the scene; with just one shot Brock’s car tire got shot that made them lose control and hit the concrete barrier.

He finally able to stop his car. “That was a big crash.”

(Y/N) felt proud with just one bullet, she able to ruin the car chase. “If they die, that’s on them.”

“You’re amazing.” Steve grabbed her cheeks and brought her head closer to him so he could kiss her. It’s been a long time since he gets excited like this.

‘I never met a woman like you.’

They only been together for hours but Steve already felt the connection. And tonight even though there’s a lot of distraction, he could be himself when she stay beside him.

He hope she would be the last one.

So they drive back to his place and do the deeds.

(BANG! BANG! BANG!)

While the couple is enjoying their intimate moment, the atmosphere quite different in C.I.A HQ.

‘THUD’ The sound of a pile of document being smashed to the table made the people who stand fidget a bit. They put their head down since they too scared looking at their boss.

“DAMN IT!!!”

“It was perfect, but all of you failed the mission. How?”

The person who just punched the table and screamed at her subordinate is Peggy Carter, also Steve ex-girlfriend. They were together in the military, but they broke up after Steve decided to work with his father.

She is pissed that her plan to get her people to be the informant for the mob, using the party tonight, has failed.

C.I.A has trying to get dirt from Steve group; they even use Peggy to fool Steve since they had a history together. Peggy uses this mission to make Steve quit being a mobster boss, but it’s such a difficult task to change his mind. Her mission was failed when Natasha found out.

Peggy knew she’s finished when Natasha confronted her.

Her betrayal hurt Steve, and he banned her from stepping into his territory.

“Who found you?”

“The big boss.”

“Argh, that even worse.”

“And there’s one more that is helping him. She’s the one who put the other three to sleep.”

“She?” Peggy raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah and a pretty one. This is the first time we've seen her with Rogers.”

“Have you found out who it is?”

“We use facial recognition, her name is Lilly Belcher.” One of the agents gives her a document.

She read the file “She looks innocent to be with Steve.”

‘and beautiful’

Peggy clenched her fist when she looked at the photo. The break-up left bitterness in her heart. From the story, she heard from her agents, seems like this woman is strong and doesn't mind playing along with Steve. The totally opposite of their relationship.

'Perhaps he found his right partner.'

Peggy doesn't like that idea “I won’t let you have a happy ending Steve.”

>>>CHAPTER 4 IS HERE.

A/N: uUHH... Steve has a bitter ex.

Please tell me if you want to be tagged for the next chapter:

Tag:

@cloudystevie

@marce170018

@stepheewdgirlie

@juliealma1

@valhalla-kristin

@iloveshawnieboi

#mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve #peter parker #cs4kwritingchallenge #marvel au #steve rogers x you #steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n

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moonbeambucky · 4 years ago

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Hey Neighbor (Part 22)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Peter Quill x Reader Word Count: 3377 Warnings: fluff, angst

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, you’re going to be mad for a while. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR PART 21 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

If you told yourself that after what happened Bucky you would be smiling and laughing more than ever before you would have called yourself crazy. At one point it felt like you would never be happy again and then you met Peter.

Peter was the sun that shined brightly pushing the clouds away. You went on a few more dates, texted everyday and found that there was no longer room in your mind for sadness. Bucky was the past and though you didn’t want to be friends at the moment you didn’t hate him as much as you had before.

“Ooh flowers! Someone must really like you,” Mr. Lee said, smiling from the security booth.

You smiled walking over to him, setting down the large vase with the gorgeously arranged bouquet Peter had delivered to your office.

“I think he really does,” you beamed, thinking about how sweet Peter has been.

Sure it’s still very new but you really like him and can’t wait to spend the weekend together. He had both days off and it was so tempting to call out of your internship. If you hadn’t taken off last weekend for the stupid wedding you would have, but you know that you can’t.

Steve finally hangs up the call he was on, and you didn’t miss his tight lipped grimace and the way he eyed the flowers as if they had wronged him personally.

“If you’re happy with Peter I’m happy for you but you really need to let Bucky explain.”

Your eyes flared with a flash of rage wondering if Steve betrayed your trust and spoke to Bucky and on top of that you were really tired of people telling you what they think you need to do. You bite your tongue, not wanting to berate Steve in front of Mr. Lee with the variety of colorful words that were swirling in your mind.

Instead you replied calmly with only the teeniest hint of sass in your voice, “Steve, there’s nothing to explain and I don’t care.” You wished Stan a good weekend, grabbed the flowers and walked out.

Steve knows you’re lying, that despite what you said you’re still hurt, he just wished you weren't so stubborn about admitting it.

Laughter filled the air in Peter’s apartment as the two of you danced in his living room, the lively music from his “Awesome Mix Vol. 1” playlist bouncing off the walls. Groot lays across the couch watching as Peter’s other pet, Rocket, a ferret with raccoon coloring thanks to the dark mask around his eyes, tries to unhook the latch of his cage.

Life has been so much happier with Peter in it. You love snuggling up next to him, petting Groot who insisted his head stay in your lap as you watched a movie together. Peter’s lips press a gentle kiss on your forehead, stirring you from the sleep you had nearly given in to. A tender smile spreads across your face as you look up to him, reaching forward to kiss him. A surge of desire ignited your senses, leaving you and Peter to some heavy petting that did not involve Groot.

The following Friday night you and Peter were eating at his place, trying your best to ignore poor Groot who whimpered beside the table. Steam was rising from the fresh pizza that sat on the table and as appetizing as it looked your stomach couldn’t help but twist with a little guilt. But pizza wasn’t something exclusive to Bucky, that’s silly. You could have pizza– it’s food, it’s fine. You shook off the thoughts.

Groot’s eyes followed the slice in hand to your mouths, gruffly barking in frustration because he wanted some.

“Down,” Peter commanded after Groot pawed at him.

You gave the dog a sympathetic smile, feeling bad as you continued to eat. Your eyes shifted towards your screen that lit up with a message from Wanda, wondering if you were going to make it tonight. You hadn’t hung out with everyone in a long time, spending whatever days Peter had off together. And then there was the fact of really not wanting to run into a certain someone, but Wanda assured you Bucky was not there.

It would be nice to introduce Peter to everyone, maybe Steve could change his attitude if he met the man that made your cheeks ache from smiling so much.

“My friends are all hanging out at a bar right now and invited me so, I don’t know if it’s too early for this but if you maybe wanted to come with me?” You cringed at yourself, realizing how you unconfidently rambled on.

“Sure kitten, I’d love to meet your friends.”

“Really?” You bit your bottom lip, smiling widely as Peter’s hand reached over to caress your cheek.

“I’d do anything for you.” The light sparkled in his eyes as he stared at yours, dropping his gaze to your lips and gradually back up again.

You would have texted Wanda back if your fingers hadn’t carded through Peter’s hair, your lips on his as he lifted you up, your thighs wrapping around him as he carried you to the bedroom. An unwatched table left Groot alone, happy to steal a slice for himself.

The night air was cool on your hot skin, still a little sweaty after your romp with Peter. You wondered if the smell of sex lingered on you, walking towards the bar together and stopping every few paces because Peter couldn’t keep his hands off you. With his arms around your waist he pulled you close to him, the metal gate of a closed store clanging as he leaned against it to capture your lips.

You were all smiles by the time you walked into the bar, hand in hand with Peter. Your eyes lit up when you spotted Steve and Clint, with Peggy and Natasha being revealed the closer you got to the table. You saw the back of Wanda’s head and were about to call out for her but your voice died in your throat as you spotted two familiar faces.

Bucky, and with him was that woman, Claire.

Your lips press tightly as you stare at her. Looks like Bucky kept his date after all, adding another fuck buddy to his mix since you left.

“Hey Y/N! Glad you could make it!” Sam waved you over.

Wanda whipped her head around, her brows raising with concern. With the squeeze of Peter’s hand against yours you put on a smile. Sam was the first to get up and introduce himself but you took over, introducing Peter to everyone including Bucky and the woman whose name you pretended you forgot.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Wanda said, smiling tensely.

She grabbed your arm before you had a chance to stop her, pulling you into the women’s room.

Her hands balled into tight fists that she shook in frustration. “I wish you told me you were coming. I thought you didn’t answer because you weren’t and Bucky only showed up like twenty minutes ago but if I knew I would have– ”

“Wanda, I don’t care.” She studied your smile, looking for cracks in the facade she knew you had to be wearing.

“Uh huh, okay.” She rolled her eyes not believing you. “It’s barely been three weeks and you’re telling me that you don’t care? That’s bullshit Y/N and you know it.”

“Wanda, I mean it!” you snapped. “Bucky and I had sex– that’s it!” The cutting motion of your hand emphasized your words. “I’m with Peter now and I’m happy so you need to drop it, okay?”

You pulled the handle of the door roughly, wanting to quickly get back to Peter. A smile graced his face with everyone’s eyes on him. You slid in next to him, catching the tail end of a question Clint had asked.

“Hmmm craziest story. Well there was a time we got called to an apartment in Queens because this kid had a Q-tip stuck in his ear.”

Everyone wore a look of confusion that only grew the more Peter spoke.

“It was this high school kid with his buddy and one of ‘em thought a spider crawled in his ear. So apparently they were trying to shake it out but it wasn’t working so the other thought they could dig it out with a Q-tip but he pushed a little too far and panicked, thinking it was stuck in his brain.”

“And what happened?” Peggy asked.

“The EMT’s were able to remove the Q-tip but the whole time the kid was freaking out, saying he could feel the spider biting him in his ear but they didn’t see anything.”

Claire spoke up, not that you wanted her to. “That’s why I always advise patients not to stick anything in their ears.” Whatever miss know-it-all, I’m sure Sam would say the same thing too.

“But the weirdest thing is that a week later I saw this same kid walking by the station so I ran out to see how he was doing. He turned down an alley and then he was gone, disappeared outta nowhere. So I look up…” Peter paused, making eye contact with everyone before finishing, “... and he’s climbing up the walls�� like a spider!”

Everyone burst into a fit of laughter and Peter admitted the first half of the story was true. He wrapped his arm around you, proud to have seemingly won over your friends’ approval. Most of them at least. You tried not to make eye contact with Bucky but it was hard. You felt his gaze burn deeper with every sign of affection Peter showed, and anytime you happened to give in and catch his eyes you felt your upper lip tremble.

But this was fine. The chapter in your life with Bucky is over. It wasn’t even a chapter really, it was a short story, a few lines of prose and it’s over. This is fine.

This is fine...

It took a while to fall asleep that night. Even though your body was desperate to rest after another an amazing round of sex with Peter your mind could not shut off. You were thinking of Bucky and the emotion that poured through his eyes, the tense line solidified in his lips. Was he upset with you? He couldn’t be. You haven’t done anything wrong. You weren’t the one that fed him lies and played with his heart like a game, tossing it aside for a shinier toy. No. If Bucky is upset that’s all on him, because he let you go and not the other way around.

In the early morning you and Peter walked with Groot until you went separate ways, the two of them heading to the station to begin Peter’s shift and you headed home. You didn’t bother sneaking in like you had before. If Bucky heard you then whatever, you don’t care, but you don’t want to speak to him.

Last night had been very awkward, having not said a word to each other. You’re not sure if anyone who wasn’t aware of the situation realized there was tension, though Natasha had given you a curious look when you said goodbye. If she didn’t know she probably suspected and you’re fairly certain you’ll be under interrogation soon.

You couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky was under the same scrutiny. His mom was still tagging you on Facebook posts, a mix of funny animal videos and “mom approved” memes. Does she know what happened? Probably, considering the Fourth of July is coming up and she hasn’t extended a barbecue invitation. Does she know about Claire? So far you hadn’t seen Claire Temple on her friends list.

Yes, you stalked her through Bucky’s Instagram. It’s not a big deal, you just wanted a little more information about who she was.

Claire Temple Compassionate Helper 👩🏽‍⚕️ Avid Runner 🏃🏽‍♀️ Coffee Addict ☕

Scrolling through her photos you learned she is a nurse and (after having a minor heart attack) you learned she used to work at Metro-General. She doesn’t post much, a few pictures of the sun setting between the skyscrapers or graffiti on the side of the building; typical aesthetic pictures. But sprinkled in between those were pictures of her with people; colleagues from her new job at Sacred Saints, smiling as her arms barely wrapped around a brick of a man; her brightly colored sleeves popping against the umber of his skin. She grinned from ear to ear with him, ex-boyfriend perhaps?

Stop stalking her Y/N, stop it now!

You exit her profile, vowing not to look again though you’re not sure how much you trust yourself to keep that promise. But then again Claire was just one of many people that Bucky was sleeping with, so unless she was insanely clingy you didn’t think she’d be flaunting a picture of a guy she knew she didn’t have a chance with.

Besides none of this mattered anyway. Even if Winnie invited you to a barbecue you wouldn’t have been able to go because the Fourth of July happens to be Steve’s birthday and everyone was getting together to celebrate.

Luckily Peter had off the whole weekend and you were so happy he was coming with you. He looked very handsome in his FDNY shirt with casual shorts that showed off his thick calves while you stuck with a mostly red, white and blue theme, breaking out your red converse again with jean shorts and a blue tank top with stars on it.

In the late afternoon you boarded a crowded train to Brooklyn where Peggy’s friend Carol was happy to host a party to celebrate America and America’s ass. Apparently that was her nickname for Steve, teasing him with it because she knows how red he turns when he hears it.

Steve and Carol became close because of Peggy and though she seemed a little reserved at times you could tell they had broken the ice with each other. You met Carol before, seeing her at Steve’s apartment, and with her girlfriend Val when everyone went out for Peggy’s birthday a few months back. Carol lived in a building right off the water in Brooklyn Heights and had the perfect view for fireworks.

Hand in hand you and Peter walked down a lively street with kids riding their bicycles past you, and rhythmic music flowing from open windows. You were buzzed into the building, climbing up a hefty flight of stairs before reaching Carol’s apartment.

Val opened the door, her face lighting up as she threw her arms around you. There was barely a moment to admire the white stars painted around the eyes of her light brown skin as she introduced herself to Peter, catching him off guard in a welcoming hug before inviting you both in.

“Can I get you guys something to drink?” she asked, gesturing to the assortment that filled the kitchen counter, various bottles of soda and seltzer, beers, bottles of liquor. “Firecracker jello shot?” she offered, holding out a tray of them.

“I think I’ll say hi to everyone first, thanks,” you replied, making your way into the living room.

Steve was staring at the view from the window, setting the beer down from his hand when he heard you call his name.

“Happy Birthday!” you greeted, hugging him tightly. “What’s this?” You smirked, pointing to his jaw as he and Peter were saying hello. “Too lazy to shave on your birthday?”

Steve ran his fingers along the beginnings of a scratchy beard. “I think I’m growing it out.”

“I wonder what Peggy thinks… Peggy!” you turned to shout for her, seeing her on the other side of the room with Carol.

You said hello to them, meeting a few of Carol’s friends along the way. Soon more of your friends showed up and you were having a great time until Bucky and Claire walked through the door. You were the closest one to the entrance, wishing you had Peter by your side to distract you but he had been caught up in a conversation with Carol about her time as an Air Force pilot.

“Uh hey Y/N,” Bucky spoke, your name a foreign word on his tongue, “Happy Fourth.”

It was probably because of the fact that you were on the spot, with all eyes on you as Sam shouted for Bucky, that he leaned in to give you a half hug. Your palms didn’t quite make it up to return the favor. His touch reminded you of the ways he had you crying out his name, but now you shivered because it all felt wrong. Claire actually hugged you though she was a little hesitant, unsure if meeting you once constituted a greeting like this.

You made your way back to the living room, uneasy and in need of a distraction, not finding that in Peter who was still deep in conversation. Clint’s gaze caught you from the opposite side of the room, and he signed asking if you were bored. You shook your head, forcing a smile and signed back, “Not with you here.”

Clint strode over, grabbing a handful of chips first before he stopped beside you. You hadn’t seen him that much so it was nice to catch up a little. He was so happy the school year was over, hoping now he and Natasha might have some time to actually plan their wedding.

“Speaking of couples, it’s weird to see that, right?” He nudged his chin towards Bucky and Claire.

“What’s weird?” You’ve seen Bucky’s fuck buddies before, that girl Dot tried to weasel her way into hanging out with everyone on St. Patrick’s Day but at least Bucky had the common sense to spare you all.

“Bucky. That he actually settled down. Who would’ve thought?”

Clint chomped on chips as your mind spiraled into panic. You tried to control the tremble of your voice as you asked for more details, finding out Bucky actually decided to date Claire. Bucky Barnes. The man that’s fucked more people than the American healthcare system was actually, seriously, honestly in a committed relationship.

Your heart pounded in your chest, overwhelmed by this knowledge that has you on the edge of screaming at the top of your lungs and bursting into tears. Your feet took you straight to Val, not having to do much convincing to get her to do a jello shot (or three) with you. It seemed she had sampled a lot already herself and you wanted to feel just as loose.

She wooed loudly, grabbing some patriotic tinsel that decorated the table and placing a bunch first behind your ear and then hers. She stumbled a little bit but you caught her, both of you laughing as you helped her stand somewhat upright, fixing the metal necklace engraved with some sort of Norse symbol from around her neck.

With a bit of booze in you things didn’t seem so bad, except for walking down the stairs, that wasn’t the best idea, but by the end of the night that’s what everyone did. Carol’s apartment was on a dead end street that led right into the entrance of a pedestrian walkway that stretched out above the highway. It had perfect views of Manhattan, the Brooklyn Bridge and the beautiful booming fireworks display.

Peter stood behind you the whole time, his arms around your waist, face nestled in your neck pressing a kiss that made you squirm in delight. But your mind was cruel, reminding you of Bucky’s lips where Peter’s had been; of the chill on Bucky’s nose as he sought the warmth of your skin; of Bucky’s hands around you, holding you close like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly together.

The fireworks were reflected in the tears of your eyes, that you thankfully brushed away before anyone noticed. That was the last night you hung out with your friends as a group.

You couldn’t do it anymore, seeing Bucky and Claire hurt. Maybe it was the lies, all the bullshit you ate up like a starved child. And then it hit you.

Bucky wanted a relationship, but not with you.

PART 23

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #peter quill x reader

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Three in the Morning

Prompt: May i ask for a short story of Sam and Bucky being platonic boyfriends? Bucky is having a rough day (flashbacks, or panic/anxiety attacks??) And Sam helps him? Or Sam is having a shit day and Bucky tries to help? I just one of them being hurt and them comforted by the other? Plz and thanks

Ahhh no thank you it feels good to be back in the marvel mode. Tfatws SLAPPED let’s be real. Also they didn’t have to go so hard with the bisexual energy in that last episode but they sure as hell did

Read on Ao3

Warnings: our boi sam got PTSD and it ain’t great, other than that, all fluff

Pairings: sambucky, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 2597

It’s been one of those days. Where suddenly there’s a little kid on the corner of the street and all he can think of is how much Riley would’ve loved walking around New York with him, seeing everyone living. Not trying to accomplish anything past just today. Nothing else but just existing. But then when Sam looks behind him, Riley’s not there.

Or then he wakes up in the middle of the night and all he can hear is the soldiers on the ground, telling him not to let them die. And he looks down at his hands expecting to see them covered in blood only to see them shaking in the dark.

So he stumbles into the kitchen because God knows he won’t get back to sleep tonight and he knows he needs to get some food and liquids into his body. He stops when he sees Bucky behind the counter. He glances up when he rounds the corner and gives him a little wave.

He’s baking. At…three in the morning. By the light of the under-cabinet bulbs, near-silent, Bucky Barnes is baking in the kitchen at three in the morning.

Since when does Bucky know how to bake?

Bucky motions for him to sit, which he does. He tries to open his mouth and ask what’s going on. Bucky doesn’t look away from his work and slides a full glass of water across the counter along with a bowl of pretzels.

Huh.

He downs the water pretty quickly, watching him roll out the dough and cut it into little circles on the tray. Is he…?

Sam snaps out of his daze when Bucky carefully takes the empty glass and turns to the fridge. The soft click-buzz of the water dispenser begins to cut through the static in his head. The glass slides back to him. Bucky goes back to work, still quiet.

He keeps drinking, slower this time, as he watches Bucky separate the dough, place the clean-cut circles onto a tray covered in baking paper, and re-roll the remains to be used again. In the dim light, his metal arm looks almost wet.

It isn’t until that arm reaches out to take the empty glass again that Sam realizes he’s staring.

Bucky keeps his glass full until the tray is covered in little round dough pats. He turns, slides the tray into the oven, sets the timer with a few beeps. Then he reaches to grab the kettle—how long has that been there?—and fills the blue beaker of a mug they bought on a whim when they walked into the new little corner shop at the end of the block and felt too awkward leaving without buying anything. He reaches into the cupboard, pulls out a tea bag from whatever herbal mess the neighbors gave them this time, and dunks it in the water.

He reaches again, taking another mug—the big cream one Sarah practically forced into his hands—and doing the same. He pulls open the drawer and takes one of the softer dish towels and wraps it around the mug. Turning, he sets it carefully in front of Sam and raises his own mug to his lips. Damn metal arm means he doesn’t realize how hot it really is and just about burns his mouth.

Bucky hides a smile over the rim of his own mug.

Sam sits, Bucky stands, drinking tea in their kitchen alone at three in the morning. A car drives by outside. The breeze makes the leaf shadows dance on the wall.

It’s quiet.

It’s really quiet.

None of the hectic screaming wheels, none of the chatter of thousands of voices, none of the flashing numbers in his HUD trying to tell him what to do, where to go, what calculation to make next.

It’s just…quiet.

Until the oven beeps. Bucky’s quick reflexes keep the volume from deafening them but goddamnit can they invent a ‘night mode’ where the microwave and the oven and the kettle understand that it’s three in the goddamn morning and so they should pipe the fuck down?

Bucky reaches for the mitt and slides it on. He reaches down and pulls out the tray. He sets it carefully on the stove, reaches out to turn off the oven, and grabs a spatula. Sam’s eyes glued to his back as he turns back and forth, picking up something with the spatula and setting it down on a rack to cool. He could pick up the paper from the tray and move the whole thing at once, but this feels better.

There’s something about humans really liking simple, repetitive motions. It’s why watching the waves is so calming, watching those gif things that Peter likes to send in the group chat loop over and over and over, not that they’d ever admit that. Watching Bucky turn, bend, lift, and slide the spatula back and forth, back and forth, at three in the morning.

At last, he sets down the spatula and picks up the plate, turning around and setting it between them on the counter.

Perfect, golden brown biscuits. Mama Wilson’s favorite comfort food.

Sam’s stomach growls.

Bucky’s mouth quirks up in a smile and he turns around, grabbing two little plates from the cupboard and the butter from the fridge. The butter knife makes a clatter as it decides you know what, fuck gravity, and all but jumps out of his hand. Bucky grabs it, looking at it like it just sprouted wings, before shaking his head and setting everything down. He slides his tea mug to the side and takes the top off the butter, stepping back and leaning on the counter. He indicates the plate.

Sam tilts his head.

They’re all so fluffy. And round. And brown. And god, they smell incredible. He looks around for the lumpy one.

The lumpy one is another one of Mama Wilson’s traditions. There’s never really enough dough to make all the perfectly circular biscuits, so the last one just kind of gets…smushed together. It always ended up tasting the best.

There it is.

He nods to the biscuit third from the left. Bucky nods, picking up and buttering the top, setting it on one of the little plates. Sam just picks up the biscuit and takes a bite.

Bucky huffs quietly and picks up the plate to catch his crumbs.

…damn he’s missed homemade biscuits. The butter melts in his mouth and the biscuit is so, so good.

“So?” Bucky smiles at him. “How’d I do?”

“You steal the recipe?”

“Sarah gave it to me,” he says, picking his own biscuit and reaching for the knife, “thought I’d let it sit in the drawer for too long.”

“Mm.”

“Take it that means I did a good job?”

Sam nods, still munching. A bit of butter drops onto the plate and he shovels the rest of it into his mouth before more can fall. Bucky chuckles.

“Good thing I made a bunch.”

“Mhm.” Sam reaches for another one, only to pause and stare at whatever the hell Bucky thinks he’s doing.

The man has the knife in the biscuit, cutting it in half. Bucky looks up to see why Sam’s frozen only to have the audacity to look confused while Sam’s staring at him like he’s grown another head. Which he has, basically.

“What the hell are you doing to that poor baked good?”

“What’re you talking about?” Bucky finishes dissecting the biscuit and cuts a slab of butter, placing it inside like a sandwich and smushing the top back on. “This is how I eat biscuits.”

“You’re making an abomination over there, that’s what you’re doing.”

“No, see, ‘cause this way the butter starts to melt and you don’t have as much biscuit without it.”

“Look at how many crumbs you’re spraying everywhere, you’re letting a quarter of the biscuit escape!”

“That’s what the plate’s for.”

Sam shakes his head. “You disrespect the biscuit.”

“I respect it just fine. You’re the one that refuses to let the butter melt all the way before eating it.”

“The butter’s not supposed to melt all the way! It’s supposed to be a little cold.”

“It’s also messier.”

“What’s the point of eating biscuits and butter if your fingers aren’t sticky by the end of it?”

Bucky just pops his abomination into his mouth and smirks. He wiggles his fingers.

“No butter.”

“Pass me the butter knife.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it!”

“Here’s the deal. I’ll give you a biscuit the right way—“

“You mean your way—“

“—and you can give me one of your Frankenstein monsters,” Sam says, “and we’ll see.”

“You’re on.”

Sam takes a biscuit and slathers butter over the top of it. He holds it out.

“Thank you,” Bucky says, graciously accepting the plate, “and don’t stare at mine like it’s a piece of gum on the sidewalk.”

“It ain’t right, Buck.”

“Why don’t you try it first?”

Sam bites into the biscuit. Well, the biscuit is still delicious, but…

“Where’s the butter?”

“It’s in there.”

“Where? I can’t taste it!”

“I put it in there!”

“Well no wonder it don’t taste right, there’s no butter in here.”

“I put butter in there!”

“It just tastes like you cut a biscuit in half and tried to put it back together, there is no butter in here.”

He looks up to see Bucky pouting—yes, the man pouts—at his metal arm. He looks up at Sam with the most woebegone puppy-dog expression and holds out his hand.

“I got butter in my fingers.”

“That’s the point, Buck.”

“You put so much butter on it!”

“If you aren’t licking butter off your fingers by the end of it,” he repeats, “you’re doing it wrong.”

Bucky gives him a look before bringing his hand to his mouth and trying to lick off the butter. It, uh, doesn’t go well.

“At least it’s not like salt,” he mutters as he wets a rag to try and clean it properly, “you can’t just tell me to add more in this case.”

“Salt’s a natural flavor enhancer, man, that’s why you put it in the biscuits to begin with.”

Bucky looks up at him with a smirk. “That sounds like something you’d say when Sarah calls you out for being too sassy.”

“It’s a natural flavor enhancer,” he defends.

Bucky chuckles. After a moment, Sam feels his own mouth turn up too.

It’s the first time all day he’s managed to smile.

Judging by the way Bucky softens a moment later, setting aside the rag, he’s caught that much too.

“When I was younger,” he says quietly, leaning against the counter again, “my mamma used to keep a wooden box of recipes in the drawer with the false bottom.”

He smiles and taps the counter.

“It was the last drawer on the right, second from the bottom. No one would ever think to look in there if they didn’t know what they were looking for.” He shakes his head. “Just a little wooden box, ‘bout—“ he holds his hands six inches apart— “that big.”

Sam nods.

“Just scraps in it,” Bucky continues, picking up his mug of tea again, waiting for Sam to do the same, “magazine clippings, newspaper bits, letters from relatives I couldn’t remember, lids from food containers that went straight into the ‘chuck at assholes box’—“ Sam huffs— “and notebook pages, scribbled down in my horrible six-year-old handwriting.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was just fine.”

“I could never get the ‘g’ to look right, it always looked like I was trying to write a nine with a limp.”

“A limp?”

“Yeah, like it tried to hop along and sprained its ankle.”

“Nines are supposed to be curly at the end.”

“What? No, they aren’t.”

“You ever looked at your phone? The nine is curly at the end.”

“Yeah but no one ever writes ‘em like that.”

“It’s supposed to be like that!”

“So that’s how you write ‘em?”

“Hell yeah, that’s how I write ‘em.”

“Well, good for you.” Bucky chuckles. “My ‘g’s looked more like a nine with its tail broken, how’s that?”

“What’d you do to the ‘g’s, man?”

“Apparently, six-year-old me decided they were too hard to draw. But Mama never had a hard time deciphering my handwriting.”

Bucky’s voice goes back to that quiet nostalgia as Sam cups the mug of tea between his palms.

“She’d pick a scrap from the box and decide that’s what she was gonna bake. A surprise when I came to see what she was doing. Sometimes she’d have me stick my hand in there and grab one instead. Then I’d stick around to help.”

Bucky huffs a laugh, letting his head drop for a second.

“But she always had one recipe memorized.”

Sam shifts. “Which one was that?”

“Mama Barnes’s chocolate chip cookies,” Bucky murmurs, looking back up, “her favorite thing to bake because she could do it with her eyes closed.”

He looks up at Sam.

“Or in the dark, when it was too dangerous to have the lights on.”

Oh.

Sam swallows. “Thank you, Buck.”

Bucky waves him off, shaking his head. “Actually, it’s, uh, kinda selfish of me.”

Sam frowns as Bucky turns, walking over to another cupboard and taking two bags down from the shelf.

“Couldn’t decide which one to use,” he says, holding up a bag of name-brand chocolate chips and a fancy chocolate chunk bag from the last big fancy thing they were invited to, “needed your input before I started.”

Sam blinks. “You’re having cookies and biscuits on the same night?”

“Well, I’m not going to sleep anytime soon,” he says easily, “and I figured you still owe me from that bet you won.”

“Oh ho, I see,” Sam says, sliding off the stool, “you think you’re gonna get out of this by making me choose and not me telling you what to do?”

“I think you’re either gonna sit there and drink that cup of tea while I do this or you’re gonna get your ass over here and help me.”

“Well then move your ass,” Sam says, bumping lightly into Bucky’s shoulder, “and get to cleaning off that pan.”

“You haven’t picked yet!”

“We’re not using those chunks, man, we’re saving those.”

Bucky shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”

“And put these outta harm’s way,” he calls, passing Bucky the plate of biscuits, “I ain’t risking you getting butter and flour all over ‘em.”

Bucky just chuckles and sets the plate on the far end of the counter. He turns around to pass Sam the chocolate chips when Sam takes his hand and just holds it.

Holds it and breathes.

Bucky lets him, shifting slightly into guard dog mode, his shoulders dropping as Sam lets his eyes close for a moment.

In.

Out.

“Thanks.”

Bucky squeezes. “You want the plastic mixing bowl or the ceramic one?”

“Gimme the ceramic one, these are gonna come out right.”

“I take it you want the good tray as well, then.”

“Of course I do, what do you think this is?”

Baking, together, in the dark, where it’s safe and quiet, at three in the morning.

#tfatws #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #marvel #mcu #dragonbabbles #fic #winterfalcon #falcon

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letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked · 5 years ago

Text

Words On My Skin Chapter 30

Bucky Barnes X Reader (Soulmate AU)

A/N: I guess it takes a quarantine and deadly virus for me to start writing again, huh? LOL! TAGS WILL BE REBLOGGED ON THIS EVENTUALLY! I have like... a whole year of tag requests to sort through! So... Sorry LOL

Warnings: Be gentle... I’m rusty at writing lol

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/n: I'm on my way back! Happy is driving me! I'll tell you the details when I get home! I got you a surprise! <3

Bucky: I'm in the room, doing paperwork. Steal one of Steve's granola bars for me, please and thank you and I love you.

Y/n: I'm not taking the fall again if he catches me!

Bucky: He's out with that one blonde chick we don't like.

Y/n: Ew. Why???

Bucky: Why do you think?

Y/n: Ew. She looks like she has crotch crickets. Plus she was a bitch to me last time she was here. I tried to be nice. I think she's in it for his fame... and the D.

Bucky: ...that's disgusting.

Y/n: I'm making him an appointment for an STD check.

Bucky: He's going to kill you.

Y/n: He'll thank me when his dick doesn't fall off

Bucky: He's going to make you do more cardio.

Y/n: ...Okay, yeah, I'll just let his dick fall off. LOL fuck cardio

Bucky: You seemed to enjoy last night's cardio. ;)

Y/n: That was more like naked yoga... with a happy ending! Totally different!

Bucky: We can do naked yoga anytime you want.

Y/n: I'll take naked yoga over cardio all day every day

Bucky: All day every day? ;)

Y/n: Shut up, fool. <3

---------------------------------

Placing your phone back into your purse, you stared out the window, watching the busy streets blend into trees and snow. Stupid snow. You were lost in your own head, thinking about the meeting with your parents. Which had gone... surprisingly well.

Your mother was fairly civil to you - as well as the waitstaff - and your father actually had a serious conversation with you.

It was one of the weirdest days of your life... and you lived with a bunch of superheroes.

Seeing your parents like this, after so many years of loathing, arguing, controlling... You weren't sure where your relationship stood.

Though, it was nice to gain at least a little clarification and get everything out in the open.

They'd apologized for the way they treated you in your youth, as well as the way they treated Bucky. You'd apologized for all the shit you'd said to them before you'd moved away, as well as keeping them pushed away in your adult years. The excuses your mother had for acting like a controlling robot were just... sad. She talked about how your grandmother treated her the same - if not worse. She was the way she was because she wanted you to be better than her. No wonder you've never actually met your grandparents in person. Your mother hated her parents. Almost as much as you'd hated yours... until now.

Now... You just had sympathy. Not that it excused any of the behaviors over the years, but you understood now.

It seemed as if she'd convinced herself that the way that she raised you made you the positive person that you were, today. Which was true to some extent. It was recovering from the way you were raised that made you the person you were today. You may have been comfortable with money, but money wasn't everything behind closed doors. Money didn't solve the problems that you'd dealt with in your youth. In fact, it was living the stereotype of a rich family that had caused the majority of your problems. It was the cold, brash emotions modeled by your parents that made you want to be different. The controlled diets, the need to hide emotions and compartmentalize, the forced dating, the fights, the lying, the fake public image... it was dealing with those things after you'd escaped it that made you the person you are today.

Personal growth, and all that jazz.

After the emotional bit of the dinner, you'd actually enjoyed yourself. Your parents asked you about your job, the first day you met Bucky, college, your friends, and everything else they hadn't been a part of for the last decade or so.

They told you about their trip to Paris, where your mother had tripped over a crack in the pavement and they spent half the day in the emergency room so she could get stitches. They told you about how they got their entire office to donate a large sum of money to Bucky's charity that he had been running. They told you about the day that they realized that they needed a change of scenery from California.

It was almost... normal.

If you even knew what normal was.

"Y/n?" You heard Happy's muffled voice, followed by a light tapping on the cool window. He hadn't opened the car door, because your head was leaned against it. "You ready to rock and roll?"

"You're such a dad." You giggled, grabbing your purse and leftovers as he opened the door for you, "Speaking of dads, are you going to become Peter's step-"

"I DON'T-" He paused, taking a breath through his nose and blowing it out of his mouth, "I don't want to talk about that."

"Happy and Mae, sitting in a tree..." You sang, grinning as you skipped past him, "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"You're such a child." He rolled his eyes, slamming your door closed and walking to the driver's door.

"You love me, anyways." You pulled open the front door to the compound, leaving Happy to bring the car over to the garage.

You removed your coat the moment you stepped into the heated building, throwing it over your arm and hiding the bag of leftovers and Bucky's surprise. Glancing around, you saw the lobby was nearly empty, save for a few agents using the lobby to cut to the other wing.

Glancing over to the front desk, a grin spread over your face as you took in the sight in front of you.

Caleb was snoring loudly, mouth hanging open, head tipped back, and his feet up on the desk. The book you'd given him for his birthday was open, resting on his stomach like he had fallen asleep reading in his chair.

"FRIDAY, can you please do me a favor and record this please?" You whispered into your watch, sneaking over to the sleeping agent. "Send it to my tablet when it's done."

You were glad you wore flats instead of heels, so your shoes made no noise against the hard floors as you snuck behind the desk. You kept out of swinging distance, grabbing a clipboard off his desk and readying yourself for whatever happened.

"CALEB, WAKE UP!" You screamed loudly, slamming the clipboard repeatedly on the desk. "CALEB, THE SKY IS FALLING!"

He let out a loud shout, limbs flailing around, and chair tipping backwards. "I WASN'T SLEEPING." The obnoxious laugh you let out made his face scrunch up in confusion from the floor, "Y/n?" He glanced around, springing up gracefully and surveying the empty lobby before sending you a glare, "Rude."

You couldn't reply, leaning against the desk and tossing the clipboard in front of him, hysterical laughter echoing through the nearly-empty lobby. "I- You- Oh- Dying." You wheezed, trying to calm your laughter before you peed yourself, wiping the tears from under your eyes, "Oh my god."

"I'm glad my fear brings you such joy, you awful human being." Caleb grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair, "I hate you so much right now."

"I brought you dessert." You replied, finally able to pull your shit together, grabbing a box out of the big bag you were carrying. "It's chocolate and peanut butter cheesecake."

"I hate you less, now. You are forgiven." He lunged forward, a large smile on his face. "Gimme', gimme', gimme'."

You handed him the box, shaking your head and glancing at your watch, "I'm beat. I'm gunna' head up."

"Your soulmate is an asshole, by the way." Caleb informed you, mouth full of cheesecake, "He kept telling me he's going to get Claire an obscene amount of slime for Christmas." He glanced up at you with narrow eyes, "I'll hurt all of you if you get her slime, or anything else with loose glitter. My kitchen table is ruined."

"I cannot confirm nor deny that we got her slime for christmas." You shouted, jogging towards the elevator. "Love youuuuu."

"Fuck youuuuu." He sang back at you, as you disappeared from sight.

"My floor, please, FRIDAY." You requested as the doors to the elevator opened and you got in, "Is Bucky in his room?"

"Yes, Ma'am." FRIDAY replied.

Leaning against the wall, you inhaled deeply through your nose - trying to dispel any weird feelings in your gut. Ever since you'd left dinner with your parents, your shoulders felt lighter... but there was a sense of unease in your belly. You'd never expected in a million years that you'd actually have a relationship with your parents where they communicated with you in a semi-healthy way.

Was this real life?

Honestly, it felt like you were in a simulation or something.

Nothing felt normal anymore.

When the lift doors opened, a wave of delicious smells hit your nose - and you followed the scent to the kitchen, calling out, "Who's cooking delicious-smelling food?"

"That'd be me." Sam called, head in the fridge as he searched for something in the back, "Where the fuck did my strawberries go?"

"That'd be your not-so-little buddy Steve." You chuckled, watching as Sam glared at the fridge before moving back to the stove in a huff. It was actually Bucky, but you weren't about to snitch on your soulmate. "What are you making?"

"God dammit." He grumbled, stirring whatever was in the giant pot, "I'm getting a mini fridge in my room. This 'sharing' business is pissing me off."

"Sam. Food."

He turned to you with a grin, "Momma Wilson's famous lasagna soup."

"They make lasagna in soup form?" You frowned, walking over to the stove to inspect, confirming the fact that he had - indeed - made soup out of lasagna ingredients. It was confirmed by the broken-up lasagna noodles floating up to the surface, and the red sauce littered with spices. God, that smelled good... "Where'd your mom come up with this, and can I have the recipe?"

"Nope. Special made by only me." He shook his head, shooing you away with the spoon. "Go away. You already ate."

There goes getting the granola bar... Sam would totally snitch.

"Save me some for later?" You stuck out your lip in a pout, giving him your best innocent face.

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you and stirring his soup, "We'll see."

You giggled, turning away and walking towards the living quarters with a pep in your step, "I appreciate you."

"Yeah, yeah." You heard him grumble, "Since you do my paperwork..."

"And I do a fabulous job!" You called in sing-song, rounding the corner into the hallway and feeling giddy about bringing Bucky his surprise.

He'd been talking about how he'd been craving French Silk Pie, and you just so happened to spot a few slices left at the restaurant. The manager had recognized you from the photo of you and Bucky at the sushi restaurant and seeing you in that interview, and had offered to slip in a few extra slices of pie for next to nothing... so you'd taken a page from Bucky's book and tipped the staff an obscene amount.

Bucky was going to shit when he saw how many pieces of pie you were coming back with.

"FRIDAY can you unlock the door for me, please?" You called out quietly, listening to the door click as it unlocked. "Thank you." As you pushed open the door, you spotted your handsome soulmate sitting at his desk, sharpening a knife carefully. "You planning on murdering me with that, or what?"

"Ha-Ha. Very funny." He deadpanned, eyes trained on the knife as he examined it, "If I was going to murder you, stabbing you to death would be too messy."

"Comforting." You chuckled, shutting the door behind you and hanging your coat on the back of the door and laying the plastic bag full of food on his bed. You reached behind you to unzip your dress, heading over to his closet to grab a shirt to lounge around in. "I buy you a delicious treat, and you plot my murder."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm also looking at files for the new recruits." He replied, voice sounding really far away. "Jennings looks promising."

You frowned, pulling his shirt over your head. Trying to feel him out through the bond. He seemed... neutral. It was weird. Not upset, but also not happy. Peeking around the corner, trying to be sneaky, you watched him as he read through another recruit file flipping the knife around skillfully. He didn't look tense. He also didn't look like he was concentrating on the file, either.

"Why are you staring at me?" He asked suddenly, not turning around. His hair looked messy, like he'd been running his hand through it.

"Why are you being weird?" You asked, walking over to the bed and grabbing one of the small to-go boxes out of the bag. Setting it on his desk with a plastic fork, you leaned down and wrapped your arms around him from behind - resting your chin on his shoulder. "I got you french silk pie."

He turned his head, pressing a small kiss on your bare arm. "Thanks, sweetheart."

You didn't think you could frown any further, but you were wrong.

He was totally being weird.

"Okay, okay." You moved away from him, sitting on the edge of his bed and grabbing one of the pie slices. "What's wrong with you? What are you hiding from me? You're too... neutral."

"Nothing's wrong with me." He replied, not turning around. "I'm not hiding anything."

Bullshit!

"Lies." You sang out, digging into your piece of pie. "Can't bullshit a bullshitter. Especially when she's connected to you emotionally through a magical soulmate bond." You shoved a bite into your mouth, realizing that you'd grabbed one of the apple pie slices. A pang of annoyance nudged you in the chest, and you rolled your eyes, "You can be annoyed all you want, but that's not telling me what's up with you."

He sighed, leaning his head back for a moment, before spinning around in his chair and giving you a look of annoyance. "If I tell you, will you let up?"

"Maybe." You smirked, taking another bite of pie.

"I..." He looked down, picking at one of the plates in his hand - a nervous tick. "I talked to Tony, today."

Oh.

Oh shit.

You hoped it was a productive conversation. It had to have been, if Bucky wasn't upset. Then again, he was attempting to hide his feelings from you. Maybe it wasn't, and he didn't want to tell you?

You set your dessert down on the bed, leaning forward in interest, "And...?"

"He..." Bucky cleared his throat, not looking at you. "He wants to have us see Dr. Collins." He finally looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Together."

You smiled, relief washing through you. This was good. If they saw Dr. Collins together, they might get to the root of their issues in a positive way that didn't include destroying the building... one can hope.

So why did Bucky look like someone pissed in his coffee?

"This is good, right?" You asked, confused. "Progress?"

"Yeah." He mumbled, looking back down at the dark, metal plates in his hand. "I guess."

"But...?"

"But-" His leg started bouncing up and down, and you could feel the nervous energy outside of the bond. "I'm a little... afraid about..." He sighed, shaking his head and closing his beautiful blue eyes, "I don't know. Doing all this-" He seemed to be struggling for the right words. "-opening up."

You nodded along as he paused, waiting for him to continue.

"What if... what if he still hates me in the end?" He rushed out, leg still bouncing. "I'm just... I'm so sick of people hating me for something I did when I was... him." He stood up, beginning to pace back and forth, and you had a feeling that he was about to explode. "I'm trying so hard. SO HARD. I..." He stopped, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "I just... I hate what he did. I hate this. I don't want to go through all of this just for Tony to still hate me in the end."

He sat back down in his chair, hand running through his growing hair and leaning his elbows on his knees, "I'm just... I don't like this nervous feeling. That's why I was trying to hide my feelings. Because... I don't want to feel them." He looks back up at you, blue eyes full of sadness that hurt your heart. "Sometimes I feel like it's easier being him. He doesn't feel anything, and I barely remember half the shit he did."

"Bucky..." You sighed, standing up and moving to sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his middle and leaning the side of your head against his shoulder. "It's understandable that you don't want to feel the hard feelings. They suck ass." He snorted at your words, arms wrapping around you, but you kept going, "But you're human. Even if you're a supersoldier with some crazy serum running through your veins, you're human. Feelings make you human. Feelings make you Bucky, instead of him." You looked up at him, as his arms tightened around you. "I'm not going to pretend I'm Dr. Collins and say something irritatingly profound, but... I think you know exactly what Dr. Collins would say."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." He sighed, pressing his face into the top of your head - warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "He's annoying."

"He may be annoying, but he knows what's up." You chuckled, turning your head so you were looking into his icy eyes, "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I know." He smiled, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, "I love you, too."

Shifting around, you moved so your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and your face was level with his, "I brought you french silk pie."

"You spoil me." He grinned, arms around your middle, "How'd your dinner with your parents go?"

You grimaced, rolling your eyes, "It was weird. It kind of feels like those two hours were a dream. I don't believe that my parents actually had a real conversation with me." He raised an eyebrow at you and you huffed out a sigh, "Yeah. Yeah. I'm happy. I'm glad that we can finally talk, but... it's just weird. I don't really know how to process it."

"Finally going to be one big, happy family, huh?" He laughed, poking you in the side. "Like The Brady Bunch?"

"First of all, when the hell did you have time to watch The Brady Bunch without me?" You narrowed your eyes at him, raising a brow in question, "Second of all, there's only three of us."

"I didn't watch it," He rolled his eyes, shaking his head at you before standing and setting you on the bed, turning around and grabbing his container of pie, "I read about it."

"STOP DOING THAT!!" You whined in annoyance, throwing a chunk of your apple pie at him. Oh my god, if he kept fucking doing that... "You need to actually watch these things! Stop reading the plot on Wikipedia! It's not the same!"

"I read faster than I watch!" He took a huge bite of his pie, crumbs falling onto the floor. "I can read the plot in a fourth of the time it would take to watch the whole thing." After another obnoxiously large bite of his pie, he set the container back on the desk, moving towards the bed, "If I try and catch up on all the shows and movies I missed over the last century, I'll be biologically ninety before I'm caught up."

As he moved the bag of containers to the floor, you held the slice of apple pie closer to your chest, "I'm not sharing my pie." You took another bite of the sweet pie, the taste of cinnamon on your tongue. He kept moving closer, and you turned your body away from him holding the pie away from him, "NO! You can't have my pie! You have your own!"

"If you don't put it on the nightstand it's going to be in the bed." He warned, an evil look in his eye. "I'm giving you three seconds."

You yelped, attempting to scarf down the obscenely large and sweet piece of pie as fast as you could.

"Three."

You scrambled away from him, but his arm wrapped around your middle as you continued to shovel the food in your face.

"Two."

"NO!!! I'm TRYING!" You giggled, tossing the fork onto the floor, but unable to reach the nightstand with the container full of whipped cream and a large chunk of pie still sticking in the container. You shrieked out a laugh as he tackled you into the bed, the slice of pie completely smearing all over your face and hair. "BUCKY!!"

"One."

--------------

Part 31 ...coming soon to a Tumblr near you.

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dragoqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Whoops! Wrong Way 6/8

Summary: Peter has been living at Avengers Tower for 2 years, known to the workers and Avengers as Peter Parker-Stark-Rogers. When his teacher announces that they're going on a field trip to Avengers Tower, or SI, he's going to have to attempt to survive a day of embarrassment and keeping a secret identity.

Words: 1558

“Okay guys here’s the plan, mostly just protect Peter because he and that idiot Flash kid need to be the last ones so Peter can do something cool and get him out. That’s your only goal- get everyone out and protect Peter, alright?” There's a chorus of yesses that confirm her plan. She nods and motions for them to spread out around the base to be ready to run to better guns when the round starts. Just in time too. Right when they get to the starting positions FRIDAY begins counting down, “three… two… one… begin!” there’s an airhorn sound and the Avengers start their nerf gun battle.

Peter immediately starts climbing up the floating parkour platforms, dodging a few bullets while he’s at it. He jumps from platform to platform till he reaches a giant automatic nerf gun with a strap attached to it. He slings it over his shoulder and continues climbing until he gets to a high point where he can see the entire arena. There’s a snipe with extra ammo there, which he takes before laying on the ground to start sniping the other side.

His first target is Sam. he’s at a disadvantage because he can’t use his wings in the nerf arena. He’s grounded and without a good gun. Peter smiles as he steadies his gun, focusing on Sam he takes a shot.

Misses.

He quickly reloads while Sam begins looking around wildly, trying to figure out where the first bullet came from. Peter aims at Sam again and before Sam can retaliate, there’s a second bullet and he’s out, “Bird Brain #2 is out.” Friday announces.

“Dang it Sam,” Steve calls out from across the arena, “already?”

“Shut it, the kid freaking sniped me, you know how he is in these games,”

Peter laughs and begins looking for his next target. Meanwhile, Scott has shrunk down and begun sneaking over to Peter’s side. He turns back to normal size right behind Ned, quickly shooting him with the starter pistol. FRIDAY announced that Ned is now out. MJ takes the advantage of Scott celebrating and not paying attention to sneak up behind him and shoot him. He groans in frustration as FRIDAY announces he’s out, and goes to join Ned and Sam in the spectators section.

Peter watches the commotion behind him and shoots MJ a quick thumbs up before returning to watching the opposing team, oblivious to the merc slowly making his way towards him. For some reason, his spidey-sense doesn't alert him of Wade until he’s jumped in front of him with the pistol aimed right at him. Peter puts his hands up and yells dramatically, “just kill me now!”

Wade chuckles, “I’m not here to kill you, BabyBoy. I’m here to team with you. I’m still mad at you for now putting me on your team, but I also hate my team. So, here I am!”

“Heck yeah! Unfair advantage for the win. Great to have you on out- HOLY CRAP, watch out babe!”

Their teaming is interrupted when a bullet hits Wade straight in the head. “Ha! Headshot it doesn’t count!” he announces glaring at Natasha who had shot him from behind one of the bunkers. She’s still smirking and a few seconds later they figure out why, “unfortunately, Deathboy, headshots are counted in this game. You are out.”

“You’re the worst Natasha! I was going to team with you!”

“That’s payback for stealing Peter from me during Hair Club.” she announces smugly.

“Nat, really? Did you have to get my boyfriend out?” Peter asks.

“Sorry маленький паук (little spider) he’s from the other side.”

“It’s alright мама паук (mama spider), ready to get the rest out?”

“Let's do it.”

Peter picks up his sniper and rushes off the platform, jumping towards a rope. He swings from rope to rope until he gets to another platform. He jumps and does a flip before landing and getting back in a sniper position he sees a flash of blue before he gets shot with a bullet. “I’m hit, dang it! FRIDAY who shot me?”

“Turbo shot you. Although, you are still in because he used his powers so he is disqualified.”

“What the heck FRIDAY? How did you see that?”

Peter laughs, realizing that the update that he had been working on and uploaded on FRIDAY last night had upgraded her ability to see Pietro while using his powers. He watches Pietro exit the arena, leaving his guns by the door. Wanda and Nebula decide to take this moment to go get Pietro's guns and extra ammo. Wanda grabs the gun while Nebula covers for her.

Suddenly, a bullet comes out of nowhere, hitting Nebula. Wanda turns around when FRIDAY announces that Nebula got shot, only to get hit by another bullet. Peter looks across the arena and sees Clint in a dark corner with a piece of the arena covering him as a shield. He wants to tell him that he’s cheating but he knows that Clint will probably just shoot him anyway, so he remains silent.

Steve finally decides to emerge from his bunker. Since he’s not allowed to use his shield, he’s taken to using a giant nerf gun instead. He runs across the arena, way too fast for Peter to be able to snipe him, towards MJ. all of her shots ricochet off of the giant gun he’s carrying until he’s within shooting range. Then, he pulls out the starter pistol and shoots her square in the chest. “That’s cheating, Cap.” she tries telling him until FRIDAY announces that she’s out. She glares at him as she exits the arena, and Peter knows that the next time there’s a prank war Steve is as good as dead.

Meanwhile, Bucky creeps towards Steve, who’s currently looking for his next victim. He jumps out from behind one of the bunkers and uses his automated gun to shoot Steve. Around 100 bullets hit him, one after another. FRIDAY announces his ‘death’ and just like that it’s down to 5, 2 on Flash’s side and 3 on Peter’s.

Clint and Peter are still on their perches, hidden from one another by a large tower at the center of the arena. Bucky is still creeping around where Steve got you and Natasha is a few feet away, hidden by a bunker. She appears to be strategizing. Flash is still hidden and hasn’t come out the entire game, so only Clint knows where he is.

Peter detects movement out of the corner of his eye and turns to watch Clint slowly creep out of his corner; he silently places the piece of the arena on the platform before jumping away to another. He moves closer to the center of the arena to get a good aim of Bucky before Peter can shout a warning, Clint fires. Bucky’s out and it's now a 2 vs 2.

Peter looks down towards Natasha, trying to signal to her they need a plan. She motions towards him and the huge tower at the center where he would be able to make a clear shot on Clint. He nods as she grabs Bucky’s fun and begins running from bunker to bunker, shooting at Clint every once in a while for good measure.

Meanwhile, Peter moves silently throughout the arena, parkouring from platform to platform and swinging from a few ropes until he makes it to the tower. He jumps through the window and rolls to the food before jumping back up and moving to the window that has the best view of Clint. Just as he gets the shot lined up he hears FRIDA announce, “Scary Woman #1 is out.”

Three things happen in the moment one, Natasha shouts to Peter in Russia, “avenge me spider child, then get the bully out. I believe in you!” Two, Clint shouts, “I’m coming for you kid!” at the same time as, number three; Peter shoots Clint.

Dramatically, Clint falls to the floor on his knees yelling, “No!” while FRIDAY announces that he's out. Peter grins, shouting, “I have avenged you мама паук (spider),” before returning his focus to winning the game. Flash is definitely going to stay hidden unless he’s been keeping track of- “Come out Parker! It’s just you and me. Don’t be a coward!” Flash announces, emerging from his bunker with two of the starter pistols.

Nevermind, Peter thinks, this is going to be easier than I expected. And, as an added bonus, I’ll show off because I’m pretty sure Aunty Nat will run me through drills until even my enhanced healing can’t keep up if I don’t.

He watches as Flash walks confidently around, trying to find where Peter is hiding. Just as he walks underneath the tower, Peter lets out a loud “whoop” sound and flips out of the widow. Flash looks up in panic, trying to find whatever devilish creature had just decided to rein it’s terror upon him. Instead, he’s met with the sight of Peter doing several flips as he falls towards him.

Flash just manages to dodge out of the way, as Peter lands gracefully in front of him in Black Widow’s famous superhero pose. Flash falls to the ground and just lays there in school. Even when Peter walks towards him, grins maliciously and pulls out the giant gun that had been strapped to his back the entire game, pointing it directly at him.

Before he can even think to react, Peter presses the trigger, causing all 150 bullets to hit Flash, rapid fire.

There’s momentary silence as Peter runs out of ammo where only his heavy breathing can be heard. Finally, FRIDAY announces, “Eugene Thompson has been eliminated, Team Parker wins!”

He noise in the arena suddenly explodes as Peter’s team and the tour group run in, congratulating Peter on his epic win, tormenting Flash for not doing anything, and talking about how awesome that battle was. Flash still hasn’t moved or talked, opting for sitting on the floor, his mouth opening and closing, gaping like a fish out of water. MJ uses this moment to sketch Flash in her crisis notebook.

Peter, on the other hand, is grinning like a mad man and soaking up the attention for once. When everyone first came in it was surprising. His super senses weren’t too happy about the sudden explosion of noise, but Natasha had quickly yelled at them after seeing how distressed her baby spider appeared.

After that, the questions come barreling in one after another.

“How’d you learn to do that” (training with the Avengers)

“Why’d you act like that when getting Flash out?” (dramatic entrance)

“Why’d you do Black Widow’s superhero pose?” (because it’s freaking awesome)

The pose story actually was much longer than that. Some guys were harassing Nat one time about her pose and began to be super sexist and what not. After that the guys had all made their poses similar to Nat’s and even at one point all got dresses personally designed for each of them to wear to a special event. It was pretty awesome. However, that’s a lot to explain for one question so he left it at that.

Finally, Nat tells them all to leave and meet the tour guide in the hallway, and that Peter and Flash would be with them shortly. They filed out, leaving their two classmates with the group of Avengers.

Once they're all gone, Steve walks over to Flash and offers him his hand. Flash takes it, gratefully, and is lifted about halfway into the air before being dropped back on his butt. “Don’t mess with my kid again! I don’t condone bullying and, unfortunately for you, neither do any of the other Avengers.”

“I… what? Uh, I.. I di- didn’t. No sir!: Flash manages to stutter out before standing up and running to join the tour group.

“And you, don’t think we aren’t aware that this kid has been bullying you for who knows how long. Your father, you, and I will be having a conversation about it tonight.” Steve tells Peter sternly.

“On that note… that was amazing! You finally listened to advice on how to make a grand entrance!

“Figured there'd be some sort of consequence if I didn’t.” “You’re dang right, маленький паук (little spider). Now go join your class.”

He nods, leaving after a quick hair ruffle from Bucky and a kiss from Wade. Ned grins at him as he rejoins the class, too starstruck from having a nerf battle with the Avengers to be able to talk. Flash, who Peter hadn’t previously noticed walking strangely close to him, begins slowing his pace until he’s directly behind Peter, “next place we go, meet me in the bathroom… or else it will be 10 times worse when we get back to school.”

Peter mentally groans at the last part even with his enhanced healing Flash could cause some serious bruises and leave him limping, something Peter didn’t want his family seeing. So, when they arrive at the higher-up intern labs and Flash asks to go to the restroom, Peter waits a few minutes before also excusing himself to the restroom.

#spiderman #peter #peterparker #avengers #domesticavengers #fanfic #fanfiction #protectiveavengers #irondad #spiderdson #spidermom

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blackmissfrizzle · 5 years ago

Text

A Family Affair

Characters: Frank Castle x black!reader

Summary: Based on this imagine

Warning: Implied smut, a lil angst, language

“Wow,” you exhaled, after Frank skillfully coaxed out multiple orgasms from you.

“That good, huh?” Frank chuckled.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of agreeing with him, you mushed his face instead. “Whatever, Castle.”

Frank rolled on top of you, trapping you in between his hands. “Fine, don’t admit it. I’ll just have to prove it to you again, sweetheart,” he whispered against your ear.

You pushed against Frank’s broad shoulders. As much you wanted another round, you had to get ready for your meeting and he knew that. “Frank,” you uttered his name as a warning.

He took that as his cue to stop and gave you one last kiss. As he sat on the edge of the bed and put on his sweats, you kissed the scars that decorated his back. Some old and some new, but each reminding you of his dangerous life.

“Water,” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

“Yes please.” You responded, searching for something to wear temporarily. When you settled on one of Frank’s many black henleys, you heard Frank’s voice and another’s. Automatically, you reached for your gun and carefully approach the kitchen.

Frank had his own gun drawn out and who he was pointing at left you in shock.

“Dad, what are you doing here?”

“Dad?” Frank repeated, looking back at you.

Tony Stark was standing in your living room and had one of his Iron Man blasters pointed at your vigilante boyfriend.

“No, the question is what the hell is the Punisher doing in your apartment half-naked?” The impromptu meeting of Tony and Frank left you speechless, which left time for Tony to take in your lack of proper clothing. “Did he do that to you?” Tony ready to blast Frank once he saw the bruises on your thighs from you and Frank’s lovemaking.

“Trust me buddy, she wasn’t complaining.” Frank smirked at Tony.

“Frank!” You admonished him, not wanting to give Tony anymore reasons to actually shoot him.

Frank finally put his gun on the island and held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, baby.” Then he faced Tony and walked to him slowly like he was approaching a cornered animal. “I’m Frank and I’m Y/N’s boyfriend.”

“BOYFRIEND?” That revelation made Tony retract his blaster and stew in his thoughts for a moment. One thing your dad never was speechless, well except with Peter, but that was different.

Scared that maybe he was maybe experiencing an aneurysm or a heart attack, you called out his name. It was enough to shake him out of his shocked state. “You two dinner tonight at 7 and no backing out!” Tony yelled and then stormed out your door.

Hours later you and Frank were getting ready, but you weren’t talking to each other. After Tony left, Frank asked you why you didn’t tell him and when your ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t sufficient enough, he left as well. Now you were watching Frank struggling with putting his gold cufflinks on.

Deciding to help him you gripped his wrists, despite the grunt he expelled. “You knew I had a hard time growing up. I got tired of the group homes, so I ran away. I survived by pickpocketing people. One day, I saw Tony Stark and saw a big score and was able to steal his wallet. Eventually, he found me, and the rest was history. I can’t explain, but there was some insane connection with him, and the team and they just took me in. It just naturally progressed to call him dad. And the reason for not telling you is, I thought you would run once you knew my connection to them.”

After clasping his cufflinks, Frank pulled you into him, resting his chin on top of your head. “You could’ve told me. I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to.” Standing on your tippy toes, you kissed Frank and whispered, ‘I love you.’

Looking at the time, you decided you had enough time to thank Frank properly. Just as your knees sunk to the floor, FRIDAY announced that the car Tony sent was downstairs. Reluctantly, Frank pulled you to your feet and escorted you downstairs.

“Okay, since Stark is your dad, does that mean that Potts is your mom?” Frank asked on the car ride.

You held Frank’s hand and laughed. “Oh no, Steve’s definitely the mom. Him and Tony argue like an old married couple anyway.”

“Please don’t tell me you call the Captain America mom?” Frank questioned.

“Oh, hell yeah I do! And he may act like he hates it, but he secretly loves it.”

Once you were in the elevator, you became more aware of Frank’s nerves. His hands were shaking, and you grabbed one to stop him and kissed his cheek. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Frank squeezed your hand and kissed you back, just as soon as the elevator door opened, revealing Peter.

“Parker, what the hell are you doing here. Don’t you got homework?” You asked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“And miss you get in trouble? No way. This time Steve and Tony actually agree for once. Nat, Wanda, and Thor think everyone should mind their business and let you date him. Sam, Rhodey, Clint, and Bruce are mostly siding with Steve and Tony, but are willing to give him a chance. Vision doesn’t care either way and Bucky is out on a mission,” the kid you considered a little brother rambled on.

Frank leaned down to your ear and whispered while eyeing Peter suspiciously, “Is he on drugs or something?”

“No, he’s always like this.”

Peter led you into the lion’s den, you called the dining room. Once the three you caught everyone’s attention all conversation ceased. Frank let go of your hand and went to each person to shake their hand and formally introduce himself. You could tell Tony was already over it, but at least Steve had the decency to fake it.

As expected, he saved Steve for last. Frank always talked about how he admired Steve and what he did for our country. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Captain Rogers.”

“Please just call me Steve.” Then, he motioned for Frank to sit down.

Tense was one way to describe the mood as everyone sat down. No one knew how to steer the conversation. “This isn’t some type of jungle fever is it?” Tony blurted out.

A chorus of Tony’s was said across the table and the accused showed no remorse. “Listen, I just need to know. He’s not just about to use our girl, because he wants to try something new.”

Despite Tony being an asshole Frank kept his cool. “No sir. Y/N could be any damn color and I still choose her.”

The same moment you kissed Frank’s cheek was the exact same moment Bucky walked in. “What the hell is this?”

You turned to Peter and whispered yelled to him, “I thought you said he’s on a mission!”

Peter shrugged his shoulders in obvious surprise, “I thought so too! Maybe he, um, finished early.”

“You think?”

During your exchange with Peter, Frank and Bucky were staring each other down, readying their bodies for a fight.

“This just got interesting,” Tony said before sipping his drink.

Not wanting to deal with a fight, you pleaded with the more reasonable man. “Buck, please. Not right now.”

Bucky’s murderous gaze softened once he looked at you. He nodded his head in agreement and took a seat between Sam and Steve.

“So, what’s a murderous madman doing at our dining table?” Bucky asked nonchalantly as he prepared his own plate of food.

You rolled your eyes, because you knew Frank wouldn’t be able to back down. Thankfully, Nat interrupted whatever Frank was about to retort back. “You were in the marines, right, Mr. Castle?”

Frank turned his gaze from Bucky to Natasha and responded to her. “Yes ma’am and please just call me Frank.”

“As long as you stop with the ma’am stuff,” she smirked back.

From there, the conversation stayed on more safe topics until Steve decided he wanted to get to the meat of it.

“Frank, you know why you’re here. Y/N is like a daughter to us and most of can’t seem to shake the idea of you dating her.”

Holding your breath, you looked at Frank as he set down his silverware and thought about his answer. “I get it, sir. She’s your little girl and I’m a wanted criminal, but Y/N’s my everything and that means something, Captain. There was a time I thought I wouldn’t feel this way again, but she proved me wrong.”

Bruce spoke up for the first time. “No one’s doubting your feelings Frank. We all can see it-” A grunt from Bucky slightly interrupted Bruce, but he continued on quickly before Frank could get his hands on him. “But you killed people and not out of self-defense, but you targeted them.”

Frank leaned back in his chair and rolled his tongue around his mouth. “Have you ever been betrayed by your country? The ones who were supposed to have your back since you risked yours to keep it safe.”

You stared at Bucky, pleading with your eyes for him to understand where Frank was coming from. Our country may have not taken everything away from him like Frank, but they sure did make him out to be the bad guy when he was the one done wrong.

“It doesn’t explain why you killed all those people!” Tony interjected

Having enough of Tony’s bullshit, you stood up and threw your napkin down. “Really, Tony? All this coming from the person, who didn’t talk to his best friend for 2 years because he protected the man who was brainwashed to kill your family,”

Frank gripped your wrist and try to pull you down to your seat, “C’mon on baby, don’t argue with your father.” But instead of following his advice, you wrestled your hand from his grip and continued.

“Or what about Ultron and Sokvia, huh? Did anyone come out unscathed in that? Because I remembered the team was broken up for two whole years, because you felt guilty about dropping a whole country, since you wanted to play mad scientist!”

Steve backed out of his seat, “Ok, that’s enough!”

“No, fuck that! He wants to bring up Frank’s past, let’s bring it up, since you know so much, dad. Did you know it was a CIA official, his commander, and his best friend that had his family killed?”

Tony’s face dropped, but that didn’t stop you. “Of course, you didn’t, because sometimes you can be a selfish, self-absorbed asshole. Yeah, you save the world and that’s the big picture, but what happens after? what about the organized crime taking over the streets? What about all the dirty cops and corrupt politicians? Oh, I know what you do, you throw a lavish fundraiser and that makes everything better. I know Frank’s methods seem inhumane and extreme, but unless you lived on those streets you wouldn’t understand. I’m just asking you to not judge him too harshly, because what would you do if someone took Pepper and Morgan away?”

Done with your rant, you moved your hand in front of Frank signaling him to grab it. “C’mon babe, let’s go.” Frank followed your lead to the elevators, and just as you were about to enter you heard Tony’s voice.

“Wait!” Both of you stopped in your tracks and faced Tony. “You’re right, Y/N. I don’t know how tough the average person has it, but I do know I don’t agree with Castle’s methods.” You opened your mouth to say something back, but Tony raised his hand to stop you. “You said your piece let me say mines, okay. Although, I may disagree with your boyfriend, I see the way he looks at you and he loves you. So, I propose this: you bring him around for our weekly family dinners, so we can get to know him and after you and I come up with some ways to help the community. Sounds good?”

Before the smile reached your face, you rant to Tony and gave him a hug, thanking him and apologizing to him for your hurtful words.

“You won’t regret it, Mr. Stark,” Frank called out as you hugged your dad.

Tony pulled you from his front to his side, still hugging you, but with a clear view of Frank. “Castle, I promise if she so much gets a papercut because of your extracurricular activities, you’ll be the one being put down.”

Frank smiled at Tony’s threat and then offered to shake his hand. “Fair enough.”

Finally, with all the drama put aside, the rest of dinner went on smoothly. Now all the veterans at the table were comparing their experiences in the service, with the occasional joking of how one’s branch was better than the others. Only time it would get awkward is when Bucky would have a smart remark to whatever Frank would say. Frank would brush it off, but Bucky pushed him one last time and Frank decided to open his mouth. “Man, you must’ve messed up real bad.”

Bucky cocked his head to the side and crossed his arms, “Excuse me?”

Frank cracked his neck side-to-side, rolled his shoulders, and leaned on the table, “You dated. You and Y/N, it’s obvious. And if you ended good, you wouldn’t be taking pot shots at me the whole night, so you messed up. Now either you shut up or we can do something about it.”

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for this showdown the whole night!” Tony claimed. From the corner of your eye, you could see both Pepper and Steve hitting Tony in the back of his head.

Bucky followed suit and leaned on the table as well. “I doubt it’ll be an even fight. You don’t have those guns you love so much.”

Frank cracked a crooked smile, “I don’t need a gun. I prefer knives. I like to get up close and personal with my enemy.”

“Me too,” Bucky claimed and both men stood up out of their seats.

“Oh, hell no!” You interrupted the two. You pushed Frank back down in his seat and rushed to Bucky, “In the kitchen, now!” you gritted through your teeth.

Before you knew it, you felt your fist flying towards Bucky’s face. “Really, Bucky? This is how you’re gonna act?”

Easily, Bucky shook the punch off. He was about to say something charming to get on your good side, but then he noticed the tears welling in your eyes. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong, doll?”

“You, Tony, Steve, heck everyone. I need my family to get along with Frank. Even you, okay. I love him and he’s gonna be around for a while. So, either get with the program or don’t ever talk to me again.”

Buck had to admit himself he was being an asshole. To see you with another guy was hurtful, but to see you with a guy that he could identify with and that could open up to you in a way he couldn’t broke his heart.

“Alright. I’ll be nice for now. But as soon as he messes up, I’m kicking his ass and never letting you go.”

Ignoring the last part of his statement, you ran to give Bucky a hug. “Thank you,” you whispered into his chest.

Reluctantly, Bucky let go of you and guided you back to the dining room. With bated breath, you watched Bucky approach Frank.

Frank stood up, warily eyeing Bucky when he stretched out his hand for a handshake. “Sorry for being an asshole earlier.”

Tentatively Frank shook Bucky’s hand. “It’s okay. I’d probably act the same way if I were you.”

Glad the two men finally made up, you let out a deep breath. You were about to go sit down until you heard Bucky threaten Frank. “You hurt her, I’ll kill you.”

“He’s joking,” you told Frank, hoping to defuse a potential argument.

“I’m not.”

“Fair enough,” Frank responded before shaking Bucky’s hand.

“Now that’s everything copacetic, can we get to that basketball game Y/N promised? I gotta teach the youngin a couple of things.” Sam asked, reminding you of your bet that you could beat him at basketball no matter what team you’re on.

“Ok, let’s do it, but you got Buck on your team,” you bartered. Both men outwardly groaned, upset that they’re always paired together.

Looking up at Frank, you asked, “Want to play?” Leaning down within an inch from your lips, he replied, “Oh yeah,” before giving you a sweet chaste kiss.

“Oh god, no! None of that please. Just no!” Tony complained, disgusted by your pda.

For good measure, you gave Frank a deeper kiss, which made Tony gag. “Ready to hang with this crazy crew?”

Frank shook his head yes, and you pulled him towards the gym, hopefully for the first of many games.

Tags: @titty-teetee @ladydragonpurplefire @cocooned-butterfly @dannixchristian @pananegra @black-mcu-imagines @blackreaders-assemble @queenwinchester27 @meishaabae @marvelmaree @marvell0usmaximoff @yes-ladymyah @scarlett-berserker

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cagestark · 5 years ago

Note

Ok here's my prompt: college winterironspider, established winterspider and they want to do a trio costume with Tony as a way to show him they want him 💕💕

A late Halloween Prompt whipped up in thanks for boosting my friend’s rpg. Thank you! (Also you all say that Halloween is a 365 day event so 3 days late shouldn’t stop you right? ;)

Warnings: homophobia including slurs, some mention of smuttiness but nothing explicit, foul language. WinterIronSpider. 3.6k.

Tony flings open the dorm room door, already toeing off his sodden shoes. New England weather could turn on dime, and it had a habit of turning unfavorable on the 15 minute trek from the Chem labs back to his dorm room. His shirt is sticking to his skin, jeans heavy with rain. He can feel his hair, getting just this side of too long for how Howard likes it, dripping down the back of his neck.

Mother Nature hates him, and she’s not the only one, because Peter Parker is lounging on Tony’s roommate’s bed. Bucky is nowhere in sight, but the bathroom door is closed, so deductive reasoning is barely required. They’ve probably been fucking; the room has that musty scent that makes him twitch in his wet pants. Parker lays among the mussed sheets and blankets like the pillow princess he must be, curls riotous, beaming at the sight of Tony.

“Hey, Tony,” says Parker in the softest, cracking voice that Tony’s ever heard come from a nineteen-year-old. He blinks dazed, whiskey-colored eyes. “Y’re all wet.”

“I know. Where’s Barnes?”

“Bathroom.”

Tony hums. Barnes liked to take ridiculously long showers, conditioning his ridiculously long hair, moisturizing his ridiculously huge and attractive body. The guy was the antithesis to his boyfriend, large where Parker was small, dark where he was light, brooding where Parker was a goddamn ray of sunshine sneaking in through a crack in the curtains and blinding Tony. With Barnes in the shower, Tony is stuck shivering in his wet clothes, wishing he’d stayed out in the downpour and smoked a cigarette. Instead, he just sits on his bed—his sheets have seen worse than some rainwater. Opening up his bookbag, he sees that his textbooks are unscathed. Thank fucking God.

All the time, he feels Parker’s eyes on him. The kid is too pretty for his own good—both he and his boyfriend. When he came to MIT, he had envisioned dozens of nightmare scenarios regarding roommates. Maybe they’d steal his clothes, eat his food, leave their hair in the drain. Instead, he’d gotten a goddamn Calvin Klein model and his twink. Sometimes, Tony had to lay awake facing the wall on his side of the dorm room, pretending he didn’t hear the breathy giggles and dirty, foul whispers as the two fooled around while their roommate was ‘sleeping’. It left him unbearably hard, determined not to rut into the mattress lest they find out that he was still awake (and stop, God, please don’t stop—).

It was all very, very fucked up: how much Tony liked them; how much it made him hate them.

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia,” Parker says.

“What do you want me to do about it, kid?” Tony asks. He’s only three years older than Parker, but the kid seems so young—the enthusiasm, the naivete, the buoyancy. Tony can’t help but call him kid.

Parker raises his eyebrows. “It’s your room. Take off your clothes.”

Tony stops where he’s flipping through his textbook. He lets it fall closed with a thud, assessing Parker’s gaze. He looks innocent enough, maybe a little sleepy, but he wasn’t dumb by any means (a full ride to MIT proved that). Surely he had to know how that sounded, for him to tell his boyfriend’s roommate to undress in front of him.

“In front of you, Parker? I’ll take the pneumonia.”

The kid just grins, shaking his head. “Whatever. Are you going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi?”

“Everybody is going to the Halloween Party at Delta Psi,” Tony answers flatly.

“Are you going to wear a costume?”

“Fuck no.”

“Because you have no idea what to wear, right.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re a shit, Parker. So, what if I don’t? I’m an engineer; what do I need to dress up for?”

“I’m dressing Bucky; I could dress you too.”

“Yeah,” Tony snarks. “That’s just what I want.”

The bathroom door opens. Bucky appears in nothing but a towel around his hips. His abs violate state and federal laws—or at least if they don’t, they should. His hair is wet and up in a bun. Eyes like the ocean iced over drag up and down Tony’s body, making him feel heated despite the goosebumps on his skin. Tony is keenly aware of how his nipples have hardened, somewhere between the icy downpour and the sight of Parker looking fucked out on the twin-sized bed.

“Took you long enough,” Tony mutters. He grabs some clothes from the drawer and disappears into the bathroom, cranking the shower (and the drain is spotless because Barnes is a fucking good guy who cleans up after himself, the asshole) up to hellish proportions and peeling his wet clothes from his body. On the other side of the door are warm voices that are easy enough to tune out, or to tune into when he’s standing under the burning spray with a hand on his cock.

When he gets out of the shower, Parker is gone back to his own dorm. Bucky is eating a bowl of cereal, still shirtless. The words come out of Tony’s mouth before he can stop them: “Barnes, I think your boyfriend hit on me when you were in the shower. I just thought you might want to know that.”

Barnes stops chewing. He’s got the best poker face Tony has ever seen, no hint of anger or jealousy or surprise. His jaw closes again with an obscene, sugary crunch. After he swallows, he says, “Thanks, Tony. You’re a good friend.”

The first package arrives two days later. It’s for Tony, with no return address. He rolls his eyes—that’s just like his mother to be so dramatic as to not even say she’s sending him anything nor leave her mark. When he opens it though, there are no deliciously baked treats, no heartfelt (maybe a little distant) cards with carefully crafted handwriting, no trinkets that are hideous which he will be forced to cherish. Instead, it’s the ugliest pair of pants he’s ever seen: straight-legged and a size too big for him and a dirty gray.

“The fuck, mom,” Tony mutters. He tosses them aside. “Really off your game, crazy old bat.”

But when Barnes gets out of class and spots the box sitting on Tony’s desk, he points to it. “Did you get the first part of your costume?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your costume?” Bucky enunciates more, the fucking asshole, like Tony didn’t hear him the first time. “Peter told me that you said you were cool with him getting you a costume. He gets really fucking into Halloween. I saw this picture of him up in his Aunt’s apartment in Queens—”

Tony holds up a hand. “Stop. Rewind. I in no way told Parker he could dress me up for Halloween. Period.”

Barnes just raises his eyebrows. “That’s not what Peter thinks.”

“I couldn’t care less what he thinks, I’m not some doll for him to play with.”

“Next time he’s over, you can tell him so.” The guy’s pale eyes fucking glitter—glitter—like he knows that’s not going to go over well for Tony. And maybe it won’t, maybe Tony’s going to have to break some fucking hearts, but there’s no chance in hell he’s going to be caught dead in a costume, especially not one picked by a doe-eyed little twink like Parker.

But when Parker arrives for his date with Bucky two hours later, pink-cheeked from the windy cold, he’s got another little box tucked under his arm that he thrusts into Tony’s hands.

Tony thrusts it back. “Nope. Don’t want it.”

Parker frowns, looking up at Tony with those flat brows curled in confusion. “What do you mean? It’s for your costume.”

Barnes watches everything through the reflection in the mirror he keeps by his bed. He’s currently combing his hair like a schmuck (fuck, he looks so handsome), mouth pressed into a flat line, though Tony suspects that it’s more from holding back laughter than expressing any discontent. Tony chooses a point on the wall above Parker’s head and stares at it. The kid’s got eyes like vortexes, and Tony isn’t getting sucked in, no sir, not today.

“No costume. I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Sure you are, I’ve already bought the stuff. It’s started to arrive—did you get the pants?”

“Pants? Is that what they’re called? They’re hideous—” Barnes makes a noise in the corner that has Tony throwing a fuming glare his way. “I’m not going to wear them, or anything else. So return the stuff, kid.”

Parker stares down at the small package in his hands. “I—I can’t. I had it expedited so that it would get here in time for Halloween. No returns.”

“No re—? Well, fuck. That’s not my problem. I didn’t ask you to buy me stuff for a costume. What the hell were you going to dress me up as, anyway? A corpse from the 80’s?”

When Parker looks up, his eyes are a little misty. He rubs at one with his forearm, probably scratching himself with the wool from his coat. “It was gonna be a surprise.”

And yep. There it is. That does Tony in, because as much as Tony wishes he was the no good cruel piece of shit that plenty of people around MIT and the New England area like to label him as, he’s a sucker for tears. He’s seen his mom cry too many times, it just—it gets to him.

Tony snatches the package out of the kid’s hands. He points a finger at him. “No cartoon characters. No cross-dressing. No dorky inanimate objects, like a fork or a wet floor sign. Got it? Swear to God, kid, if you embarrass me in front of the whole school, I will never forgive you.”

“Why would I want to embarrass you?” Parker asks. He holds out a pinky. “It’s not embarrassing. Promise.”

“Fuck your pinky, man. Go on your date. Get out—you too Barnes, I don’t want to see either of your faces for like, two hours or something. Swear to God. I’m at the end of my rope, do you hear me? The end of my fucking rope.”

In the box is a scarf, long and plain and red. Tony rolls his eyes and sets it with the pants.

That night when he returns from his evening class, he finds that Barnes and his boyfriend have dragged all the blankets off of Bucky’s bed and onto the floor creating the warmest, coziest looking nest Tony’s ever seen. It looks like a slice of Heaven after coming in from the brutal cold. The best spot of all looks to be somewhere in between Barnes who is sprawled on his back, one arm behind his head and the other outstretched, and Peter who lays with his head cushioned on that ridiculous bicep. The size different between the two of them makes Tony’s mouth go dry.

On the wall, a Star Wars movie plays: The Empire Strikes Back.

Parker leans his head up, blinking at the sight of Tony in the doorway. He smiles, so soft and sweet that it hurts. “Hey Tony,” he says. He pats the blanket beside him. “Want to join us? There’s room.”

Tony hasn’t the slightest idea what to make of that. Not even a little one. Doesn’t Parker know how awkward that would be? For Tony to just cuddle in a pillow fort with Barnes and his boyfriend? Doesn’t Parker know how much that would hurt—

“No, I’ve got somewhere to be,” Tony lies. He steps out the door he had just came through and shuts it behind him. The library is always open on campus, and Tony falls asleep bent over the table there, cheek pressed into a book about the latest breakthroughs in Artificial Intelligence.

The next day arrives a plain white t-shirt in a plastic bag. Begrudgingly, Tony tries it on. It clings to his chest and the gentle six-pack he sports (nothing like Barnes who spends five days a week at the on-campus gym and drinks protein shakes in the morning). Turning sideways, he eyes himself in the mirror. At least this doesn’t look bad, certainly not with the way it clings to his biceps, but he will be fucking freezing.

Barnes comes in and catches Tony checking himself out in the mirror. For a moment, Tony thinks that maybe Barnes is checking him out, too, but—

“Looks good,” Bucky purrs. Making fun of Tony, surely.

Tony flips him the bird, but the guy just laughs.

“What is he dressing you up as?” Tony asks. Purely out of curiosity. Knowing how whipped Barnes was, Peter could dress him up as anything and he’d take it. Even something embarrassing or emasculating.

Barnes just rolls his eyes. “You know him. It’s a secret.”

The comradery with which he says it, like of course Tony knows how Peter is—something about it itches at the back of Tony’s brain, a mosquito that has landed and started to suck at his blood. But it’s no surprise that Barnes and his boyfriend are weirdos who like to spend more time having ‘dates’ in their dorm room with Tony rather than at a restaurant or the movies or any fucking where else.

But, like all things that Tony doesn’t want to wonder about, he pushes to the back of his brain.

The next day, it is a denim jacket and hideous combat boots.

“Fashion homicide,” Tony mutters.

The day before Halloween brings Tony a red flannel shirt.

“Goddamnit,” he says, holding it up so Barnes can see. “What is he dressing me up as, a lesbian?”

It isn’t until he’s assembling it all in the bathroom that he puts it together—and okay. It’s not bad. Bender was easily the coolest character in the Breakfast Club, though his fashion sense was nothing like Tony’s. The layers—white shirt under flannel under denim—are a little stifling, but out in the cold fall air, it would be perfect. He even combs his hair back.

All in all, Parker could have done far, far worse.

But when he comes out of the bathroom and finds the two of them in the dorm room, he sees that Parker has done worse.

Matching costumes.

Parker is Brian through and through. He looks like a total scrub in his khakis with Nike sneakers on, the long-sleeved sweater that clings to his thin frame. A ballpoint pen is tucked behind his ear, wrist-watch circling the delicate little wrist, and to top it off, a pair of sunglasses are looped over the collar of his sweater.

And Barnes? Forgone are his goth threads. He sits on his bed wearing blue jeans that hug his broad thighs, the whitest shoes that Tony’s ever seen, and a goddamn blue wifebeater that shows off his arms, both heavily muscled. Folded on his pillow is a letterman jacket, and Tony doesn’t even like jocks, but his cock twitches at the sight, thinking of slipping it down off of Bucky’s bare shoulders.

“No—we match,” Tony says.

Peter lights up. “Yes! You got it! The Breakfast Club is a classic.”

“I should have said no matching costumes. We look like—” like boyfriends, Tony thinks, “—like queers. I’m not going out like this.”

“Watch the slurs you throw around,” Barnes says, his mouth an unhappy, flat line.

Tony winces. “I—I didn’t mean it like that. But this is taking it to a whole new level that I’m not comfortable with. Not to mention, three gays all going out in matching costumes? Isn’t that a little suggestive?”

“Suggestive of what?” Parker asks. He’s holding fingerless gloves—the last part of Tony’s costume. It’s the cherry on top. With the cigarettes that Tony plans to be chainsmoking thanks to the stress of this whole event, he’ll be method acting his character all night.

“Come on. Suggestive, suggestive. Like we’re all—” Tony mashes his hands together.

Barnes reaches out, hand flat, arm flexing nicely. He doesn’t even look at Parker and Parker doesn’t look at him, but they slap hands in a high five.

“Am I speaking in tongues? I’m not fucking leaving like this; I’m not going to have the whole campus thinking I’m your loser third wheel.” It would be too painful, when there’s a shameful part of him that would gladly be the third wheel to them, that’s desperate to be between them. This feels like the crudest parody.

“You wouldn’t be,” Peter says.

“Pete, maybe we shouldn’t do this right now,” Barnes interrupts.

“No, Bucky, this was supposed to—supposed to be cute!” Parker turns away from them, towards the wall by Tony’s bed. He drops the gloves there and crosses his arms. It would be petulant if it wasn’t so heartbroken, the curve of his shoulders, his head drooping down morosely. Instead, the kid just looks like he’s trying to hold himself together.

Tony sighs. It takes Herculean strength not to roll his eyes. “Kid. I’m sorry. Clearly this meant a lot to you. Fuck knows why, but—”

Peter turns around, eyes tearful and flashing with anger. He reaches up to his ear, fiddling with the lobe with trembling fingers. Grabbing Tony’s wrist, he puts a little diamond earing in his palm, just like Claire did with Bender.

“What’s this?” Tony says, shoulders hunching. “My ears aren’t pierced.”

“Yes they are,” Peter says through his teeth. “You probably got them pierced five or so years ago, but your dad was an asshole about it and made you take them out. It’s been ages and the holes are hard to see but they still won’t close.”

Tony blanches. He can still hear the way Howard demeaned him, spent the whole dinner talking his Tony’s mother about how ridiculous the boy looked, how it gave people ideas about him, because pierced ears are for women and the only men who have them are faggots. “How the fuck do you even know that?”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” This is the loudest Peter’s ever been, his usual fragile voice replaced by this one that is sure and angry and doesn’t crack. “One: I spend every moment that I’m not looking at Bucky looking at you. I’ve got eyes; I know what a hole in an ear looks like, thanks. Two: your dad is an asshole about everything. He’s probably the reason why you don’t drink mixed drinks, why you call us queers even though you’re bi, why you lie and say you’re going to spend the whole holiday break at home but then come back and spend it here alone in the dorm. Because your dad is an asshole.

“He’s probably the reason why you’re such a fucking dunce too. A thick skull must run in the family, because Bucky and I have been hitting on you the entire semester and even though you go into the bathroom to jerk off every time you come back to the dorm and catch us making out, you won’t make a move or, or let us make the move, and—”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Tony says, his own voice rising to a shout. “You’ve been doing all this bullshit on purpose? Blowing Barnes when you know I’m awake? Skipping around here in your underwear because, what, you know it turns me on? Because you want to out me? Am I a fucking joke to you?”

“No,” Peter shouts, slapping a hand flat on Tony’s chest. “We like you, fuckface!”

The force of Peter’s tiny hand barely makes Tony sway, but the words—those might as well knock him to his knees. He feels like the scarf around his neck is on too tight, like there’s not enough air in the room. He licks his lips, his eyes moving between Peter’s red-rimmed eyes and nose (he’s an ugly crier) and Bucky who is still sitting on the twin bed watching them, his face white and afraid.

“You like me?” Tony asks. “What does that even mean? You two are together.”

“It means,” Peter says, taking Tony’s fist, coaxing open the anxious fingers to wear the diamond stud earring still rests, cutting into his palm. Peter presses his thumb against it, tenderly. “That we like you. We want you. To get to know you. You—and not your hang-ups.”

Tony shakes his head, taking his hand from Peter’s burning grip. “I—I can’t do that. My dad—”

“—is an asshole,” Bucky mutters.

Tony snorts softly. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re not wrong.”

“We don’t have to go home with you at Thanksgiving or Christmas or ever, if you don’t want,” Peter says. “We just want a chance. We want you to do something for yourself. Not your dad. Does that make sense?”

The silence lingers around the room. Somewhere in the distance, Halloween music is playing, ghoulish noises and moans and witch-like cackling. Mouth dry, Tony takes the backing off of the stud earing and reaches up, feeling for the holes in the lobes of his ears. It’s been years since he wore them, and his hands are trembling so badly that he can’t even find them—

“I’ll help you,” Peter says tenderly, taking the earring. He has it in in a moment and leans back, taking Tony in from head to toe.

“Well?” Tony asks. He clears his throat—there’s something stuck in it, some lump that he has to swallow away. He holds out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Gay,” Bucky says from the corner, smiling.

“That’s it!” Tony shouts. “I’m not going! Thanks for nothing! I’m out!”

“Tony,” Peter groans. “He was just joking, he’s—”

But Tony is already stalking to the dorm room door and pulling it open. He stops to glance over his shoulder at Bucky and Peter who are watching him with wide eyes. “Well?” he says. “I’m all for being fashionably late, but if we don’t get going, there’s not going to be anything left of the keg—”

The two scramble for their jackets and follow him out the door.

#winterironspider #tw: homophobia #tw: f slur #tw: q slur #college!winterironspider #Halloween prompt #cagewrites #longfic

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years ago

Text

aphrodite | b.b.

Summary: Bucky’s only in town for the night, and then he meets the woman who steals his heart without a second look back. Unfortunately for you, the small town girl, Bucky’s more than your heart can take.

WARNINGS: CUTE ASS FLUFF! for once, Bucky’s a little shit, unsafe motorcycle riding, pls ride with a helmet, and mentions of sex but like it ain’t that explicit, also sad ending but perhaps a pt 2? Pairing: badboy!Bucky x fem!waitress!Reader Word Count: 6.2k A/N: So I was inspired by Shawn and Camilla’s new song (Señorita) and the music video so I decided it was time to get saucy. Also, I say DEDICATE FICS TO WRITERS YOU LOVE RIGHTS. Therefore, this is dedicated to @jurassicbarnes bc i love her Masterlist

“That’ll be all for you?” you ask, scribbling down the last order of milkshake and fries for a family of three. Tapping your pen on your notepad, you put on a smile and slide the two items into your apron pocket, scooping up the menus. “Great. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” the man responds, and you let the grip on your pen slack.

“No problem, and if you need anything,” you stress the word, “please give me a call?”

“We will,” the woman assures and your eyes flicker over to her. Your lips press together in a warm smile because they don’t want your pity. Instead, you look out the windows and note the rain thundering outside the little bistro. “Hot summer rains, huh.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be a wet summer this year.”

“More fun for the little one,” you tell them as you wave at the tiny boy sitting in the woman’s lap. They chuckle before you leave them alone. Your eyes linger on the rain. You want to run out and let it fall all over you, soaking you to the skin, but you still have to work. Remembering that, you head for the kitchen and rip off the new order, hooking it on the line for Wanda.

“We’ve got a new order. Family of three with a little boy,” you tell her, leaning over the counter. Business is slow in your tiny town of yours, and everyone knows everyone. “It’s Ben and May Parker,” you clarify when Wanda arches a brow at you while she works. She’s great at micro-managing and you watch in amazement as she juggles the deep fryer, stove, and oven all at once, “with Peter.” You can see Wanda’s movements slow as the information sinks in. The two of you share a look and you just stare back until Wanda remembers she can’t let anything burn.

“I’ll make something special for them,” the woman decides and you shake your head with a smile. “I know what May will say, but tell her it’s from me.”

“She’ll know,” you promise, straightening up again. You still have an hour left in your shift, so you might as well make it your best one yet. Fixing your apron, you tuck a slip of hair behind your ear and glance around. No one needs your attention, but you do spot dirty plates, so you head over to collect them before heading back to scrub them up. Less work for Wanda means you guys can close up shop early. Slipping your name tag into your apron pocket lest it fall down the drain and you lose it forever — it’s happened before — you dunk the dirty dishes into the half of the sink full of soapy water.

You begin to run the tap just as the bell above the door rings up front. Sighing, you head out to see a lone figure heading to one of the booths, dripping all over your floor from the rain and your lips twist into a small scowl. Slipping hazard.

Still, it’s not their fault it’s raining in the summer. It’s just the weather around here. So you head on over there, your friendly smile coming up on your face on its own accord. You grab a menu on the way, and think happy thoughts.

“Hi. Do you want me to get you started on anything to drink?” you ask as standard but you find your words come out thick when the figure turns to look at you. Through drenched brunet strands of hair that stick to his cheeks and jaw, blue eyes pierce into your soul and you swallow, not knowing what else to do besides that and blink repeatedly, absorbing this gorgeous guy in front of you.

As you said, tiny town where everyone knows everyone and you certainly don’t know this guy.

He seems to have a lost for words, too, or maybe he’s just wondering what the hell is wrong with you. But one thing you know for sure, he recovers first. He tears his gaze away and you notice he’s wearing leather gloves which he pulls off to reveal those hands and you try not to stare as he tosses them onto the table before extending a hand up. He has a cute smile and you stare at him dumbly, not understanding.

“I, uh, I need the menu, doll,” he says and you snap out of it.

“Right! Right. Sorry,” you stammer, giving him the menu you’d been hugging to your chest as soon as you lay eyes on him. Heat pools in your cheeks as you try to get through the gist of the weekly special and that he should tell you when you’re ready to order. He scans the menu, listening to you talk with a slight cock of his head and you try not to focus on the fact that this is really how you’re going to get fired. Embarrassing myself in front of the new hot guy. Figures. His fingers trace over the words and you can’t help staring at the strength you can see in them.

“Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” you manage to get out at last and he looks up at you. There his smile is again, and his blue eyes squint along with it. He rakes a hand through his wet hair, pulling it back and you chuckle nervously. “I can get you a towel or something, if you want.”

“That’d be nice,” he admits, wiping his hand on his pants. Setting down the menu flat on the table, he holds out a hand that’s not rain-wet. “I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky, right.” You slip his hand into his and nearly shiver at how warm he is. His blue eyes pull you in like a hypnotic mist and your breath catches in your throat. “Bucky, okay, uh, right. Just let me know when you’re done with that—” You point at the menu, cringing internally at how you’ve suddenly lost all your communication skills— “and I’ll come take your order.”

“You said that already. Three times, actually.” And then he lets go with that smirk of his and you’re left dazed, blinking.

“Right. Um…” You’re a complete mess, looking down at yourself. You realize you don’t look at all your best, in a day-old uniform with barely any makeup and your hair oily, and compared to him, all black leather and blue eyes, you know this is not the best way to make a first impression. “Towel! I’ll be back, and, uh, just let me know when you’re ready to order.”

Exiting the situation as quick as you can before you can repeat yourself a fourth time, you duck your head to hide your red face as you hear him call after you.

“Thanks, doll!”

You give him his towel, his food, a milkshake and a refill. Then, you refund all favours you’ve ever done for Wanda for her to go and give him the bill while you clean the kitchen. You’re closing up shop now, and the Parkers head out, giving you a wave through the kitchen window. You wave back before pretending to busy yourself, knowing that his eyes are on you.

When Wanda comes back, he gets up and flips the collar of his jacket, tiny droplets of water spraying over as he tries to catch your gaze. Heat is rushing to your head and you turn away, pretending that you aren’t trying to sneak peaks of him out of the corner of your eye.

I need to take inventory, you tell yourself, heading to the back as Wanda deposits the money. Counting the stock of potatoes, you can’t focus and start from one every three seconds as you stare at the tubers.

“Y/N,” Wanda calls softly and you blink, turning to see her at the doorway of the storage closet, “how many potatoes do we have?”

“Uhm.” You turn back to the potatoes, trying to see if you can make a quick count as Wanda walks in, placing a hand on your shoulder. You’re busted.

“The guy out there wanted to know where my beautiful friend went,” she tells you, and you duck your head, that flustered feeling knotting up your chest as you try to stammer out something like you were busy. But it’s Wanda. “He wanted to ask you out on a date, but I told him my beautiful friend is busy tonight.”

“Busy?” you repeat, turning to Wanda who smiles. “Where are we going?”

“Clubbing.”

Bucky drums his fingers on the bar counter, taking a pull of his whiskey. He had needed to stop in the new town to rest before he headed over to Barton’s country-side home for the wedding, but the bistro he’d stopped by prompted an extra few nights stay.

It wasn’t the bistro so much as the waitress who’d served him. Bucky knows how to keep his cool around the ladies, but to say he hadn’t been momentarily stunned by the woman who’d walked up to him would be a fat lie.

Even in the stained waitress outfit, and the messy hair, you had been the most perfect woman he’d ever seen. Beautiful, in all ways, with your kind smile and rolling words. With your gentle hands as you pulled summer rain from his soaked hair with that towel of yours, as you told him the milkshake refill was on the house as a welcoming gift to ‘our small little town. Enjoy your stay.’

He needs to see you again. Learn your name. Tell you he wants you.

Bucky’s never believed in love at first sight, but he does believe in love at first meeting, and damn it if—

Stop. You need to stop thinking about her. He closes his eyes, letting the sound around him melt into a lethargic ocean, the air around him thick on his skin, hugging him like molasses as the music fades out into some new romance song that’s a hit on the radio these days. But he can’t. You’re in his mind like a brand, burning so bright and warm. Your eyes stare back at him in his mind’s eye, as if daring him to stop.

If he can find you again, find the most loveliest woman he’d ever seen to walk this Earth, he will, ‘cause then he’ll have the real thing.

Someone asks for a drink two seats down, and Bucky blinks out of his reverie, taking another sip of whiskey. He sweeps his gaze through the bar, trying to see if anyone’s worth his attention or time. Perhaps he can get his mind off his new infatuation for a few hours. Better than drowning in the little memories he has of his Aphrodite — just a taste, not enough.

His dark eyes flicker from patron to patron, groups of people dancing on the floor as drinks are spilled and food bounces into corners of the bar no one will ever see, left for the rats to feast. It’s a nice place, cozy in a retro way, with a jukebox and neon signs. The club is plunged in red light, and he can barely discern one face from another as the crowd parts in a way he can only claim is destiny.

There you stand beneath the neon lights.

He sets down his glass of whiskey harder than anyone ever intends to when they’re in their right state of mind and just stares, unable to take his eyes off you, the way that fabric wraps around you. The way the sequins of your black dress seem to darken underneath the red light as you speak to your waitress friend from where you stand around a table. You’re holding a mojito, or something, sipping on that straw and then he’s up, wading through the crowd.

People push up against him, whether intentional or not, but he only has eyes on you.

Your hair is pinned away from your face, but the rest spills down your shoulders, brushing over your arms as you turn to your friend. More girls join you, giggling and flushed and smiling, but he only has eyes for you.

Bucky rakes a hand through his hair, making sure he can soak in every inch of you as your friend points at him. He strides on over, an involuntary smirk making its way onto his face as you set down your mojito on the table. Your friends all stare, but he only has eyes for you.

“Bucky,” you say at last and the sound of your voice is a masterpiece, a symphony of colours he’s never seen before and places he wishes he’s been to. “I didn’t expect to see you here!” You shout because the music pumping in Bucky’s veins means it’s in his blood, roaring in his ears. Maybe it’s pounding in your head too. Your friends tell you they’re going to get drinks. You don’t seem to hear. Your eyes are fixed on him.

“Well, I wasn’t planning to be here,” he replies and you blink, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you look at him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you let out a sigh. It puffs against his cheek and smells like mint and sugar. “I just wanted to get wasted,” he adds, leaning in closer. His fingers reach for your wrist as you shiver, and your eyes flicker shut, eyelashes dusting your cheeks. His lips brush the shell of his ear and he hums playfully along to the music. His fingers coax your wrist into his grip as his other hand lands on your hip. Your eyes open drowsily, like you’re Sleeping Beauty and he’s your prince, and you search his gaze. In the red light, the shadows of your face darken and cause you to look cut from marble, a statue of Greece, beauty made eternal.

Your other hand finds his bicep and he pulls you into him. Your chests collide. You squeeze and he smirks, knowing you’re feeling what is there. Leather and hard muscle and power.

“Then you came to the right place,” you breathe, chin tilting and his head falls to your neck. Your hand on his bicep slides up to his shoulder as he presses a kiss to your neck and you tug, oh so slightly at his jacket like you want to tear it off. He’d let you. So much for a stumbling mess, Bucky muses. Cats come out to play at night. “Bucky, I—” He lifts his head so your gazes meet again, and your lips are trembling, eyes wide with something dark and wild and feral.

“What is it, Aphrodite?” he whispers, tilting his head as his hand holding your wrist slides up your arm slowly, intentionally, and you react in a way he knows you will. You gasp, and his smirk grows. Your hand flies his elbow, stalling him. Curious, his blue eyes meet yours again. “Wanna dance?”

“I—” The noise comes out strangled and you blink, inhaling sharply. When your eyes open again, what is left is who you were earlier that day. The quiet, shy, stammering woman who’d taken his breath away. You shake your head despite what lies within your eyes. “I have to head home. Busy day tomorrow.” In seconds, you gather your clutch and slam a few bills on the table.

“Wait—” Bucky reaches after you but you’re smaller than he is, and you slink into the crowd. You’re a nymph, beautiful and mystical and magical and maybe you aren’t quite real enough to touch. Bucky isn’t sure. He chases after you, pulling through the crowd — people dancing and laughing and drinking — and he thinks maybe. He catches glimpses of the color of your hair, a flash of your eyes, a slip of your dress.

He’s on the wrong side of the bar when he hears the bell above the door chime, and he knows.

You’re gone, and so is his heart.

He returns to his seat at the bar, slams a fifty on the counter and asks for shots instead of whiskey. Maybe then it’ll chase the ghost of you out of his head.

He doesn’t come for you, like you thought he would, and Wanda doesn’t seem to know if he’s gone, too.

It’s three days before you have to accept the fact that he’s gone. Gone to some other town with some other girl. Guys like him have no trouble getting girls.

You didn’t expect you to be grieving the loss of someone you don’t know, but then again, you’ve never felt so drawn to someone before. On your break, you eat a protein bar and take your hair down for your fifteen minutes and head outside for a breather. The other waitress is in today, and although it’s a busy hour at night, you think the lull in business can give you an extra few seconds. The wind leans into your face, smelling of petrichor and summer sugar, and you know summer rain’s gonna come again. That just reminds you of him, so you push that thought out of your head.

You need to head back inside. You’re closing tonight, so you might as well work to finish early. You count money, clean dishes, wipe down the windows and counters early and mop the floors. Wanda cleans up the kitchen and the last patron leaves thirty minutes before closing, meaning you can leave right on the dot. Wanda and Dot, the other waitress, clock out early as you begin taking stock of the last few ingredients for next day. They’ll need to order soon, otherwise there won’t be any more apples left for Peter Parker’s fourth birthday pie.

“I’m heading home. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Wanda asks, lingering around the entrance to the kitchen and you send her a tired smile. You can’t read her expression that well when you don’t linger on her face but you know her tone of voice. “You know, it’s okay to miss him.”

You laugh to cover the abyss in your heart. “I don’t miss him. I didn’t even know him.” Wanda looks at you with an ounce of skepticism and you roll your eyes. The hollow feeling in your chest is temporary. “Besides, I’ll be a-okay with my apples and tomatoes.” Wanda wears her tentative smile like a shield as if you’ll blow up at her. She uncrosses her arms, looks at you once more. You sigh. You’re exhausted. “Wanda, go home to Vis. I’ll lock up.”

“Alright. Call me,” she says in farewell and the chime of the bell above the door rings, leaving you alone. You finish up taking inventory and begin locking up, turning off the lights and making sure everything’s sealed. Heading out the back door that instantly locks once it’s closed, you pocket the keys and head out, pulling your hair out of its bun. And then you spot the figure sitting on the couch outside and you slow down, turning to look.

Bucky sits up, eyes wide and lips slightly parted and you smile incredulously. He leans forward, almost half way to standing. You pause mid way through adjusting the strap of your bag and then turn around, a silly smile working its way onto your face as he gets up, scrambling after you.

“Wait! Aphrodite, wait.” You cross your arms as he runs in front of you, towering over you as he does and his blue eyes warmer than any summer rain. “I… I don’t even know your name.”

“Why are you here, Bucky?” you ask quietly, and he runs that hand through his hair again. Aphrodite, you realize, warmth gathering in your stomach. A voice tells you, He thinks you’re beautiful. As beautiful as a goddess. Still, you can’t help the hurt in your voice as you add, “I thought you left.”

“I was thinking of what to say. Thought you didn’t wanna see me,” he mumbles and your eyebrows gather together. Before you say anything, though, he continues, “But I came to ask… ask if you wanted to take a ride.”

His motorcycle is parked a few steps off and you turn to look at the black beast, huge and shining and sleek. It’ll roar when you tear down streets. You know it.

“Yes.”

He helps you on before swinging on in front of you. His ass presses against you as he grabs the handlebars. “Don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around me, Aphrodite,” he murmurs and instantly, your arms encircle your waist and you melt against him. Your legs press against his thighs and he kicks off. The motorcycle purrs and vibrates beneath you as you begin speeding down the street and towards the beach.

The wind rips at your hair and face as the world around you becomes a blur. The night is quiet besides the bike, splitting the night apart with its engine and there’s the smell of sea and salt on the wind. You haven’t been to the beach in forever.

You hug Bucky tighter when he pulls a smooth turn down a road that leads out of the town. Bucky feels right beneath your palms, all hard and soft lines, leather, and pure muscle where his thighs are concerned. He checks up on you at a stop light, his cobalt blue gaze drawing you into him until you’re leaning against him, cheek against his back as you two start off again. You can hear his heart above the thunder of the motorcycle, and the wind stings your nose but the smell of him stings more.

He is one of the seven deadly sins, lust on legs, smoke and cedarwood and sweat, and you cling onto him like he’s your saving grace. Your legs tighten and he takes the chance to eye you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head just enough to take a glimpse of you as a Welcome sign for your city comes and goes, a spot in the distance within seconds.

“Focus on the road, Bucky,” you whisper and he listens. You press your lips against the shell of his ear, eyes focusing on the blurring road ahead. The only thing that’s clear is the man you have every inch of yourself pressed again. “And my name is Y/N.” With every word, your lips brush against his ear and you notice the knuckles of his hands blanche remarkably.

“Aphrodite is better,” he tells you through gritted teeth. The muscles in his jaw twitch and oh, how much you want to touch him except if he gets distracted, you both die. Still your hands play with the edges of his jacket, until he scolds you. “Down, girl. I needa focus.”

Alright, baby.” Your words cause a shiver to run down his spine and you feel it as he twists the throttle. Everything is nothing more than colours — the sky, nothing more than a smudge of black ink, the moon, a streak of white. Your arms tighten around his waist. He leans and swerves, boots barely brushing the asphalt and you taste the burn of rubber in your mouth just like how the smell of Bucky bleeds into your nose.

When you reach the beach, your hair is tousled and you’re panting because the rush of riding a motorcycle has you breathless. Your heart hammers in your throat, almost like it’s trying to speed out of your chest and you swallow it down to your chest, the adrenaline pumping into your smile as Bucky kicks the stand and parks the motorcycle on the pavement

Bucky places a hand on your thigh, swinging his leg off and getting up. The weight of his huge hand, heavy and hot, has you breathing even harder. He’s not wearing his gloves and you can feel the heat of him on your bare thigh. The day dress you’d worn to work and wear now has hitched up your legs, and he gently caresses your thigh as he walks around the bike.

His hand drifts over your skin, across your hips, to your other thigh and then his other hand finds your hip. He lifts you off the seat, putting you down with ease and his skin burns you deliciously. The weight of his hands on your hips is like the best kinda belt and you breathe him in, feel his heat. He licks his lips. You find yourself hungry for something that isn’t food.

“Come on. Beach is empty.” He takes you by the hand, dragging you to the open sand. He dumps his jacket in the sand, pulling off his boots and socks, and you stare before letting your bag drop and toeing off your sandals. You walk out, feeling the summer sand warm beneath your toes as sea winds sweep between your legs and arms. Bucky follows after you, taking hold of your hand and you let him lead you into some dance you somehow both know.

You sway in time to invisible music, as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. Your arms loop around his neck, and you wonder if it’s possible to be drunk off someone else’s presence.

You twirl through the sand, the gentle lap of the waves your own choir as you push off of Bucky, arms spread out and your head tilts back, letting sapphire moonlight spill all over your face. A carefree smile splits your face apart and you close your eyes. You could stay here forever.

Then, strong arms scoop you up and your legs wrap around a thick waist. Bucky spins you around, his eyes never leaving yours and you touch his face, the rough of his stubbe prickling at your palm as his hands hoist you up from the bottom of your thighs and ass.

“Bucky?” you mumble, completely lost in the way his eyes shift from navy to cobalt to sky. He stops spinning. His lips are parted, tongue flickering out to wet his lips again and something takes a hold of you. This man chose you. The notion blows your mind.

Your hands flat against his cheeks, you decide that if this is real, you might as well take what you can get. So you kiss him, and he bleeds whiskey and honey and all that is sweet in this world.

There is summer rain.

That’s the first thing Bucky thinks of as he wakes up. The soft sound of rain splattering windows and tiles and walls, along with the warmth in his gut is a welcomed way to start a morning. Feeling the space beside him, he finds it empty and rolls over, glancing at the window. The tequila sunrise glows golden as you force apart the curtains of the hotel room. Bathed in its glory, you look out the window. So, it rains on a sunrise, does it? Bucky might just start liking this town even more than the people in it.

You continue to stare out the window, and Bucky takes the chance admire your form, covered in nothing but a knitted cardigan that reveals everything and not enough. Bucky squints against the glaring sun as it rises, and moans, catching the attention of his Aphrodite. You turn, tugging your cardigan together as if to preserve decency.

“C’mere,” he mumbles, arms spread out, and you chuckle. Long gone is the shy, stammering waitress with the gentle hands. Here you are, in all your glory; his little minx, his seductress, his bewitching witch. He sits up, naked as they day he was born and you sit in his lap, sinking into him with a soft sigh. “My Aphrodite,” he whispers, hoarse from sleep and other reasons. Your lips meet his again, and you tastes like things he can’t name as your eyes slide shut. Your kiss is toxic, just like the night before, and his hands grab at your shoulders from behind, grounding you to him.

He needs this poison more than he needs to breathe.

His mouth opens underneath yours and you groan, taking hold of his face. Hooked on your tongue, his eyes close and he bites at your lip. His hands peel your cardigan off your body, and you fling it off, returning your hands to his neck and jaw, shoulders and back, like magnets. You’re so warm, the sun in his arms, and you fit so perfectly in his hands as your lips glide to his neck.

“Don’t stop, Buck,” you whisper, moan, plead. Bucky tilts your jaw back to him with a crooked finger, bright eyes meeting yours. You are something ferocious and wild and enchanting. Bucky wonders what he wouldn’t do for you. “We stay in here, alright? We never have to leave.” You duck down to his neck again. He bites his lip, raising his head to give you better access as his fingers scratch down your back. Your hands trail down his shoulders and sides, scratching and clawing and you’re biting and touching as he sucks in a long breath, lips finding the plane of your collarbone. You taste like summer rain, sweet cream, and sweat, and he wants to devour you. “You hear me?”

“We don’t leave,” he whispers, and he takes you by the hips, twisting around so he pins you to the bed. The white covers are clouds around your skin, and maybe you really are a goddess. Flushed cheeks, wine-stained lips, you sing the prettiest song for him.

“Bucky,” you sigh, lovely and deeply, the sweetest harp, the most beautiful angel.

“We stay here,” he promises, pressing ragged, messy kisses against your mouth as he speaks, “and I love you every second until I die.” His hips press flush against yours and when his lips find the column of your sweet, silky little throat, he wonders how he’s gonna tell you he has a wedding to get to. He wonders how he’s even gonna manage to leave this hotel room that has your lips and skin and heat and smell.

How is Adonis to leave his Aphrodite?

“You have to go, don’t you?” you ask as you place the strawberry milkshake between the two of you. Bucky sits at the bar, as you get ready for the day to start. The blinds are filtering the sun through the bistro, the doors locked still. The rain has stopped and it smells like fresh pavement out there. You’re here before opening hours, tugging Bucky into the place by your interlaced fingers. On your arm is a poem of numbers and dashes — Bucky’s number — and on the back of his hand is yours.

The strawberry milkshake is topped with whipped cream and a cherry, and there are two straws poking out of the top. He takes a sip. You sigh. Neither of you comment about the bruise under the handkerchief you have tied around your neck or the one blooming on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, just visible when your collar shifts. Or the marks on the thighs where his lips had undressed you the night before. And that morning. And twenty minutes ago.

“Y/N,” he begins but you merely smile sadly, knowingly. He sighs, pushing the milkshake towards you. You take a sip. It’s not the sweetest thing you’ve tasted today. Bucky’s lips can give anyone a toothache. His blue eyes hooded, he grabs your hand on the counter, leans over the counter, and kisses your swollen lips.

Your hands wrench in his hair, tugging him towards you as he merely cups your face, kissing you sweeter than you want. You want rough, you want something harder. You want him to hurt you so it’s easier to let him go.

“I have a wedding to get to,” he whispers and it sounds a lot like farewell. You want him to ask you to come. You want him to even think about it.

“Bucky…” you begin, unable to finish. He smiles, a whole tragedy in the twist of his lips and the burning in his eyes. His hands slide down your neck, your shoulders, lingering little touches you’ll never have again.

Because your life is here, and his life is somewhere far from your tiny little bistro.

You can’t even pretend you don’t need him.

“It’s so damn hard to leave ya, doll,” he murmurs, fingers playing with yours. You push off the counter, tearing yourself away and he lowers his head. “Y/N, please.” You walk around the counter and he stands, the strawberry milkshake forgotten, and you try to calm the whirling hurricane in your heart. You try to ignore the aching pain, the grief you feel for no goddamn reason.

And then you’re running across the bistro, running for his arms that spread out and you jump into him, legs wrapping around him like he’s the only thing keeping you from drowning. One hand wraps around your waist and the other traces the curve of your thigh as he closes his eyes, hugging you to death.

“You don’t forget me, alright?” you whisper fiercely and Bucky’s hugging you tighter, holding you like he’s gonna lose you.

“Like I could ever forget you, Aphrodite,” he mumbles into your hair and your face nuzzles into his neck, feeling the warmth of him so different than the heat last night. You wonder if he’s gonna take your heart with you when he goes or just half. I hope this meant something to you, Bucky Barnes. “God, doll, if you ever call my name, you know I’m gonna be comin’ for ya.” He sets you back down, but you’re not quite sure your legs touch the ground. Your knees wobble and you hold onto his biceps, taking in his face — memorizing every tiny scar, freckle, blemish of his face, the colour of his eyes, the rosey touch and shade of his lips. You’re nearly chest to chest, and when his hands cup your face, his lips press against yours, tentative. You feel the tears slip down your face when he pulls away.

His thumb brushes away your tears, kisses every single trail, every new tear he’s missed, tells you you look beautiful and kisses your cheek.

It feels a lot like I love you.

This is goodbye. You wrap fingers around his neck, pull him down for a hard kiss of teeth and lips and tongue. He kisses back, the mess of both of you stumbling until you’re against the counter, one arm around your waist his other against the bar and your hands tangle in his hair. You have enough time for one more, you don’t care if it's right here. It might be enough of a reason for him to stay—

But he tears himself away before he can pull apart your blouse and bend you over the countertop. You’re left trying to catch your breath, trying to tell yourself it doesn’t hurt. He mumbles something to himself, and the wretched glare he gives you nearly causes you to crumble. You hold onto the counter, desperate, miserable, liar.

And then he turns to go, and you don’t stop him, too weak to move, too tired to try. You close your eyes, turn your head away and let it drop as you sit on the red leather barstool, swivelling to lean on the counter. Your elbow digs into the wooden counters as your tears burn into your skin. Resting your head against your hand, you pretend not to notice when there’s a long pause between the bell above the door ringing and the door closing again. You pretend you don’t feel him look at you one last time. You pretend your heart is still whole in your chest.

You only burst into tears when you hear his motorcycle fade off into the distance.

Wanda finds you minutes later, sobbing into your arms at the counter, dressed for work, but not ready at all. She calls in Dot to cover your shift, puts away the strawberry milkshake so it doesn’t go to waste, takes you outside to the bench near the back — the very spot Bucky Barnes waited for you — and tells you to stay there until she is on lunch break. You stare at his phone number, inked onto your skin, a stain like a lot of things he’s left on your body, and time seems like something you don’t understand anymore. So you sit where he sat, imagining his motorcycle parked in the lot, his arrogant little smile, his surprise of ‘Didn’t wanna go to the wedding anyway, Aphrodite.’

But he doesn’t come. You know you need to get it together because you have work to do, so you cry, sob over the boy in leather who’s never coming back, until you’re all dried up forever.

It nearly works, and you’ve almost taped yourself up enough to get back to being just another waitress, but then Wanda is on her lunch break. She sits beside you, offers a sandwich, asks you to spill, because you’ve fallen in love with a stranger who’s long gone. And the tears come again.

TAGS: bucky: @beyond-the-ashes @aryaes permanent mcu: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala @schwankyblock permanent: @dulharpa

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what-the--curtains · 4 years ago

Text

Braving the Elements

Chapter 7: Grilled cheese and Sob Stories

Tw: mentions of war, swearing

Authors note: Time to get SOFT

(The record being played)

You jolt awake, ripping the sheets off yourself. The heat of your body is made even more apparent by the cool droplets of sweat forming along your arms and back. Not again. Another nightmare, you were back in that prison strapped down to the cold, lifeless, metal table where your captors had extracted a few of your teeth, amongst other things. Between, your military days, prison and working for Roman, you weren’t short on nightmare material. You get Friday to turn the lights on. You found that assessing your surroundings always helped. It reminded you of where you were, grounding you. Turning to your side table you see that the orchid you had got at the farmers market had shrivelled up and lost its flowers. You forgot that your nightmares had the potential to sap the life out of any plants in your vicinity. I guess you weren’t the only victim of your trauma. Unable to go back to sleep you decide to get up and head to the kitchen to grab something to eat and to restore your dead plant back to its former glory.You enter the kitchen scrunching up your face and squinting as you step into an ungodly amount of light, hearing a gruff voice ask “What’s up?” Your eyes adjust just enough to decipher that the voice belongs to the winter soldier. You’re suddenly increasingly aware of how you must look with messy hair, puffy eyes and a distinct lack of pants. After cursing yourself for caring what some stupid guy thought, you grumble out “Couldn’t sleep, too hungry”. Technically it wasn’t a total lie as you were really hungry

Gonna eat that plant” he asks with a grin.

“Gonna, bring it back to life” you say, placing it down on the counter top and revitalizing it, allowing a single white orchid with pink and purple spots to bloom before lowering your hands.

“What no witty comeback? Pretty cool how you can bring something back to life.” Bucky says, currently focused on the pan in front of him.

“Wow, geek out much?” you respond groggily.

“There she is” he chuckles, you repress the smile that that comment had brought to your face.

“Whater ya making?” you ask, pushing yourself up onto the counter top and peering into his pan.

“Grilled cheese, you want one?” He asks

“Sam said you were mean, mean people don’t offer to make you food” you say as you swing your feet back and forth

“First rule of living here, never listen to Sam he’s always wrong.” The dry delivery of this line causes you to snicker.

“Sure, but you gotta put pickles in it, it’s the only way to eat a grilled cheese properly!” you say hopping down from the counter and walking to the fridge placing the jar down beside him. He gives you a disapproving look, but puts them on the sandwich anyways.

“If anyone ever tells you not to put pickles on a grilled cheese just known, deep down, they’re wrong.” You say informatively.

You grab the plate from him and say thanks before setting it down on the table and taking a bite. He sits down across from you and between bites asks

“So why are you really up?”

You’re not sure why, maybe it’s the fact he cooked you a meal, or that it seemed like he genuinely wanted to know, but you decide to tell him the truth.

“Eh just a nightmare nothing big.” you say taking another bite.

“War or testing?” He asks.

“Testing this time, how about you metal man? Why are you up?”

“It’s tin man, and testing. It usually is for me.” he says with a chuckle. Despite the laugh you can’t help, but notice the pain behind the words. You wonder what’s caused it but you don’t press him on the matter.

“Well guess I’m lucky then” you say, hoping to ease at least some of his troubles by brightening the mood ”at least I get some variety in my nightly broadcasts!”

He doesn’t laugh, instead he looks up at you earnestly, causing the smile on your face to slowly drop. His eyes seemingly staring into your soul. Evidently you weren’t the only one looking for answers to someone’s pain. Your heart begins to race. What was this look and, more importantly, why were you thinking about it so much. The moment is interrupted when the two of you hear another voice causing you both to jump.

“Is that grilled cheese?” A bed-headed Peter asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Jesus Peter!” you both say before offering him one, he nods a yes and Bucky goes back to the stove.

“How about you kid. What’s your sob story?” you ask, and he tells you about his uncle.

“Shit sorry kid.” you say sympathetically.

“ Hey at least my parents didn’t sell me!” he responds.

“Ouf,” you say, placing your hand over your heart like you’ve been shot “touché you’re right I win the contest for most tragic backstory.”

Wanda and Nat have wandered into the kitchen having heard the commotion and smelling the food. They make their own sandwiches and recant their own tragedies. Having all found your way to the couch, except for Bucky who has begun cleaning up, Peter says “Well this is depressing” with a slight laugh.

“Well,” you start, “when we were at the academy there was one thing that always used to always cheer Wanda up no matter how mad I'd made her.” Walking over to the record player Steve had installed you pull a record out of a plastic bag and place it on the turntable. “70’s records that we use to steal from Charles’ office and blare in the library at all hours.” You say, placing the needle onto the record which starts the record playing “and yes I did go into seven record shops before I found it because that's how much I love you!” you say pointing to Wanda.

You sit down next to her draping your arms around her neck and lip-syncing the first verse before pulling her up to dance to the chorus with you. Steve and Vision have appeared in the room looking disheveled and slightly annoyed. “Really!” Steve yells trying and failing to suppress a smile. “Oh come on, just cause some of us slept through the 70’s doesn’t mean the music wasn’t good grandpa” Nat says pulling him in to dance with her. As Vision finds his way over to Wanda, Peter surprises everyone by singing the second verse.

“Kids got skills” Bucky laughs from the kitchen

Sam slides into the room belting out the third verse as he dances his way over before hugging you from behind.

“Does tin man ever dance” you ask Sam as he spins you out to Wanda.

“ Well, he used to be swell, at least thats what all the ladies used to say” Steve chimes in with a grin. Sam has now forcibly pulled Bucky into the room. All of you dancing until the song ends and you all erupt into a fit of laughter before heading off to bed.

As you turn to go into your room Bucky grabs your wrist ever so lightly before gently pulling you to face him.

“When you get another nightmare, remember, I’m just a door away.” He says softly, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Ya thanks, same goes for you.” you say placing your hand on top of his and gently removing it from your wrist. As you turn to go into your room you can feel his eyes still on you. Deciding that trying to unpack what had just happened would keep you up all night you push the moment to the back of your mind. Crawling back under the covers, you drift off to sleep feeling truly happy for the first time in a long time

#bucky barns #bucky x reader #bucky x oc #bucky x you #braving the elements #avengers fanfiction #Spotify

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lothirielswanmarvel · 5 years ago

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Imagine: the Avengers Taking Care of You When You’re Sick

Tony Stark: Tony may not have marital instincts or a working liver, but he will constantly worry over you. Be prepared to be pampered with buckets of cough medicine, stakeouts on the couch with your favorite movie marathons, and J.A.R.V.I.S./F.R.I.D.A.Y. bugging you every five minutes to ask if you need something.

Tony: I love you, but I’m also wearing the suit while we cuddle. As a safety measure, of course. Not from you—supervillains know my address, remember. I’m not scared of germs, Y/N...have you seen the Lysol can around?

Steve Rogers: Steve isn’t exactly an expert on the world of modern medicine, but you will be confined to the couch, under custody of Mama Steve. He’ll try old-world remedies like making chicken soup and enforcing plenty of rest.

Steve: Y/N, we’re out of clean dishes...maybe I could serve the soup in my shield...wait, where is my shield?

Clint Barton: Clint is a messy person by nature, so when flu season comes around, chances are, he’s stuck on the couch with you. But you will be his first priority—he’ll call in sick to S.H.I.E.L.D. just to take care of you.

Clint: Y/N! Here’s a giant bowl of soup...come on, it’s not Cap’s shield. That must be the fever—you’re hallucinating. Like that time you saw me take the last slice of pizza.

Natasha Romanoff: The Bodyguard. No one is going within ten feet of you with Natasha nearby. You will rest undisturbed under Natasha’s watch. This woman has seen gore galore: no amount of snot, vomit, or other disgusting things left unnamed can scare this woman. She will stay by your side permanently until you are fully healed...also be prepared to be drugged unknowingly.

Clint: Nat? Why is this soup crunchy? Are you hiding vitamins in my food again—?

Natasha: Shh. No one has to know.

Thor: Thor has no fear of snot or possible sickness (come on: he’s lived with Loki for 1000 years. He’s seen worse). He will sit with you and keep you warm. He may not know the human practices of fighting illness, but he won’t leave your side and will ignore all boundaries of personal space. Thor may even try Asgardian remedies to nurse you back to health (do NOT put any of it in your mouth).

Thor: My mother was a witch, Y/N, and so was my brother: I will nurse you back to full health, myself. Here, I made this broth for you.

Bruce: Is...is that an eyeball in the soup?

Bruce Banner: He’ll make a pillow fort in the lab and sit with you. Bruce has no problem making quick runs to the drug store and whipping up some herbal tea for you. He will be understanding and completely selfless as your caregiver.

Bruce: Are you sleeping...? Does this mean I can watch Professor Proton? Oh, you’re awake. Sorry.

James Rhodes: He’s been taking care of Tony for years: compared to him, you’re a leisurely walk in the park. Rhodey will spend the day in with you, watch some movies, take naps.

Rhodey on the couch: What the hell... *pulls out a bag of Tony’s hidden blueberries* ...are these Barnes’ plums? Damn, he really is a raccoon.

Wanda Maximoff: She’ll be an expert at getting anything you need with her powers. Wanda is also the Compound’s Tea Guru, so she’ll keep you hydrated. Wanda won’t worry as much as the others, but she does still worry: she knows how strong you are. You’ll pull through.

Wanda: *picking up used tissues with her magic and putting them in the trash* I love you, Y/N. I also love my manicure, and I’m not sacrificing it to the snot monsters.

Vision: Vision is new to eating and sleeping and normal human things, but how he feels about you is probably the core to his humanity. Vis will be very by-the-book, attempting to make chicken soup (then caving and asking Wanda to do it), offering you different brands of cough medicine, and basically reiterating everything off Wikihow. Vis will also be your personal thermometer.

Vision touches Y/N’s forehead: I advise staying in today, Y/N. Your fever is spiking up to 102.456 degrees Fahrenheit.

Peter Parker & Shuri: :o

Scott: Okay, that’s just weird...can you tell me how hot my coffee is right now?

Sam Wilson: He is Mama Steve 2.0: even Steve comes to Sam in distress. You couldn’t be in better hands: Sam knows how to build people up, and will be your personal life coach during this sickness. Sam will let you wear his jogging sweats if you get cold, and he’ll play pranks on Bucky for your entertainment.

Bucky: WHERE ARE MY PLUMS

Tony: WHERE ARE MY BLUEBERRIES I WAS STORING THEM FOR THE WINTER

Sam sitting with you and a bowl of fruit: You wanna smoothie, Y/N?

Bucky Barnes: The worst chance at survival (but in a heartfelt, adorable way). If your health teeters, even if it’s something like a simple cold, this man will freak out. You are Bucky’s world, and you’re usually the one taking care of him: he will feel obligated to get you through this. Being gentle with someone is...not something he’s familiar with, but it will be evident that Bucky’s trying: even if he almost burns down the Compound just to make you soup. Plus, his metal arm feels great against feverish skin.

T’Challa: The best chance at survival. T’Challa will steal you away to Wakanda to spoil you. Enjoy the luxury of the palace while trying out high-tech massagers (and the equally-relaxing purr of T’Challa’s voice ;) and snuggling with bullet-proof silky vibranium blankets. You get to hide away from your responsibilities, and T’Challa will make sure you have everything you need. You will always be on his mind until you recover.

Peter Parker: Aunt May raised this boy right. Chicken soup? On the stove. Back massage? In progress. Peter is harnessing his own Mama Steve, and he won’t leave your side. But don’t let Peter do everything—because he will try, and Aunt May doesn’t want to call the fire department again.

Scott Lang: The other worst chance at survival (but an entertaining one). He will try his best to keep your spirits up—that means doing every magic trick known to the geek community. It pains him to see you upset, so you may have to muster a fake laugh just to soothe him. Scott is still a father, so he does know a thing or two about taking care of someone. He’ll camp out with you on the couch, and you can expect your roles to be reversed two weeks later, when your sickness carries on to him.

Scott: You’re right, that’s snot funny. . .I’m sorry, that was a sick joke.

BONUS EDITION:

Loki: He will nurse you back to health himself: he knows potions and remedies to do so. But he will almost seem solemn or detached as he does so. Loki loves you more than anything in the world, but sickness is a reminder of your mortality, and it’s a harsh reminder for him. Loki’s skin feels cool and refreshing against feverish skin. He will press soft, tender kisses on your forehead, and stare at you silently as you rest.

Nick Fury: Sickness will tremble before this man. Fury know’s you’re strong enough to beat this illness, and he will put you under house arrest just to make sure you are getting the proper rest you need. He will also send Agent Coulson to be your personal maid/caretaker.

Stephen Strange: The chances of survival here are pretty high. Nothing scares Stephen away, after being a doctor for years and fighting beings from different dimensions. He’ll make sure you have everything you need, speaking in a soft voice as he occasionally smoothes out your hair. Stephen has a spell to combat every sickness defect from coughing to sore throat, and he can make portals so you can spy on people while you recover. His cloak is very fond of you, too, and will choose you over him in your feverish state.

Carol Danvers: She’s pretty much immune to everything, so Carol won’t hesitate to sit with you and have a sick day on the couch. She’ll try to stay upbeat and positive, but seeing you less than 100% worries her. Carol will stick around earth for a few days until you’re back on your feet. Plus, with her powers, Carol’s a gorgeous source of heat to keep you warm.

Carol: You got this, champ. I know you’ll get through this, cause you’re my hero.

A/N: Hia Awesome Adventurers! I hope you enjoyed this, school is back on this winter and I hope all of you are staying healthy. Stay tuned for the Guardians of the Galaxy, the X-Men, and Wakandans taking care of you when you’re sick! Love, fortune and glory to you!!

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lucky-bucky-boy · 5 years ago

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Homecoming

Pairing: Eventual College!Bucky x Reader (issa slow burn)

Word Count: 2107

Warnings: Fluff, insinuation of reader having anxiety and insecurities, sLoW bUrN

A/N: ooooof this is almost 2 weeks late so y’all might get a second chapter this weekend, if not it’ll be next week. But I dropped a class so I have more time to focus on writing and other projects of mine.

Tagged: @frenchzodiacgirl @johnnynunzio @all-art-is-quite-useless @necromaniackat @sunflwerstark

A haze of excitement casted over the students. Roaring cheers of the crowd as another touchdown was received. A soft breeze blowing, cooling down the heated atmosphere. Moon and stars bright in the sky but drowned out by the white lights blaring down in the field.

Surrounded by friends, laughter, and crappy game food as everyone watched the homecoming game of the Stark University Avengers. A team of massive men with surprisingly just as big of hearts, nothing like one would have expected, nothing like the stereotypical assholes on television. For the most part.

Their was Steve, easily the most kind person you ever met. Whenever the group hung out he was always sure to ask you how your day was, compliment you on new clothing and hair styles, make you were included.

Then there was Thor, a foreign exchange student who just wanted to have a good time. He had hung out with the group once, always joking and constantly talking about his girl Jane who was a nurse.

Clint was a quiet, almost always brooding, but quick witted and ultimately a huge softy. He seemed to always look like something was wrong but would throw out a "leave my resting bitch face alone" and other snide remarks always causing the group to snicker.

Peter was the one that didn't seem to have all of his innocence taken. Sure, all the guys were sweet, but they all had something about them, some secret or fuck boy tendency that could sometimes make you question if their smile was friendly or flirtatious. He was awkward but easily excited and happy to just be apart.

And Bucky. Bucky was the one who could knock the wind out of someone, both literally and metaphorically. He was so… Bucky. A smile that never failed to reach his bright blue eyes, that crinkled ever so slightly when he did. A laugh that was absolutely contagious. A voice that could soothe and rile all in one sentence. A heart of pure gold and steel melted together. Quick to come to someone's defense, quicker to steal their heart. But he had a reputation that preceded him. One that involved dating a girl until he got what he wanted and leaving her for the next. Ladies man, player, fuck boy.

Lost in thoughts as the game came to an end, the crowd screaming the winning touchdown was, Wanda elbowed you and everyone stood, cheering the team on. Joining them in the celebration of roars you grounded yourself to the moment, happy and proud for your friends.

Seats cleared out soon after, bodies still buzzing with excitement. Girlfriends going over to congratulate their boyfriends, friends whooping as they approached each other. “The guys are going to shower then meet at your dorm,” Nat announced, looking down at her phone as you and Wanda followed.

A squeal fell from Wanda’s lips, her need for social interactions fluttering out like a butterfly finally leaving the cocoon. “I’ll text Sam to see if he can grab some more beers.”

You kept quiet, a forced smile on your face as you tried to fake being as excited as she was for yet another night of excessive stimulation. You loved your friends, truly were thankful for each and everyone of them. But you were more introverted than they were. A need for a quiet moment, a breath of fresh air, a still scene to recharge. Another night of intensity would drain every last will out of you.

Once back at the dorm, Nat narrowed her eyes at you as you jumped on your bed. “What’s up with you? You’ve been quiet.”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, “Our team just won and our friends are coming over, what would be wrong?”

Wanda pouted, “You’re lying, you won’t look at us when you talk.”

A sigh fell from your lips, “I’m just a little overstimulated. I promise nothing is wrong. I’ll probably just go for a walk then come back.” You sent them both a reassuring smile, “Here, I’ll head out now so I’ll be back around the time the boys get here, okay?”

The two glanced at each other before looking back at you and nodding. “Keep your phone on you. If we don’t hear anything in an hour we’re sending a search party.” Nat’s threat was rooted with worry but you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Alright, mom. I’ll be safe, I promise.” You teased. Changing an oversized sweatshirt of one of the guys and a pair of jeans, you slipped your converse on and headed out, sighing contentedly the second the door was shut.

With no destination, you set out, wondering the parts of the campus that seemed the darkest, hoping to get the best view of the stars and crickets and owls sang a melody in the distance. A sense of peace washed over you, happy to see the bright lights of the field being flicked off one by one.

Turning the corner around a building you ran straight into some, more like somebody. A soft “oof” as an arm wrapped around you, keeping you steady. “You okay, doll?”

An all too familiar voice has your head jerking up. “Oh Bucky! Sorry,” you squeaked out, pulling back from his arms. “Wasn’t expecting you to be out here, wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here really.” You mumbled, crossing an arm over the front of yourself.

“I like going for walks after games, helps me clear my head. Was actually about to start heading to your dor- wait, is that my sweatshirt?”

Looking down you could feel your skin heat up in embarrassment, remembering now that he had left it on your bed last week when the guys came over for game night. “Y-yeah, it was on my bed and I just grabbed the first thing I saw and threw it -” “Looks good on you, keep it.” The smoothness of his voice caused you to finally look at him straight on, seeing a soft smirk on his lips. “So whats a little girl like you doing out here all alone?” There was a tease dripping off of his tone.

“Well…” you shrugged sofly, “I just kinda get overwhelmed and overstimulated if I’m doing a lot all the time. And since we’ve had a mini party every week since the start of school and then the game and just constantly out doing things I just wanted a chance to enjoy the quiet.”

There was a softness in Bucky’s features at your admittance, a gentle, warming smile and a welcoming sparkle in his ocean eyes. “Mind if I join you?” Even his voice was softer than a moment prior. “You can tell me no, but I get what you mean. I get the same way.” “No, I mean, yeah, you can join. Would definitely put the girls as ease knowing you were with me.” You almost missed the content smile as he stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his jeans when you pulled your phone out, texting Nat and Wanda to not worry cause Bucky had joined you on your walk.

Shoving the phone into your back pocket you looked up at him, smiling sweetly, “Well, come on then Mr.Barnes. The stars won’t hold still for us all night.”

It was odd how content you felt walking in silence with Bucky, head tilted up to look at the sprinkles of light against the deep black background. His gaze would flicker between the path in front of you two, the sky, and you when he was sure you weren’t looking.

After about ten minutes of walking, Bucky’s voice finally broke through the comfortable silence. “Why do you like the stars so much?”

A soft giggle left your lips as you pulled your gaze from the sky to look at him. “There’s a lot of reasons.”

“Well, Ms. (Y/L/N),” his tone a playful tease of yours earlier, “We have all night for you to explain.”

“Well, then okay,” you feigned annoyed, earning a light chuckle from him, “I guess I can tell you. To start, there’s the childish reason. They’re sparkly and pretty. Especially pictures or through a telescope. Then there’s the morbid reason, that even though most of these stars could be dead at this point, we still see them shining so brightly. Then… there’s the nerdy reason. Space in general really, it’s just captivating. It’s serene, innocent almost. Undisturbed and just unapologetically there. Plus, there’s that saying we all hear growing up, “I love you to the moon and back”. And aliens. The concept of aliens is cool.”

The last addition caused a spurt of laughter to part from his lips. “Yeah, aliens are cool. I actually went through an alien phase.” His smile was more genuine than you had ever seen him with before. “My mom actually really likes space and everything as well. She used to sit me on her lap in the backyard and tell me all the myths and legends that went with it. She went on a vacation one year to the middle of a desert in Chile I think just to see the whole Milky way. Anyway, when I was like 11 maybe my mind started running and I was briefly obsessed with aliens.” It was your turn to laugh now. “All I can imagine is you, scrawny and barely 4 foot 5, with a bowl cut, and running around screaming about aliens.”

“... you are oddly spot on and that’s not okay.” He joined you in laughing, shaking his head at the ridiculous image in his head.

Your laughter diminished softly, “I don’t get to see the stars like this at home, too close to the city for that luxury.”

“Oh,” there was an unease in him, causing you to look over at him in confusion, “I uh, I don’t like to talk about it but my family is pretty well off, so this stuff is just kind of the norm for me,” he said gesturing to the sky, “My mom didn’t come from money though so she had a special appreciation for the smaller things that money could bring.” He huffed out a small chuckle, “You actually kinda remind me of her. You’re just… calming.”

“That’s a first,” you teased, trying your best to keep the mood light, not sure if you were unknowingly running into uncharted territories.

“Oh come on, quit with that. Don’t act like you don’t know that all the guys in the group have tried coming onto you at least once.”

That caused you to freeze in your steps, jaw slacking some, “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh. Everyone except Thor. I’m just not as subtle about it.” The shit eating smirk was back on his face.

“Cause you’re a player,” a quip that fell from your lips faster than you could comprehend.

Thankfully he just kept the back and forth going, “I never played anyone though. I just like girls and sex.”

You shook your head at that, not being able to help the smile on your lips. “Why don’t you date though?”

He shrugged, “Well, I don’t really know where I’m going after here, so why have a commitment to tie me down?” It made sense, it really did, but you couldn’t ignore the small tinge of pain in your chest at the insinuation that a relationship was burden. “Okay, well, what do you want to do after here?”

“You know just about as much as I do.” He mumbled. “My dad mentioned me taking over his law firm but… I didn’t even really want to do law. Just knew it’d be easy cause I’ve been around it my whole life. When I was younger, all I wanted to do was just have a happy family, I never thought about the logistics behind it. Steve and I talked about the army briefly but our mamas would’ve quickly kicked out asses into next century.” He suddenly stopped and looked over at you, your gaze back on the stars again. Noticing he’d gone quiet you looked over at him, face heating up when you realized he had been staring at you. “What?” An uncontrollable smile spread across your lips. “Nothing I just - we should probably head back soon. But… We should do this again, hang out just the two of his.”

It was hard to not fully make a fool of yourself, hurry out a quick tease, “What? Am I giving Steve a run for his money as your best friend?” There was that laugh again that made you stomach shoot up into butterflies, “Keep it up and you just might.”

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