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just-aake · 3 days ago

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A Feline Connection Part 7

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has to face the harsh reality that she can’t help everyone.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff

Words: 3790

“Whitney Frost, daughter of Byron Frost—a typical Wall Street tycoon,” Tony’s voice echoes through the phone as he reads out the details FRIDAY managed to dig up.

On Natasha’s screen, she can see multiple files and articles pulled up on Tony’s monitors, the holographic images casting a blue glow on his face as he continues.

“There are plenty of articles about her earlier years. Standard socialite magazine garbage—life of a spoiled rich kid, extravagant parties, lavish vacations. You get the idea.”

Natasha lets out a dry scoff at the irony, her lips curling slightly.

“Coming from the playboy billionaire who once blew up half of his mansion?”

Tony gasps theatrically, placing a hand over his chest in a wounded gesture.

“Watch it, Romanoff. I’m helping you here.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha nods. “My bad. Please, continue.”

Tony huffs, turning his attention back to his screens.

“After her father’s death, she goes dark for a couple of years. No public appearances, no sightings—nothing. Coincidentally, around the same time, reports start cropping up about a new leader rising within one of the East Coast’s major crime families. Descriptions of the leader consistently include one distinct detail: a golden mask, giving them the title–”

“Madame Masque,” Natasha finishes for him, her tone flat.

“Bingo,” Tony confirms. “Over the years, she’s pulled off some pretty big moves. Arms deals, arson, major heists—she’s dangerous, Nat.”

There’s a shuffle of papers in the background, and Peter’s voice chimes in.

“I don’t get it, Mr. Stark. If she was already rich, why turn to crime?”

Natasha doesn’t hesitate to answer.

“It’s not always about money,” she says. “Sometimes it’s just about power and control.”

A brief silence follows, the weight of her words sinking in.

Tony’s expression darkens slightly, and even Peter doesn’t offer a rebuttal. They all know Natasha is right.

People like Whitney thrive on domination, bending others to their will.

Natasha’s frown deepens, her thoughts drifting back to the night before—the memory of you leaving with Whitney still fresh and raw. She exhales slowly, the sting of hurt in her chest flaring again, though she pushes it down.

Suddenly, Tony’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“Okay, I can’t ignore this anymore. What are you doing?”

Natasha’s brows knit in confusion as she glances at the screen. “What do you mean?”

Tony leans closer to the camera, pointing a finger at her with exaggerated disbelief.

“Why are you bottle-feeding that cat like it’s a baby?”

Natasha pulls Widow closer, cradling the tiny feline protectively against her chest. In her free hand, she holds a small baby bottle filled with water, offering it near the cat’s mouth.

“She still won’t eat complete meals,” Natasha explains defensively. “At least this way, she’s staying hydrated.”

Widow lets out a faint, sad meow, turning away from the bottle and burrowing deeper into Natasha’s arm.

Natasha sighs softly, her expression tinged with disappointment as she looks down at the cat.

Peter’s voice pipes up from off-screen.

“Miss Romanoff, I could go pick up some different kinds of cat food if you’d like?”

Before Natasha can respond, Tony waves him off.

“Great idea, kid. Take my card and have at it.”

“Awesome,” Peter replies, his excitement evident as he disappears from view.

As soon as Peter is gone, Natasha raises an eyebrow at Tony.

“Was that really a good idea?”

Tony shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Eh, it’ll be fine.”

“So, what is it?” Natasha asks knowingly. She can tell Tony got rid of Peter so that he would not hear whatever it is Tony was holding back.

“Some tough love,” he says bluntly, his relaxed demeanor shifting into something more serious. He leans forward, fixing her with a pointed look. “Look, Nat, if your friend is running with people like Whitney Frost, you might need to face the facts.”

“Which are?” Natasha’s tone grows colder, her jaw tightening.

“She’s a criminal,” Tony states flatly, the words landing like a stone.

Natasha’s frown deepens, the label grating against her as she reflexively clutches Widow a little tighter. “And?”

Tony sighs, shaking his head as if she’s missing the obvious.

“You need to start treating her like one.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow.

“Did you forget I used to be an assassin?” she counters, her voice tinged with sarcasm.

“And now you’re an Avenger,” Tony fires back without missing a beat. “Not everyone’s like you, Nat. Not everyone wants to change.”

The silence stretches between them, tension simmering as Natasha processes his words.

Seeing her still hesitant to accept the fact, he adds softly, “You can’t help someone who doesn’t even want it.”

Natasha frowns, her eyes drifting down to the little cat in her arms. She strokes her fur delicately, and Widow returns a faint purr in response, though she still refuses to move much more than that.

“Send me everything you have on Whitney and Madame Masque,” Natasha says, her determination resolving.

She’s not going to give up on you so easily.

Tony studies her for a moment, his expression knowing before he sighs and leans back in his chair.

“Already done.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

A deep sigh escapes Natasha as she rubs her tired eyes, trying to dispel the exhaustion. The hours have stretched into the late night, a glance at the window and then at the clock on her tablet confirming just how much time has passed.

Beside her on the couch, Widow is curled into a small ball, her tiny body seeming to shrink further with every passing moment.

The meal Natasha had prepared for her earlier sits barely touched—a few nibbles at best.

Though, in her tired mind, Natasha can’t help but let a stray thought creep in: maybe her cooking is bad enough to deter a cat.

The self-deprecating humor makes her sigh again, a sure sign of just how drained she feels.

Setting the tablet on the table, Natasha leans back against the armrest of the couch, her head tilting to rest against the cushion. She raises an arm to cover her eyes, allowing herself just a brief reprieve, not planning to sleep but needing the darkness to ease the strain from hours of research.

For a while, the silence wraps around her like a blanket.

Natasha focuses on her breathing, the steady rise and fall helping her ground herself.

Eventually, she debates whether she has it in her to dive back into her work for the night when a sudden movement shifts at her side.

Tiny paws pad up her torso, and then a soft weight settles against her stomach.

A familiar, distinct meow breaks the quiet—a chirping, happy sound Natasha hasn’t heard from Widow in days.

She freezes, her body going rigid as suspicion blooms in her chest. Breathing slowly, Natasha tries to maintain her sleeping position so as not to give herself away.

Widow’s sudden shift in mood—it could only mean one thing.

“I know you’re awake,” your voice cuts through the stillness, warm and teasing from just above her.

Realizing she’s caught, Natasha exhales softly with a mix of both relief at your presence but also mild frustration at the fact that you were able to sneak up on her again.

She removes her arm from her eyes, blinking up to meet your gaze.

You’re leaning casually against the back of the couch, your head tilted and resting atop the cushion, a small smirk on your lips.

“It’s way too early for you to have fallen asleep,” you tease lightly, your voice carrying that familiar playful lilt.

Your attention shifts to Widow, who’s now eagerly leaning against the cushion to lick at your outstretched hand.

“Isn’t that right, Widow?” you coo, your tone softening as you address the little cat.

Widow chirps again, louder this time, in agreement and nuzzles against your hand with obvious affection.

Natasha can’t help but scoff, shaking her head at the way the two of you seem to operate as a perfect team.

Carefully, she sits up, trying not to disturb Widow perched atop her.

However, the movement brings her face unintentionally close to yours. She stills as she realizes the proximity, her lips parting slightly as the quip she intended to deliver gets caught in her throat.

Instead, all that escapes is a soft exhale.

Your smirk falters, replaced by a small, almost sad smile. Your eyes search hers, lingering as if you can see something more beyond her carefully maintained exterior.

The intensity of the moment steals Natasha’s breath, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

Breaking the tension, you lift a hand into view, holding up a bag of takeout containers.

“I brought dinner,” you say softly, the warmth in your tone cutting through the charged silence.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha sits cross-legged on the couch, a takeout box resting limply on her lap as her attention drifts away from the half-eaten meal inside.

Instead, her gaze falls on the two of you.

You’re seated on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, also cross-legged, with Widow nestled comfortably in your lap.

The little cat looks more content than she has in days, her tiny paws resting on the edge of the table as she eagerly eats the torn-up pieces of meat you prepared for her.

A wave of relief washes over Natasha at the sight of Widow eating normally again, her movements lively and natural. It eases the knot of worry that’s been sitting in her chest, but as always, her focus inevitably drifts to you.

It’s a pull she can’t resist, her gaze lingering on the subtle details in your expression, the quiet ease with which you handle the moment.

Natasha absently stirs the noodles in her box, her mind turning over the question she’s been holding back since you arrived. It gnaws at her, but finding the right way to ask feels like navigating a minefield.

“How…” she begins, her voice hesitant, but the words falter.

Natasha bites her lip, uncertain whether she has the right to pry into your life any deeper.

You glance up at her, catching on to the unfinished question. Setting your takeout container on the table, you tilt your head slightly, offering her an easy opening.

“How am I here?” you ask knowingly, your voice gentle.

Wordlessly, Natasha nods, grateful but wary of the answer.

“You didn’t look at the USB?” you ask, a touch of curiosity in your tone.

Natasha shakes her head.

“I was busy worrying about more pressing matters,” she says, her eyes flicking meaningfully to Widow, who’s still munching happily in your lap. “And anyway, it didn’t seem like she wanted me to have it in the first place.”

You huff lightly at her words, and with an amused shake of your head, you turn Widow to face you, your fingers gently scratching behind her ears.

“You were supposed to give it to her,” you chide playfully.

Widow lets out a small, sassy meow, as if to argue her point, and then wiggles free from your grasp.

Natasha watches with mild curiosity as the little cat pads over to the side table, where the USB has sat untouched for days. Widow grabs the small device in her mouth and trots back toward Natasha.

Stopping at her side, Widow drops the USB onto Natasha’s lap with a decisive plop before looking up at her with a smug little chirp, her tail swishing behind her.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile as she picks up the USB.

“Thank you,” she remarks dryly, her tone soft but teasing.

Widow lets out a pleased meow, circling once before hopping back into your lap, her little body nestling comfortably against you.

Natasha’s gaze shifts to the USB, her fingers brushing over its surface thoughtfully, before lifting her eyes to meet yours.

“So,” she says, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity, “what exactly am I going to find on here?”

You glance down at Widow, stroking her head absently as you answer, your voice steady but carrying an undertone of something more.

“Whitney had a scheduled meeting out of state with some buyers tonight.”

At the mention of the other woman, Natasha narrows her eyes slightly, reading between the lines.

“So this is…?”

“Everything you need to finish your original mission,” you reply evenly, meeting her gaze with a serious expression. “The buyers’ identities, their locations, the details of each weapons deal. Enough to track them down and stop the weapons from being used in the wrong hands.”

Natasha studies you closely, her sharp instinct catching on to the underlying reason for your sudden assistance in her original mission.

“To shift my attention from Whitney.”

Your silence at her pointed remark is telling.

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line, the unspoken truth hanging between you. She tilts her head, her voice firmer now.

“Why are you protecting her?”

You flinch slightly at the accusation, your hand pausing mid-stroke on Widow’s fur. After a moment, you let out a sigh, your gaze drifting downward.

“You know, it wasn’t always like this between us,” you say quietly.

Natasha stays silent, letting you continue.

“Her dad—her real dad—was the original leader of the organization,” you explain, your voice tinged with something softer, almost nostalgic. “I met her when she was training to take over his position. Or, rather, she found me. I was just a simple thief back then. But not to her.”

You pause, your hand resuming its slow strokes over Widow’s fur as you collect your thoughts.

“She made me an offer—something I never expected. Another opportunity for my life. To join her. She saw something in me. Something…more.”

The words hang in the air, and Natasha feels a pang of understanding, recalling her own experience from the past.

“It felt good,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Having someone look at you like that, like you’re worth something. Like you could be more than you ever thought of yourself.”

You let out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“She’s always been good at that. Making you feel special. Like you’re the only one who matters.”

Natasha’s gaze softens slightly, her arms folding across her chest as she listens. She doesn’t interrupt, sensing the weight behind your words.

“No matter what she did—how far she went—I always found a way to forgive her,” you continue, your tone darkening. “Until I couldn’t anymore.”

There’s a long pause, the quiet broken only by the faint sounds of Widow’s contented purring. Finally, you lift your gaze to Natasha’s, the vulnerability in your eyes stark, unguarded, and disarming.

“And then I met you,” you say softly, your voice carrying a bittersweet edge. “And for a while, I felt that same thing again. That feeling from the beginning—when it was just lighthearted, fun, and flirty, intoxicating even.”

Natasha’s breath catches, her chest tightening at the quiet admission. The honesty in your words cuts through the usual banter and teasing, leaving her unsure how to respond.

“But I already know how this ends,” you add, your voice softer now, tinged with resignation. “I’ve seen it before. And I can’t…” You trail off, shaking your head slightly, the words left unfinished.

Natasha watches you closely, her sharp gaze softening despite the weight of your rejection. She leans forward, her voice low but steady in understanding.

“It’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

Her tone shifts, gaining a quiet intensity and insistence.

“But you don’t need to stay with her either. We can figure out a way to disengage the bomb without you returning to her. A way to keep you both safe.”

Your gaze lowers, regret flickering in your expression. When you finally speak, your voice is heavy with sorrow.

“I have to go back.”

Natasha’s lips part in protest, her brows knitting together in frustration, but before she can speak, you cut her off, your tone firmer now.

“Not because of the bomb,” you clarify. “But because of what I did to her.”

You rise slowly, retrieving the tablet from the table, its screen still displaying the research Tony sent on Whitney. Sensing the shift, Widow hops into Natasha’s lap, purring softly as Natasha strokes her fur, grounding herself.

Sitting down beside her, you scroll through the files until you find what you’re looking for. Wordlessly, you turn the screen toward her.

Natasha scans the report, her frown deepening with each line.

It details a failed raid on a Stark Industries facility, ending in a catastrophic explosion. Operatives were killed or gravely injured. Their leader, however, was not discovered among those found.

“I abandoned her that night,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “None of that would have happened if I had stayed.”

“You don’t know that,” Natasha counters firmly, her gaze snapping to yours, her hand reaching out instinctively to rest atop yours.

A faint, sad smile tugs at your lips at her touch, and you shake your head slightly.

“I appreciate the thought,” you reply, your voice tinged with bittersweet humor, “but we both know that’s not true—especially considering how I’ve managed to sneak past Stark’s defenses twice now without any problems.”

The smirk you add at the end is small, almost fleeting, but it carries a sting of truth that Natasha can’t ignore.

You’re exceptionally skilled. She can’t deny that.

Your fingers brush hers lightly, tracing the bandages covering her knuckles. A contemplative sadness crosses your face.

Then slowly, you lift her hand to your lips, pressing a soft, almost apologetic kiss against her skin before lowering it back onto Widow’s fur.

“I’m not innocent here, Natasha,” you continue resolutely, your voice low, as if the words are for you as much as for her. “I never was.”

Natasha’s jaw tightens at your words, but she doesn’t interrupt as you continue.

“I owe her a lot,” you admit, your voice heavy with the weight of your past. “She gave me a chance when no one else did. She saw something in me that I couldn’t. And yet…” Your voice falters slightly, but you press on.

“I still betrayed her in the end.”

Your gaze shifts to Natasha, your eyes meeting hers with a depth of emotion that makes her chest ache.

“You deserve more than to wait for me to eventually do the same to you,” you say softly. “More than I already have.”

Natasha’s chest tightens, the quiet ache spreading as she watches you, her gaze taking in every flicker of pain and regret etched across your features.

But this time, it’s not sadness that rises within her—it’s anger. Not at you, but at everything else.

At Whitney, for manipulating you. At the circumstances that have pushed you to this breaking point. And most of all, at the invisible chains of guilt that hold you hostage, preventing you from seeing a way out.

Her hands twitch, the urge to reach for you almost overwhelming. She wants to close the distance between you, to grasp your shoulders and shake you free from the weight of your past, to tell you that this isn’t your only option.

But she hesitates, her fingers curling into fists as she forces herself to stop.

Forcing you to accept her help, no matter how badly she wants to, would make her no different from Whitney. It would just be another form of control, another pressure you don’t deserve.

And Natasha refuses to become that.

Instead, after a long pause, she speaks with quiet determination.

“What will happen to Widow?”

You look down at the small cat, curled up peacefully in Natasha’s lap, and sigh.

“I can’t bring her back with me,” you admit, your voice thick with regret. “But I’ll stay with her as long as I can tonight. Make sure she’s okay, and I’ll explain it to her—let her think it’s like last time, when she stayed with you while I was away.”

You glance at Natasha, searching for her response.

“If…you’re still willing to take care of her?”

Natasha straightens slightly, her expression softening as a small smirk forms on her lips.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

Your lips twitch into a faint smile at her answer, gratitude flickering in your eyes.

But Natasha isn’t done. She leans forward, her tone resolute as her gaze locks onto yours.

“You don’t have to keep punishing yourself,” she says, her words deliberate and carefully chosen. “If you feel guilty about what you’ve done, you can always make it right for yourself. You still have that choice.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning, an unspoken plea woven into her steady tone.

Natasha’s expression holds no judgment, only quiet insistence and something deeper—hope.

The silence that follows feels fragile, as if it could shatter at the wrong move.

Widow shifts slightly in her lap, her tiny body curling closer as her soft purring fills the space between you.

It’s a faint sound, but comforting nonetheless, grounding you in a moment that feels far too heavy for words.

For a fleeting second, Natasha sees something in your eyes—an almost imperceptible flicker, as if her words might be reaching you.

But then your gaze drops, breaking the connection, and the moment slips away.

Without a word, you gently lift Widow from her lap, cradling her with the same care Natasha has come to associate with you, and rise to your feet.

Natasha sits up a little straighter, her sharp eyes following your movements as you step toward the hallway, your figure outlined by the dim glow of the room.

“Try to get some rest, Miss Black Widow,” you say softly, your tone steady but carrying a subtle finality that roots her in place. You pause just before disappearing from sight, your head turning slightly as if debating whether to say more.

“You, out of everyone, deserve it.”

The words linger in the air long after you’ve gone into your bedroom, wrapping around Natasha like a quiet echo.

She stays where she is, her fingers drifting absentmindedly over the fabric of the couch where you’d been sitting just moments ago, as if tracing the memory of you.

The warmth of your presence is gone, replaced by an emptiness that spreads through the room, making it feel colder, quieter.

Natasha exhales slowly, leaning back against the couch and staring at the space where you had disappeared from her view.

She knows you meant those words for her, but the ache in her chest tells her they’re something you’ve denied yourself for far too long.

“So do you,” she whispers into the empty room, her voice barely audible but filled with a longing that she knows you’ll never let yourself hear.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: Fair warning, I believe there’s only a couple parts left in this series. But don’t quote me on this cause we all know I’ve never been good at predicting the number of chapters left. Again thanks for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it or if the tag did not work for you, please let me know.

Taglist : @cd-4848, @carifletchersgirl, @skittlebum, @queen-of-chaotic-surprises, @ima-gi--na-tion, @rainix13, @gay4hotmilfs, @imaginexred, @caramelcat123, @2silverchain, @nowthisisliving27, @waltermis, @scarlettbitchx, @self-indulgent-writer, @ashadash0904, @alowint, @littlyamadeus, @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic, @imthenatynat, @transparentflapfarmsludge, @natashasilverfox, @mousetheorist, @btay3115, @samfunko, @wandaromamoff69, @lost-in-the-ice, @ahsatanizgay, @stonemags, @karsonromanoff, @wandanatlov3r, @l1kepeps1cvla, @esposadejoyhuerta, @fxckmiup, @panickedbabygay, @esposadejoyhuerta, @azaleavolkova, @gay4wandanat, @escapereality4music, @caspianalexander007, @henkermen, @xxnaiaxx, @alyssa-bessse, @alianovnasposts

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff

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holylulusworld · 9 months ago

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Traders of love (lust) masterlist

Summary: Our dear readers are in trouble. They sell the only thing they have left. Their body and dignity.

Pairing: Different (multi-fandom) characters x fem!Reader (different reader in every story)

Warnings: angst, kinda prostitution in some chapters, dub-con, extortion, voyeurism, roleplay, smut, virginity kink, pregnancy kink, daddy kink, sir kink, size kink, all the kinks, a/b/o kink, roleplay, loss of virginity, sex for money, blindfolding, a lil bit of feelings, pregnant reader, single mom reader, age gap, DBF trope

A/N: This is not a regularly updated series. It’s a collection of smutty one-shots, with a different character and a different reader in every story.

You can read only single chapters (except for the sequels) they are all connected/in the same universe but can be read as a standalone story. Some (side-)characters will reappear in different chapters.

A/N2: Please head the warnings for all chapters. Some kinks are not for everyone.

A/N3: We will see Lloyd and his reader throughout the whole series. They are the center of the story.

I’m your daddy now (1) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)

I’m your daddy now (2) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)

I’m your daddy now (3) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)

Swaying (Mobster!Ari Levinson x Dance instructor!Reader)

Two for one (August Walker x Pregnant!Reader)

Swaying (2) (Mobster!Ari Levinson x Dance instructor!Reader)

Like a virgin (DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader)

Like a virgin (2) (DBF!Bucky Barnes x Virgin!Reader)

I’m your daddy now (4) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)

Chocolate and roses (Mobster!Sam Wilson x Chocolatier!Reader)

Lawbreaker (Lee Bodecker x Sassy!Reader)

French Kiss (CEO!Nick Fowler x Interpreter!Reader)

Best trade ever (Boss!Steve Rogers x Assistant!Reader)

Wallflower (Rich(Mean)!Loki Laufeyson x Florist!Reader)

Lightning and Thunder (Rich!Thor Odinson x Librarian!Reader)

Every move you make (Jake Jensen x WebCamGirl!Reader)

I’m your daddy now (5) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)

Damage done (Mobster!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader)

Follow the law (Andy Barber x Criminal!Reader)

I’m your daddy now (6) (Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader)

Under protection (Reacher x Witness!Reader)

Instinct (Walter Marshall x Prostitute!Reader)

Skyscraper (Sam Winchester x fem!Reader)

Make you sweat (Lance Tucker x Gymnast!Reader)

Undecided addition

Untitled so far (Tony Stark x ???!Reader)

#bucky barnes #lloyd hansen #dean winchester #sam winchester #andy barber #ari levinson #jake jensen #steve rogers #lance tucker #lee bodecker #walter marshall #Traders of love (lust) masterlist #smut #multifandom #reacher #sam wilson

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darsynia · 4 months ago

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Forgiven (CEO Steve/f!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: Since dropping out of school to care for your sister, your daydream has been that a rich, handsome man will save you from drowning in debt. Until then (read: never), you’ll work hard at your new receptionist job and try not to ogle the impossibly hot construction guy working in the foyer…

Words/Warnings: 2,855 | none

As 5/7 of my Ro Roll birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, forGIVEn is a fluffy meet cute between CEO Steve and f!Freader. Gif is by @ashilesun.

Excerpt:

“Something wrong, miss?”

You look up to see Foreman Eye Candy standing beside the desk looking gently concerned. One sandy blonde curl is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and you can see that his eyes are a gorgeous shade of blue.

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“All right,” the man says, setting his left hand down on the counter. There’s no ring on his finger. ‘Sir’ Eye Candy (you’re going to hell for all of this) offers a kindly, “Have a good afternoon,” and right at that moment, both of the reception phones ring. There’s no time to process the oddness of what’s just happened, not until you’re back at home and making dinner for your sister.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.

FORGIVEN

“Thank God for the internship last summer!” your sister says (again).

“I do, I do,” you promise, looking at yourself critically in the grubby bathroom mirror. She doesn’t have to know you pick a new deity to mentally ‘thank’ every time. Today it’s Thor, because you need to bring electricity to your first day on the job.

You’re hoping to look professional but approachable for this customer-facing position, and it looks like the months of clothes thrifting before your internship last year are really paying off. Do you wish you could work in your field of choice? Sure, but working in the same company as a receptionist means you have both in-field and company knowledge. Once Jennie is back on her feet, you hope to be back on yours, too.

You step into the kitchen to check that everything is set up for your sister. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back at lunch?”

“No mother hen-ing, you promised! I’ll be fine, and you’ll need your own lunch!”

Your watch beeps that it’s time to start walking to work, so you slip into your sturdy dress shoes and give the room a final once-over. Jennie’s cooler of food is near the couch, she’s got all of the remotes, and her walker is within reach. You’ve even put a pair of crutches in the umbrella stand and lashed the damned thing to the couch so she can’t knock it over. Her charger is at hand, the blinds are down, and the end table has her morning coffee on a coaster.

“Get out or I’ll start throwing things at you and you’ll be late from having to clean them up!” your sister teases.

“I love when you nag,” you tell her, shutting the door before she can retort.

Star Industries is honestly your dream workplace, even after pausing your mechanical engineering degree to take care of Jennie. After Tony Stark and his company spun it off as a subsidiary, Star really came into its own. The company has an inspiring mission: to ensure safe, affordable prosthetics for the people who really need them. Many customers are war veterans, just like the two men in charge. The COO even has one himself.

You’d filled out your paperwork after hours, so when you walk into the building, it’s a nice surprise to see how the morning light floods the lobby. The atrium of the building is made up of a multi-storey open space lit by tall windows, with the company’s logo laid out in the tile floor right as you come in the doors. The A in the word ‘STAR’ is, of course, a star, but it’s the missing ‘K’ from its parent company that catches the eye. Instead of upright, the K is laid on its ‘back.’ One stick figure’s front leg and another stick figure’s back leg make up the angled lines from the K--and they’re both wearing prosthetics.

The name badge you’re given has a smaller version of the same logo, and you can’t help but hope this isn’t the only time you’ll be representing the company. You fix it to your lapel and sit nervously at the desk beside the woman who will train you. It’s an hour before you come up for air long enough to notice there’s some renovation work going on nearby.

Honestly, ‘notice’ is embarrassingly underselling it.

The windows in the lobby are clearly designed to encourage shafts of sunlight that flood a particular area with a cheerful glow. You’ve managed to look over right when one such beam illuminates a man wearing rough work clothes, his head tipped back to drink out of a water bottle. He’s handsome as hell, with a face like Adonis and powerful muscles straining his sweat-damp t-shirt. The sunlight turns him into a golden statue, and you sure as hell would visit museums more often if the art looked like that!

Your phone rings and you answer promptly, tearing your eyes away from the construction worker just as he smiles at someone. The stammered greeting you offer to the caller could be chalked up to it being your first day, but that isn’t the reason at all.

Your first week on the job is equal parts satisfying and stressful. Satisfying because it turns out you’re a natural at taking zero shit with maximum politeness. Your stress comes from the renovations.

The work isn’t loud, and it’s not like you’re worried about safety or anything. Technically, your job isn’t affected at all… well, not because of your assigned work, that is. No, you’re the one affected, and it’s thanks to the man who seems to be in charge.

After that first day, the tarp that separated their construction from the rest of the lobby had been removed, meaning you could just look over and see him at any point throughout your day.

You’ve been rationing those glimpses for your own sanity.

Despite this, there are still details you’ve noted. One, he’s definitely the foreman. Everyone defers to the guy, but his leadership style seems to rely on trust and respect. Two, he has the most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. Paired with his looks, it’s a disastrous combination, especially given Reason Number Three: he’s an utter beast. More than once you’ve seen him moving things with ease that would take multiple other men to lift.

Today is Monday and the men were all at work before you arrive. Their project is taking shape; it appears to be a café with low counters, maybe a wheelchair-friendly gathering space? It would be on brand for the company, and certainly explains why you’ve been brought on as a second receptionist. The usual population in the lobby will certainly go up once it’s completed.

Before you sit down, you take stock of the wide welcome desk. Would anyone notice if you nudged one of the large flower pots to the left to mostly block your view of the café area? You decide to risk it. Foreman Eye Candy is a Distraction with a capital D, and you already love this job.

The morning goes smoothly--but by lunch you’re fairly certain you’ve memorized the pattern on the side of that damned pot, for as often as you’ve looked over at it.

When you come back from your break, the pot is back where it was before.

Your hands shake a little bit as you log back into your computer. Did a cleaning crew come through and adjust it? You’re not brave enough to ask the senior receptionist for fear she’ll question why it was moved in the first place. It’s probably a fluke, you decide.

Without your makeshift barrier, you find yourself looking over at the Foreman way too many times before you’re done for the day, but he’s smiled at least twice in your direction, so that’s something.

On Tuesday morning, you choose discretion as the better part of valor and scoot the pot over to obscure your view again, even taking the time to nudge its closest neighbor a little, to even up the spacing.

After lunch on Tuesday, both pots are moved back, and Eye Candy is smiling. You doubt the two are related.

On Wednesday you bring in one of those Newton’s Cradle desk toys with permission from your coworker at the desk. It’s altruistic, distracting the children when their parents show up to ask questions. Because your area is recessed a bit, you risk setting the item on a little paper sorter to make it level with the visitors’ side. Completely incidentally, that placement blocks some of your view of the café under construction.

You come back from lunch to find the shelf moved to the other side of your computer monitor.

It’s so disconcerting that you stand there staring at it in shock for a long moment, long enough to attract attention.

“Something wrong, miss?”

From behind you, a hand lands on your shoulder with just enough pressure to guide you to your seat.

“Nothing of note, Sir, I’m sure!” your coworker says hurriedly.

“How was your hump day?” Jennie asks from the living room.

You nearly splash boiling hot water all over yourself.

Chanting ‘it’s Wednesday, that’s called ‘hump day,’ there’s nothing that implies you’ve been thinking impure thoughts, pull it together!’ in your head, you answer something non-committal and continue with dinner.

That night you have a dream that Sir Eye Candy walks over and smiles at you, illuminated by one of those rays of light straight from heaven.

On Thursday you arrive at work to find the pots have all been moved farther back along the decorative part of the receptionist’s desk, much too far to move any of them without notice.

As if he’d been waiting for you to see the change, you make brief eye contact with Sir Eye Candy. He does a little nod of acknowledgment before turning to move the large sign for the café. By himself.

“Am I awake?” you whisper to yourself, unable to look away from how effortlessly he moves under heavy strain.

“Keep staring at the boss like that and the rest of his crew will never let you hear the end of it!” your front desk coworker Marcia jokes.

Your cognitive function flatlines as you try to process the word ‘boss’ while at the same time watching the man in question wipe sweat off of his brow. “It’s obvious he’s the foreman,” you mumble, dropping your phone so you have to look away to pick it up. If the screen cracks, you deserve it.

“Oh, honey, this is his side gig. Pet project. Maybe even a vacation, knowing Rogers,” Marcia chuckles.

The name ‘Rogers’ finally gets through to you, in context to ‘the boss.’ Steve Rogers.

Sir Eye Candy is CEO Eye Candy.

“Wait…”

“There it is!” Your coworker gives you the kind of look only busybody aunts and elder coworkers can pull off. “Word is his gym is closed for a few weeks, so he pulled some strings to move this project up. Nice way to start a new job, yeah?”

You’ve been ogling the CEO. “Should I put in my two weeks’ notice?” you whisper. Dismay doesn’t even cover it. You’re practically mortifie--

“I’d advise your manager not to accept,” a nearby voice says. “If anything, I probably ought to call myself into an HR meeting. I’ve been quite distracted this past week.”

It’s CEO Eye Can-- Rogers. All you can do is mutely look up at him, watching the amused look on his face turn into a stern one.

“Have you been messing with my plant display?”

It’s not at all what you were expecting him to say, and you’re still befuddled by the idea he was distracted by you, so you stammer out an admission that yes, you did move his pots.

The phone rings, and after a subtle gesture from Rogers, Marcia takes the call.

“Sir,” you begin, noting the way his posture straightens on hearing the title. You lick your lips in nervousness, and god, his eyes go straight there. HR would be having kittens.

“Go on?” Rogers’ voice is resonant. Everything about this feels like a rom-com, and you are totally worried you’ll screw it up.

“Forgive me for staring?” you offer. You’d meant to say something less obvious, but it’s too late now.

“Yes, well. I’d like to go over your conduct at a lunch meeting, if, that is, you--” he breaks off, lifts his chin, and clears his throat. “In a half hour.”

“I-- Of course--” You’ve answered too late, he’s already walking away and calling out to the crew. Stunned, you look over at Marcia. She’s grinning, but doesn’t look up, and you decide to take your cues from her.

Fifteen minutes later, the work crew wraps up. You see them file out in your peripheral vision, but if Rogers is going to play the Principal’s Office card, you’re going to play at being an obedient student.

This sends your mind on a complete irresponsible rampage, and you’re still tamping down the mental images when a gentleman in a suit walks up to the front of the desk.

Your welcoming smile is already in place when you lift your head to greet him, but it widens into surprised happiness to see that it’s Rogers. At the very last minute you stop yourself from acting like he’s picking you up for a date, even though you very much hope that’s what this is, HR be damned. Every fairytale has a villain, after all, and villains are made to be thwarted.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The word choice is deliberate.

“You can. Marcia, do you usually cover for lunch?”

“I do.”

“Good. We’ll be prompt,” he says firmly, tapping the flat of his palm on the desk with finality. You take the cue, getting up and slinging your purse over your shoulder, but inwardly your stomach is a riot of sawdust.

Are you reading this wrong? All of your teenage aspirations to be swept off of your feet by a rich, handsome man feel like lead weights at the bottom of your shoes. Steve Rogers’ reputation is sterling, and despite your less-than-angelic daydreams, you don’t want to come across like a gold-digger. Even if you are strapped for cash.

Rogers opens the door for you. The front door. The front door of his business. It’s heady and confusing, even more confusing when a slick silver car pulls up and a valet hands him the keys.

“You look like you either need sunglasses or smelling salts,” he says gently.

“A neck brace,” you quip. “For the whiplash.”

His smile is sheepish as he opens the car door for you. “That’s fair.”

The car is cinematically nice inside, and you suppress the desperate desire to pinch yourself until you wake up as he gets in and adjusts the seat for his height. He doesn’t look over at you, which your adrenaline-drunk mind can’t decide is good or bad.

Then he does, and all you can do is smile back at him.

“A confession: I cribbed some of those lines.” Rogers eases the car out into traffic and lets out a long breath. “From Bu-- a friend of mine. Advice on how to be in charge and ask out a subordinate at the same time.” He stops at a red light and shoots a look over at you. “How’d I do?”

You kind of want that neck brace, but despite the trappings, you’re really enjoying who this man is turning out to be. “That depends. Do you want me to be turned upside down and sideways?”

That earns you a look akin to the one he sent you when you’d called him ‘sir.’ You shiver, and he notices. “I don’t think you want to know what his advice might be on the answer to that question! How about ‘maybe?’”

“Maybe is good,” you manage.

“Glad to hear it. What would you like? Italian? Deli?” Rogers looks over and catches his breath like he’d forgotten his wallet. “An invite to lunch without your employment on the line? I’m sorry about that. I got--” He looks back at the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. “--carried away.”

His candid mix of charm and command are sweeping you completely off your feet, tarnished halo and all. “I don’t think I have time to phone a friend for a better answer, but is ‘maybe’ still good?”

Your sister would walk her ass to the car to smack you if she knew you’d just told the CEO of your new company you’re a ‘maybe’ for a one-on-one ‘maybe’ date with him. You suspect his friend would be facepalming, too.

“Your job isn’t on the line, I promise. I’d never misuse power like that--” He breaks off from his serious tone, looks down at his suit and the fancy car you’re both sitting in, and chuckles. “All evidence to the contrary.”

The whole situation is absurd, unrealistic, completely romantic, and everything you’ve always wanted.

You’re going to wake up any minute now.

Rogers looks over and raises his eyebrows. You realize with embarrassment that he wants you to either tell him where he can stuff his lunch invitation, or where the two of you can go eat.

“I got carried away too,” you rush to say. “Yes to lunch. No maybes in sight.”

“You’re forgiven,” he smiles.

to be continued...

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #fluff #CEO AU #meet cute #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america x you #captain america x f!reader #humor

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mostly-marvel-musings · 8 months ago

Text

The green-eyed monster

A/N: This was super random. Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed this fic!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ jealousy induced smut, lil choking and breeding kink?

Word count: 1941

Tony Stark Masterlist

“Shit!”

You cursed under your breath as you checked your watch, you were running late. Later than fashionably late would permit. But you had a good reason to be. Your stylist and hairdresser had done you up to perfection, all the efforts were worth it because you looked stunning. The dress you chose hugged your curves like a glove, a bold lip, fine jewelry and hair that complimented the outfit beautifully.

The charity event was merely an opportunity to remind a certain someone of what he had been ignoring for the past few weeks. You had to teach him a lesson.

Reaching the venue at record speed, you stepped inside feeling the best version of yourself, immediately grabbing eyeballs of almost everybody present there. Scanning the room, your eyes landed on the man of the hour. Anthony Stark. Looking dapper as ever in a custom-made tux, he was deep in conversation with several who’s who of the society, oblivious to your presence.

That would change soon, you thought.

Heading straight for the bar, you got yourself a glass of champagne, letting your gaze roam over the sea of people to find yourself a distraction. Lucky for you, you didn’t have to make much effort as a man from your past caught your eye and made a beeline in your direction.

“Y/N Y/L/N, as I live and breathe.” he exclaimed, wrapping you in a hug, his hand lingering on your bare skin.

“Noah Bennett. Since when did you start thinking about someone besides yourself?” you jested, celebrating on the inside as his eyes dipped down your body, letting you know your plan was working. From the corner of your eye, you saw a couple of people part to reveal Tony Stark with a curious look on his face.

“You look hot, Y/N. I’m sorry if I’m being too direct here but wow. Look at you!”

You laughed as he twirled you, placing a hand deliberately on his bicep.

“Always the flatterer. Honestly, it is so good to see you here, Noah. I hope you’ve made a sizable donation today. If not, I’m here to persuade you.” you winked, allowing him to get you another drink.

You spoke for quite some time, keeping the conversation light and flirty, you knew exactly what you were doing. Your boyfriend watched the whole scene from a distance, staring daggers at the man who had his hands all over his girl. He had zoned out of the conversation happening around him, focusing only on the two of you. You leaned over to whisper something in that man’s ear, all while his gaze dropped to your cleavage shamelessly, the guy chuckled before he did the same, making you shake your head and blush. It made his jaw tick, irritation bubbled within his chest watching the two of you.

A part of him wanted to intervene and pull you away from the creep, but another part who spoke on behalf of his pride refused. He remembered that man, he’d made a generous pledge for the charity. But right now none of that mattered as much as the fact that he had his arm around your waist, where it didn’t belong. ‘

As time passed, you chatted your way closer to where Tony was, not sparing him much of a glance as you worked your charm to get more rich people to donate for the good cause. Normally, the two of you would be inseparable but given the little fight you had had last week, it made sense for you to make separate appearances. Plus you had your little entry planned to teach him a lesson.

“Oh Y/N, the event is already a success. Well done! You’ve managed to charm everyone into emptying their pockets.” an elderly gentleman complimented you, making you giggle. Ulterior motives aside, the evening truly was a big win.

“When the hostess is easy on the eyes, I guess it helps a lot, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Stark?”

You felt his presence before you saw the man, the familiar scent and aura that he carried enveloped your senses before a protective arm slid around your waist, pulling you to his side.

“And here I thought I’d have to undo a couple of my shirt buttons to make you guys cough it up.”

His statement earned him laughter from the crowd, his thumb rubbing the bare skin on your back in a way that made your breathing hitch. Turning to look at him, you were met with eyes that ogled your decked up form, the gaze was hungry yet mixed with a hint of annoyance.

Tony leaned over and pressed his lips against your ear, making it hard for you to ignore the excitement you felt.

“What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”

You feigned confusion, shrugging nonchalantly before taking a sip of your drink, further adding to his irritation. It seemed to be the last straw as Tony grabbed your hand and hastily made his way out of the venue, leaving the guests perplexed.

He remained silent the entire ride back home, keeping his eyes focused on the road. You noticed his knuckles turned white from gripping the wheel tightly.

This would be a lot of fun, you thought. Winding Tony up had an effect on you, you couldn’t wait for him to have his way with you. Pretty confident that sooner or later he would. The night wasn’t over yet.

“You slept with the guy, didn’t you?” he asked out of the blue, still not sparing you a glance.

“Which guy?”

“Don’t fucking test me, Y/N. You know exactly who I’m talking about.” he seethed, putting his foot on the gas and sped up.

“Oh and where did you get that idea from, may I ask?” you suppressed a grin, keeping the tone of your voice light.

“I have eyes. I can see. Someone was way too touchy back there. I don’t like it when others touch my stuff.”

This made you scoff and look out the window as your home came into view. You didn’t move from your seat until Tony opened your door and grabbed your hand once again, taking determined strides up to your house.

“Are you jealous?” you were slightly out of breath keeping up with his pace, the smirk in your voice pretty evident.

“I don’t get jealous.”

“Oh no, you’re right. You just get territorial, and protective. And just a tad needy, right?”

Clicking his tongue, Tony shoved you inside your bedroom, slamming the door behind him before crashing his lips on yours. This kiss had fire, brimming with passion but laced with anger as he walked you back until your back hit the wall, eliciting a gasp. Taking this opportunity, his tongue made it past your lips, clearly winning the game of dominance.

“I think you forgot that you have a partner who needs all your attention before any of your ‘friends’ do.” he murmured against your lips before letting them trail down your neck, nipping at your skin.

“So you were jealous.” you smirked, tugging on his hair as he bruised your skin with a hickey, his fingers grazing up your leg to reach between them, growling when he realized you weren’t wearing panties.

“Fuck yeah I was.” his hand cupped your sex, fingers brushed along the slit that had gathered slick already. Without warning, two of his fingers pushed past your entrance, assaulting your walls by stretching them out.

“Take off your dress.” he commanded, his left hand wrapping itself around your throat gently, his brown eyes darkened with lust.

“You don’t get to order me around.” you didn’t sound convincing at all, given that he chose the moment to curl his fingers inside your tight heat, you gasped.

“Slow down, Tony.” You breathed.

“Take it off or I’ll do it for you.”

The pressure on your throat increased ever so slightly, causing your walls to tighten around his thick digits as he continued pumping. Your eyes were shut in pleasure when you heard the fabric of your dress rip, falling at your feet in shreds. The dress you spent thousands of dollars on was destroyed in seconds, not that you were complaining. If anything, you were counting on this to happen.

Tony made you open your mouth and fed you his fingers, the taste of your desperate arousal evident on them as you rolled your tongue. His cock twitched in his dress pants, eager to be freed and buried deep within your pussy.

You fumbled with his belt, undid the zip and shoved his pants down, earning a chuckle from him. Your eyes flashed victory before arousal took over completely, your body ached for him.

Holding the back of your knees, he entered you in one swift motion, a synchronic moan echoed in the room. Tony didn’t hold back after that, his thrusts set a brutal pace that made you see stars, the line of pleasure and pain thinning as he continued to plough into your sopping heat.

“You like being reminded who you belong to, don’t you sweetheart?” He grunted, every thrust sent you closer and closer to the edge.

Fervently nodding, you held onto his shoulders as cock threatened to split you in two, unable to comprehend much else.

“Cat got your tongue? Use your words, baby.”

“Yes! I wanted you to get jealous tonight, Tony.”

He paused momentarily, making you whine which he swallowed in an instant, slanting his lips on yours. The kiss that contained everything, from dominance to love and everything in between. While he felt guilty for ignoring you these past few weeks, a part of him loved you for your antics, especially ones which ended like this.

His cock twitched inside your walls as he resumed.

“What if I come inside you, huh? What if I fill you up with my seed, get you pregnant? Show them all who you belong to..what do you say, sweetheart?”

He breathed against your skin, his voice muffled in your hair. You answered by clamping your walls around his length, pulling him further inside, tugging on his hair to signal you were close too.

“I’m gonna fill you up, Y/N.” he panted, watching your hand reach down to rub your clit as you brought yourself pleasure.

“Come for me, Tony. Come inside me.” You cried, burying your face in his neck as your walls fluttered around his length. Tony followed with a final twitch of his cock, ropes of cum painting your walls as he filled you up, giving you all he had.

He carried you to bed, still snug inside you and laid you down, littering soft kisses along your shoulder. You grinned victoriously, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Why didn’t you tell him we’re together? He was all over you.” He kept his voice soft, tugging at your heartstrings as always.

“You did what you did to get my attention, and I did what I had to to get yours. Now we’re even.”

Tony looked up at your face, his expression incredulous with a hint of pride playing on his lips.

“You little minx. Have I told you I love you?” He pecked your lips a couple of times, slowly resuming to thrust inside you with his soft cock, pushing his cum further inside and keeping it there.

“Not that I recall. No.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark smut #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fluff #tony stark fic #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #tony stark x you #the stark squad #marvel fanfiction #mostly marvel musings #tony stark #iron man x reader #iron man

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themorningsunshine · 2 years ago

Text

I like me better when I am with you

Masterlist

Pairing - Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Summary - Bucky isn't in love with you, nope, not at all, not even a bit, that doesn't mean he has to like that man who is shamelessly drooling over you.

Warnings - Fluff, Bucky’s internal thoughts, jealousy

Word count - 2.8k

a/n - I had so much fun writing this.

Bucky’s internal monologue is in italic.

Stark parties were his least favourite. They always consisted of the same kind of people. Bucky didn't have to remember their faces to know that. They were all the same. Rich people with money much more than they could handle, spend it in the worst and the dumbest way possible. No, really, why the hell would they get their already filthy expensive phone coated with gold? And don't even get him started on when he had heard a man complaining that Tony hadn't put 'perfectly squared ice cubes' worth 300$ each in their drinks. Hell, he had somehow started respecting Tony's choices and that man was currently wearing a 100,000$ suit.

But these parties were never this unbearable. He always used to have company. He still has Steve sitting beside him and don't get him wrong, Steve is his best friend but there's a limit as to how much Bucky can hear that man complain about the new recruits.

"Can't believe Tony was able to do that. That man has got brains. Only if he was not so arrogant. Don't you think, Buck?"

His name slipping from Steve's mouth makes him look at his best friend who has been talking to him for .... well, a long time. He didn't even know when he switched topics.

Bucky never really zones out. He is a great listener but today, something else has caught his attention completely. Something which keeps bugging him and he doesn't even understand why.

Steve sighs as he realises just how much his best friend has been listening to him. "You know, Sam is right, you do have a staring problem."

"No, I don't," Bucky says in a way that makes it look like that's the most absurd and offensive thing he has ever heard.

Steve chuckles and says, "You don't have to sit here and pretend that it doesn't hurt you."

Bucky gives out a sarcastic chuckle. After everything he has been through, there is nothing in a hundred-mile radius of this party that could remotely hurt him. "I am just fine, Steve. Why would I be hurt?" He doesn't say he is good, or great, he says 'just fine' 'cause that's his default setting. To be just fine. He is rarely ever more than that.

No, you are, when you are with her. His inner thoughts whisper to him. He shakes his head to get that thought away as if it had offended him too.

Steve gives him a small smile and nods his head towards a direction that Bucky has been not so subtly staring at for the past half an hour.

And there you are. In all your glory. In the beautiful, simple, golden outfit you are wearing, sipping on your drink in the most gentle way possible. The colour golden suits you, Bucky thinks.

That's what you said when she was wearing blue. A person can look good in 2 colours. Then what about green and - Shut up.

He looks at you again and notices the thing that has been bugging him. You're still talking to him. The man with the too smooth suit and the too silky hair and the too gentle words and the - ... God, he hates that man. And he has reasons for it. Who the hell wears a black tie with a black suit? Doesn't he have any other colour to wear? And who the hell drinks non-alcoholic drinks when at a Stark party? And then Bucky remembers you telling him once that you hated the smell of alcohol. That you couldn't stand within a metre radius of the people who had drunk a lot. But, that man doesn't know that.

You are still smiling at him and talking. But, that's okay. You love to talk. You could spend hours talking about the movie you just saw or the book you just read. That's nothing. And smiling, well you smile at everything. That's your default setting. To find beauty in everything and give it the most beautiful and genuine smile he has ever seen. You can really find the good in everything.

Maybe that's why she is friends with you.

That's not the point. You even smile at strays. And that's who the man is, a stray, a wild, animal.

Cannot be wilder than you. Or did you forget who you are, Buck?

Bucky doesn't like these thoughts. They tend to come back to him in crowded places. When there are too many people staring at him, talking about him. You always used to be there with him. Making fun of all these rich people and their etiquette.

The both of you would mostly escape from the party early, especially when you were done with what you actually came here for, which was always food. He had to agree. Tony did know how to throw a good party.

You would sneak him into the mini theatre and would watch the silliest movies, just to laugh at their absurdity. Or you would just take him to the roof and the both of you sat there, stargazing and talking. You were really a good friend of his.

Friend? Friends don't glare holes into the back of the man they're just talking to.

This man had approached you at the start of the party and hadn't left your side. Clingy. Rich, coming from you.

You didn't owe Bucky anything. You didn't sign a contract that you had to spend all these parties with him. No, it wasn't any of that. That doesn't mean it couldn't hurt.

"Buck, why don't you just tell her?" For a second, Bucky is taken aback. He had completely forgotten that Steve was still sitting there. What had happened to his super soldier skills?

Too busy gaping at her I remember asking you to shut up And I remember telling you not to fall in love with her

Bucky clears his throat at the last comment by his inner conscience. Sometimes, it acted weird.

"Tell who, what, Steve?" Bucky feigns nonchalance as if he has no idea what Steve is talking about.

Steve chuckles. "How many hers do you have in your life, Buck?" Noone. Just her.

Bucky is sure he is going crazy. Maybe he has had too much to drink. You haven't touched alcohol. Oh, I wonder why that is.

"I know many people who use that pronoun, punk. Nat, Wanda, Sharon, Maria, many shield agents, Carol, oh and yeah... y/n. You have to be more specific" Well done

"Fine, I will be more specific. How many 'hers' do you stare at?" "None." He replies, a little too fast and Steve gives him a knowing smirk. And there it goes...

"I am not staring at anyone, Steve." He gives him a pointed look. "Whatever sails your boat, Buck. But I'd recommend talking to her before it's too late."

Before it's too late

That sentence echoes in his ears. He didn't want to lose you. Not to the annoying guy who had still not left your side, not to the shield agent who always insisted on training with you whenever he got the chance, not to anyone. He didn't want to lose you. Never.

How can you lose someone who isn't even yours? This time his inner voice is gentle, pleading as if it is silently begging him to do something.

Before he even knows what he's doing, Bucky is out of his chair and walking towards the bar.

You chuckle at something the man says before you notice Bucky walking towards the both of you and your smile gets wider.

"Hey, doll." He greets you, completely ignoring the man standing a couple of feet away.

: "Hey, Buck. Please tell me Steve didn't talk your ear out about work." You say with a chuckle. Of course, you had noticed Bucky talking to Steve, your eyes tended to look for his even in a room full of hundreds.

Bucky just lets out a chuckle, shrugging, already feeling much at ease now that he was with you.

A clearing of throat brings both of your attention back to the man standing beside you.

"Gosh, I am sorry. Bucky, this is Todd. Todd Williams. You remember the law firm Tony was talking about the other day?"

Bucky just nods his head, least interested in who this man was.

"He is the owner." You introduce him to Bucky with a polite smile on your face and Bucky wants to rip this man's head off. Even though he just knows his name, he is pretty sure he is going to hate him, if he doesn't already.

"Hi, Bucky, I have heard a lot about you." The man brings his hand forward for a handshake and Bucky thinks he will chop off his hand before he shakes it with the man.

"James." He replies with a stern look on his face.

Todd awkwardly takes his hand back and narrows his eyes in confusion.

"My name is James. Only my friends call me Bucky."

You widen your eyes at Bucky. You knew he never liked meeting new people and that he was not really the warmest to strangers, but he was never so.... hostile. If looks could kill, Todd would be six feet under by now.

"It's nice to meet you, James." Todd tries again, now slightly scared of the former winter soldier.

"I wish I could say the same. What are you even doing here?" Bucky asks, annoyed.

"Bucky." You whisper yell his name to remind him how Tony had conducted an emergency meeting to tell everyone that they have to be nicer to the guests. You, then put on a smile before replying for Todd, "He is here for the charity auction. Isn't that nice?"

Bucky squints his eyes at you as if he can't figure out what's so nice about giving your money away for charity.

"That is just an excuse, really," Todd says, in an attempt to break the tension. "I came here in hopes of meeting a beautiful woman." He then looks at you before saying, "Mission accomplished."

You giggle at his words, flustered. You know he is just trying to be nice and not flirty. He had just told you how badly he was missing his wife who was much better at these charity auctions than he was.

What you don't notice is how Bucky's jaws tense and his fists clench. If they were not standing in a room full of so many people, he would have picked the glass from the nearby table and broken it on Todd's head. Tony's warnings are damned.

He instead just says, "Well then, you don't have to stay for the auction. Leave."

Todd nervously chuckles."I could. But now that I am here, maybe I could enjoy the party for a bit."

"You should. Tony's parties have the best appetizers." You tell him, desperately trying to make him feel comfortable when there is an ex-assassin who looks like he could slit his throat if given a chance.

"But you know what's better? The exit gate. You should check it out and while you are at it, maybe also get your ass out of here." Bucky says without an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"Bucky." You gasp. This wasn't funny anymore. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

You give Todd an apologetic smile before holding Bucky's hand to get the hell out of here, without waiting for his response.

Bucky stops for a moment to look at Todd again, "The exit gate is that way. Feel free to use it while we are gone."

You pull him with you and take him towards the nearest balcony, not leaving his hand till you are out in the cold air and can't hear the party from inside.

You let go of him to cross your arms across your chest. "Buck, what the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Showing an annoying joke of a man his place," Bucky replies, without a single ounce of guilt for what he has done.

"Bucky." It's your turn to be upset. "He is a businessman. A rich one. His contribution could be great for the auction. Do you not remember what Tony said?"

"I don't care what Tony says. What is he gonna do with so much money, anyways? Buying some piece of mind?"

"What the hell is wrong with you? Why in the nine realms were you so rude to Todd?" You snapped.

"Oh, so now you call him Todd, huh?"

"That's literally his name."

"It's a very stupid name, okay? But it suits him. A stupid name for a stupid man. In his stupid suit with his stupid money." Bucky rambles, disgusted as if he hasn't heard a worse name in his long life.

"Buck, you are behaving like a 5-year-old now. What's - ?" You stop yourself as an amused grin spreads on your face as you put the pieces together. "Oh, god!!" You place your palm on your mouth before whispering, "Bucky, you - You are jealous."

"No, no I am not, Not even a bit. Nada.Negative. Why would I be?" Bucky shakes his head as if that were a ridiculous thought. Why was everyone getting the most ridiculous ideas today?"

"I would have believed you if you hadn't said no 6 times. You are jealous." Your smile grows wider as you take a step towards him with a pointed look. "You are jealous because he was talking to me the whole time and he called me beautiful and said that I had a pretty smile." "When did he - " Bucky stops himself as he realises the rage in his voice will give him away. He takes a step back and turns away, till he is standing near the railing.

You stand beside him, about to say something, till you look into his eyes. His eyes have a look you have seen before. He is hurt. He is processing a lot of things that he doesn't want to think about. This wasn't amusing anymore. "Hey. I - I am sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Bucky, I am - "

"I am not jealous, okay?" He now turns and looks directly into your eyes. "I am not. I just don't like it when someone else has your attention. Not because I am jealous, no. But because I am scared." Bucky swallowed thickly. You had seen him vulnerable before when he had nightmares and you were trying to remind him where he was or when memories from his time at hydra hit him with full force. But this was a different kind. It was as if he was laying his soul bare in front of you. Voicing his worst fears.

"I am scared because I don't want anyone else to realise how amazing, smart, funny, kind and just so damn lovable you are. Because then they will steal you from me. I will lose you forever and - and I don't want that. I don't want to lose you to someone else. I don't want to lose you." He says the last sentence as if he is begging whatever god will listen to not let his worst fears turn true, to let him have this. Let him have you.

"Tell me, doll. Why am I so scared to lose you when you are not even mine?"

Tears pricked your eyes as you looked at him.

Before Bucky knew what was happening, you closed the distance between the both of you. As your lips met his, everything else stood at a standstill.

Bucky was too shocked to respond for a minute. This couldn't be happening. Did you feel the same way about him? How -

All these thoughts turn into nothing until you're the only one comprising his thoughts. And Bucky realises this is how it has been for a long time. It was just you. In his heart and his mind. Your warmth spread through him and captured his soul until it was impossible to separate the two of them.

He kisses you with the same love and gentleness as his hands find your waist to pull you impossibly closer towards him.

When the necessity to breathe arose, you pulled away but still stood close.

"I want to be yours, Buck."

If the kiss had stolen his breath away, your words make his heart beat frantically. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a dream.

"You don't mean that, doll. You - "

"I do. I do mean that, Buck. I choose you. And I'd always choose you. In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd always choose you”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x original female character #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #winter soldier x you #marvel #oneshot #jealousy #love confessions #bucky barnes fluff

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nats-firefly · 9 months ago

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i touch my phone as if it's your face

natasha romanoff x reader

summary: nat's on a mission every valentine's day. this time she can call you. right?

warnings: none really, just kinda sad

a/n: happy valentine's day to all my long distance gays. i feel your pain. this was something i very quickly put together. vent fic, sue me.

words: 750 | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source | gif source

You smiled at your reflection in the mirror, swiping the tip of your index finger under your lip to fix your lipstick. It had been over an hour since you started getting ready, the anticipation of seeing your girlfriend growing bigger every second that ticked by.

Valentine’s day is apparently a surprisingly busy time for superheroes, in all the years the two of you have been together, Natasha has been away for all of them. But this year she promised you you’d be able to call and have dinner together. She was undercover as some unreasonably rich guy’s assistant like she had been for Tony back in the day. While he was enjoying the night with his girlfriend, she’d have the chance to call you after doing recon in his private study. Allegedly.

Natasha being away meant you didn’t get to talk or text or see her very often. It also meant since this was your first time seeing her in months, you wanted to dress up for her. You even put on a special set of lingerie under your clothes so you could give her a show after dinner.

You had spent the better part of the day preparing for your date with Natasha. You made a hearty plate of pasta, poured yourself a glass of wine. You even lit a candle. Then you waited.

You picked up your phone to check your messages to see if Natasha had said anything.

Can’t wait for our date tonight. Delivered.

She hadn’t texted you back since you sent her that text this morning. You didn’t know which part of the world she was in, but from the small details she’d told you it didn’t seem like she was out of the country. Maybe it was just not dinnertime for her yet. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe she’d been caught.

You checked your phone again, but nothing had changed. Maybe you just needed to get your mind off of it. You took your glass of wine and settled yourself on the couch, putting on an episode of your favorite show. One glass turned into two, which turned into three. It was late at night, so you decided to reheat your cold and forgotten plate of pasta.

As you slumped against the kitchen counter waiting for your food to reheat, your phone screen lights up, followed by the repeated vibrations signaling a video call. Your face lit up and your heart beat loudly in your chest as you clicked answer.

“Baby,” Natasha breathed in relief when she saw your face pop up on her phone. She had been looking forward to talking to you all day. Her ‘boss’ had sent her on a wild last minute goose chase to set up a Valentine’s surprise for his girlfriend. In true rich guy fashion he had done none of the work, but Natasha needed to stay on his good side for a little while longer. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Nat,” Your finger slides over her cheek and down the side of your phone. Your eyes tear up a bit. Your chest aches and your lip trembles. “I really miss you.”

“Me too, angel,” Natasha says, she notices the change in your expression. She thinks about quitting her job. “Happy Valentine’s Day, malysh.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” You answer. The microwave beeps, but you ignore it, deciding to focus on the redhead on your phone instead. You want to crawl through the screen. Desperation rises in your chest. You don’t know what to do with yourself. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Natasha feels a knot in her throat. She hates being away from you. “Tell me how you’ve been, baby. How’s work? Did that guy in accounting get fired?”

“Oh, Tom? Yeah he-” You were interrupted by a muffled male voice. Then things happened very quickly.

“Oh,” Natasha said, being caught off guard then briefly looking at you with an almost apologetic look.

“Natalie, can you fi-” Call disconnected.

You stared back at your reflection on the phone screen. You got two minutes with her.

You went to bed still wearing the clothes and lingerie that were supposed to end up on the floor that night. With the plate of pasta forgotten in the microwave, and mascara stains on your pillow.

As you numbly scrolled through your phone every Valentine’s day post was like a slap to the face.

Everyone had their someone. Except you.

Happy fucking Valentine’s Day.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader angst #bonk.nat #bonk.angst

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simplyholl · 5 months ago

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Fireworks

Summary: Loki uses an illusion while you have fun during a fireworks show.

Pairing: Loki x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

See My Masterlist Here

“We can’t, not here.” You protest, trying to talk some sense into your fuck buddy, Loki. “No one will miss us.” He tempts you, raising a suggestive eyebrow. You can’t resist him, it was like trying to hold your breath. Eventually you would give in, needing him more than you ever thought possible.

The Fourth of July was usually reserved for barbecues and pool days, but this year Tony wanted to throw a lavish dinner party to impress some higher ups who still had their doubts about the Avengers. So here you were, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes wearing stuffy suits and elegant gowns eating prime rib and lobster instead of wearing swimsuits and stuffing your faces with hotdogs.

You all had been warned to be on your best behavior, especially Loki and Thor whose Asgardian liquor often times made them and everyone they shared it with bad decision makers. You wished you could blame the alcohol when you took Loki’s hand, letting him guide you out of the dining hall while everyone started to gather outside for fireworks. But you didn’t drink anything except for water. You didn’t have an excuse, momentarily dickmatized, you went willingly.

“Nope. Not tonight, get your asses back here right now.” Tony stops you, pointing to the wrap around porch the others were gathering on. You sigh, giving your best puppy dog eyes to him, hoping it would work. If anyone understood the importance of getting off, it was Tony.

“Don’t give me that look. If we didn’t have the very people who could shut us down in attendance, I would even cover for you. But we have to make it seem like we are the best people they know.” Tony explains, adjusting the collar on his dress shirt nervously.

Loki turns, following him out, never letting go of your hand. Once Tony does a headcount, Loki brings you to the darkest corner of the porch. A flash of green passes by so quickly, you’re sure you imagined it. But this is Loki, and he was always up to something.

“What are you doing?” You whisper so no one can hear you. One of the old men look in your direction, you fake a smile and wave at him until he takes his attention off you. In the distance Mr. USA himself, Steve Rogers sets off the first firework. An explosion of red lighting up the sky.

“Do you trust me?” Loki whispers in your ear. “Yes, but now’s not the time to live up to your namesake, Mischief.” You answer, eyes narrowing suspiciously. You would both be in big trouble, possibly kicked off the team if you did anything to portray the Avengers in a negative way tonight. “To everyone else, it looks like we are enjoying the fireworks. They can’t see what we are really doing.”

He leans down to gently kiss your shoulder, long fingers sliding your dress straps down your arms exposing your breasts. You gasp, trying to cover yourself. The nosy old man from earlier looks over at you, but doesn’t notice your uncovered body. He looks away as another firework illuminates the darkness.

“I would never let them look at you like this.” He purrs. His rich voice washing away any doubt you had. He nuzzles his head to your chest, his fingers lightly pinching your nipples. You moan, and Natasha turns, looking at you questioningly. “They can’t see what we are doing, darling, but they can hear us.”

“Loki, we have to stop.” He instantly goes still. “What’s wrong?” You rub his cheek to reassure him. “I can’t be quiet. They will hear us.” You can see the gears turning in his head, his eyes lighting up when he gets an idea.

Loki drops to his knees, large hands sliding up your thighs until he reaches your panties. He works them down your legs as you watch in anticipation. He wads them up, his obscenely big hand covering them completely as he brings them to your face. His thumb taps your bottom lip, beckoning it open. When your mouth forms an O, Loki places your panties inside. “There that should muffle any sound you make.”

You watch in disbelief, turned on by his antics. You feel the unmistakable warmth of your arousal drip down your thighs. Loki lifts your gown, settling on his knees once again. He places your leg over his shoulder, your fingers tangle in his curls as he dives in.

His talented tongue swirls your clit before dipping inside you. He thrusts his tongue, while the tip of his nose rubs against your most sensitive part. You shudder, lost in the pleasure he’s giving you.

Loki takes your clit between his lips, sucking gently as his tongue flicks in unison. Your legs tremble as his soft licks grow firmer. You groan, your panties keeping the sound from reaching the ears of the others. But Loki hears it, he loves that you will do anything for him.

You’re typically a rule follower, always early for your appointments, avoiding trouble at any cost. Until he showed up, he turned your world upside down. You would never consider letting someone eat you out in front of company, depending on him to use his magic to conceal you. You would never trust anyone else like him. He supposed that was what he liked the most. You trust him completely.

He strokes you with his velvet tongue once more, adding two fingers. The intrusion sends you spiraling. Fireworks exploding behind your closed eyelids mirroring what was happening around you. You bite down on your panties, fighting every primal urge to scream Loki’s name.

Loki turns you around, pressing you against the building. He quickly slides his pants down, reaching below to gather your dress, bunching it up on your side. His large hands run along the curve of your backside, giving it a squeeze. He parts your legs with his own, positioning himself.

He bottoms out in one thrust, you moan loudly, praying the panties will do their intended job. You always feel so full, so complete when you have sex with Loki. No one could ever compare. He slides his hand between you, thumb working your clit as you clench around him.

The sounds of skin slapping against each other is unmistakable. You can’t be bothered to worry about it when he rearranges your guts like this. You’ll feel it all night and tomorrow. You always do. Your side will ache, too sore to bend over. It was a delicious reminder of him.

The finale of the fireworks coincided with your orgasm. You were thankful for the noise of the pyrotechnics. Every drag of his cock made you scream as you came around him. He was close behind, spilling inside you as your visitors clapped when the show was over.

Loki turns you around, retrieving your panties from your mouth and using them to wipe away the mess he made of you. He kisses your shoulder before pulling your dress straps back where they belong. You extend your hand reaching for your panties, but he shakes his head placing them in his pocket instead.

Another flicker of green surrounds you, dropping the illusion. Loki motions to your hair, letting you know you have more than a few tresses out of place. You’re smoothing your hair down as Natasha comes over, a knowing smirk on her full lips. “It sounded like you two were doing more clapping than our visitors over there.” She says, laughing as she walks away.

Tags

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#loki #loki smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki x reader smut #loki x yn smut #loki (marvel)#loki fanfiction #loki tom hiddleston #loki marvel #marvel loki #mcu loki #loki x female reader smut #loki x female reader #fireworks

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isaacarellanesismyhusband · 3 months ago

Text

see? not so scary, right?

pair: Tony Stark x reader

summery: y/n(she/her) and Tony share their first kiss

masterlist | navigation

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Stark Tower buzzed with activity as always, but you kept to the quieter parts, avoiding the bustling labs and communal spaces filled with the constant hum of Tony Stark's inventions. You had been staying with the Avengers for a couple of months now, after they had taken you in when you needed help controlling your powers. Everyone had been welcoming, but there was one person you found yourself avoiding more than anyone else—Tony Stark.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. Quite the opposite, actually. You were in awe of him. Tony was brilliant, charming, and so effortlessly cool that you often found yourself at a loss for words whenever he was near. And, of course, he was Tony Stark. Iron Man. One of the most renowned people on the planet.

Naturally, you became incredibly shy around him.

He, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice or mind your awkwardness. Tony had always treated you kindly, though his teasing never failed to make you blush. Like now.

You were in the kitchen, late at night, rummaging through the cabinets for a snack. The Tower was quieter after dark, with most of the team either asleep or in their rooms, but you had a hard time sleeping. As you opened the fridge, contemplating if you wanted the yogurt you found, a familiar voice startled you.

"Late-night snacking, Y/N?" Tony's voice was playful as ever, and your heart immediately skipped a beat.

You spun around, eyes wide, gripping the yogurt tighter than necessary. “Uh, yeah. I—couldn’t sleep,” you mumbled, ducking your head in embarrassment. Why did you always get so flustered around him?

Tony leaned against the kitchen island, dressed casually in a worn band t-shirt and sweatpants, looking relaxed and completely at ease. His dark eyes twinkled with amusement, but there was something softer in his gaze tonight.

"You know, you could’ve just asked Friday to bring you something. She's very good at that sort of thing," he remarked, taking a step closer. “I, um, didn’t want to bother her,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Talking to him always made you feel like a bundle of nerves.

Tony chuckled, the sound warm and rich. “She’s an AI, Y/N. She doesn’t mind.”

You nodded, feeling foolish. But he didn’t make you feel bad about it. In fact, he always had a way of making you feel like you belonged here, even when you doubted yourself.

"So, what’s keeping you up?" Tony asked, his tone turning softer as he moved around the kitchen, grabbing a couple of cookies from a jar and offering one to you.

"Um, I’m just…thinking," you replied, nervously taking the cookie. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as his fingers brushed yours for the briefest moment.

"About?" Tony prodded gently, leaning against the counter now, his attention fully on you. It was moments like this that made your heart race—when he wasn’t the billionaire playboy or the genius inventor, but just…Tony, talking to you like you were the most important person in the room.

"Stuff," you mumbled, taking a bite of the cookie to hide your nerves. You could never quite figure out how to articulate your thoughts around him without feeling completely tongue-tied. Especially now, when he was standing so close to you, watching you with those warm brown eyes.

"Ah, ‘stuff.’" Tony nodded, pretending to be deep in thought. "Very insightful."

You couldn’t help but smile at his teasing, but quickly looked away when you realized how close he had gotten. There was something different about tonight—an electricity in the air that you couldn’t quite place. Or maybe it was just your nerves working overtime, as usual.

Tony was watching you closely, his usual cocky smirk fading into something more sincere. "You know, Y/N, you don’t have to be so nervous around me."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you blinked, looking up at him through your lashes. "I’m not…" you began to protest but trailed off when you saw the knowing look on his face.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

Heat flooded your face, and you bit your lip, feeling caught. "I just…"

Tony’s expression softened even more, and he stepped even closer, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. The simple touch sent shivers down your spine, and you froze, not knowing how to respond.

"I’m not that scary, am I?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, but there was something else there—something more vulnerable.

"N-no," you stammered, shaking your head. "I just…you’re Tony Stark." The words slipped out before you could stop them.

He laughed softly, his breath warm against your skin. "I’m just a guy, Y/N. A guy who happens to think you’re pretty amazing."

Your eyes widened, and you could hardly believe what you were hearing. Did he really just say that?

Tony must’ve noticed the shock on your face because he smiled—this time, a soft, almost shy smile you had never seen on him before. "You don’t believe me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper now.

"I—" You were at a loss for words. How could someone like *him* think anything of you? "I don’t know…"

Tony took your hand, his fingers warm and gentle as they intertwined with yours. "Well, I do," he said, his gaze locking with yours. There was a softness in his eyes that made your heart melt. "You’re smart, kind, and way more capable than you give yourself credit for."

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer, and suddenly, all the space between you vanished. You could feel the heat radiating from him, and your heart pounded so loudly in your chest, you were sure he could hear it.

"And," Tony continued, his voice softer than ever, "I’ve been wanting to do this for a while."

Before you could ask what he meant, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the gentlest, softest kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, the world around you disappeared. It was just you and Tony, standing in the quiet kitchen, with nothing but the warmth of his lips on yours.

It was perfect.

When he pulled away, you opened your eyes to find him smiling down at you, his thumb softly brushing your cheek.

"See? Not so scary, right?"

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing out of your body as you finally let yourself relax around him. "No," you whispered, smiling shyly up at him. "Not scary at all."

"Good," Tony said, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Because I plan on kissing you a lot more, if you’ll let me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, unable to keep the wide grin off your face. "I think I’d like that."

Tony grinned, his usual cocky confidence returning as he pulled you closer. "Good. Because I’ve got a lot more where that came from."

And for the first time in months, you felt completely at ease in Tony Stark's presence.

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scoonsalicious · 8 months ago

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 16, Unaccompanied - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, allusions to sexy stuff, a long overdue conversation with Steve.

Word Count: 2.4k

Previously On...: You went to Tony for answers about how Carthage ended up on the Quinjet; he asks you to attend his annual shareholder gala on Saturday. You, vomiting, + a bunch of stuffy rich people. What could go wrong?

A/N: Quick note about how text messages are written herein: Outgoing messages (in this instance, from Pocket to Bucky) will be indicated by ">>" in front of them. Incoming messages are labeled with the contact name the phone owner has for that person in their phone. In this instance, Pocket has Bucky saved in her phone as "Magic Dick🍆🦾" lol

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The gala had barely begun and you were already exhausted. Your stomach bug hadn’t let up, and you’d been vomiting for the last two days. Fortunately, you were able to get an injection of an anti-nausea medication from one of the interns down in the med bay, so even though you didn’t currently have to worry about puking your guts out on some obscenely wealthy financier, you just had to deal with the constant exhaustion you’d been feeling from your illness.

Just a few more hours, you told yourself as you brushed off the advances of yet another man old enough to be your father. Not once had anyone actually wanted to discuss the Crisis Prediction Algorithm System. It seemed you were being viewed more as potential arm candy than Stark Industries’ CTO. That alone was enough to leave you longing for an early night in your bed.

You did look amazing, though, you had to admit, even if you’d had to go a little heavy on the makeup to mask your pallor. When you asked Tony for a new dress, you’d anticipated taking the girls on a shopping trip. Tony, however, had other ideas and had sent a designer from one of the city’s top fashion houses to the Tower to collect your measurements, and then, the following day, a garment bag appeared in your room containing a striking dress in shimmering Iron Man-red. The bodice was form fitting and strapless, with an asymmetric neckline, and the skirt was full and came down to just below your ankles.

It was gorgeous, and when your hair and makeup had been completed, you looked like a princess straight out of a fairy tale. You’d sent a picture to Bucky and he’d immediately sent you back a series of panting emojis that had you laughing. The following string of text that described exactly what he wanted to do to you in the dress then had you panting, yourself. Fuck your parameters, apparently.

But now, you couldn’t wait to get out of it for an entirely different reason. The call of your pajamas was so alluring. Not only were you physically tired, but you were bored out of your mind. As this was a Stark Industries party, and not an official Avengers gathering, most of your friends had opted not to come. Rhodey was here, now almost fully recovered from his gunshot wounds, but Tony wouldn’t leave his side, so he was constantly being surrounded by people and you couldn’t really find an opening to go talk to him.

When you’d asked Nat and Wanda if they wanted to come with you, Wanda had politely declined, letting you know that she and Vision already had plans to go out of town for the weekend, while Nat just scoffed at you. “I would literally rather swallow broken glass, Pocket,” she’d said. “Those things are boring as fuck and there is not enough money you could possibly pay me to go to one, sorry.” She’d ended up going bar hopping with Clint and Sam, instead.

So, there you were, all by yourself, not even able to distract yourself with the elaborate spread of food that Tony had provided, as the thought of eating still turned your stomach, when you felt a hand at your elbow.

“Hey,” Steve said softly. His presence took you by surprise– you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d truly spoken to one another, aside from clipped conversations about work and missions. “That’s a lovely dress.” A slight blush tinted his cheeks. “How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Steve, hi. Um, I’m good, thank you. Just really tired. Not quite in the right headspace to schmooze, you know?” you asked him, trying to fight off the awkwardness you were feeling at speaking to him again after so long. “You look very dashing tonight.” And he did, with his dark navy suit and cream button-up.

He smiled, then held out a hand. “Would you care to dance?” he asked. You thought about it for a second. You didn’t want to lead him on, let him think you had any interest beyond the platonic relationship you’d always shared, but you were so fucking bored. One dance couldn’t hurt.

“I’d love to,” you said, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

He was surprisingly light on his feet, given his hulking frame, and he led you through the steps with ease. You somehow managed to only step on his toes twice, which gave you both a good laugh.

“I must have forgotten all my finishing school lessons,” you teased.

“Nah, you’re doing great.” Steve sent you out for a spin, but as he twirled you back into his arms, you were overcome with a wave of dizziness and stumbled. You felt your knees give out and your body begin to collapse in its exhaustion.

“Whoa,” said Steve, using his super soldier reflexes to grab you before you could fall and hold you steady. “I got you. You wanna sit down? Rest a bit?”

You nodded and he led you over to a quiet corner where some couches had been arranged for that very purpose. He guided you down to sit, then placed himself next to you, concern clouding his features.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Just, you know, between the nausea and the vomiting, I haven’t really been able to keep a lot of food down over the last two days. It’s got me so tired. I think I overdid it with a dance number.”

Steve chuckled, then stood up. “Let me go get you something to drink,” he said. “It’s important that you stay hydrated.” You nodded, and he was off.

With a sigh, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone, sending a quick text to Bucky, but knowing that, due to the time difference, he was probably sleeping.

>> I miss you.

You were quite surprised, then, when you saw the three dots appear almost immediately.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Not that I don’t miss you too, because I desperately do.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: But aren’t you supposed to be livin' it up like Cinderella at the ball?

You chuckled at that before responding.

>> This Cinderella is tired and bored and would much rather be snuggled up in bed with her metal-armed Prince Charming watching a movie or literally any other activity aside from being at this ball unaccompanied.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: You better be talking ‘bout me, doll.

>> How many other metal-armed men do I have in my life, dipshit?

>> Why are you even awake, anyway?

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’m just teasin’ you, smart ass ;)

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I’d much rather be curled up in bed with you doin any variety of bedly activities, too >:)

Magic Dick🍆🦾: And I’m up because we’re getting ready to act on our intel and raid the communications office we were sent to find.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Hit 'em at dawn when they’re least suspectin’ it, ya know?

>> Jesus Christ, baby! Be careful!

Maybe it wasn’t a good thing you hadn’t gone on the mission– you didn’t even have the energy to imagine yourself having the energy to conduct a raid in your current state.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Always, doll. Gotta get back to my best girl, don’t I?

>> You absolutely do. Cause if I found out you died, I will kill you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: I have no doubt that if someone were to find a way to murder me from beyond my grave, it would be you.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Shit. Sorry sweets, I gotta go.

Magic Dick🍆🦾: Try to have fun. I love you.

>> I love you too, Buckaroo.

You stared at the screen for a moment longer, but there was no further reply. Wonderful. Now you would be spending what little energy you absolutely did not have to spare worrying about Bucky’s safety.

Steve returned then, handing you a cold glass dripping with condensation. “It’s lemonade,” he said as you took a sip. “I know how much you like lemons.”

You smiled in thanks, but it came out more like a grimace. Steve noticed immediately.

“Are you alright? Does it not taste good? I could go get you something else…”

You put a reassuring hand on his arm. “No, Steve, the lemonade’s fine. Thank you for getting it for me; that was very thoughtful. It’s just,” you sighed, “I was texting Bucky. He and Carthage are running a raid on a communications office as we speak, and now I’m just nervous and worried about him.”

Steve’s brow creased. “Oh,” he said, though you could tell there was more behind the word than the single syllable would imply. “I didn’t realize the two of you had gotten back together.”

Fuck. You were by far too tired to be having this conversation. Squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, you decided it was time to confront the giant elephant that had been sitting between you and the Captain for far too long. “We haven’t, not officially, anyway, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t still love each other, in spite of everything that’s happened. We’re just working on building trust. Or rather, he’s working on building trust, and I’m working on determining if I can trust him again. It’s a process.”

Steve’s shoulders sagged, the movement so minute you would have missed it if you hadn’t been watching him so closely in the moment. You took a deep breath before you continued.

“Look, Steve,” you began, “I know about your feelings for me.” His eyes shot up to meet yours, and he opened his mouth to protest, but you gently held a hand up to stop him from speaking. You needed to get everything you had to say out while you still had the energy to do so. “I’ve known for a bit, and while I’m truly flattered, and honored, that you care for me, I’m also so sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you. You’re a good man. A wonderful man, and I know most people would tell me I’m an idiot for not reciprocating, but I just don’t share those feelings.”

“It’s because of Berlin, isn’t it?” he asked softly, not meeting your gaze, and for a moment, you could see the small, shy boy Bucky had told you about from his youth.

“Berlin altered our relationship, it’s true,” you told him, “but the nature of my feelings for you were cemented long before that. You’re my family, and do I love you, but I love you as a member of that family. The way I love Tony, and Nat, and Thor, but maybe a little better than I love Clint.” Steve chuckled softly at that, and you smiled, glad you could make him laugh even a little. “I’m sorry this isn’t the answer you want to hear, and I’m sorry that you’ve had to watch me be with your best friend. None of it was ever done with the intention of deliberately causing you pain, but at the same time, I need to do what’s going to make me happy, and I hope you can accept that, as my friend and a member of my family.”

Steve looked like he was going to argue with you for a moment, but he kept his mouth shut and just nodded. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “I can accept that. It hurts,” he chuckled humorously, “but I want both you and Bucky to be happy.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said, suppressing a yawn. “Holy shit, I’m tired. I think I’m going to call it a night. I put in enough time to fulfill my obligation to Tony.” You stood, but immediately stumbled, the motion of standing enough to make you dizzy.

Steve was instantly on his feet, an arm out to steady you. “I got you,” he said. He put a hand to your forehead, checking your temperature. “You don’t seem to have a fever, but I’m getting worried about you, Pocket. I should escort you down to med bay.”

You waved the suggestion off. “No, it’s fine. The last thing I want is a bunch of doctors poking and prodding at me all night. I’ll be fine, I just need to sleep.”

“You can barely even stand up on your own,” Steve protested. “Let me at least walk you back to your room. Make sure you get there without falling over.” You were going to tell him you’d be fine on your own when a wave of nausea overtook you.

“Yeah, okay,” you said, clutching tightly to his arm for support. You had planned on going over to Tony and Pepper to say a proper goodbye, but given the way you were currently feeling, an Irish one was going to have to do, instead.

Steve put a hand to your back and led you out of the banquet hall. You had to stop more than once to steady yourself, and you were grateful for Steve’s assistance. By the time he’d walked you to your door, you were running on fumes.

“Do you need help getting inside?” he asked, looking worried.

“No,” you assured him. “I’ll be okay. I am literally just going to collapse into my bed. Might not even bother taking the dress off, to be honest.”

Steve blushed, and you regretted putting the idea of you getting out of your clothes into his head. “Well, if you’re sure,” he said, running a hand behind his neck, the movement so similar to Bucky that it threw you for a moment. “If there’s anything you need in the night, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”

“Sure, Steve,” you said as he placed a gentle kiss to the crown of your head. You were grateful for his help, but you knew that, even if you were suddenly dying, you would not, in fact, be calling him. “Thanks for your help.”

You wished each other a goodnight, and soon you were once again within the sanctuary of your room. Managing to summon the will from somewhere, you shimmied out of the dress, draping it over your vanity chair; it was, after all, probably far too expensive to either sleep in or leave in a puddle on the floor overnight. You debated whether or not to take the time to remove your face full of makeup but, God, your bed was just so inviting, you’d deal with the consequences in the morning.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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amethystarachnid · 1 month ago

Text

CAFFEINE CHEMISTRY

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Multiverse

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 4.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: You were just ordering coffee in your favorite coffee shop, you couldn't imagine that the Tony Stark would bump into you and almost spilling his coffee on you. You couldn't imagine that he'd offer to buy you a coffee, or that he'd take you on a date, but he does. Love can be really strange sometimes.

ᯓ★ TW(s): fluff, fluff and did I say fluff?

ᯓ★ AU: Coffee Shop

ᯓ★ Request: Coffee Shop AU with Tony? 😁😁😁 Tony and Reader bumping into each other at the Coffee Shop, they'll fall in love instantly, have coffee together, and share their first kiss in this very same Coffee Shop 😻 (@ts-rdj-reader)

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The small bell above the door chimes as you step into the coffee shop, the scent of freshly brewed espresso instantly enveloping you in warmth. The early morning rush is still in full swing, the sound of soft chatter blending with the hum of the espresso machines. It’s your usual routine—order a cappuccino, find a quiet corner, and ease into the day with a good book or some light people-watching. Today, though, something feels different. There’s a buzz in the air, one you can’t quite place.

You step up to the counter, eyes scanning the familiar chalkboard menu. Just as you’re about to place your order, you feel someone brush past you—smooth, quick, and unintentional. A soft "Sorry," is muttered beside you, and you glance to your right to see the man responsible.

Your breath hitches.

There, standing beside you, is Tony Stark.

Yes, the Tony Stark. The billionaire, genius, and former Avenger, dressed in an effortlessly casual suit jacket and jeans, looking far too polished for a quaint little coffee shop like this. His tousled hair, just the right amount of disheveled, suggests he's in no rush despite the hurried world around him. His sharp brown eyes meet yours, and something crackles in the air—like electricity, only warmer.

For a second, you think he’s just going to move on, but then he doesn’t. His eyes linger on you, a soft smirk tugging at his lips as if he’s just as intrigued as you are.

“Didn’t mean to steal your spot,” he says, voice smooth and rich, with just the faintest hint of amusement. “But since we’re here, what’s your go-to order? I could use some inspiration.”

Your brain fumbles to catch up. Is he seriously making small talk with me?

“Uh… cappuccino,” you manage to say, grateful you didn’t sound like a total idiot. “Simple, but classic.”

He tilts his head, considering your answer like it’s a revelation. “I like it. Straight to the point.”

He steps forward, leaning against the counter, but not before turning back to you with a wink. “Why don’t I buy that cappuccino for you? Call it an apology for nearly knocking you over.”

Your heart flutters. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, I insist,” Tony grins, that signature charm radiating off him. “It’s not every day I almost spill coffee on a beautiful woman.”

The compliment lands softly, but it lingers. You feel a blush rise to your cheeks, the combination of his smooth confidence and that irresistible smirk doing something to your senses. Is it the caffeine in the air, or is this moment actually happening?

“Okay,” you say, the word coming out breathless.

Minutes later, the two of you are sitting in a booth by the window, cups of coffee between you. The conversation is surprisingly easy—there’s no awkward small talk, no weirdness about the fact that he’s Tony Stark and you’re, well, you. His sharp wit is on full display, throwing quick jokes and playful jabs that make you laugh more than you expect.

“You come here often?” he asks, lifting his cup to his lips, his gaze intense yet casual, like he’s genuinely curious.

“I do,” you admit, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s kind of my safe space. A little escape from… everything.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Everything, huh? Sounds like someone’s running from a supervillain.”

“More like running from emails and work deadlines,” you chuckle.

“Ah, the real enemies.” He gives a mock shudder. “I know the feeling. I’ll take fighting alien invasions over paperwork any day.”

You shake your head, unable to keep from smiling. “Must be tough, being Tony Stark and all.”

“You’d be surprised,” he quips, his tone softening. “It gets a little easier when you’ve got good company.”

For a moment, the air stills between you. It’s a simple exchange, but the way his eyes soften as he says it makes something in your chest tighten. You can feel the connection growing, a pull between you that you can’t quite explain but can’t deny.

It’s only been minutes, but with Tony, time seems to slow. Everything else fades—the noise, the people, the coffee shop—and it’s just you and him.

The conversation flows effortlessly, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not constantly checking your watch or thinking about the endless to-do list waiting for you. Instead, you’re entirely focused on Tony—his stories, his charm, the way he makes you feel like the most important person in the room.

You’ve only just finished your cappuccino when Tony glances at his watch. “Looks like I’ve got to run,” he says, though he doesn’t sound particularly thrilled about it. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek phone that practically screams Stark Technology, tapping the screen for a moment.

“Duty calls?” you ask, hiding the small pang of disappointment you feel at the thought of him leaving.

“Something like that,” he says with a small smirk, but then his gaze flickers back to yours, and his expression softens just a bit. “But I’m not disappearing completely.”

He pulls a pen from the inner pocket of his jacket and grabs one of the napkins sitting on the table between you. His movements are quick and precise, scribbling something down with a casual ease, as if this is the most natural thing in the world.

When he’s done, he slides the napkin across the table toward you.

“There,” he says, leaning back in his seat, looking at you with that same self-assured glint in his eye. “My number.”

You blink, looking down at the napkin where a string of digits sits, accompanied by his name in a scrawl that’s almost too perfect to be spontaneous. Tony Stark. You can't help but smile.

“Is this a habit of yours?” you tease, picking up the napkin between your fingers. “Giving your number to strangers in coffee shops?”

His grin widens, eyes crinkling at the edges in that effortlessly charming way that makes your pulse race. “Only the pretty ones,” he quips, without missing a beat. “Besides, I’m not in the habit of letting someone as intriguing as you walk away without leaving a way to keep in touch.”

The blush creeps up your cheeks again, and you’re not sure whether it’s the compliment or the easy confidence with which he says it. Either way, you’re not used to this kind of attention—at least not from someone like him.

“You sure about this?” you ask, half-joking, but the uncertainty lingers. “I mean, you’re Tony Stark. Don’t you have a million other things to do than hand out your number to random people?”

He stands up, adjusting the collar of his jacket. “Maybe,” he admits with a shrug, “but I always make time for the things that matter.” His tone softens, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of something more than the brash, confident persona he usually projects.

You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t quite come out fast enough. Before you know it, Tony’s slipping on his sunglasses, looking every bit the billionaire playboy you’ve seen splashed across countless magazine covers. He gives you one last, lingering look, and it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he says, flashing that trademark smirk before turning to head for the door.

The bell above the entrance rings again as he leaves, and you sit there, staring at the napkin in your hand, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened.

Tony Stark just gave you his number.

A quiet laugh escapes you as you fold the napkin carefully, slipping it into your bag, the moment sinking in. The world around you slowly comes back into focus—the chatter of the coffee shop, the clinking of cups—but the entire space feels different now, as if it’s been infused with the lingering presence of something exciting and new.

Your fingers tap lightly on the table, a smile playing on your lips as you wonder: should you call him?

Your phone buzzes on the table, pulling you out of your thoughts. It’s a notification for another email, another reminder of the world you momentarily escaped. But today? Today, you feel like the rules have changed.

Glancing back toward the door where Tony disappeared, you can’t help but feel a tinge of excitement. It’s not every day that life throws you into the path of someone like Tony Stark, and it’s definitely not every day he leaves his number behind.

The sun has long since set by the time you find yourself back at your apartment, the warm glow of your bedside lamp casting soft shadows across the room. You’re freshly showered and cozily wrapped in your favorite pajamas, feeling the soft fabric against your skin as you settle into bed with your phone in hand.

All day, you’ve been replaying the coffee shop encounter in your head, Tony’s charming smile and sharp wit still lingering in your thoughts. And now, as you sit here in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t help but wonder about the napkin tucked safely into your bag.

Should I text him? It feels surreal—like something out of a daydream—but the longer you stare at the screen, the more you realize how much you want to hear from him again.

With a deep breath, you grab the napkin from your bag, the numbers now more familiar to you than they should be after only a few hours. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a moment before you finally type:

You: Hey Tony, it’s Y/N, from the coffee shop this morning. Hope this is the right number!

You hit send before you can overthink it, your heart beating just a little too fast as you watch the message fly off into the digital void. A nervous excitement simmers in your chest as you wait for a reply, wondering if maybe this was all too good to be true.

Barely a minute later, your phone buzzes, and you can’t help but feel a small thrill as his name lights up your screen.

Tony: Y/N, glad you texted. Would’ve been a shame if I gave my number to the wrong beautiful woman.

You laugh quietly to yourself, the tension easing from your shoulders. Even through text, he’s as smooth as ever.

You: Good thing I double-checked it! I almost didn’t text… wasn’t sure if I’d end up bothering you.

The reply comes back almost instantly, like he’s been waiting for it.

Tony: Bothering me? Trust me, I get a hundred texts a day that are a bother—this isn’t one of them. I was actually hoping you’d reach out.

You bite your lip, a warmth blooming in your chest at his words. For a moment, you sit there, trying to figure out how to play this cool, but deep down you’re excited. There’s something about him that’s hard to resist, even in this casual back-and-forth.

You: Well, here I am! So, did you mean what you said earlier? About making time for things that matter?

Tony: I did. And it just so happens, I’ve got some time this weekend. What do you think—wanna grab dinner?

You blink at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. Tony Stark wants to take me out to dinner? It’s almost too much to believe, but the flirty tone of his texts and the fact that he’s so forward about it only makes you smile wider.

You: Dinner sounds great. Where were you thinking?

There’s a pause this time—longer than before—like he’s weighing his options before replying. When the message finally comes through, you can practically hear the playful grin in his words.

Tony: How do you feel about Italian? There’s this little place I know, candlelit, great wine, and the best tiramisu in town. I can pick you up—let’s say 7:30 on Saturday?

Italian food and candlelight? You can already picture it: an intimate restaurant, soft lighting, the sound of wine glasses clinking as you talk over plates of delicious food. And with Tony Stark across the table from you? It’s hard to say no.

You: Italian sounds perfect. 7:30 works for me!

Tony: It’s a date. I’ll be the guy in the sharp suit with flowers, just to set the mood. ;) Looking forward to it, Y/N.

You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your face as you read his text. The thought of Tony showing up at your door with flowers, dressed to the nines, makes your stomach flip in the best way.

You: I’ll be the one trying not to get too distracted by the sharp suit, then. ;) See you Saturday, Tony.

Tony: Can’t wait.

You toss your phone onto the bed beside you, staring up at the ceiling with a rush of giddy excitement. Saturday feels like it can’t come soon enough.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath as your mind drifts, imagining the upcoming evening. There’s something about Tony that makes it impossible to be anything but excited, and if the way he handled himself in the coffee shop is any indication, this date is going to be one you won’t forget.

Saturday night comes faster than you expect, the hours leading up to your date a blur of anticipation and nervous excitement. You’ve spent far more time than usual trying on different outfits, finally settling on something that strikes the perfect balance between casual and classy. The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you smooth your dress one last time in front of the mirror.

It’s a little past 7:20 when you hear a knock at your door.

Right on time, you think, your heart skipping a beat as you make your way to the door.

When you open it, your breath catches in your throat.

There he is—Tony Stark—standing in the hallway looking impossibly handsome. He’s dressed in a tailored dark suit, the kind that’s perfectly fitted and effortlessly stylish, but not too formal for a casual evening out. In his hand, a small bouquet of flowers, vivid and colorful against the muted tones of his outfit.

“Told you I’d bring flowers,” he says with a grin, holding them out to you.

You blink, feeling your cheeks flush as you take the bouquet, the soft scent of roses filling the air. “These are beautiful. Thank you, Tony.”

He gives a small, playful shrug. “I had to start the night off right.” His eyes sweep over you, and his smile softens as he takes in your outfit. “You look stunning, by the way.”

Tony steps back to offer you his arm after you've placed the bouquet on the table. “Come on, let’s see if I can keep you distracted with dinner instead.”

You lock the door behind you, slipping your arm through his as the two of you make your way down to his sleek, black sports car waiting at the curb. The engine purrs to life as Tony opens the passenger door for you, and before you know it, you’re driving through the city, the lights blurring into a soft, romantic glow.

The restaurant Tony chose is everything he promised it would be—an intimate little Italian place tucked away from the bustle of the main streets. The warm, golden lighting, paired with the quiet hum of conversations and clinking glasses, creates an atmosphere that feels both cozy and elegant. You can already smell the rich aroma of garlic, fresh herbs, and baked bread wafting through the air as you’re led to a candlelit table near the back.

Tony pulls out your chair for you, the simple gesture sending a soft warmth through you. You glance around the room, taking in the ambiance, before your eyes land on him again.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely at ease in the romantic setting.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, your voice sincere. “I feel like I’m in one of those hidden gem restaurants only locals know about.”

Tony grins. “Exactly. Not too flashy, but still a good spot. I don’t like all the attention, you know.”

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. “You don’t like attention?”

He laughs, the sound low and easy, and you can’t help but join him. “Okay, maybe I don’t mind it sometimes. But tonight, it’s just about good food and good company.”

The waiter arrives, and after Tony orders a bottle of red wine, the two of you dive into conversation. Just like in the coffee shop, the exchange is effortless—witty banter, shared stories, and small moments that feel surprisingly comfortable.

“So,” Tony says, after a few sips of wine, “what made you come back to that coffee shop so often? I’m guessing it’s not just for the cappuccinos.”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of the wine settling into your system. “It’s kind of my escape,” you admit, swirling the wine in your glass. “It’s a place where I can just… be. No expectations, no stress. Just me and my thoughts for a little while.”

Tony nods thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. “I get that. I’ve got a few places like that myself. Though, to be honest, I think my usual escapes are a little less peaceful than yours.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Less peaceful? Like, more Iron Man and less cappuccino?”

He laughs, a sound that draws the attention of the nearby table for just a moment. “Something like that. But I’m trying to find a better balance these days. Maybe I’ll start hanging out in coffee shops more often.”

“Oh yeah? You planning on bumping into more strangers?” you tease, unable to keep the smile from your face.

“Only if they’re as interesting as you,” Tony says, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, the waiter returns with your food—plates of pasta that look mouth-wateringly delicious. The conversation slows as you both dig into the meal, but even in the quiet moments, there’s a comfortable energy between you. Tony’s gaze meets yours occasionally, his eyes softening with something warmer than the playful charm he usually carries.

By the time dessert arrives—the best tiramisu in town, as promised—the two of you are fully immersed in conversation again. Between bites of the rich, creamy dessert, Tony shares a story about an invention that went hilariously wrong, and you can’t help but laugh until your sides ache.

“Well,” he says, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely pleased with himself, “I think I’ve officially distracted you from the sharp suit.”

You smile, wiping a tear from your eye as you recover from laughing. “I think you have.”

As the evening winds down, Tony insists on driving you back to your apartment, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you stroll side by side. The city feels quieter now, the streets less crowded, the world somehow more intimate.

When you finally reach your door, you turn to face him, feeling the weight of the evening settling in. There’s a pause, a quiet moment where neither of you speaks, but the air between you is charged with something new, something unspoken.

“I had a great time tonight,” you say softly, meeting his gaze.

Tony smiles, his eyes warm and a little softer than they’ve been all evening. “So did I. We should do this again.”

You nod, your heart racing as he steps just a little closer, his hand lightly brushing against yours. For a brief second, you think he might lean in—but instead, he reaches up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin just long enough to leave you breathless.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, his voice low and smooth.

“Goodnight, Tony,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

He steps back, giving you one last smile before turning to walk away. You watch him go, feeling the warmth of his presence linger even after he disappears around the corner.

As you unlock your door and step inside, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Tonight wasn’t just a date—it was the start of something more. And you can’t wait to see where it goes.

It’s been a few weeks since your first date with Tony, and in that time, you’ve fallen into a comfortable rhythm with him—texts exchanged throughout the day, phone calls that stretch late into the night, and a few more spontaneous meet-ups that have kept the spark between you alive and growing.

Tonight is no different, though Tony’s kept the details of your date a secret. You’re sitting in his car once again, watching the city lights flash by as you try to pry information out of him.

“So,” you begin with a playful grin, “you’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

Tony glances over, smirking. “And ruin the surprise? Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head, pretending to be exasperated, but in truth, you’re enjoying the mystery. There’s something thrilling about not knowing what he has planned, something exciting about the idea that he’s gone out of his way to surprise you.

The car slows, and you realize you’ve entered a quieter part of the city, the streets familiar in a way that feels comforting. Your heart skips a beat as the car pulls up in front of a small building, the soft glow of string lights twinkling in the windows.

It’s the coffee shop. The coffee shop where you first met.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you say, turning to Tony with wide eyes.

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Thought it’d be poetic, bringing you back here. Full circle, right?”

You blink, a warmth spreading through your chest as you take in the sight of the little coffee shop that, on that fateful morning, changed everything. There’s something undeniably sweet about the gesture, about Tony remembering the exact place where your paths first crossed.

He steps out of the car, walking around to open your door like he always does. “Come on,” he says, offering you his hand. “I figured we could relive our ‘first date.’ Except this time, you don’t have to worry about me almost spilling coffee on you.”

You laugh, taking his hand as you step out of the car. “I don’t know, that was part of the charm.”

He chuckles as you walk hand in hand toward the entrance. The soft bell chimes as you step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and pastries filling the air. It’s quieter than it was that morning, more intimate. There are fewer people, and the dim lighting makes the place feel even cozier.

Tony leads you to the same table where you sat that day, by the window. It’s almost eerie how perfectly everything aligns—the same seats, the same warm ambiance. Except this time, it feels different. Deeper.

“This place must have some kind of magic,” Tony says, sliding into the seat across from you. “I mean, look at us now.”

You smile softly, leaning forward slightly. “I think it has more to do with the guy who bought me coffee.”

He gives you that trademark grin, the one that makes your stomach flip, and you find yourself wondering how someone like Tony—brilliant, successful, larger-than-life—could feel so comfortable, so right, sitting here with you in this small coffee shop.

The conversation flows as easily as ever, and you’re reminded of why this connection with Tony feels so different. It’s not just the playful banter or the shared laughter, but the way he looks at you—like you’re the only person in the room, the only one that matters.

After what feels like no time at all, you realize the shop is starting to close for the night. You both rise from the table, and just as you’re about to head toward the door, Tony pauses, his hand catching yours.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer now, more serious. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

You turn to face him, your heart suddenly beating faster as you take in the slight shift in his demeanor. The playful smirk is still there, but there’s something else in his eyes—something warmer, more intense.

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Tony takes a small step closer, his hand still holding yours as his thumb brushes lightly over your skin. “This… what we’ve been doing, I mean. Us. It’s been… well, it’s been great. But I was thinking maybe we should make it official.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the words settling between you like a soft confession. Official?

“You mean, like… a couple?” you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

Tony nods, his gaze never wavering. “Yeah. I want this to be real. I want you to be mine.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying. But then, you feel the weight of it—the vulnerability in his words, the sincerity behind them—and your heart swells.

“I want that too,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile tugs at his lips, and before you know it, he’s stepping even closer, his free hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch is warm, tender, and your breath hitches as you realize what’s about to happen.

Time seems to slow as he leans in, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before his lips finally meet yours.

The kiss is soft, unhurried, yet filled with a kind of quiet intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand slips to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer as you melt into the kiss, your arms instinctively wrapping around him. It feels like the culmination of everything that’s been building between you—the stolen glances, the late-night conversations, the subtle touches.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, and you’re both smiling, breathless.

“Well,” Tony says, his voice low, “that’s one way to seal the deal.”

You laugh softly, your hands still resting on his chest as you shake your head. “Only you would make our first kiss part of a contract negotiation.”

He smirks, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Hey, if it works, it works.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your heart is racing, or the way your entire body feels light and warm. This is real—he’s real—and for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re exactly where you want to be.

As you step outside the coffee shop together, hand in hand, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking into a new chapter. And with Tony Stark by your side, you know this is just the beginning.

Soft!Tony is probably one of my favorite Tony variant lol. If you liked the story don't forget to leave a like, a reblog or even a comment or follow!

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mjolnirswriststrap · 3 months ago

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Just Another Notch

Bucky Barnes x Plus!Reader Masterlist

Summary: If Bucky thinks his charms will work on you, then you’re gonna put up one hell of a fight to prove him wrong. Part 5/?

Word count: 1,682

AN: two chapters in one day because I can 💋🤷🏻‍♀️

So here you were, dressed in the most expensive fabric you’ve ever touched. Tony had a dress tailored for your mission, the style was nothing like anything you saw at any of his cocktail parties. It felt vintage, like old money. The dark green was almost black, but in certain lights you could see the emerald reflection. It was long, but not in a slim, skin tight way, it had a bust, and it flared out at the hips, dark tulle flowing to the floor. It was like the dress was actually made for you, designed for your body, not sized up.

Your hair and makeup was done by no one other than yourself. You didn’t trust the makeup artists Tony hired, if their faces were any indication of what you’d look like, you’d rather go bare faced. You were good enough at makeup, understanding that for this look, you needed to look classic, rich. To achieve it, a tiny black wing with a white shimmer on your inner corner was more than enough for your eyes. You didn’t touch your eyebrows or put foundation on, though you usually like to. You had to know that the other women there won’t be wearing nearly as much makeup. You brush a coral rouge powder over your cheeks, then dabbing it off with a big powder brush, practically blending it into your skin.

The only thing you knew to go all out for, is you lips. Dark red, almost purple: the bloodier the better. Nothing said evil conglomerate like a red lip. And your hair, no one touched your hair. You had that covered, heat was never applied, gel and foam rollers helped you achieve the thick curls that sit on your shoulders. You sucked in a breath as you walked out of your room, down to the elevator felt like a thousand steps.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflective metal elevator door, and now you felt the same as you did this morning, practically naked in a sports bra. When it dings and you step out onto the roof, you see your team, suited up like they’re going on a mission, as they climb into the quinjet. How lovely, they get bullet proof armor and you get priceless crushed velvet. You know what else is priceless? Your life.

You focus on walking in heels, keeping your eyes on the ground infront of you, when you step up onto the platform you look around, seeing where you should sit. Of course Natasha and Steve take the pilot seats, leaving you and Bucky to figure it out. You find a seat near the exit, your nerves getting the better of you.

Of course Bucky sits right beside you. You try not to make eye contact as you sit back and cross your legs, it’s gonna be a long ride. “I’m sorry, about this morning. I didn’t know he would say that.” He whispers to you, as if Natasha and Steve aren’t allowed to hear his apology. You roll your eyes, whatever you thought you were doing with Bucky, is over, too much has happened.

You had a job to do, and playing hard to get would be saved for a later date, never. He notices your eye roll and places his hand on your exposed shoulder, trying to relax you. But it does the opposite. “You look beautiful, doll.”. You nod your head, you couldn’t call him a liar, you knew you looked amazing. But that didn’t mean you had to be grateful for his compliment.

The thought sat in the back of your mind, he’s only trying to add you to his roster, don’t fall for it. You look over and your eyes connect with his and you can’t help but to feel a little guilt when you see the sincerity in his eyes. You always expect the worst from him, and every time he proves you wrong, except for this morning, you had no clue what he said to Steve after you left, he could’ve scolded him or laughed with him. You’d never know, cause you’ll never ask. You didn’t care to, you don’t want to be another one of his numbers.

Bucky can see the uncertainty in your eyes, moving his gloved hand from your shoulder to your jaw. “I mean it.”. The way the words fell from his lips had your skin igniting. Now here you were, betraying your own thoughts instantly. He runs his leather covered thumb over your bottom lip, he watches as it pulls with the friction. “I love this color on you.” He says in his hushed tone, but it didn’t feel hushed anymore, every breath he took reverberated off your eardrums. You were so focused on his mouth as he spoke you didn’t notice him scoot closer to you on the bench.

It’s like another person inside of you spoke, “Thank you.”, you’re not really sure what you’re thanking him for, but maybe it will make him ease on his intensity. He smiles genuinely as you accept his compliments. “It’s a shame, can’t take you out tonight, looking like this.” He smooth talks. And you hate yourself for blushing, so you try to play it off “What made you think I’d go out with you?” You squint slightly, watching his reaction.

He’s an award winning actor apparently, his parted lips forming a smirk, “You saying you wouldn’t?” He says lowly, his grip on your jaw tightening slightly. You don’t know, if you’re honest with yourself; you liked how he was making you feel right now, and you couldn’t imagine how it would be if you were on a date with him.

You decide, in that moment of lapsed judgement, that you did wanna play his game after all. You close your mouth, that hung agape giving him the permission to keep his thumb there, your lips subtly wrap around his gloved finger, it was a barely noticeable innuendo. You pull away before you can even taste the leather; shaking your head. “Depends, are you asking me?”.

Bucky’s eyes darken at the sight of your lips wrapping around him. It’s like a switch was flipped, this wasn’t another office fuck. The way you made him feel was primal, he never needed anyone like he needed you right now. “Do that again, see what happens.”. He says, practically groaning the words out.

Your heart starts pumping deep in your stomach, you could feel that nauseous feeling some would consider butterflies. Bucky wasn’t gonna answer your question about asking you on a date, because in his mind, once he had you, there was no need to pretend with dinners and movies. Bucky leans in, pulling your face closer to his with the strong grip he has on you. “I dare you.”.

You couldn’t back down now, you had him hooked, and you were obviously winning the game. You smirk at his possessive eyes, then you wrap your lips around the thumb again, a little more of it this time. Your tongue being able to flick against it, you would die at the thought of others blood staining it. But in this moment, it didn’t matter.

Bucky’s eyes watch your mouth intently, a little gasp escaping him. He was shocked, he didn’t expect you to do it. Now he had to figure out just what he was gonna do about it. He presses his thumb down on your tongue, paralyzing it. His eyes are almost black as they study your face. “You have no clue do you?” He presses his brows together.

You shake your head in his hand, not being able to speak. You don’t really know what exactly he’s referring to. “What I’m going to do to you when this mission ends.” He clarifies, pulling his thumb from your mouth, dragging his hand down your neck, a trail of your own saliva wetting your skin. Thank god you weren’t wearing foundation.

He presses the wet digit against your pulse point, and you can feel the blood stop rushing to your brain. Your mind starts racing with the possibilities, but the lack of oxygen is fogging it. Maybe you played the game a little too well. Maybe you want him and you’ve been denying it to yourself this whole time. “I-“ you begin to say but the shuttering of the quintet landing and the sound of Steve and Natasha unbuckling their seatbelts make you and Bucky snap out of the lust filled bubble you were in.

“We’re here.” Steve says, looking between you and Bucky, his eyebrows raising at seeing you to pressed so tightly side by side. Bucky removed his hand the second he realized we were about to be seen. But he didn’t care what Steve thought, so he didn’t move from his spot, just scowling at his so called friend from across the quintet. He gave him one more chance after the “needing to eat already” comment. But when he said you needed to lose weight, that was enough for him to feel differently about his friend, telling him to fuck off, and come back when he has some common decency.

He didn’t expect to be paired with him on a mission so soon. He ignores Steve’s hopeful eyes, turning to Natasha. “Coms on?” He says, sliding an earpiece over to you. Natasha gives a thumbs up, already typing away on a laptop, trying to find the blue prints for Bruno’s yacht.

He turns back to you, and Steve checks his watch, you had to go now, the boat was gonna undock soon. He presses the button that releases the platform, the heavy metal door slowly descending to the ground. Bucky had done such a good job distracting you, you almost forgot your mission entirely. Now you were in action mode, but you didn’t have the hang of your action mode quite yet. Bucky takes your hand in his. “I’ll be with you the whole night, okay?” He says, noticing the fear in your eyes. You nod, taking a cooling breath. “I’m ready.”

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boop-le-snoot · 2 months ago

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| existing masterlist post here |

kinktober 2024

Bun writes? sure hope it does! After a long hiatus, I crawl out of my hole... to present (written) hole...

I don't think the concept of kinktober needs an introduction, so without further ado, planned story list under the cut. As I post throughout the month, the list will become clickable. As always, comments and likes are welcome but reblogs will land you squarely in reader heaven. My ask box is open to scream and be as feral as you want to. I accept hate mail too, but it has to be witty, none of that weak ‘kys’ shit.

the word ‘kink’ in the ‘tober is loosely used. I mostly mean to shrug off some of the accumulated plotbunny brainrot from my drafts. each fic has a song from my writer playlist, which I am sharing because I love hard rock & heavy metal and you should love em, too. I did illegal drugs while writing this, btw. In case you wanted to read something written by a Cool Person™®©..

some of these might read as iffy on consent but they are not intended as such & everything here is implied to be wanted and fully consensual, including any sadism, masochism and mindfuckery.

‼️ blank blogs interacting with this post, the fics and my blog will be blocked on sight ‼️

Oct 1 | rop!Adar | daddy kink

Oct 2 | Thranduil | aphrodisiac

Oct 3 | rop!Gil-Galad | restraints

Oct 4 | Loki | temperature play

Oct 5 | Thor | exhibitionism

Oct 6 | Tony Stark | innocence kink + roleplay

Oct 7 | lotr!Celeborn | concubinage, collars

Oct 8 | rop!Gil-Galad | deepthroating

Oct 9 | ginger twink Sauron | crack

Oct 10 | Dr. Strange | medical kink

Oct 11 | lotr!Elrond & lotr!Celeborn & lotr! Thranduil | orgy (foursome?) & objectification

Oct 12 | goldsick!Thorin | rough sex & lingerie

Oct 13 | lotr!Galadriel & Celeborn | petplay

Oct 14 | Lindir | coming untouched, overstim

Oct 15 | Feren | ‘secretly’ in public

Oct 16 | Doc Ock | tentacles

Oct 17 | Thranduil | femdom, worship

Oct 18 | rop!Adar | masochism, psychological horror

Oct 19 | Negan | age gap, leather & lace

Oct 20 | Bruce Banner | breathplay

Oct 21 | Stucky | spitroasting

Oct 22 | Glorfindel | hair kink (weird noldor edition)

Oct 23 | Tony Stark | armour

Oct 24 | Thranduil | spanking & anal

Oct 25 | free square. will freestyle something

Oct 26 | poly!avengers | birthday gangbang

Oct 27 | Fili & Kili | freeuse

Oct 28 | to be announced...

Oct 29 | ironstrange | daddy kink w/rich men

Oct 30 | to be announced...

Oct 31 | Loki | spooky surprise!

#kinktober #mcu fanfiction #lotr fanfiction #twd fanfiction #bun writes

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buckets-and-trees · 2 months ago

Text

Chosen, Part 3: Consideration

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova Word Count: 4.4k Summary: You have quite a lot to consider over the course of the afternoon as Natasha wants you to decide whether or not you'll accept an offer with the Foundation. An unexpected discussion with someone you trust helps you sort out some of your thoughts.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting

CHAPTER Content Warnings: hints of manipulation - flattery

Notes: New and familiar faces, and a line of insight into at least part of why you may consider accepting a very mysterious offer to join The Winged Heritage Foundation.

Previous: Lunch | Series List

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Back on the move and without Natasha’s piercing gaze on you, you still can't shake the continual feeling that you're venturing into something far more complex and mysterious than you'd initially imagined.

Stepping back into the grand foyer, you’re approached by a young woman as impeccably dressed as Natasha, with blonde hair styled into an intricate braid that’s pulled over her shoulder. Although her stance is official - a tablet in her hands, seemingly waiting for the two of you - her expression is playful, a mix of warmth and sarcasm, if sarcasm could be deemed an actual facial expression.

"Ah, perfect timing,” Natasha says, then turns to you. “Allow me to introduce you to Yelena Belova, one of our HR liaisons and your escort for the afternoon."

“And her adopted sister,” Yelena adds, stepping forward and extending her hand with a spirited grin. "Nice to meet you," she says, her voice a melodic blend of Russian and American accents. "I hope Natasha hasn't scared you off yet with all her intensity."

Natasha rolls her eyes, but there's a fondness in her expression. "Yelena will be taking over from here. I think you could use a break from my – as Yelena put it – intensity."

Yelena's grin widens. "Oh, I have many words for it, but 'intensity' is the polite one."

You can't help but laugh.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Natasha says, “and I’ll see you again for afternoon tea.”

As Natasha excuses herself, Yelena gestures for you to follow her upstairs. You feel instantly at ease, Yelena’s playful demeanor a refreshing change of pace after the first half of the day. You ascend the sweeping staircase, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet runner. The upper floor is just as impressive as the ground level, with high ceilings adorned with intricate moldings and chandeliers that sparkle like cascading diamonds.

Yelena leads you down a hallway, passing doors of rich, dark wood with brass handles polished to a mirror shine. She regales you with amusing anecdotes about life at the Foundation as you go.

"You wouldn't believe the things that happen around here," she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Last week, Tony Stark accidentally set off the sprinkler system in the east wing while testing some new gadget. You should have seen Roger’s face when he walked in, soaked to the bone, looking like a very patriotic drowned rat."

Yelena's stories have you laughing as she leads you to a door at the end of the hallway. She opens it, revealing a cozy sitting room that takes your breath away – yet another thing that’s done so today.

The room is circular, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the estate's grounds. Plush armchairs and sofas in rich jewel tones are arranged around a central fireplace, its mantle adorned with intricate carvings of flowers and vines. Bookshelves line the walls between the windows, filled with leather-bound tomes that look ancient and valuable. It seems to be an oasis away from the larger library you saw this morning.

"This is the Starlight Room," Yelena explains, gesturing around. "It's one of my favorite spots in the whole mansion. You've got about twenty minutes to relax before the first of your afternoon meetings. There’s a powder room attached to this sitting room,” she points to the corner, “so I’ll leave you to yourself, but if you need anything, I’ll be just down the hall.”

You thank Yelena and sink into one of the plush armchairs, taking a moment to absorb the stunning view and process everything you've experienced so far. The room is peaceful, with soft classical music playing from hidden speakers. You close your eyes for a moment, letting the gentle melody wash over you, relishing the moment of quiet after the whirlwind of the day so far.

When you open your eyes again, your gaze is drawn to the bookshelves, and you can’t resist the opportunity to explore freely. Rising from your seat, you approach the nearest shelf, running your fingers gently along the spines of the ancient-looking tomes. The titles are in various languages, some you recognize and others you don't. One book in particular catches your eye – a slim volume bound in midnight blue leather with silver lettering that seems to shimmer as you look at it.

As you carefully pull the book from the shelf, you feel a slight vibration, almost like a pulse of energy, and you pull your hand away immediately.

You shake your head and take a deep breath, urging yourself to pull it together. Your mind is getting caught up in the shrouded secrecy of the day. There’s nothing magical in this library, you think.

You reach for the book again, and there’s another surge of vibration, but you laugh, feeling both relieved and a little silly when you realize it’s coming from your phone in your pocket.

It’s a text from your best friend saying she hopes things are going well and that she’s wishing you the best possible outcome.

You smile, and then hit dial on her contact.

She picks up almost immediately. “Hello?” her voice is clearly excited and surprised.

“Hi,” you breathe, feeling relief at hearing her voice on the other end of the line.

“Is everything okay?” she asks immediately.

“Yes! Yes,” you reassure her instantly. “I just have a break, and you apparently have perfect timing, so I thought I’d call. Are you good to talk for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” she replies. “I’m just having toilet time in the company bathroom.”

You gasp. “And you took a call? Isn’t that against your code of ethics for what happens in a public bathroom?” you mock.

She laughs. “I make exceptions for best friends who are on insane day trips for big time interviews. Besides, no one else is in here right now. Now spill! How’s the day been so far?”

“I had to sign an NDA-”

“An NDA?” she exclaims, then sighs. “Of course they had you sign an NDA.”

“-but I’ll try and tell you as much as I can.” You launch into a rundown of how gorgeous the house and grounds are, that most of the morning was spent touring the facility, and you say that the work is fascinating and impressive - though you can’t go into more detail than that. You mention that you met some very interesting personnel - one with a lot of personality, even though you can’t mention it’s Tony. You can’t expound in much detail what you discussed over lunch with Steve and Natasha, but you paint broad strokes. Since they are the Executive Director and the Chief Recruitment Officer and that knowledge is publicly available on their website, you do feel you’re safe to at least say who you had lunch with. Your best friend reminds you she has a huge crush on the Natasha, having looked up as much as she could about the Winged Heritage Foundation as well, and ultimately finding little more than you had, but falling down a rabbit hole of a thirst trap for the redhead.

“So, I know you can’t tell me what is it that they do there, but do you feel like you know what they do and what do they want you to do?” she asks when you reach a pause in your recounting of the day.

You sink down into one of the armchairs next to the window and pinch the bridge of your nose.

Apparently you’re silent too long, because your friend nudges you from the other end of the line, prompting you earnestly with your name.

You sigh. “I still don’t know,” you confess.

This time your name is exclaimed in disbelief on the other end of the line.

“I know! Trust me, I know.”

“You’ve been there for hours, had a massive tour, spent time with their top executives, and you still don’t know?”

“I know a lot more, and I have meetings set up this afternoon with more people – basically informal interviews, me getting to talk to them, and them getting to know me, and they’ll probably report back their impressions in the final notes that will be considered, but…” you trail off, hesitant to say more.

“But what?” she presses.

You don’t know if sharing this detail will put you in breach of the NDA, and you’re also wary of the reaction it will get, but this will directly affect your life, so you decide to tell her anyway.

“But Natasha said she essentially wants me to commit to whether or not I’ll accept an offer by the end of the afternoon.”

“What? That’s insane!”

She can’t see it, but you grimace all the same.

“I swear to god,” she continues, “the only thing keeping this from being a straight up cult is that they’ve been transparent in offering you a compensation package and at least gave you time to consider that. This is like some Goldman Sachs level secrecy.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“And I’m still not thoroughly convinced they’re not a cult.”

You huff.

“They’re probably not a cult though,” she backtracks slightly. “You’re the one who’s there, trust your gut. You have good instincts.”

You sigh, leaning back in the plush armchair. "You're right, I need to trust my instincts. It's just there's so much mystery here. I feel like I'm only seeing the surface and I know there’s so many things that go so much deeper."

"Well, what does your gut tell you?" your friend asks.

You pause, considering. "Honestly? It's telling me that this is an incredible opportunity. The people I've met are brilliant and passionate. The work they're doing, even if I don't fully understand it yet, feels important. And there's this energy here, this sense of purpose that's hard to explain."

"But?" Your friend prompts, sensing your hesitation.

"But there's also this underlying current of,” you are pinning down the question marks in what you’re seeing as you speak to your best friend, as you so often do, “I don't know, secrecy? Power? It's kind of thrilling and but also a little unnerving."

Your friend is quiet for a moment. "Look," she finally says, “you’re a trooper, you try not to let things get you down, but I know you’ve been pretty unhappy lately with work. For a long time now. You’ve been looking for a new job for a while, so if you feel like this could be it, take it. No job will ever be perfect, but the wardrobe allowance they want to give alone - hell, the fact that there is a wardrobe allowance - is worth putting up with any number of sins! And if it’s god awful, either you’ll complain about it to me and I’ll continue to make jokes about them being a cult or you stay long enough to have the nest egg you need to quit, and then we find you something else.”

You laugh. “Thank you,” you say, sincerely. “I needed that.”

“You’re my clever best friend and you can do no wrong in this world ever,” she gushes in a rush.

“Not true! Bye!”

“Bye!” she laughs as you cut the call.

You check the time and see that you have just a few minutes to refresh in the powder room. You use the toilet, straighten your clothes, touch up your hair, and make sure nothing is in your teeth from lunch. Returning to the Starlight Room proper, you have just enough time to rub some lotion onto your hands and pop a mint into your mouth, before there’s a soft but brief knock on the door.

Before you can answer, Yelena bursts into the room with what appears to be her characteristic energy, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Ready for round two?" she asks, her eyes twinkling.

You nod, feeling a renewed sense of purpose after your phone conversation. "Absolutely," you reply with a confident smile.

"Excellent," Yelena says, gesturing for you to follow her. "As you know, we've got a series of meetings lined up for you this afternoon. Think of them as informal chats rather than interviews. We want you to get a feel for the different aspects of our work here and the broader culture of the team at large."

This confirms almost exactly what you surmised over the phone.

You walk with Yelena down the hallway, and she continues, "First up is Dr. Bruce Banner. He heads our research division. Brilliant mind, a bit intense at times. Don't worry if he gets a little caught up in the science - it's his passion."

“If Dr. Banner is head of research, what’s Tony’s role?” you ask.

“Head of development,” Yelena explains. “As a pair, Tony pushes Bruce, and Bruce reigns Tony in.”

You laugh softly, eager to meet the personality Tony would respect enough to find scientific and philosophical balance with.

The afternoon passes in a whirlwind of meetings and introductions. You speak with department heads, researchers, and other key personnel. Each conversation provides tantalizing glimpses into the Foundation's work. While you still feel like you're only in the shallow end, you reason that you’re an outsider and the meetings are fairly brief, so there’s neither the time nor sound reason for them to go too deep with you. Plus, they each have questions of their own for you to answer that take up their own portion of each appointment.

Yelena shepherds you around dutifully, managing to time all your meetings and travel time from area to area with precision. She’s also irresistibly engaging herself as she speaks with you during each break, and you can easily see yourself grabbing lunch with her or drinks after work. She’s exuberant, but she seems naturally attuned to reign in her energy to the level that makes others feel comfortable, and you appreciate that.

As the day winds down, Yelena finally leads you back to the Starlight Room, where you find Natasha is waiting. The late afternoon sun casts a warm glow through the windows, bathing the room in golden light. A tea service has been set up on a small table between you, the delicate China cups and saucers another relic of the past to contrast with the high-tech facilities you've seen throughout the day.

Natasha pours the tea with simplistic grace, the aromatic steam rising between you. "So," she says, her green eyes studying you intently, "what are your thoughts after this afternoon’s meetings?"

You cradle the warm teacup in your hands. "It's been illuminating," you begin carefully. "Everyone I've met has been incredibly passionate about their work. The scope of what the Foundation does is impressive, to say the least."

Natasha nods, taking a sip of her tea. "And do you feel you have a clearer picture of what we do here?"

"In some ways, yes. I have a better sense of the different departments and the general areas of focus.” You pause, considering your words. “I feel I’ve gotten a great sense of the people here, and they’re all extremely passionate about their roles. But there's clearly so much more going on beneath what I've been shown."

A small smile plays at the corners of Natasha's lips. "You're right – there is much more to our work than what we can reveal in a single day. And as we said earlier, some aspects of what we do require… discretion."

You nod, taking a sip of your own tea. The flavor is complex and soothing, with notes of bergamot and something else you can't quite place. "I understand the need for discretion," you say. "But I still feel like there's so much I don't know. About the Foundation, about what my role would be here. It's a big decision to make on such short notice and with gaps in knowledge like that."

Natasha sets down her teacup, her gaze intense. "I understand your hesitancy. Once you’ve officially accepted, I will be able to tell you so much more. So, ask the questions you need to make a decision.”

You frown, knowing you won’t be given answers to your most burning question, but you try and set that aside. In your previous jobs, you hadn’t drilled down to their core philosophies, and you weren’t giving your soul to the organization, so you could reframe what you needed to make this decision.

“In the compensation package, it lists that a housing benefit is available on the premises. What does that entail, and it says ‘available,’ but is that expected, or…?”

This was one of the points that set off your best friend initially to the cult theory.

“Great question. Key roles in the Foundation are offered accommodations here at the estate in one of two wings that we did not see during our tour today - and that was only to respect the privacy of anyone who may have been in their living quarters. There are shared rooms, single rooms, and some small suites for a few positions at the top. If you forego the housing benefit, there isn’t a payout, but a number of our team stay here during the week and then return to their personal residences over the weekends or holidays.”

“Oh,” you’re pleasantly surprised at this explanation. It seems perfectly reasonable.

“Living on site also allows for a flexible work schedule, with some people working a few hours on, a few hours off, and then heading back in - typically with our researchers and scientists who benefit from taking true mental breaks between putting in concentrated work on their projects.”

“In that context, it makes a lot of sense,” you say.

“And then some people just appreciate not having to make the commute every day, we as an employer feel like we’re doing a little something to cut down on commuter emissions, et cetera.”

You laugh, and she smiles.

“What else?”

“This morning you said you were considering me for two opportunities. Do you know now which one you want to see me in?”

Natasha sets down her teacup. “You will be working directly with our founder, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Your jaw drops, but you quickly pick it up. “I – I only applied for an entry-level admin position. I can’t possibly–”

“I train my team to keep their eyes open for certain qualities and alert me to candidates who may seem to have them. You were passed to me with multiple indicators. This is your fourth interview, and an extensive one at that. I couldn’t be more sure I have the right candidate sitting in front of me.”

“But shouldn’t I know what the Foundation does, or, at the very least, have met the founder before I work with him?” you ask, your query perfectly serious, but also tinged with a bit of shock and sarcasm that you can’t stamp out in your current headspace.

The smile on Natasha’s face only grows, and she arches one eyebrow. “If you accept, you’ll meet him tonight, and I’ll work with you so you know everything you need to know and are completely prepared to meet him.”

“How can you be sure I’m the right fit?” you can’t help asking.

She tilts her head slightly. “You met how many of our people today? I know potential when I see it, and I do my homework when I have a hunch. I put that team together, and I’m damn good at what I do. Why would my instincts be off with you?”

You purse your lips together, but her words settle over you in a way nothing else has so far in the weeks this process has taken place from the beginning to now.

Maybe that was the only question you had needed to hear the answer to all along.

You had applied in the first place because you were feeling boxed in at work, hardly noticed, definitely not appreciated – at least not until extra projects or extra work needed to be taken care of, only then did you seem invaluable.

But not here.

Here, it seemed, you would matter.

You’re quiet for another moment, relishing the total calm that has finally settled in your gut. Then you say the two simple words that will alter your future. “I accept.”

Natasha's face lights up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Excellent," she says, her voice warm with approval. "Welcome to the Winged Heritage Foundation. I'm thrilled you’ve accepted our offer."

She reaches across the table, grasping your hand in both of hers. Her touch is warm and surprisingly gentle, yet you can feel the strength beneath her soft skin. "I have no doubt you'll be an invaluable asset to us, and to Mr. Barnes specifically."

The late afternoon sun streaming through the windows seems to grow brighter, casting a golden glow over the room. The air feels charged with possibility, as if the very atmosphere is celebrating your decision.

"Now," Natasha continues, her voice taking on a note of anticipation, "as Steve and I mentioned earlier, we have a special event taking place this evening. It's not often that we extend invitations for this specific event to anyone outside of the Foundation, but now that you’re officially joining our ranks, that includes you.”

You grin, but then your face falls. “I don’t have anything to wear for a special occasion.”

Natasha stands and tuts at you, “I said I’d make sure you were completely prepared for tonight. Do you think I haven’t already thought of what you’ll be wearing?”

Heat rushes up your neck, and she chuckles, standing up. “Now let’s go. I’ll show you to your living quarters and you can rest and relax for a couple of hours while I take care of some things with our event and sort out final details on your contract.”

You follow Natasha out of the Starlight Room, your mind reeling with excitement and anticipation. The hallways of the mansion seem to glow with a new vibrancy as you pass through them, as if the very building is welcoming you as one of its own.

Natasha leads you to a different wing of the mansion, one you hadn't explored during your earlier tour. The decor here is slightly more modern, though still in keeping with the overall aesthetic of the estate. She stops in front of a door and produces a key.

"This will be your quarters," she says, inserting the key into the lock and opening the door. "At least for tonight, and possibly longer if you choose to take advantage of our housing benefit."

You step inside and your breath catches. It’s a corner room, and it’s spacious and beautifully outfitted, with a large four-poster bed, a sitting area, and floor-to-ceiling windows on two sides. The room is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floors. The decor is a perfect blend of classic elegance and modern comfort – antique furniture paired with state-of-the-art electronics. Plush rugs cover the hardwood, inviting armchairs and a couch flank a small fireplace, and a sleek desk sits in front of one of the windows, offering a stunning view of the estate grounds.

"This is gorgeous," you breathe, turning slowly to take it all in.

Natasha smiles, clearly pleased by your reaction. "I'm glad you like it. The bathroom is through that door," she gestures to your left, "and the closet is here." She opens a door to reveal a walk-in closet that's larger than most of the bedrooms you've had in the past.

"Now," she continues, her tone becoming more businesslike, "I suggest you take some time to rest and refresh yourself. The evening's events can run quite late and be… intense, to say the least. You'll want to be at your best."

Natasha walks over to the windows, her slender fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the heavy velvet curtains. With a fluid motion, she draws them closed, plunging the room into a soft twilight. The sudden dimness makes the room feel cozy and intimate.

"These curtains are specially designed to block out all light," she explains, turning back to you. "You'll find they're excellent for getting quality sleep, even during the day."

She moves to the bedside table and picks up a small remote. With a click, soft, ambient lighting comes to life around the room, casting a warm, golden glow that's easy on the eyes.

Natasha sets the remote down and turns to face you, her expression a mix of excitement and something else you can't quite place. "Tonight is the full moon," she says, her voice low and rich with anticipation, "and that always makes our gatherings extraordinary."

"For tonight's event, I've selected something I think will suit you perfectly, but don’t worry about that until later. For now, I really do suggest you try and sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours – enough time that legal should have your contract sorted, so I’ll bring that for you to sign, and then we will focus on getting you prepared for tonight.”

You nod, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you as the adrenaline of the day begins to fade. "Thank you, Natasha. For everything."

She gives you a warm smile. "It's my pleasure. I have a good feeling about you." With that, she turns and heads for the door. Just before she exits, she pauses and looks back at you. "Oh, and one more thing – try not to overthink things. Tonight is about new beginnings."

With those cryptic words, she's gone, closing the door softly behind her. You're left alone in the dimly lit room, the silence enveloping you.

You take a moment to explore your new quarters, running your hands over the soft fabrics of the curtains and bedding. The bathroom is a marvel of marble and black chrome, with a large soaking tub that looks incredibly inviting. But the pull of sleep is too strong to resist.

You slip off your shoes and lie down on the bed, sinking into the plush mattress. The sheets are cool and silky against your skin. As you close your eyes, you take a deep breath, tying to process everything that’s happened – the grand tour, the mysterious conversations, sealing your fate by accepting the position, and now this enigmatic evening event ahead – but before you can think for long, you’re overtaken by sleep.

...CURIOSER AND CURIOSER!

Did you make the right decision?! Too good to be true?

GUESS YOU'LL FIND OUT MORE ON THURSDAY!

NEXT PART: SEMANTICS

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

#natasha romanoff #bucky barnes x reader #yelena belova #female reader #curvy reader #aspen wrote something #chosen au

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mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

Text

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 1

Series Summary: Alexandria Sokolova spent 15 years with HYDRA, ever since her parents and brother were killed in front of her when she was 3. She was raised to be a soldier; an assassin. But now, faced with coming to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, she has to come to terms that there are people around her who don't want to hurt her, people who actually care about her.

But recognizing that is harder than it seems, especially with a teacher like Logan Howlett, who seems to care more about her than he lets on.

Just because she's currently safe from HYDRA's grasp now, doesn't mean she's safe forever.

Chapter Summary: The Avengers bring Alexandria to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Word Count: 8.9k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: and hello! welcome to this series! this is going to be a long one, since there are going to be three parts, this story, another series based around 'logan (2017)' and another based on 'deadpool and wolverine'.

but let's get a few things out of the way. this is NOT a romance with alexandria and logan. this is about them slowly recognizing they are more alike than different, and how they both eventually let their guard down around each other. if you will, it's a 'slow burn' father-daughter relationship.

another thing, alexandria's powers are as followed: dream-weaver; enter and manipulate dreams and telekinesis. you'll understand a bit more as you read on.

another, another thing, this is an au, the characters of jean, scott, kitty, jubilee, and others mentioned are TEENAGERS. they are students in high-school level classes as the X-Mansion, not adults. some of these characters may seem ooc, and if we're being honest it's because i've only watched first class-dark pheonix, the deadpool movies, wolverine origins, and logan. i tried watching the original x-men movies but i ended up falling asleep (oops). so if these characters are written wrong, it's my fault, but we are sticking with the ooc tag.

Series Masterlist → Chapter 2

AO3 Link For Chapter

Alexandria didn’t much care for whatever they were taking her. The Avengers, that is. Being saved from HYDRA did warrant them a ‘thank you’, but after a few days of staying at the Avengers Compound, they decided that it wasn’t a “good fit”.

Meaning a few things: one, they were scared of her, which was unlikely considering her powers weren’t all that terrifying, or two, they simply didn’t want to deal with a 17-year-old girl with trauma dating back 14 years ago.

The only three people who talked to her like a normal person was Wanda, Bucky, and Natasha, which she appreciated greatly.

“Coming up on the school.” Tony’s voice sounded out through the cockpit of the Quinjet.

Alexandria rolled her eyes, this all seemed like too much. She was a kid, just rescued from a terrorist organization and now she was supposed to go to school?

Was this a fucking joke?

Alexandria glared out the window as the Quinjet descended towards the sprawling grounds of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The idea of school felt absurd after everything she’d been through. She crossed her arms, sinking deeper into her seat, eyes narrowed.

“Hey, I know it’s not ideal, but this place might be good for you,” Natasha said, catching Alexandria’s expression. She leaned over from her seat across the aisle, her voice gentle but firm.

“Yeah, a place full of more people who can do freaky stuff. Great,” Alexandria muttered.

Bucky, seated next to Natasha, turned to her. “It’s not just about powers. You’ll meet people who understand you, maybe even help you find some peace.”

Alexandria snorted, her skepticism apparent. “Peace? That’s rich coming from you.”

Bucky’s face tightened for a moment, but he nodded. “Touché. But it’s worth a shot.”

Tony’s voice came through again. “We’re landing. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

The Quinjet touched down smoothly, and the ramp lowered. Charles Xavier was waiting, a welcoming smile on his face, his wheelchair positioned at the edge of the landing zone. Beside him stood a younger man, wearing glasses, a flannel shirt, a tie, and a white lab coat.

Alexandria hesitated at the top of the ramp, glancing back at the Avengers. Wanda gave her an encouraging nod, while Natasha and Bucky looked on with reassuring expressions.

“Come on, kid,” Tony said, gesturing for her to follow. “Let’s get this over with.”

With a resigned sigh, Alexandria descended the ramp. Charles rolled forward to meet her, his eyes kind and understanding.

“Welcome, Alexandria,” he said warmly. “I’m Charles Xavier, and this is Hank McCoy. We’re here to help you.”

Hank offered a friendly smile. “Hi there. We’re really glad to have you here.”

Alexandria nodded stiffly, feeling the weight of their expectations. “Thanks, I guess.”

Charles seemed unfazed by her reluctance. “Why don’t we show you around? Hank, could you give Alexandria a tour while I have a word with our friends?”

“Sure thing,” Hank replied. “Come on, Alexandria, I’ll show you the school.”

As they walked away, Alexandria glanced back to see Charles engaging in a serious conversation with the Avengers. She couldn’t hear the words, but the tone suggested they were discussing her future.

“So, this place is like a school for mutants?” Alexandria asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“Exactly,” Hank said. “We offer a safe environment for young mutants to learn and grow. You’ll find a lot of people here who understand what you’ve been through.”

“Doubt it.” she muttered. Part of her didn’t even believe she was a so-called ‘mutant’. What she was however, was an experiment.

Hank chuckled softly as he led Alexandria through the halls of the Xavier Institute. “Well, I can’t promise you that everyone will understand perfectly, but you’re not alone in feeling out of place.”

“Yeah, right,” Alexandria replied, glancing around at the impressive but unfamiliar surroundings. “I’m supposed to just fit in here after everything that’s happened?”

“Everyone here has their own struggles and history,” Hank said. “Some are more recent than others, but we all find a way to make it work.”

They passed by a few classrooms, and Alexandria noticed students engaged in various activities. Some were reading, others were practicing what looked like combat techniques. It was clear this was not a typical school.

“Here’s the gym,” Hank said, opening a door to a large, well-equipped space. “It’s not just for physical training. It’s a place where students can test their abilities and find out what they’re capable of.”

Alexandria’s eyes flicked over the gym, taking in the equipment and the few students who were sparring. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Training can be intense, but it’s also important,” Hank said. “And there’s more to this place than just classes. You’ll find people who become like family.”

“Family, huh?” Alexandria muttered. “That’s something I’ve never had.”

Hank looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “You’re not alone here. Many of us have found a sense of family and belonging. It takes time, but it happens.”

They continued the tour, moving to the dormitory area where Alexandria would be staying. Hank showed her the common areas and her room, which was modest but comfortable.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Hank said, opening the door to a small, neatly arranged room. “It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

Alexandria walked in, setting her bag down on the bed. “Great. Just what I always wanted. A room of my own.”

Hank smiled faintly. “It’s a start. And if you need anything or have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone flat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Hank left her to settle in, Alexandria stared out the window, her thoughts racing. The enormity of her situation was starting to sink in. This was supposed to be a new beginning, but it felt more like another form of confinement.

She stared down at the baggy jeans she was currently wearing, something that probably came from deep inside Wanda’s closet.

Alexandria wasn’t much for talking, nor did she know what to do. Usually, she was only let out of her cell for lab-time, which lasted the entire day, before being thrown back into her cell.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small, framed picture of the school grounds that hung on the wall. The room, though modest, was far from the sterile, cold environment she’d been accustomed to. But that didn’t make it feel any less isolating. The quiet was oppressive, and she found herself fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit she’d developed over the years.

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She stood up quickly, her pulse quickening. It was probably someone from the staff, here to check on her or give her some new set of instructions.

“Hey,” a voice called through the door. “It’s me, Kitty. Mind if I come in?”

Alexandria hesitated for a moment before opening the door. A girl about her age stood there, wearing a casual hoodie and jeans. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her eyes were a warm brown, filled with curiosity.

“Hi,” Kitty said with a friendly smile. “Charles sent me to see if you needed anything. I’m one of the students here.”

“Uh, sure,” Alexandria said, stepping aside to let her in. “I didn’t know anyone was coming by.”

Kitty stepped into the room, looking around with a mixture of interest and sympathy. “I know it’s probably a lot to take in right now. I remember my first few days here weren’t exactly easy.”

Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling a bit self-conscious. “It’s... different. I’ve never been to a place like this before.”

Kitty nodded, taking a seat on the small desk chair. “Yeah, it’s a lot to get used to. But it’s a good place. People here care about each other. I know it might not feel that way right now, but it does get better.”

“Do you really think so?” Alexandria asked, her skepticism evident.

“Absolutely,” Kitty replied earnestly. “I know it sounds cliché, but this place is like a family for a lot of us. You might not feel it yet, but you’re not alone.”

Alexandria shrugged, not entirely convinced. “I guess we’ll see.”

Kitty tilted her head, studying Alexandria for a moment. “You’ve probably been through a lot, right? With HYDRA and all that?”

“More than you could imagine,” Alexandria muttered. She hadn’t talked much about her past, even to the Avengers. It was easier to keep it all inside, where it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Kitty’s expression softened. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t ready to take her up on the offer just yet.

Kitty stood up, giving her a reassuring smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and see if you needed anything. If you do, just let me or any of the staff know.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kitty nodded and made her way to the door. “See you around, Alexandria.”

As Kitty left, Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling the quiet settle around her again. The small bit of interaction had been a welcome distraction, but it also left her feeling more alone than before. She wasn’t used to people reaching out, and it made her wary.

And because she was wary, she spent the rest of the day in her room trying to figure out what the object on her desk was. It looked almost like a small, compact box, with many wires connecting to it.

After hours of trying to understand, night fell, and she needed a break. Alexandria grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before walking through the empty halls.

Finally, Alexandria stepped through a side door and found herself in a large, open field surrounded by trees. The night air was cool, and the quiet was a welcome contrast to the clamor of her thoughts. She lit her cigarette, the tip glowing softly in the darkness, and took a long drag. The smoke curled around her, blending with the shadows.

She leaned against the door frame, looking out at the expanse of grass and trees. The quiet of the night felt different here, less oppressive than the silence of her room. Maybe it was the openness, or maybe it was the fact that she was alone, and for the moment, she didn't have to pretend to be okay.

"Smoking's bad for you, you know," a gruff voice said from behind her.

Alexandria tensed, turning to see Logan standing there, someone Hank had mentioned to her, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was hard to read, but his eyes held a hint of curiosity.

She took another drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "So I've heard."

Logan stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her. "You planning to make this a habit, or just tonight?"

"Does it matter?" she replied, her tone defensive.

"Maybe not to you," Logan said, "but to the people around here, it does. They care about what happens to you."

Alexandria let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, right. I'm just another problem for them to solve."

"You're not a problem," Logan said, his voice firm. "You're a kid who's been through hell and needs a chance to find herself again."

“Find myself?” she scoffed. “There’s nothing to find.” Alexandria turned to face Logan, who lit a cigar, much bigger than her cigarette. She scoffed again. “You’re one to talk.”

Logan took a long drag from his cigar, the end flaring bright in the dark. “I’m not here to lecture you, bub. Just saying it like it is.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, well, I don’t need your advice.”

Logan’s gaze was steady, unyielding. “You might not want it, but you sure as hell need it.”

“Why do you even care?” she snapped. “You don’t know me.”

Logan exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, I don’t. But I’ve seen enough kids like you to know when someone’s hurting. And I’m here to tell you, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping her cigarette and stomping out the light. “I’d much rather be alone.”

Logan watched as Alexandria stomped out her cigarette, the ember disappearing into the grass. The silence that followed was heavy, and he could see the tension in her posture. He took another drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him before letting it out in a slow stream.

"You think pushing people away is gonna make things better?" Logan asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

Alexandria didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the dark field ahead. “It’s easier this way. Less chance of someone screwing things up.”

“Yeah, 'cause being alone always solves everything,” Logan replied sarcastically. “Look, I get it. You’re used to keeping people at arm’s length. But if you keep shutting everyone out, you’re never gonna get what you need.”

“What I need is to be left alone,” Alexandria snapped. “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need a bunch of strangers telling me what to do.”

Logan took a few steps closer, the crunch of his boots on the gravel breaking the silence. “And how’s that working out for you? You ever stop to think that maybe you’re just scared to let anyone in?”

Alexandria shot him a sharp look. “I’m not scared. I’m practical. I know what happens when you let people get close.”

“And what’s that?” Logan asked, his voice low and steady.

“They get hurt,” Alexandria said flatly. “Or worse, they end up hurting you.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re making it sound like everyone’s out to get you. That’s not true. Some people actually want to help, but they can’t do it if you keep pushing them away.”

“Everyone is out to get me. I let someone in before and it didn’t end so well for them.” She shook her head gently, removing the graphic, bloody images from her head.

The anger and pain inside her were like a storm, churning and relentless. She didn’t know how to let anyone in, how to trust after everything she’d been through. HYDRA had stripped her of that ability, leaving her with nothing but suspicion and fear.

Logan sighed, taking another drag from his cigar. “Look, kid, I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. Hell, it’s probably gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you’ve got a chance here, a real shot at something better. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared.”

Alexandria glanced at him, her expression softening ever so slightly. There was something in Logan’s eyes, a flicker of understanding that made her want to believe him. But the walls she’d built were high and thick, and she wasn’t sure she could tear them down.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, his gaze steady. “That’s all I’m asking. Just give it a shot.”

With that, he turned and walked back toward the mansion, leaving Alexandria alone with her thoughts. She watched him go, feeling a strange mix of frustration and hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness that had consumed her life for so long. But it would take more than a few words from a gruff stranger to convince her.

She stayed outside for a while longer, the cool night air helping to clear her mind. When she finally went back inside, the mansion was quiet, most of the residents already asleep. She made her way to her room, the events of the day playing over and over in her mind.

As she lay in bed, she thought about what Logan had said. She wasn’t ready to trust, not yet. But maybe, in time, she could find a way to let someone in. For now, she would take it one day at a time, trying to navigate this new world she’d been thrust into.

---

The following morning, Alexandria awoke to a soft knock on her door. She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes as the door opened slightly, and Kitty peeked her head in.

“Hey, sorry to wake you,” Kitty said with an apologetic smile. “But I thought you might want some breakfast. We have a pretty good spread in the dining hall.”

Alexandria stretched and nodded, still not fully awake. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Kitty.”

“No problem,” Kitty replied. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

After quickly changing into some clothes that fit her better, Alexandria joined Kitty in the hallway. The two girls walked to the dining hall together, the atmosphere between them more relaxed than it had been the previous day.

“So, how was your first night?” Kitty asked as they walked.

Alexandria shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. A lot to take in.”

Kitty nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But trust me, it gets better. The people here are really great once you get to know them.”

When they reached the dining hall, Alexandria was surprised to see how lively it was. Students were chatting, laughing, and eating together, the room filled with a sense of camaraderie and belonging. It was a stark contrast to the isolation she’d known for so long.

As they grabbed their food and sat down, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. But Kitty was friendly and patient, introducing her to some of the other students and helping her feel more at ease.

Alexandria looked at the food on her tray. Some of it was colorful, in fact, it all was. There were red triangular objects on her tray with a green leafy top, a fluffy golden-brown circle, and a small cup of amber liquid.

Alexandria stared at the food on her tray, her brow furrowed in confusion. She poked at the red triangular object with a fork, then glanced over at Kitty, who was already digging into her own breakfast.

“What’s this?” Alexandria asked, holding up the fork with the red object speared on the end.

Kitty looked over and grinned. “That’s a strawberry. Haven’t you had one before?”

Alexandria shook her head, eyeing the strawberry warily. “Not that I remember.”

Kitty’s expression softened. “You should try it. They’re pretty good.”

With some hesitation, Alexandria took a small bite of the strawberry. The sweet and slightly tangy taste was foreign to her, but not unpleasant. She nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s... different.”

Kitty laughed. “Yeah, in a good way, though. That round thing is a pancake, and the syrup is for pouring on top. Trust me, breakfast here is usually a highlight.”

Alexandria mimicked Kitty’s actions, pouring a small amount of syrup onto the pancake and taking a cautious bite. The flavors were rich and comforting, and she found herself enjoying it more than she expected.

As they ate, the din of the dining hall continued around them. Alexandria noticed how the other students seemed at ease, joking around and chatting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It was strange to see so many people with powers like hers acting so... normal.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Alexandria asked, trying to sound casual but feeling a bit lost.

“Well,” Kitty began, “after breakfast, there’s usually some training sessions. You’ll probably have an orientation with Professor Xavier and maybe some one-on-one time with one of the teachers to figure out where you’re at with your abilities.”

Alexandria nodded, pushing her half-finished pancake around on her plate. “Sounds like fun,” she muttered sarcastically.

Kitty smiled sympathetically. “It might not be as bad as you think. Plus, it’s good to know what you can do. There are some pretty cool things you could learn here.”

Alexandria took a sip of her juice, trying to ignore the bustling energy of the room. “Yeah, well, we'll see.”

Kitty looked around at the other students who were beginning to head off for their various activities. “Hey, you want me to show you around a bit more before the orientation starts? I can give you the rundown on some of the places you might want to know about.”

Alexandria shrugged, finishing off her pancake. “Sure, why not. Couldn’t hurt to know what I’m dealing with.”

Kitty led her out of the dining hall, guiding her through the maze of corridors. “So, that’s the library over there. It’s got a lot of books on pretty much everything—powers, history, science. It’s a good place to catch up on some reading.”

Alexandria glanced over. “Got it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And over here is the common room,” Kitty continued. “It’s where everyone hangs out, watches TV, plays games. It’s pretty chill.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a place I’ll avoid.”

Kitty laughed softly. “Fair enough. Oh, and there’s a small gym off to the side. It’s not as big as the main one, but it’s good for some light workouts.”

As they walked, Alexandria’s gaze drifted to the various students passing by, their casual conversations and easy smiles making her feel like an outsider. She didn’t belong here, and she wasn’t sure if she ever would.

“So, how do you get on with the teachers?” Alexandria asked, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from her discomfort.

Kitty’s expression turned thoughtful. “They’re pretty great, actually. Professor Xavier is really understanding, and Hank is super smart. There are a few others who are great too, but it depends on what you need.”

“Yeah? And what about Logan?” Alexandria asked, her tone a little sharper than she intended.

Kitty hesitated before answering. “Logan’s... Logan. He’s got his own way of doing things, but he means well. You’ll get used to him.”

“I met him the other night,” Alexandria said, her voice dropping to a murmur. “He didn’t seem all that interested in being nice.”

Kitty nodded. “That’s kind of his style. He’s not exactly a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he’s got a good heart. If you ever need anything, though, he might surprise you.”

“Yeah, I’m not holding my breath,” Alexandria muttered, more to herself than to Kitty.

Kitty gave her a sympathetic look. “Just keep an open mind. Things might not seem great now, but you might find some unexpected allies.”

As they reached the main area of the mansion where students gathered before heading to their various activities, Kitty turned to Alexandria. “I think we’ve covered the basics. How about we head to the training room? That’s where you’ll be meeting with Professor Xavier.”

Alexandria nodded, her mood lifting slightly at the prospect of getting some structure to her day. “Alright, lead the way.”

Kitty guided her through a series of hallways until they arrived at the training room. The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds of conversation and movement filtered through.

“Here we are,” Kitty said. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck, Alexandria.”

“Thanks, Kitty,” Alexandria replied, watching as Kitty walked away. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping into the room.

Inside, Professor Xavier was waiting, his wheelchair positioned near a set of training equipment. He looked up as Alexandria entered, his expression warm and welcoming.

“Good morning, Alexandria,” he said. “I trust you’re settling in?”

Alexandria nodded, though she didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Yeah, I guess. Kitty gave me a quick tour.”

“That’s good to hear,” Professor Xavier said. “Today, I’d like to start with an assessment of your abilities. It’ll help us understand what you can do and how we can best support you.”

Alexandria braced herself, feeling a mix of nerves and irritation. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Professor Xavier gestured to an open area of the room. “Why don’t we start with a demonstration of your powers? If you’re comfortable, show me what you can do with dream-weaving and telekinesis.”

Alexandria took a deep breath and moved to the center of the room. She closed her eyes, focusing on her ability to manipulate dreams. She’d rarely demonstrated her powers to anyone outside of HYDRA, and the idea of doing it now made her uneasy.

She visualized a simple scenario- a peaceful meadow with gentle breezes and blooming flowers. The air around her seemed to shimmer slightly as the dreamscape began to take shape. When she opened her eyes, she saw that a small, serene meadow had appeared in the room, though it was more a projection than a physical space.

“Impressive,” Professor Xavier said, observing the scene with interest. “And what about telekinesis?”

Alexandria moved her hand slightly, and a nearby object- a small training ball- levitated off the ground, spinning slowly in the air, covered in her blue telekinetic hue. She held it there for a few moments before setting it back down.

“That’s very good,” Professor Xavier said. “You’ve got a strong control over your abilities. We’ll work on refining them and exploring how they can be used in various situations.”

Alexandria crossed her arms, still feeling the unease bubbling beneath the surface. “And what happens if I don’t want to use them?”

Professor Xavier’s expression remained calm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “That’s entirely up to you. Our goal here isn’t to force you into anything, Alexandria. We’re here to help you understand your powers and give you the tools to decide how you want to use them, or not use them.”

She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the floor. “Yeah, well, understanding them didn’t really work out for me before.”

“Your experiences were under very different circumstances,” Professor Xavier said gently. “But you’re safe here, and you have the freedom to choose your path. No one here will push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alexandria looked up, meeting his gaze for a moment. There was sincerity in his words, and for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt a tiny spark of hope that maybe—just maybe—things could be different here.

“Alright,” she finally said, her voice a little softer. “What’s next?”

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” Professor Xavier said, his tone reassuring. “For now, I’d like you to get familiar with the training room and the equipment. You’ll be working with some of the other students, but if you ever need time alone, just let me or any of the teachers know.”

He led the way in his wheelchair to a different section of the training room, eerily familiar to the setup the Avengers had.

But she doesn’t like training rooms. Too many needles, wires, and electrodes attached to her and called ‘training’. It wasn’t training, it was torture. Studying her brainwaves, her movements, how her powers worked, it made her hate training.

While she’s partially sure there was none of that here, she still had to ask. Alexandria wrangled her hands before keeping them at her side, trying to seem normal and not at all disturbed. “There’s not… any- you know, electrodes or anything, is there?” she asked quietly.

Charles looked up at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. It was the softest he had heard Alexandria’s voice since she arrived and the closest he had seen her act like her age. For a moment, he hesitated, weighing his words carefully.

“No, Alexandria,” he said gently, his tone reassuring. “There are no electrodes or anything of that sort here. This is a safe place for you to explore your abilities at your own pace. The only equipment you’ll use is designed to help you understand and control your powers better—nothing invasive, I promise.”

Alexandria nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders remained. “Okay,” she murmured, glancing around the room again. It was a lot to take in, but at least she wasn’t going to be hooked up to any machines. That was a relief.

Professor Xavier offered her a small, encouraging smile. “Would you like to try out some of the equipment now, or would you prefer to take a break and come back later?”

She hesitated, unsure of what she wanted. Part of her wanted to get it over with, to face whatever challenges were ahead, but another part of her just wanted to be alone, away from everything and everyone.

“I guess… I could try something small,” Alexandria finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just to see what it’s like.”

“Of course,” Professor Xavier replied, nodding approvingly. “Why don’t we start with something simple? We have a training dummy over there,” he gestured to a humanoid figure across the room, “that’s designed to react to telekinetic force. You can try moving it, just to get a feel for your abilities in a controlled environment.”

Alexandria followed his gaze to the dummy, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this whole thing, but she figured it was better than sitting around doing nothing. At least it was a distraction.

She approached the dummy slowly, her steps hesitant. When she was close enough, she raised her hand and focused on the dummy, trying to summon the telekinetic energy within her. For a moment, nothing happened, and she felt a flicker of frustration.

Then, with a deep breath, she tried again. This time, a faint blue aura surrounded the dummy, and it lifted off the ground slightly, wobbling in the air.

“Good,” Professor Xavier encouraged from behind her. “Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Alexandria’s brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to maintain control over the dummy. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be, and she could feel her frustration growing. The dummy began to wobble more, and she clenched her fists, willing it to stay steady.

But her frustration got the better of her, and the dummy suddenly shot across the room, slamming into the wall with a loud crash. Alexandria flinched, her hands dropping to her sides as she took a step back, her heart pounding.

“Sorry,” she muttered, feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Professor Xavier said calmly. “You’re doing well, Alexandria. It’s natural to have moments of frustration, especially when you’re trying something new. The important thing is that you’re trying.”

Alexandria didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor. She hated feeling out of control, hated how her emotions seemed to dictate everything. It was a reminder of all the times she’d lost control in the past, with disastrous results.

Professor Xavier wheeled closer to her, his expression thoughtful. “Would you like to take a break? We can continue this later if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

She shook her head, a stubborn look crossing her face. “No, I’m fine. I just… need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Professor Xavier said softly. “There’s no pressure here, Alexandria. We’re here to help you, not to push you.”

Alexandria took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside her. She knew she couldn’t keep avoiding her powers forever, and maybe this was the best place to start figuring things out. But it was hard, harder than she’d expected.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice steadier. “I’ll try again.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Professor Xavier encouraged.

She took another deep breath and focused on the dummy again. This time, she tried to keep her emotions in check, to approach it with a calmer mindset. The blue aura returned, and the dummy lifted off the ground once more. It wobbled slightly, but this time she was able to keep it steady, holding it in the air for a few moments before gently lowering it back to the ground.

“Good job, Alexandria,” Professor Xavier said, a note of pride in his voice. “You’re making progress.”

She nodded, a small sense of accomplishment filling her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, she could get a handle on her powers after all.

“That should be good for today. I can have Kitty introduce you to some of the other students if you would like?” Charles asked.

Alexandria considered Professor Xavier’s suggestion, her mind still buzzing from the training session. Interacting with other students wasn’t high on her list of priorities, but she knew that isolating herself wasn’t going to help her in the long run. Still, the thought of making small talk or having to deal with people who would undoubtedly be curious about her past made her uneasy.

“I guess,” she said after a moment, shrugging. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Very well,” Professor Xavier replied with a nod. “I’ll have Kitty meet you outside the training room. She can introduce you to some of the others.”

Alexandria didn’t say anything, just nodded back, trying to suppress the anxiety that was bubbling up inside her. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she figured she might as well get it over with.

“Before you go,” Professor Xavier added, his tone gentle but firm, “remember that you’re not alone here. It might feel overwhelming now, but you’ll find your place in time. Be patient with yourself.”

“Yeah,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced but not wanting to argue either. “I’ll try.”

She turned and headed for the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet training room. When she stepped outside, she found Kitty waiting for her, leaning against the wall with a friendly smile.

“Hey,” Kitty greeted, straightening up. “How’d it go?”

Alexandria shrugged. “It was fine, I guess. Just trying to figure things out.”

“That’s normal,” Kitty said, her voice light. “It takes time, but you’ll get there. Anyway, ready to meet some of the others?”

“I suppose,” Alexandria replied, her tone noncommittal. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but she knew it was inevitable.

Kitty led her down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps the only noise between them for a moment. Alexandria could sense Kitty glancing at her occasionally, probably trying to gauge how she was feeling. She appreciated the effort, even if she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

“So,” Kitty began, breaking the silence, “I was thinking we could start with the common room. A lot of the students hang out there between classes and training sessions. It’s pretty laid-back.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, keeping her responses short. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but she wasn’t sure how to engage in light conversation, especially with someone she barely knew.

When they reached the common room, Alexandria was struck by how relaxed everyone seemed. Students were scattered around the space, some playing video games, others watching TV, and a few just talking or reading.

“Over there’s Bobby,” Kitty said, nodding toward a guy who was absorbed in a video game. “He’s pretty chill, likes to freeze things.”

“Freeze things?” Alexandria asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s got ice powers. Cool, right?” Kitty said with a grin.

“Sure,” Alexandria replied, trying to muster some enthusiasm but mostly feeling out of place.

“And that’s Jubilee,” Kitty continued, pointing out a girl with bright yellow sunglasses who was chatting animatedly with a couple of other students. “She’s a blast—literally. She can generate fireworks.”

“Fireworks,” Alexandria repeated, her tone flat. It sounded more like a party trick than a power, but she kept that thought to herself.

Kitty seemed to sense her unease and gave her a reassuring smile. “They’re all good people. It might take some time, but you’ll get to know them. And they’ll get to know you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced.

As they walked further into the room, a familiar figure caught Alexandria’s eye. Logan was sitting in a corner, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched the room with a look of vague irritation. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and Alexandria wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Logan’s over there,” Kitty said, following her gaze. “You two met, right?”

“Yeah,” Alexandria replied, her voice tight. “Briefly.”

Kitty hesitated, picking up on the tension in Alexandria’s tone. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s one of the best. He’s been through a lot, like you.”

Alexandria’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need anyone comparing her to Logan or anyone else. “I’m sure he’s great,” she said, her tone clipped.

Kitty glanced at her but didn’t push the subject. Instead, she gestured to a group of students who were chatting near the windows. “Those are some of the newer students. Might be easier to talk to them since they’re still figuring things out too.”

Alexandria looked over at the group, noticing how at ease they seemed with each other. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. She hadn’t felt that kind of comfort around others in a long time, maybe ever.

“Maybe later,” she said, not ready to dive into socializing just yet.

Kitty nodded, understanding. “No rush. You can take your time.”

Alexandria looked over at the TV, a movie playing as a bunch of the students sat around the couch and the floors entranced by it.

“Oh, Scott likes to watch Star Wars, most of the time a lot of us end up joining in.” Kitty explained.

“What’s… Star Wars?” Alexandria asked slowly.

“It’s a movie- or well, a bunch of different movies and shows. It’s a franchise.”

Alexandria tilted her head at the large TV screen, currently a girl in an all-white dress kissed a dirty-blonde boy’s cheek before he swung them across some sort of room.

It was intriguing, or maybe that’s just because she’s never seen a movie.

Kitty noticed Alexandria’s gaze fixed on the TV screen, her curiosity evident. She gave her a gentle nudge, breaking the silence. “We can stay and watch it if you’d like. I’m sure Scott won’t mind. He’s a big geek about this stuff.”

Alexandria hesitated, glancing back at Kitty with a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue. “I’ve never really watched movies before.”

Kitty’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Never? Well, this is a good place to start. Star Wars is pretty iconic, and it’s one of those things that a lot of people here are into.”

Alexandria looked back at the screen, where a space battle was unfolding amidst flashing lights and dramatic music. The idea of sitting down and watching a movie felt foreign, but also oddly appealing. “Alright,” she said finally. “I guess I can give it a try.”

Kitty smiled, leading her over to the group around the TV. Scott, a tall guy with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, glanced up from the screen as they approached. “Hey, Kitty! And, um, Alexandria, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alexandria replied, trying to sound more relaxed than she felt.

“Great to meet you properly,” Scott said with a friendly smile. “We’re just getting into one of the best parts. You’re welcome to join us.”

Alexandria nodded, taking a seat on the couch. The other students, already absorbed in the movie, barely glanced up, which was fine by her. She sank into the cushion, trying to focus on the action-packed scenes.

Kitty settled beside her, giving a small wave to Scott and the others. “I told her you’d be okay with us joining in.”

Scott nodded, adjusting his glasses as he turned back to the screen. “No problem at all. It’s always good to have more people to discuss the movie with. We’re in the middle of the epic lightsaber duel. It’s one of my favorite parts.”

As the movie progressed, Alexandria found herself drawn into the story. The special effects were unlike anything she had ever seen, and the characters seemed to be larger than life. She didn’t fully understand all the details yet, but there was something captivating about the narrative and the way the students reacted to it.

Kitty leaned over and whispered, “So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s… different,” Alexandria admitted, her eyes still fixed on the screen. “I can see why people like it.”

Kitty grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty immersive. And there’s a whole series of these movies, plus spin-offs and shows. It’s a bit of a rabbit hole.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “How many movies are there?”

“Quite a few,” Kitty said with a chuckle. “But you don’t have to watch them all at once. We can always catch up on more later if you’re interested.”

“Hold on, Kitty.” Scott said, “there’s a certain way it should be watched. Some will say release date order, some will say chronologically, but I say no to both. It should be Episode 4, 5, then 1, 2, 3, then 6.”

Alexandria’s eyes widened, “there’s… that many?”

“Well, technically more than that, but those are the ones that really count,” Scott said, his enthusiasm evident.

Alexandria leaned back on the couch, her eyes still glued to the screen. “I didn’t realize there was so much to it,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of amazement.

Kitty smiled. “Yeah, it can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it’s all part of the fun. You get to dive into this whole new universe.”

“You know what that means, right guys?” Scott asked.

A girl, sitting on the floor in front of Scott looked up at him, “Scott…” she gritted out, almost teasingly.

“Star Wars marathon!” Scott exclaimed.

Kitty leaned in to Alexandria as some of the kids groaned and others were amused. “That girl is Jean.” She gestured to the girl sitting in front of Scott, who was now rolling her eyes.

“Jean, huh?” Alexandria said, watching as Jean settled back into her spot on the floor, a bemused expression on her face.

“Yeah, she’s got some pretty impressive telepathic abilities,” Kitty said. “She’s one of the more powerful telepaths around here. But she’s cool.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. She thought back to the cubed shaped thing on her desk, if Scott knew all about movies, then maybe he knew about… whatever that was.

“Um, Scott? What’s that thing on the desk? The… cubed thing?” Alexandria asked.

“That’s a computer.” He answered, shoveling popcorn into his mouth. “Do you know how to use it?”

She shook her head no.

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t know how to use a computer?” He looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “It’s pretty basic. You can do a lot of things with it—surf the web, write documents, watch videos. But it takes some getting used to.”

Alexandria shrugged. “I’ve never seen one. What’s so special about it?”

Scott tilted his head, clearly intrigued by Alexandria’s unfamiliarity with something so commonplace. “Well, it’s one of those tools that make life a lot easier. It’s like a window to the world. You can find almost anything you need on the internet.”

Kitty, sensing that Alexandria was feeling out of her element, chimed in. “If you want, we can have a quick tutorial later. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Alexandria looked at the computer again, her curiosity piqued. “Maybe. For now, I guess I’ll just stick to figuring out this Star Wars thing.”

Scott grinned, clearly happy to have a new project. “We can definitely work on that. Maybe after the movie, we can set up a session to show you the basics.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone more engaged than before. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

---

After the group finished the movie, which was after Scott rewound it to the beginning for Alexandria, him and Kitty taught her how to use the computer before they had to go to class.

As she browsed the web, some term Scott used, she realized it was late at night, around 11 o’clock. She took a quick shower and got into what Jean called pajamas, before getting into bed.

Sleep couldn’t claim her. The problem with her powers was that she could see people’s dreams, which was fine when she was with HYDRA, since she was either far away from other people, or they put her in her specialized cell.

Once the clock hit 2:48, Alexandria got out of bed and grabbed a cigarette and her lighter from her bag before heading up to the roof.

Last night, Logan was smoking by the side door, but tonight, and possibly all other nights in the future, the roof seemed like a better, more quiet place.

Alexandria stepped out onto the roof, the cool night air greeting her with a briskness that made her shiver. She leaned against the railing, the city lights twinkling far below. She flicked the lighter, the tiny flame illuminating her face for a moment before she took a drag.

As she exhaled, the smoke curling into the night, she heard the faintest sound of movement behind her. It wasn’t unexpected; she had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who sought the quiet solitude of the rooftop at odd hours.

After a few minutes of peace, the door at the ground floor opened up, with Logan stepping outside and smoking his own cigar. She was glad she wasn’t down there; she had enough human interaction to last a lifetime.

As she looked up at the sky, she realized quickly that she’d never seen stars before. Which was out of the ordinary, or weird, considering most people connect nighttime and dreams with the stars.

Out here, where there were almost no other signs of civilization, the stars seemed to shine brighter than she thought possible.

Alexandria decided to sit on the ledge of the building, her legs dangling and swinging, hitting the brick’s gently as she continued to look up at the night sky, her cigarette forgotten in her hand.

Down on the ground, Logan was finishing his own cigar. He had come out to the side door for some fresh air, his usual gruff demeanor on full display as he paced, taking long, deliberate drags from his cigar. The rooftop wasn’t the only place in the mansion that offered solitude, but Logan found the chill of the night air soothing.

As he neared the side of the building, Logan noticed a faint sound of movement from above. He squinted up, barely making out Alexandria’s figure silhouetted against the night sky. He grunted and took another drag, deciding to keep to his own space rather than investigate further.

Alexandria’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the stars above providing a stark contrast to the chaos she had known. For a moment, she felt disconnected from her past, as if the night sky was a canvas offering a new beginning. She let the cigarette fall from her fingers, the small ember disappearing into the night air.

Suddenly, a light shone up from below, catching her attention. It was Logan’s cigar, glowing brightly as he took another drag. She couldn’t make out his face from this distance, but his presence was unmistakable. Alexandria’s instincts told her to retreat, to avoid any unnecessary interaction.

But Logan, in his usual fashion, wasn’t one to ignore an anomaly. He looked up again, his gaze searching for the source of the disturbance. The flicker of the cigarette's ember had caught his attention. He grunted softly, debating whether to climb the stairs or simply ignore it.

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. With a resigned sigh, Logan made his way to the rooftop access and began his ascent. As he approached, he could see Alexandria more clearly now- perched on the edge, seemingly lost in thought.

Logan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Couldn’t sleep?” he called up to her, his voice carrying over the distance between them.

Alexandria looked down, her face expressionless. “Not really. Just needed some air.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment. He walked over to the edge of the roof, leaning against the railing as he surveyed the view. “You got a problem with the stars or something?”

Alexandria shrugged. “No. Just never really seen them before.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. “You mean to tell me you’ve never been outside much?”

Alexandria gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not until recently, no.”

Logan grunted, not quite sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t good with feelings, especially other people’s. He settled for taking another drag from his cigar, letting the silence hang between them for a moment.

"Not exactly the kind of thing you'd expect to hear around here," he finally said, more to himself than to her. “You’ve been through the wringer, huh?”

Alexandria nodded, her gaze still fixed on the stars. “You could say that.”

Logan watched her for a moment, trying to gauge what kind of person she was. She was tough, that much was obvious, but there was something else there too—something that reminded him a little too much of himself. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He decided to keep it simple. “You’ll figure it out,” he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “This place isn’t perfect, but it’s better than the alternatives.”

“Is it?” Alexandria asked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism. “Or is it just another place with its own set of problems?”

Logan smirked, appreciating her bluntness. “Depends on how you look at it. Everyone’s got their own demons. But here, you might actually have a shot at dealing with ‘em.”

Alexandria shifted her gaze from the stars to Logan. “And what about you? What are you dealing with?”

Logan wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially not to someone he barely knew. But there was something about the way she asked the question—direct, no-nonsense—that made him consider it, if only for a second.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, deflecting. “Just focus on yourself for now.”

She didn’t press further, sensing that he wasn’t the type to share more than he wanted to. Instead, she nodded, accepting his answer without any more questions.

They stood in silence for a while, the night air cool against their skin. Logan was content with the quiet, but he could tell Alexandria was still restless.

“Why do you stay here?” Alexandria asked, breaking the silence but keeping her gaze on the stars.

Logan took a deep drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly as he considered her question. “It’s as good a place as any,” he replied, his tone neutral. “Better than most, actually. Got people here who understand.”

“Understand what?” she pressed, turning her eyes to him, searching for something in his expression.

Logan met her gaze, his own hard and unreadable. “What it’s like to have a past that doesn’t let go,” he said simply. “This place gives you a chance to move forward, if you let it.”

Alexandria snorted softly, a hint of bitterness in the sound. “Sounds like you’re trying to sell me something.”

Logan shrugged, unbothered by her cynicism. “Not selling anything. Just telling it like it is.”

She looked back at the sky, her fingers drumming lightly against the brick. “I’ve been around people who claimed they could help before. Never turned out well.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, flicking ash from his cigar, “this place isn’t perfect. But it’s different. Nobody here’s gonna bullshit you. And you’ll have to pull your own weight.”

Alexandria’s lips twitched in what could almost be mistaken for a smile, but there was no humor in it. “Pull my own weight. That I can do.”

“I’m sure,” Logan replied, his tone dry.

They lapsed back into silence, but it was less uncomfortable this time, as if they’d reached some sort of understanding. Alexandria leaned back on her hands, still sitting on the edge of the building, letting the night breeze cool her skin.

Logan finished his cigar and glanced over at her, noticing the way she seemed to relax, even if just a little. “You planning on sitting out here all night?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“Maybe,” Alexandria answered, noncommittal. “Why? You worried about me?”

Logan’s smirk was barely visible in the dim light. “Not my style to worry about anyone.”

“Good,” she replied, her tone matching his. “I don’t need anyone worrying about me.”

“Figured as much,” Logan said, pushing himself off the railing. “Just remember, you don’t have to do everything alone here. But you do have to show up. Can’t just hide out on rooftops.”

Alexandria gave a slight nod, acknowledging his words but not committing to anything. Logan didn’t push further; he’d said what he needed to say. With a final glance at her, he turned and headed back toward the door.

“Logan,” Alexandria called out, just as he reached the stairwell.

He paused, looking back at her. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, then shrugged, as if she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Thanks. For… you know.”

Logan gave a short nod, his expression softening just a fraction. “Don’t mention it.”

With that, he disappeared down the stairs, leaving Alexandria alone on the rooftop once more. She watched the door close behind him, then turned her attention back to the stars. Maybe this place was different.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x oc #logan howlett x original character #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x oc #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x alexandria sokolova #sweet dreams #project reverie

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melis-writes · 10 months ago

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Blood Money (Tony Montana x Reader Multichapter, 18+ Smut) Chapter 3 – An Eye For An Eye.

Chapter 2 / Read on AO3 / Chapter Masterlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami." / “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

Tony's fiery gaze burned into the back of your mind but your name etched on his heart from the very moment he knew who you were. Keeping you on his mind like prayer, Tony wastes no time in attempting to squeeze himself out of every interrogation at the Cuban migrant camp he and Manny are detained in. Like a power move claiming he knows you, Tony's beckoning you to meet him once more in your hometown with bold claims striking the attention of your father–one of the most notorious, wealthy businessmen of Miami–with one claim being that of love.

[WARNINGS]: None!

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Oh my goodness, a LONG time coming and the chapter update is finally here at last!! 😭💀 I'm thrilled to update this fic again and share it with the Tony girlies! Battling writer's block and life getting super busy was a chore but I. AM. BACK and writing! And yet I must break everyone's heart again by saying this update of Blood Money officially marks my temporary hiatus of Al fics outside of The Godfather universe. 💔 I will now solely be working on my Godfather fanfics until I'm finished so I have ample time and opportunity to write more consistently and update fics even more often than I ever have. I'm definitely not abandoning this fic and I will finish it someday soon! For now, let's dive back into Tony and Celeste's story!! 🥺🤞🏻

With a taste for success and dollar bills, Tony Montana’s drug empire grew in vast wealth, power and influence by your side as the kingpin’s lover. From sharing an intimate history in Cuba, you and Manny Ribera were the only ones to believe and support Tony from rags to riches. Embroiled in the same lifestyle and sharing enemies, you and Tony come to build your empire and world together with the threat of it collapsing from the inside. As partnership turns to betrayal and thrill to danger, you find yourself in-between ultimatums and sacrifices for the man you love.

'I'm always in the right, man. Always am.' The shit-eating grin over Tony's face spreads equal amounts of tension and frustration throughout the interrogation room; keeping the officers on edge for word back from your family knowing Tony could potentially be a protected individual under the Navarro family while thinking at the very same time that Tony could be bullshitting everyone just to waste their time.

Tony sits all too comfortably in front of the officers with his arms crossed, all the more amused watching them huff quietly to themselves and glower back at Tony every few minutes.

"So--" Tony attempts to start a lively conversation on his behalf.

"You shut the fuck up, Montana," the first cop points his finger at Tony. "Don't say a fuckin' word."

"We're not playing with you," the second cop scowls.

"Alright, man. Alright," Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely, "sheesh. I keep quiet when people talk on the phone, like Mama taught me, okay?"

Letting out another shaky sigh of irritation, the officers exchange a glance amongst one another, knowing well enough that if they've bothered the Navarro family for no good reason, it'll result in a guaranteed suspension without pay and likely following up with getting fired.

Then again, there's always the possibility that it could be Tony finding himself in hot water with the Navarros due to his cockiness and stupidity, and if that means having Tony out of the refugee camp and no longer able to be a nuisance, then it'll be both a best case scenario and a relief for the officers involved. Still, it's all too much to consider at once.

"Tell the supervisor," the first cop mumbles, "he needs to know what's going on."

"Will do," the other sighs, taking a seat back at his desk to grab out his notepad.

Ignoring Tony outright, the first cop moves his stool over to the telephone by the desk and sits next to it before beginning to dial the Navarro family reception line.

'By heart?' Tony's eyes flicker with interest, noticing how the officer has your family's number memorized by heart—rendering him surprised and amused at the same time.

'So they know her,' Tony thinks to himself. 'She not a nobody. She a somebody. I got her name on the line for me. Just for me.'

This means more to Tony than you can already know, even if all you'll ever do is show up to spit on his face and blame him for wasting your time. The satisfaction alone is everything for him.

Both officers continue to ignore Tony and avoid making any sort of eye contact with him; murmuring ushered words to one another and pressing through more numbers on the telephone as it rings.

Only mere moments after does Tony notice how tense the officer on the telephone gets by the way his muscles jerk up in response to the telephone being answered by a monotone-voiced, middle-aged man speaking out.

"Navarro residence."

The very individual answering the phone would be your father's advisor and right-hand man, Gabriel.

"Cuban Detention Center, Officer Frank speaking," the cop says politely, clearing his throat. "May we please speak to Mr. Navarro?"

There's a short pause on the other end of the line. "Do you have a request or appointment booked in advance?"

"No," Officer Frank answers quietly. "Um, ahem—this is in relation to immigration and detention. There's a gentleman here claiming he was requested by name from a potential--" Frank scowls over at Tony. "Sponsor."

Gabriel's tone of voice grows considerably agitated. "I trust you have a good reason for wishing to bother Mr. Navarro. You will not hear it from me."

"Greatly appreciated," Officer Frank awkwardly replies as Gabriel begins to transfer the call to your father's personal telephone.

Fully aware of the telephone conversation ongoing with Gabriel, your father—Darren Navarro--is two stories up in his penthouse—still in his Versace morning robe, smoking a Cuban cigar.

His first words to Officer Frank once the line transfer is, "You better have a good reason for reaching my personal number, Frank."

"Oh yes sir, o-of course," Frank stammers. "I apologize, sir. I didn't mean to interrupt your day, but this is urgent."

"So you say so," your father is unmoved by the sudden sense of urgency. "I suppose it is coming from the immigration and refugee department. I've sponsored nobody, so what is all of this?"

Officer Frank's skin drains of color as he nervously exchanges a glance with his colleague, glumly shaking his head. "Um, sir, there was a mention of your daughter's name by a Cuban migrant."

Your father raises a brow, leaning back on his velvet chaise. Your last trip to Cuba and mentions of "Tony Montana" and "Manny Ribera" easily come to Darren's mind.

"Interesting," Darren muses. "And what is this individual's name?"

"Tony Montana," Tony speaks up loud and clear, grinning. "And with my best friend, Manny Ribera."

"Shut the fuck up!" The second cop hisses, almost jumping out from behind his desk to hit Tony.

Darren's all very well aware Tony is in the same room and must know who he is by now, having heard everything.

"Uh huh," your father chuckles. "I see."

"Sorry, sir. I'm so sorry," Frank scoffs, swallowing hard.

"Stop your whining," Darren rolls his eyes. "I heard the man loud and clear. This is no request for me but for my daughter then."

"The migrant claims to know Celeste Navarro personally, sir." Frank clears his throat.

"Yes, he does. That much is true," your father nods.

"May we speak to Celeste, sir?"

"No need," Darren brushes off the request, glancing towards his bedroom door. "Celeste will soon be on her way to greet both gentlemen personally.

"This man--" Frank begins, but is abruptly cut off and corrected by your father.

"Men," your father clarifies, refusing to exclude Manny. "There are two of them after all, so Celeste will see both. She knows both of them, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Darren blows out the smoke from his cigar around him, resting his cigar between his fingers as he admires the afternoon light glistening over his gold rings and jewelry. "Treat these men well. I'm aware of the reputation your detention center has and its demands. 'Gentle' is not in your vocabulary so be respectful. These are friends of the Navarro family and I expect them to be treated as such."

"Yes, sir..." Mortified, the officers stare in shock at a smirking Tony before your father hangs up on them.

Giving a drawn-out sigh, you roll your eyes in annoyance at the back cover of the gossip magazine you’ve been reading; already questioning why you bother with the tabloids just to entertain you.

Flipping back to the front cover of a bikini model on Miami beach, you rest your chin over your fist, wearing a flowing, pastel pink satin nightgown—laying on your stomach and dangling your feet, attempting to beat boredom.

Frank Sinatra’s “All By Myself” plays softly on your white and gold decorated record player, a compliment to the similar colors lavishly decorated over your bedroom.

Practically the size of a house’s first floor, your bedroom itself spans 1,500 square feet and is fit for a princess, covered in various shades of pink with a glimmering diamond chandelier above you.

The very king-size bed you lounge upon is adorned with a bubble-gum pink cashmere and quilt duvet and six silk encased pillows, a polar bear throw in the center of your bedroom upon the marble floors striking attention to the wall fixtures and architecture of the bedroom taking inspiration from the Palace of Versailles.

You furrow your brows in annoyance at the magazine in your hands, only to have your thought suddenly interrupted by the sound of your father knocking on your door.

You peek up in interest, brushing a curtain of your hair back. “Come in.”

“Hi, darling,” your father enters your room with a warm smile—holding a glass of iced rum in one hand and concealing something in his fist with the other. “Didn’t think I’d be giving you good news so quick, eh?”

Chuckling, your father opens his fist and lightly tosses your car keys over to you.

Reaching your arm out, you snatch the car keys mid-air—staring at your father in confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your new boyfriend is in Miami,” your father says with a laugh. “Immigration services at the Cuban refugee camp called me just earlier.”

“Huh,” you blink, rubbing your temple as your memory recollects, hitting you all at once.

“I never say goodbye either. I say you’re gonna remember these faces—my face.”

‘Tony Montana.’ Your face flushes red as you clear your throat, glancing up at your father. “They called you?”

“Mhmm,” your father nods, taking a small sip from his drink. “Quick to it, I’ll give them that. I don’t think that Tony of yours has been there for very long from the sounds of it. They wanted to reach you, actually.”

“Makes sense of course,” you slide aside your magazine, sitting up in bed. “Great…”

“What do you think?” Your father raises a brow.

“I’m not thinking of anything,” you give your head a shake.

“No? You sure you don’t owe this Tony and his friend a favor or two?”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” you roll your eyes out of frustration. “But for Tony,” you clutch your car keys, “if he wants to see me, I’ll go see him. I’ll see him, but I don’t know what I can do for him.”

“Is this really someone worth wriggling out of months worth of paperwork and getting into the front of the line? ‘Cause I’ll let you decide that,” your father shrugs.

Getting off of your bed, you eye your purse from across the bedroom. “I think I’ve already made my decision.”

“I’m sure you made the right one,” your father turns back on his heel.

“Is Tony waiting for me right now?” You head over to your walk-in closet.

“He is,” your father confirms, placing his hand over your doorknob to close the door behind him. “And I think you’re the only person he wants to see right now.”

‘Tony Montana…’ You let out a soft sigh, leaning your head back against your car’s headrest. ‘Again and so soon.’ With great effort, you push aside the fluttering feeling in your heart every time Tony’s name and face cross your mind; clearing your throat and putting your Armani sunglasses on.

Starting up your Mercedes-Benz 380SL Convertible and pulling out of your estate’s parking lot carefully, you focus on nothing but getting directly to immigration services—able to collect your thoughts.

Letting the warm summer breeze flow through your hair as you step on the gas, determined to know just why Tony’s got your name mixed up with the law.

You may not have taken the rugged, cocky stranger very seriously back in Cuba but you’d be lying to yourself right now if you said you weren’t a little intimidated by Tony’s timing.

‘Didn’t think my name would cross your lips so soon either… Full of surprises.’

Tony knows he can sit and wait in the interrogation room for an eternity to come so as long as it’s promised you’ll show up—riding off on the idea of seeing you again like a lingering high.

Driving through the streets of Miami, you tap your French tip manicure against your steering wheel patiently through every red light.

Your eyes flicker over beach-bound tourists making their way over the crosswalks, noting the impatient drivers on the other side of the intersection honking at each other and tossing cigarettes out the window; the scent of body odor and beer not far from the beach itself.

Giving your head a shake, you scrunch your nose in disgust and drive off—not far from reaching the secluded immigration center from downtown.

You arrive a little over ten minutes later, driving into the clearance section with the rest of the other drivers waiting their turn to speak with an officer at the booth and be admitted.

Resting your arm on the windowpane of your car, you peek your head out of the window just enough for your face to be seen, and just as you expected, you’re recognized by an officer at a booth opposite from you almost instantaneously.

‘Uh huh.’ Noticing the officer blocking the path of the upcoming car who was next in line, you slowly drive up as he gestures for you to follow.

“How is that fucking fair?!” You hear a honk and shout of irritation from the other driver, simply ignoring him and continuing to cautiously drive up.

“Blow it out your ass, buddy,” the officer rolls his eyes.

Parking your car, you glance up at the officer who only gives you a brief nod and lets you through without a single word; just one of the many perks of being the daughter of one of Miami’s most notorious businessmen.

“Alright,” you mutter under your breath as you approach the guarded parking lot, seeing another officer heading directly your way. ‘Let’s see what this is really all about.’

Taking off your sunglasses, you make eye contact with the officer who furrows his brows at you in confusion; more than likely wondering how you got in so quickly and just who you are to be taking priority over anyone else.

“And who might you be?” The officer asks smugly.

“I think you know who I am,” you reply back coyly. “I’m here for Tony Montana.”

As smug and prideful as he can be, Tony slouches in his seat with his arms crossed and completely relaxed as if he’s the one arranging the interrogation rather than being interrogated.

As apparent as the officers make it seem to Tony how thoroughly pissed, exhausted, and anxious they are dealing with him, Tony reflects it with his nonchalant attitude on purpose.

“You think you’re taking some sort of vacation, Montana?” Officer Frank scowls.

“Sure, man,” Tony shrugs his shoulders loosely. “I think my vacation is on the way.”

Ignoring the immigration officer who escorts you inside the facility as some mock bodyguard, you make your way towards the entrance of the interrogation offices where the officer gestured you to, making note of the maximum-security gates and barbed wire high walls.

Giving a small huff of annoyance and adjusting your hair, you approach a narrow hallway inside the next building and set your sunglasses on your head.

“This way, please,” the officer guiding you murmurs and politely steps in front of you.

Unphased and hardly listening, you follow the officer until you both reach an interrogation door marked “11B”.

You maintain your distance from both the officer and the door as the officer leans over and quickly knocks on the door not to ask to come in but to signal his entrance.

A wide, playful grin spreads over Tony’s face as he turns his head back to face the door—absolutely thrilled to see it about to open in front of him.

Fear simmers back into the officers the moment they spot a feminine silhouette behind the tinted glass of the door, instantly remembering now more than ever that their jobs are on the line.

Pushing open the door, the officer guiding you inside steps in first and out of your way—clearing his throat to speak out, “Miss Celeste Navarro is here, sir.”

‘Celeste Navarro…’ Seeing you before him once more, Tony’s pupils widen as a strong surge of attraction hits him—coursing through his veins.

Tony’s muscles tighten and he feels the heat of arousal trickling inside of him as he locks eyes with you, stunned and utterly admiring every inch of your figure.

Attempting to look at you with more humility than defeat or nervousness, the officers are put off by your very presence and can say or do nothing as you cross your arms; expectant and domineering before everyone else.

You’re the only spot of color in the otherwise dull room filled with grey uniforms and sweaty men; dressed in an Armani, pastel pink, cropped tweed blazer, a matching mini skirt, a white chiffon Calvin Klein blouse with a bow at your collar and four-inch glossy nude pumps.

“There she is, she’s the one,” Tony smirks at you—breaking the momentary silence in the room.

“Ahem,” Officer Frank clears his throat, beginning to sit upright in his seat. “You know this man, miss?”

“Do I?” You raise a brow, unamused. “It feels like I’ve known him my whole life.”

“Yes, baby,” Tony mutters to himself inaudibly. ‘Come to me. You’re here now.’

“Miss Navarro,” the other officer begins to speak up awkwardly, “apologies if this is an intrusive question however this man claims to know you and—”

”And she’s my fiancée, as I was telling you. Okay, man?” Tony interrupts, rolling his eyes. “Can I have some privacy with my fiancée, man?”

‘Fiancee? What the hell is he talking about?’ Struck into shock by Tony’s words, you hold your posture and expression, but you know where Tony’s coming from and just why he’s deciding to play this game with you now.

“Yes, so what?” You snap back, noticing the playful twinkle in Tony’s eyes. “It’s true, he is my fiancée.”

‘Tony… I hope you know what you’re doing. I swear… Now is not the time to put on a show.’

The officers stare at each other in utter discomfort, remaining silent.

“But I don’t recall that being anyone’s business except mine,” you narrow your eyes at them, taking a step forward to Tony.

Tony takes your soft hand in his, caressing his thumb over the back of your hand softly. “See?”

“Well,” Officer Frank swallows hard, “if that’s the case—”

Your eyes snap open in shock as Tony leans up in his seat, suddenly cupping both of your cheeks and immediately pulling you into a crushing, deep kiss.

‘Oh!’ Your lips collide over his and your eyes flutter shut in response, feeling the warmth of his tongue teasing the tip of yours in loving passion without a care—ensnared in the moment of having you as his fiancée with no intentions of letting go.

#scarface #scarface 1983 #al pacino #tony montana #tony montana x reader #tony montana x reader smut #tony montana x oc #tony montana smut #scarface x reader #scarface x reader smut #blood money fic #blood money fanfic

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