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artficlly · 26 days ago

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sweetpea [one-shot]

post-apocalyptic marvel au

retired!hero!bucky x fem!reader After the Riftborn War, Bucky Barnes seeks to retire from his past as a hero and settle down, you might just be the peace he’s been looking for all along.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, p in v, against tree sex, outdoor sex, no protection, vague primal vibes, very consensual, kissing, underwear ripping, if you squint, there's some plot, teeth-rotting fluff, it's so cute, bucky barnes is the sweetest, beefy bucky, yelena meddles, steve rogers is horrified, spring festivals, paganism, masks, drinking, mentions of past violence, death and war, mentions of readers previous relationships, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: hello! it's nearly my birthday so heres a treat for you all. i've been sitting on this idea for AGES. i've been working hard on the daughter of the rotsál first draft, so i decided to take a break from the angst for some fluffy, cute smut!! please let me know if you enjoy and your thoughts! sorry for any typos - not proof read. permanent tag list: @globetrotter28

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Being fucked over the table was not unwelcome but rather surprisingly pleasant, even if it derailed your breakfast plans.

Leif had always been a rather attentive lover, skilled at pulling orgasm after orgasm out of your needy cunt. He possessed stamina and a hint of roughness that stirred warmth within you, yet something still felt absent. This elusive quality lingered throughout your year together—an unexpressed awareness that simmered between you. Leif was kind, diligent, attractive, and strong. He was considerate, often surprising you with gifts and regularly praising your looks and cooking. Your friends approved of him.

So even if that brief and passionate session had been perfect, him thrusting into you from behind so intensely that your toes curled and you had to press your face against the wooden surface to keep from screaming—you realised it was all somewhat melancholic. The thing that was missing between you and your Springbond was that fabled spark.

The decision to part ways had hurt, but you both knew it was right. A week before you had made the decision, on Mayflame he would move out, and the both of you would be single once more. The morning sex had been a goodbye of sorts, in typical Leif style. Even if you aligned perfectly, you inevitably amassed a long list of differences that broke the perfect illusion. You desired to settle down, concentrate on your work and home, and build connections with those nearby.

In contrast, Leif craved adventure and excitement—obviously, the Bleeding Age hadn’t brought enough danger and activity into his life. He later confessed that he was eager to sleep around more, as he was still a young man exploring his possibilities. This revelation didn’t necessarily shock or hurt you; you had captured his attention for the entire year, far beyond your predictions. Yet, you couldn’t help but wonder... were you boring?

After years of undue stress, survival, and several near-death experiences, you were eager to take advantage of the calm that followed the defeat of the Riftborn and the end of the Bleeding Age. You had to remind yourself—somewhat bitterly—that Leif was not the first and would not be the last.

“Did you see who that was?” Yelena exclaimed from beside you, her hand gripping your forearm tightly. You nearly leapt in surprise, abruptly pulled from your thoughts. Your head turned as you looked back, tracking Yelena’s gaze. “I swear to the fucking gods that was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes—”

You squinted at the backs of the two men who had passed you by.

They walked like soldiers—steady, assured, their movements streamlined but commanding. No hesitation, no wasted motion, just the certainty of men who had spent years on battlefields, who had fought and bled and survived when others hadn’t. They were massive, even under their coats, their broad shoulders and thick arms unmistakable beneath the heavy fabric. Towering over the people around them, they carried themselves with the kind of presence that didn’t demand attention but took it anyway.

“The captain and the sergeant?” You shot back, doubt curling around your words as your brow furrowed. “I thought they were stationed in Stonebrook until the village was built.”

“They were… but last I heard, Stonebrook’s finished.” Yelena’s voice had an eager edge; her gaze locked onto the two figures even as they disappeared around a street corner, swallowed by the cobbled streets. “They were invited back for the Mayflame celebrations. The word is that they want to retire from the soldier business now the war is over.”

You rolled your eyes, tugging at her arm with a huff. “Come on, we’re going to be late—”

“But do you think they’ll run in Mayflame?” Yelena pressed, barely budging under your pull.

“I mean, gods, can you imagine if Steve Rogers was your Springbond?” She exhaled, almost breathless at the thought, her fingers tightening around your sleeve as if the mere idea was enough to set her heart racing.

You grit your teeth, heat rising in your face—not from excitement but from secondhand embarrassment. A group of older women lingered outside your destination, snickering between themselves at Yelena’s loud ponderings. With a sharp yank, you pulled her off the street and into the village hall, the heavy wooden doors thudding shut behind you, sealing away the crisp morning air and her starry-eyed ramblings.

“There you two are! I need all the hands I can get!”

A flustered-looking Pepper Potts intercepted you and Yelena before you could fully step inside, already ushering you towards a large pile of decorations. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, auburn hair pinned haphazardly at the nape of her neck, a sure sign that she had been running herself ragged in preparation for the festival.

“I’ve got half the boys working on the course and the bonfire,” she said, exhaling sharply. “Can you please cart these down and get started on the flowers?”

“Of course,” you replied with a quick nod, already sizing up the pile, considering how best to carry everything down in as few trips as possible.

Yelena, however, had other priorities. “Pepper, are the captain and sergeant joining the Mayflame?” She asked shamelessly, barely masking the anticipation in her tone.

But Pepper had already turned, swept away by the tide of arriving villagers, barking orders as she moved—clearly too busy to entertain Yelena’s curiosity.

You scoffed, sinking your hands into a collection of freshly cut flowers, their stems already bundled neatly for easy transport. You had grown and picked them yourself, much to Pepper’s praise. In recent years, you found comfort in your gardens and flowerbeds. The scent of wild blooms filled your nose, the petals soft against your fingers as you began sorting through them. “Yelena, stop meddling and help me.”

“Fine, but you are no fun!” Yelena groaned, throwing herself down beside you with dramatic flair. Then, as if compelled by some unseen force, she added with a wistful sigh, “I know you’re upset about Leif, but at least let me dream of a raunchy, hero-filled Mayflame.”

Her voice carried farther than she likely intended. Several nearby villagers—some heaving chairs, others hauling tables—stopped mid-task, casting curious glances in your direction.

Mortified, you didn’t dignify her with a response.

—

“I mean, you keep saying you’re not upset about Leif, but you’re obviously upset.”

Yelena’s voice drifted up from below, thick with scepticism. She was not taking her duty of stabilising the ladder very seriously. The wooden rungs wobbled beneath your feet, shifting with every careless movement she made. A quick glance down confirmed your suspicions. She was barely gripping the beams, more occupied with craning her neck up the hill, no doubt hoping for another glimpse of the fabled Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes.

You sighed, your arms burning from the strain. You had foolishly volunteered for the painstaking task of weaving flowers through the towering wooden archways that framed the festival’s entrances. The Mayflame decorations were meant to be intricate and beautiful—braided vines, bundles of wildflowers, bright ribbons fluttering in the evening breeze—but at this rate, you’d be lucky if you made it out of this task without breaking a limb.

“I’m not upset,” you grumbled, though your voice lacked conviction. You worked the soft stems of sweetpeas and baby’s breath into a sturdy braid, securing them with twine against the wooden frame. “We made a mutual decision. It wasn’t working. Just a Mayflame fling...”

Yelena snorted from below, unimpressed. The ladder swayed as she shifted, and you tightened your grip, heart stuttering. “You two lived together for a year. I think it was a little more than a fling.”

You exhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around the flowers. “If he wants to run off, sleep around, and travel, who am I to hold him back, Lena? He wanted something different than I did. It never would have worked.”

“I just…” Yelena hesitated. “I just don’t like thinking about you living up on that farm by yourself.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you reached for another bundle of flowers. “Then come visit me more often instead of spending all your nights at the tavern, bothering Nat. I need all the help I can get wrangling those weeds—”

The words barely left your mouth before the ladder jerked violently beneath you.

Your stomach lurched as you wobbled. You instinctively reached for the wooden arch to steady yourself but overcorrected. The shift in weight sent the ladder tilting dangerously, its legs twisting beneath you. The basket of flowers on your hip slipped free, tumbling towards the grass below in a flurry of petals.

“Yelena! The ladder—!”

“There’s a bee in my hair!” Yelena shrieked, her grip altogether abandoning the wooden beams as she flailed wildly. “Gods, if it stings me, I swear—”

You had no time to process her nonsense. The world lurched violently as the ladder lost its precarious balance, tipping sideways with terrifying speed.

Air whipped at your cheeks as you plunged downward. Your arms shot up in a feeble attempt to protect your head, your entire body bracing for the inevitable collision with the earth below.

But the pain never came.

Instead, you collided with something solid—something warm.

A pair of strong arms locked tightly around your middle, yanking you against a broad, muscled chest. The force of your fall sent both of you toppling over; your breath knocked from your lungs as your saviour twisted to absorb the impact. The two of you crashed into the grass in a tangled heap.

A startled squeak escaped your lips as you landed atop them, hands splayed flat against their chest. Their sheer size was dizzying—hard muscle beneath the thin fabric. The steady rise and fall of their breathing made you acutely aware of how firmly you were pressed against them.

For a long second, neither of you moved, your heart pounding as you processed what had just happened. Then, slowly, the arms around your waist loosened. A deep, low voice rumbled beneath you, quieter than you expected yet laced with a restrained amusement.

“Careful, angel. Keep this up, and people will talk.”

Your breath hitched, pulse stuttering as you realised who lay beneath you. Bucky Barnes.

A cold rush of realisation hit like a shock to the system. Your eyes widened in alarm as you took in the situation. Your hands braced against the solid plane of his chest, his body beneath yours, broad and unmoving. Worse, your legs were hooked around his hips, the warmth of him seeping through your clothes—oh gods, were you sitting on his—?

Panic jolted through you. Without a second thought, you scrambled off him in a flurry of movement, heat rushing to your face. Your hands shot up instinctively as if you could wave away the mortifying situation.

“I—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

Bucky didn’t move immediately. He remained where he was, lying on the ground, one arm bent behind his head. The dappled sunlight filtering through the trees cast shadows on his face, highlighting the defined angles of his cheekbones and the depth of his blue eyes. There was no teasing smirk, no cocky remark—just a quiet, lingering patience.

Finally, with a slow, fluid motion, he pushed himself upright, his expression unreadable.

“It’s fine,” he assured, his voice smooth but low, edged with something thoughtful. Just a quiet confidence that sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

You took a hurried step back, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the erratic beat of your heart refused to settle. You’d always known of Bucky Barnes—the colder one, the quiet one. The man whose name carried a reputation as cutting as winter’s first frost. Yet now, looking at him, the weight of that reputation felt at odds with how he carried himself.

There was something measured about his movements, deliberate and careful, as though he were wary of taking up too much space.

The silence stretched between you until his voice, softer this time, broke through. “You’ve got a little something…”

His hand shot up before you could reply—quick yet remarkably gentle. His fingers delicately moved through your hair, his careful touch igniting a familiar warmth in your gut.

You froze.

He plucked something from your hair and turned it over in his fingers. A single sweetpea, its delicate petals trembling in the breeze. Bucky studied it with quiet intensity, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Sweetpea,” he murmured, as if the word carried weight, his gaze flicking back to meet yours. How he looked at you—calm yet piercing—made your breath catch. For a fleeting moment, the world felt impossibly still.

Your cheeks burned. You didn’t even know why.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Something flickered across his face, subtle but there. Not quite a smile, but something close, something softer than you would have expected from a man with his reputation.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he said simply. Then, after a beat, quieter: “You could’ve hurt yourself.”

It was such a small thing. Barely even a kindness. You were glad the hero couldn’t sense the throbbing between your legs. Maybe this break-up with Leif had indeed done a number on you, lusting after the first man who showed you kindness... but there was something rather magnetic about the sergeant you couldn’t quite understand.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to focus and gather the scattered remnants of your pride. Your gaze turned to the abandoned basket of flowers at your feet, a welcome distraction.

"Right, well, thank you,” you muttered. “I should probably—”

You motioned vaguely toward the half-finished floral arch, eager to redirect the moment into something less intense. But before Bucky could respond, a sharp, frantic voice shattered the moment.

“Oh, gods! I’m so sorry, there was a bee, and I just—are you okay?” You barely had time to brace before Yelena was upon you, hands gripping your shoulders, her wide green eyes scanning your face as if she expected to find a gaping wound. You squirmed under her touch, cheeks still burning.

“I’m fine, Lena,” you mumbled, trying to pry her hands off you. “Really.”

“Yes, of course! This gentleman saved you—” Yelena cut herself off mid-sentence, her entire body freezing as she finally got a good look at him. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropping open in unfiltered shock. “Wait. You’re Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky’s expression shifted, barely, but you caught it. A flicker of something. Not quite discomfort, but something close. His posture stiffened, his fingers flexing once before settling back into stillness.

He didn’t confirm or deny it. He just gave a slow, short nod. You saw the way his throat bobbed slightly as he swallowed, the way he held himself—not defensive, exactly, but closed off as if he had already braced for whatever reaction was coming next.

Yelena’s gaze darted between you, her sharp mind working fast. Too fast. There was a feral glint in her eyes, one you knew well. You could practically see the cogs turning in her mind, a meddling scheme already in action. You held back a groan.

Before she could say something truly insufferable, a sharp, shrill voice rang out from across the unlit bonfire.

“There you are! I need more flowers—can you believe it? I thought we’d have enough with all that you grew. Please tell me you have more in that garden of yours!” You blinked, grateful for the interruption, and immediately turned towards the sound of Pepper’s voice.

“Yes, of course,” you called back, relief flooding through you. “I grew extra just in case. I had a feeling this might happen.”

“Wonderful! Oh, you’re a lifesaver today,” Pepper’s voice rose in excitement. “Leave the floral arches for now. I’ll have one of the girls help finish them up. If you could just run up to your garden—”

You didn’t need to hear the rest.

“Of course!” You cut her off a little too eagerly, desperate to get away from Yelena’s looming interrogation. It was almost like an escape route had opened, and you weren’t about to hesitate. Pepper barely seemed to notice your enthusiasm as she continued.

“Oh, but you won’t be able to carry them all alone, will you? Yelena, you’ll help her, won’t you? And, oh, Bucky, I didn’t realise you were down here already. If I send you and Steve up as well, can you help these lovely ladies?”

You turned towards him instinctively, almost uncertain of what to expect. Bucky, who had been silent throughout the exchange, lifted his head slightly. His eyes jumped towards Pepper, then towards you. His blue eyes were unreadable, his expression impossible to decipher.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Yeah.”

That was it. No unnecessary words, no wasted breath. Just a quiet, steady answer, the same way he seemed to carry himself, like a man who only spoke when it was worth speaking.

Yelena, on the other hand, was already on you like a hawk, latched onto your arm, nails digging through even your clothing as she grinned in excitement. Instead, you held back any protest that wanted to bubble to the surface, donning a hesitant smile. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the afternoon was about to take a turn for the absurd.

There was no way out of this now.

—

The sun sat high in the sky as the four of you climbed the hill towards the garden. The path was uneven, the dirt packed down from years of footsteps, the scent of wildflowers and earth thick in the warm air. You focused ahead, gripping the empty basket, determined not to meet anyone’s gaze—especially not Bucky’s.

Of course, Yelena had no such reservations. She walked beside Steve, hands clasped behind her back, the picture of feigned innocence. You could feel the question brewing before she even opened her mouth.

“So,” she began, her tone laced with a familiar mischief. “You two were some of the great heroes of the Blooded Age.”

Steve huffed a small, almost bashful laugh. “I wouldn’t call us heroes.”

“Really?” Yelena raised a brow. “Because I’ve heard plenty of stories that say otherwise. You fought monsters, saved villages, built armies—sounds pretty heroic to me.”

Steve glanced at Bucky as if expecting him to jump in, but the other man remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. Steve sighed and shrugged. “We did what needed to be done. It wasn’t about being heroes. People were dying, and the world was falling apart. We just... fought to keep it together.”

Yelena hummed, unimpressed with his humility. “And now you’re here. Retired.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You must be very tired.” She smirked. “All that fighting. Saving the world. Carrying such a heavy burden on those broad, broad shoulders.”

You choked on absolutely nothing, coughing into your hand as warmth flared in your cheeks.

Steve cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was time to put the war behind us.”

Yelena turned to Bucky, who had been walking a step behind, silent as ever. “And what about you, Barnes? Tired of fighting too?”

Bucky finally glanced her way, his expression unreadable.

“War doesn’t leave much room for a future.” His voice was low, quiet, but firm. “Figured it was time to start thinking about one.”

Yelena tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she was determined to solve. “And New Fernwick is the place to do that?”

Bucky didn’t answer immediately. His attention turned to you—brief and mysterious—before he looked back at the trail. “Seems as good a place as any.”

Yelena smirked, but you reached the garden before she could push further.

“Here we are!” You announced, a little too brightly, desperate to change the subject.

You set your basket down and knelt to gather the flowers, focusing intently on the task. Yelena crouched beside you, plucking a few stems with ease. Steve busied himself as well, his hands surprisingly gentle as he worked.

Bucky, however, remained standing with his arms crossed as he surveyed the field of blooms. After a brief pause, he crouched, reaching for a flower near your basket. You watched as his fingers brushed over the petals carefully and deliberately.

Yelena noticed too. “Didn’t peg you for a flower guy, Barnes.”

Bucky plucked the stem and twirled it between his fingers, his expression unreadable. “You learn to appreciate the small things when you don’t see ‘em for a long time.”

The words were simple, but they settled in your chest, something unspoken lingering beneath them.

Yelena, for once, said nothing.

The silence stretched as the four of you worked, the baskets gradually filling, until until Yelena, as always, shattered it with a single sentence—one that made your stomach drop the moment it left her mouth.

“So, are you two going to do the Mayflame Run?”

Your fingers tightened around the delicate stems of the flowers in your hands, nearly crushing them. Heat flared up your neck, and you snapped your head towards her. “Yelena.”

She only grinned, tilting her head in mock innocence. “What?”

She batted her lashes. “It’s a fair question.”

Bucky and Steve glanced up from where they were crouched, picking through the wildflowers. The question had caught them off guard. Steve’s brow furrowed, curiosity laced with hesitation.

“What exactly is the Mayflame Run?” he asked.

You parted your lips, scrambling for a way to downplay it, but Yelena was already launching into her favourite pastime—oversharing.

“It’s a spring festival all about welcoming in the new season... new life... fertility and all that.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis, an impish smirk tugging at her lips.

Steve blinked, his expression shifting into one of wary understanding. “Right…”

The mischief in Yelena’s eyes deepened as she continued.

“The main event is the run. We call it the Springbond Run, but let’s be honest—everyone knows what it’s really about. See, after the Blooded Age, people kind of… forgot how to date. Or just didn’t bother.” She waved a hand as if brushing aside years of devastation. “War, famine, monsters—it put a real damper on romance. And, well, people aren’t exactly repopulating at the rate they should be, so...”

She shot Steve a pointed look. “The elders decided to encourage things.”

Steve still looked uncertain. "And how does it work?”

You exhaled through your nose, adjusting your basket.

“The women carry torches and run through the dark forest,” you explained, keeping your voice even as possible. “The goal is to reach the clearing on the other side and light the bonfire.”

You hesitated, dreading the next part. “The men chase them.”

Steve’s brows lifted. “They chase them?”

You nodded stiffly, but Yelena was the one who answered.

“If you get caught,” she said breezily, “you have to date the guy who caught you for a week. You’re now each other’s Springbond. After that, you decide if you want to keep seeing each other or go your separate ways. Most end up sticking it out. Either for marriage or, at the very least, some fun.”

Your stomach twisted as Bucky’s gaze flickered towards you. He hadn’t spoken yet or reacted outwardly, but you felt the weight of his attention pressing against your skin like an unspoken question.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, clearly processing the information. “And what happens to the women who manage to light the bonfire?”

“Oh, then they get to choose who they spend the week with,” Yelena said. "Which honestly makes the whole thing even more exciting. It’s so dark, you don’t always know who’s chasing you until they’re right on top of you, pinning you to the ground—”

Steve choked on his own breath, shifting awkwardly. You clamped your eyes shut, pressing your fingers to your temples.

“Yelena.”

“What?” she said, all false innocence.

“It’s true. And let’s be real, some people don’t even wait until after the run to start celebrating.” She smirked. “All that adrenaline, all that tension, out there all alone in the woods—”

Steve made another strangled sound, and you wished, for the first time in your life, that you had the power to smite Yelena where she stood.

“And this is normal?” he asked weakly.

You let out a long breath. “Yes. It’s… tradition.”

Yelena’s smirk stretched wider, and a pit of dread opened in your stomach just before she delivered the final blow.

“Oh, she would know,” she said airily. “She’s done it three times.”

Silence.

You felt the shift in the air before you even looked up. Steve was already glancing away politely, but Bucky—Bucky’s gaze was steady, unyielding, waiting. His expression was unreadable, but there was something sharp beneath it, something that made your pulse stutter.

Your mouth went dry. “I—uh—yeah.”

Yelena cackled, delighted. “And she had quite the reputation for it, too. She and Leif turned it into a year-long one-night stand."

Your stomach dropped. Heat flared at your ears, mortification wrapping around your ribs like a vice. Steve coughed into his fist, visibly uncomfortable, but Bucky—Bucky still hadn’t looked away. The weight of his silence pressed against you, heavier than any words could be. He didn’t flinch, didn’t frown, didn’t even raise a damn eyebrow. He just watched as if waiting for you to offer something. An explanation. A reaction.

You swallowed hard.

Yelena, meanwhile, had absolutely no shame.

“Some people take the week actually to get to know each other,” she continued with a smirk. “Others treat it like a festival fling. A week-long one-night stand, if you will.”

She turned to Bucky then, eyes glinting. “You seem like the type who’d do a Mayflame run.”

Bucky finally exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. “You get that from watching me pick flowers?”

Yelena leant in. “No, I got it from watching you look at her.”

Your breath hitched.

Bucky didn’t flinch. Didn’t react at all. He just held her gaze for a long moment before standing, dusting the dirt from his hands with deliberate ease.

“We should get these back,” he said.

That was it. No denial.

Your pulse thrummed in your ears as Yelena shot you a triumphant look, nudging your arm with her elbow. You shoved her back harder than necessary, grabbing your basket with too much force.

—

You had braided sweetpeas into your hair, their delicate petals—a cascade of soft pinks, purples, and whites—woven carefully through your strands. The fragrance clung to you, sweet and fleeting, barely noticeable except when the wind stirred just right. You didn’t know why you had done it. Maybe it was a whim, an idle distraction while you got ready for the Mayflame. Maybe it was some quiet hope you refused to name, a foolish sentiment born from the strange afternoon. Or maybe, worse than all of that, it was the loneliness of returning to an empty house.

Leif had left while you were gone. You hadn’t seen him pack or even heard the door shut behind him. Just silence, so much silence. His absence had been waiting for you like a ghost when you stepped inside. No trace of him remained, save for a few scuff marks on the wooden floor and a half-finished bottle of cider in the kitchen. You had stared at it for a long time before scrubbing the house clean in a fit of confused energy as if sweeping away the dust might sweep away the ache in your chest.

Did you even want to run tonight? If it always turned out this way?

Leif had been inevitable—his leaving, even more so. The one before him barely lasted the week. And the first... gods, the first. You didn’t let yourself think about that one.

Yet here you were, standing in the dark forest, a burning torch in your hand.

The other women huddled together, whispering in excited clusters, their laughter soft and secretive beneath the trees. The firelight flickered over their masked faces, catching on the gilded edges and painted symbols of the goddess of spring. Yelena was causing trouble somewhere in the throng, as always, her voice carrying through the dark.

“I swear, I can pick them out. I just need a second,” she was saying.

You sighed, already knowing exactly what she was up to.

“It’s a useless pursuit,” you had reminded her earlier. “They’ll be masked, everyone will. That’s the whole point.��

And yet, she was determined. You caught a glimpse of her through the shifting bodies, her blonde hair twisted into an elaborate crown braid behind her fox mask, taunting the gathered men. They stood on the opposite side of the clearing, a sea of darkened figures illuminated only by flickering torchlight. The line between hunter and hunted might have blurred if not for their masks.

You fiddled with the edges of your own mask, adjusting it once more against your face. Each mask bore the likeness of a creature of the forest—the women had prey animals: deer, rabbits, and foxes. You had chosen a wide-eyed doe, its carved wooden surface smooth against your fingertips. The men, in contrast, wore the guises of predators: wolves, bears, and great hunting birds.

A shiver trailed down your spine as you scanned their ranks, the shadows swallowing their bodies.

This was fate, they said. A tradition older than the Blooded Age. The goddess of spring would take the helm, guiding her children together.

Destiny, not choice.

You weren’t sure you believed in fate anymore.

Still, you craned your neck, searching for Yelena again before the race began. Some women had already lined up at the start, their torches raised, waiting for the signal. You pushed through the crowd, weaving past a group of masked rabbits, your torch casting long, twisting shadows over the forest floor.

Yelena stood at the edge of the men’s group, utterly unbothered, her fox mask tilted slightly as she studied them. The smirk you couldn’t see was undoubtedly plastered across her face.

“Lena,” you called lightly.

She turned towards you, still distracted. “You’d think we’d be able to recognise them even with the masks, right? They should be massive, but it’s so hard to tell in the dark—”

You grabbed her wrist, pulling her away. “Come on.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled.

As you turned, your torchlight swept over a lone figure standing at the edge of the men’s group. Half-shrouded in shadow, his wolf mask glinted in the firelight. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, yet there was an unmistakable intensity in his standing and watching.

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze.

Tugging Yelena along, you stepped towards the start line.

The time was near.

You gathered your skirts with one hand, feeling the rough fabric in your fist. The cool night air licked at your skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine. Around you, the other women shifted in anticipation, their torches flickering like stars in the dark. Somewhere beyond the trees, the men waited. Watching.

A hush fell over the gathered crowd. Then—

The drum sounded.

The tension snapped, and you ran.

Flames bobbed wildly as the women surged forward, feet pounding against the forest floor. Laughter rang through the night, breathless and high, voices calling to one another before being swallowed by the trees.

Yelena was gone in an instant, lost in the chaos.

You barely had time to register it before you were weaving between trunks, torchlight bouncing wildly in your periphery. Your skirts whipped around your legs, the rough fabric catching on twigs and undergrowth, but you didn’t slow. The forest stretched wide before you, vast and shrouded in shadows.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, heart hammering against your ribs.

It was exhilarating.

You could hear the others somewhere to your left, their laughter spilling through the trees, echoing their footfalls blending with your own. And behind you, somewhere in the dark, the men had begun their pursuit.

The sound of movement grew. Leaves rustled, and twigs snapped.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t dare look back.

Instead, you pushed forward, your torchlight slicing through the thick night. The distant hum of music reached your ears, the festival, just beyond the treeline. You were close. So close.

Then—impact.

A weight slammed into you from the side, knocking the air from your lungs. Your torch flew from your grasp, landing somewhere in the brush, its flame sputtering but not extinguished.

You hit the ground hard, back pressing into the cool earth, the scent of moss and crushed leaves filling your senses. Above you, a broad figure loomed, breathing heavily from the chase.

The dim torchlight barely illuminated him, casting jagged shadows across the carved wolf mask that stared down at you. The smooth, wooden surface gave away nothing—no expression, no hint of who was beneath it.

Your pulse thundered.

Around you, the chase still roared on. Footsteps pounded the earth, laughter echoing as others darted past, unseen but near.

You swallowed hard, your breath coming fast, your chest rising and falling. You had been caught.

But gods, it was thrilling.

The figure above you didn’t move, as if waiting—for what, you weren’t sure. His hands were braced on either side of you, caging you in, his breath still heavy from the chase. Yet he didn’t press his advantage or seize you like the others would have. Instead, he lingered, watching.

Then, in the flickering torchlight, he reached for your hair.

You barely breathed as his fingers tangled into the strands, the movement deliberate, almost reverent. Slowly, he plucked one of the deep violet sweetpeas from your braid, twirling it between his fingers before your masked face. The petals fluttered slightly with the motion, fragile between the ridges of his calloused fingertips.

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then, finally, his voice, low, deep, rough with exertion.

“Hey, sweetpea.”

The nickname sent a shock through you, something warm curling in your chest even as your breath hitched. Recognition dawned, sharp and sudden.

“Bucky?” You murmured, stunned.

Even if surprise coursed through you, it made sense. The sheer size of the body hovering above yours, the weight of him pressing into the earth, the controlled stillness…it was him. A reversed echo of your earlier position that day.

“How did you—”

“Your hair,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, rougher. “You put flowers in your hair. I recognised it.”

He reached up, fingers catching the edge of his mask, and in a smooth motion, he pulled it free. The last flickers of the torch beside you cast just enough light to reveal the sweat beading on his brow, the shadows cutting across his sharp features—and the unmistakable, almost feral gleam in his eye.

Something deep inside you clenched at the sight.

You exhaled a breathless laugh, your hands instinctively sliding up his broad shoulders, fingers curling around the back of his neck. Beneath your palms, his skin was hot, his pulse hammering. “I didn’t think you were running.”

“I wasn’t going to.” He hesitated, head tilting slightly as footsteps dashed past, followed by an excited shriek from one of the other women. The sound faded into the trees, leaving you in perfect darkness, only the two of you remaining in the silence. “But—”

He trailed off, his voice thick with something unspoken. His weight above you was solid, immovable, and gods, you liked it.

“Do you want this?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Instead of answering, you twisted your arm, pulling your mask off. You weren’t sure he could see the grin curling your lips in the dark, so you let your actions speak for you. Tugging him closer, your chests collided, heat blooming between you.

“Yes,” you breathed.

And then his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was molten, searing through your veins like wildfire. He wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t uncertain—he kissed you like he had been holding himself back for far too long, like the chase had only wound him tighter, and now he was unravelling against you.

You gasped into his mouth as he shifted, his weight pressing down on you, one hand sliding to your waist, fingers digging in, anchoring you to him. His other hand tangled in your hair, gripping just enough to make your head tilt back, giving him full access. He took it eagerly, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a slow, devastating stroke.

Heat pooled in your stomach, your legs shifting beneath him, but then—

With shocking ease, he moved.

For a brief second, you were weightless, a startled sound escaping your lips as he lifted you effortlessly from the ground. You barely had time to react before your back hit rough bark, the solid tree trunk now bracing you. His hands were firm as they guided your legs around his waist, pinning you in place. You could already feel his cock growing hard, pressed into one of your thighs as you squirmed beneath him.

A shudder wracked through you at his sheer strength, the way he handled you like you weighed nothing. The last remnants of your composure shattered when his lips found your throat, the scrape of his teeth ghosting over sensitive skin. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, the sensation overwhelming and utterly intoxicating.

"You run fast, angel," he murmured against your skin, his voice dark and teasing. His lips trailed lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. "But not fast enough."

A breathless laugh escaped you, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling just enough to make him look at you. In the darkness, his blue eyes burned.

“I didn’t want to get away.”

Bucky’s breath hitched, and he just looked at you for a moment. Then, his grip on your waist loosened, fingers slipping beneath your skirts. He let out a deep groan as his digits navigated past your underwear, sweeping through the wetness already gathered. “You’re so wet already.”

You threw your head back at the small act of friction, your skull pressing hard into the rough bark as your chest heaved. He did one final pass, stroking through your folds. In the close distance between your faces, you could see a smirk lingering as your hips rocked involuntarily, begging for more.

Bucky brought his fingers to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as he pressed them flat against his tongue, dragging them slowly past his lips. His eyelids fluttered briefly, his breath coming heavier as he tasted you, a low, guttural sound rumbling in his chest. “Mmm.”

Heat coiled in your stomach at the sound, something deep and electric winding tight inside you.

“Bucky—” The whine clawed unexpectedly from your throat, raw with desperation.

He smirked, his expression both teasing and dark, his hand slipping between your bodies.

“I know, sweetpea,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers fumbled blindly with his belt, metal clinking softly in the hush of the forest. You could feel his hunger in the way his body pressed against yours, restless, taut with restraint he was barely clinging to.

You rolled your hips against his hand, a breathless sigh spilling from your lips as friction sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs. He inhaled sharply, his head tilting slightly as if savouring the way you reacted to him.

“Tell me,” he coaxed, his voice lower now, almost commanding.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, nails digging in. Your head tipped back against the tree's rough bark, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your lips parted around the words.

“I need you,” you whispered. “Now.”

Something snapped in his expression.

Bucky didn’t hesitate.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his fingers hooked into the delicate fabric of your underwear. His patience was fraying. No careful undressing, no gentle peeling away. His grip was rough and decisive, a growl slipping from his throat as he gave one sharp tug. The fabric tore effortlessly beneath his fast fingers, the sound lost beneath the hammering of your pulse in your ears. He didn’t even bother pulling them down—too impatient, too consumed by need.

You could practically feel your wetness dripping down to your thighs as he blindly lined himself up, cock pushing into your needy heat. Your head dipped, your mouth finding the top of his shoulder as you bit down lightly with a soft cry. The world beyond this moment—the festival, the music, the laughter—blurred into nothingness. The only thing that existed was the feverish press of his body, the way his fingers dug into your skin, anchoring you to him as if he never wanted to let go.

“Fuck.” He hummed low in your ear. His voice strained as he slowly rocked in and out of you. You could tell he was restraining himself, his muscles taut along his back. You hooked your legs around his waist tighter, pulling your bodies flush.

Bucky tilted his head, his lips ghosting over your jaw before finally finding your mouth, desperate and all-consuming. His pace faltered for a moment, a quiet groan slipping from his throat as you tightened around him.

“Gods, you’re so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ perfect—” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer. Your breath was hot against his neck and ear as you whispered. “Then don’t stop.”

Any type of restraint the hero had been holding snapped, his hips immediately jerking into action, beginning a relentless pace, withdrawing from you only to slam back inside. Each thrust sent sparks through your body, pleasure coiling tighter, overwhelming in its intensity. One of his hands roamed, sliding down your thigh to where you connected.

You let out a gasping moan into his shoulder as his thumb found your clit, the added circling motion sending a spike of pleasure up your spine. You felt your cunt tighten around him again as you jolted from the sensation, back arching inward.

“Bucky—” You groaned into his ear, head tilting as you laid hot, sloppy kisses that were all lips and tongue along his neck. You could taste salt on his skin, sweat beginning to mist both of you. The squelching and slapping sounds of your connected bodies echoed through the dark forest, the both of you barely holding back the pleasured moans and gasps.

“You gonna cum for me, angel?” Bucky growled against your throat. Your toes curled in delight. His strokes were already growing frantic and sloppy. You pushed yourself back against the trunk, chest heaving as you used your grip around his waist to grind yourself upon his thumb further. A coiling sensation grew in your gut, a knot beginning to tighten. You closed your eyes with a gasp, chasing the sensation.

“Y-Yes.” You stammered through your pants, nails digging into his shoulders as your body began to shudder around him. Bucky let out a dark chuckle, straining through his grit teeth as he continued to plough into you. His thumb circled once more, gentle but practiced. You felt your back arch involuntarily—

You moan his name as every wave of pleasure washes over you. Your hips buck and your thighs shake, but he doesn’t let up. His cock strokes inside of you at a continued relentless pace, and he moans right along with you. Bucky’s hand began to roam along your legs, gripping your flesh tighter as he chased his own release. There would be finger-shaped bruises all over your hips and thighs by the time this was over.

You’re panting above him. Eyes closed, the grip on his shoulders slackening as ropes of thick, hot cum fill you. His cock throbs, each pump releasing even more, only stopping as his hips stutter and his heated moans in your ear fade.

The two of you panted in the aftermath. Bodies still pressed together as the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back into your ears—the distant thrum of festival music, the rustling leaves overhead, the occasional laughter of those still running through the trees. Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Bucky shifted first, pressing a lingering kiss to the base of your throat, his lips warm and soft against your sweat-dampened skin. His breath fanned over your collarbone as he slowly and carefully lowered you to your feet. Your knees nearly buckled when they touched the earth, your legs trembling with exhaustion. A startled gasp left you as you clung to him for support, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Easy, sweetpea,” he murmured, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest as he steadied you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist. His touch was grounding and reassuring, though the heat in his gaze told you he wasn’t entirely done with you yet.

You huffed a breathless laugh, tilting your head to look at him.

“You know we have to go to the dance now, right?” Though amusement laced your tone, you could already picture the knowing smirks Yelena and the others would shoot you when you finally emerged.

Bucky smirked, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Even better,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear. “All I’ll be able to think about is those little noises you make... and that mess between your legs.”

Your breath hitched, a shiver rolling down your spine despite the lingering warmth in your limbs. You swallowed hard, heat pooling low in your belly once more at the thought of his hands on you again, the way he had unravelled you so easily.

He tilted your chin up with a single finger, pressing a teasing kiss to your lips before stepping back slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Come on, sweetpea,” he murmured, his eyes flickering with mischief as he laced his fingers with yours. “Let’s go dance.”

—

By the time you and Bucky arrived, the festival was in full swing, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced cider, and the smoky tang of bonfires. Laughter and music filled the clearing, the rhythmic beat of drums and the sweet hum of strings carrying through the night. Couples swayed to the music, feet shuffling against the packed earth as villagers danced in loose circles, the warmth of drink and celebration evident in every movement.

You barely had time to take it all in before a chorus of knowing smirks and raised brows greeted your arrival. Yelena, seated at a long wooden table with a tankard of something strong in hand, nearly choked on her drink when she spotted you—your slightly dishevelled hair, the flush still clinging to your skin, and Bucky’s possessive grip on your waist.

“About time,” she called with a grin, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Did you get lost?”

Bucky, unbothered, merely smirked and tugged you towards the dancing. “Something like that.”

You shot her a look, but it was impossible to ignore the amused glances and hushed whispers behind you. You tried not to think about the wet mess—a combination of both your fluids nesting between your thighs. Bucky had offered you a handkerchief to clean up, but the small square of fabric had done little against the wetness dripping down your thigh. What didn’t help was the thought of that handkerchief he casually tucked back into his pocket before you could protest. Your lips parted, ready with some half-hearted excuse, but Bucky spun you into his arms before you could respond.

The moment he pulled you into the dance, the rest of the festival seemed to fade into the background. His hands found your waist, guiding you through the steps with ease, music thrumming beneath your skin. Everything was intoxicating, with the warmth of his palm against the small of your back and the gentle pressure of his fingers as he led you.

His lips dipped close to your ear as you moved, swaying to the rhythm. “So, who is this Leif guy?”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard, but then sighed, your fingers tightening slightly against his shoulder. “Oh—just… my last Springbond.”

The words felt foreign on your tongue now, distant. “It didn’t really work out in the end.”

Bucky hummed, his thumb brushing slow, lazy circles over your hip. “Why not? Sounded like you lasted longer than a week.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, tilting your head back slightly to meet his gaze.

“Well… we just had different paths. He wanted to explore, adventure, sleep around…” You trailed off, gaze flickering to the firelight dancing in his blue eyes. “I was looking to settle. I’m just tired after everything. I feel you would understand that.”

His grip on you tightened ever so slightly, his gaze dark and steady as he murmured, “I understand you completely, angel.”

Something in the way he said it made your chest ache, warmth curling in your stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the fire or the wine or the exhilaration of the chase. He understood.

You held his gaze, the firelight dancing over his face. There was something ancient in his eyes, something heavy, worn by time and battle. You had known, of course, what he and Steve were before they arrived in New Fernwick—everyone did.

And yet, when the war ended, when the Riftborn were vanquished and peace finally settled over the world, they had simply walked away. But peace was a fickle thing, and you often wondered if it had truly found them in return.

Bucky’s fingers flexed against your waist, grounding you back in the present.

“You ever think about it?” you asked softly.

He tilted his head slightly, the movement curious. “Think about what?”

You hesitated for only a moment before speaking. “The way things used to be. Before.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t look away.

“Sometimes.” His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. “I don’t miss it. But it’s hard to let go of something that shaped you.”

You nodded, understanding. The past had a way of clinging to people, no matter how far they ran.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“Steve took to peace like it was always meant for him. I think he’s been waiting for it his whole life. Me…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a faint line. “I think I’m still figuring it out.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. He deserved peace just as much as anyone else.

As the music slowed, your hands slid from his shoulders, fingers tracing the length of his arms before settling over his. His grip tightened instinctively like he knew what you were about to say.

“Come home with me.” The words were quiet, tentative, but certain.

Bucky stilled for half a beat, and then his lips parted, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No doubt. Just certainty, as if he had been waiting for you to ask.

—

The door creaked softly as you pushed it open, stepping inside with Bucky close behind you. You moved awkwardly through the space, glancing at the walls, the furniture, anything but him, as though it could distract from the knot forming in your stomach. The house felt both too small and too big now, the empty rooms amplifying the tension in the air.

Bucky stepped in after you, his boots echoing softly on the wooden floor as he glanced around. His gaze lingered on the fire's warm glow in the hearth, he seemed at ease. His eyes scanned every corner of the space, taking in the simple comforts of home. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You shifted nervously, breaking the silence with an anxious laugh. “You don’t actually have to do the full week if you don’t want to... I mean, most people just use it as an excuse to get off work—” Your words stumbled out, and you cut yourself off, realising how ridiculous you probably sounded.

Bucky turned toward you, his eyes dark with amusement but softened with something else, a quiet intensity. He was silent for a long moment, focusing entirely on you. Finally, his lips quirked up, and his voice was low and deliberate.

“Sweetpea, I love the sound of your beautiful voice, but just shut up... and kiss me.”

Before you could respond, his hands were already pulling you close, his mouth slanting over yours in a searing kiss that left no room for hesitation. You melted against him, your body pressing into his with a soft urgency, both of you stumbling as you navigated the space towards the bed. His grip on you was firm and reassuring, yet there was a rawness to it, an unspoken need that made your heart race faster.

You fumbled through the room together, bumping into furniture. Your hands sought purchase on his broad chest or tangled in his hair as you kissed desperately, blindly. The dim light from the hearth barely illuminated the path ahead. His lips were warm and hungry, pulling at yours with an intensity that made your pulse spike.

There was a quiet reassurance in how his hands roamed over your body, the steady pressure of his touch as though he wanted to anchor you in the here and now. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t treating this like a fleeting moment. You laughed softly against his lips as you stumbled into the bed, falling together in a tangled heap of limbs and tangled sheets. For a moment, all that mattered was the warmth of his skin against yours, the unspoken understanding that this was something different, something real.

Something that could last.

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rustymind · 4 months ago

Text

snowy night - oneshot

summary: satoru and you are about to go home after your unsuccessful first date, but the car breaks down, making you stay there on a winter night, with no heat and angry glances.

tags: gojo x reader, fluff, winter fic

warnings: none, just swearing

word count: 1.7K

awkward, painful silence sat in the car as you and gojo were driving home from the unsuccessful date you two just had. outside the snow wasn't just gently falling, but pouring from the sky, clouding the windows too, the sun was setting on the horizon, pinkish light illuminating the landscape before you.

your arms were crossed, your gaze looking through the window with slightly narrowed eyes as you try to ignore the white-haired boy sitting next to you with the wheel in his hands and pout on his lips.

you barely even remembered what exactly started the arguement between you two, but you were certain that it was his fault and without an apology, the date shouldn't continue. him acting like the annoying, stubborn person he is, just continued the bickering further, not thinking it would really end the whole date.

well it did.

"going on a date together was a stupid idea to begin with" you think with a quiet huff as your grip on your coat tightens.

all your friends were nagging you to go on a date already, shoko stating that she could see the 'chemistry' between you. well it seems like she's blind, because even when you all are spending time together, you and gojo just cannot get along. never.

could he make you ever smile? yeah that happened sometimes. did you notice that sometime's he's acting like he wants to catch speifically your attention? of course you did. did some of your conversations live rent-free in your head? perhaps.

but.

does that mean that you have to go on a whole ass date just to continue the endless cycle of pushing eachothers buttons? absolutely not.

"are you thinking about how you want to apologise?" he looked at you from the corner off his eye, a suppressed smile tugging on his lips.

"are you?" you glare back. "because if one should apologise that is you and you only."

he just looked back at the road, not ready to admit defeat, but deep down knowing that maybe he shouldn't have tried to make you jealous. at least not on the first date.

"i have nothing to apologise for" he then answered with a shrug, immediately regretting the descision. why was it so hard to just apologise to you? he didn't understand.

"nothing?" you scoff. "you know-"

before you could continue on with your scolding, a loud, sudden sound comes from the front of the car, making you jump a little. the vehicle started to slow down on the snowy road until it eventually stopped, gojo pulling in over just in time.

"what happened?" you glance at him as he's trying to start the engine again, without any success whatsoever.

"no idea" comes the not so helpful answer before gojo opens his door, getting out of the car. "stay inside."

you watch him open the car hood, looking into the car. you follow him, standing next to him in the ankle-deep snow and staring at the vehicle. you place your hands on your hips and lean forward in the hope of seeing something.

"what are we looking at?" you ask.

"i told you to stay inside, it's cold here" he says grumpily, not answering your question.

"oh, so you're suddenly now worried? or just missing that waitress?" you say with a scoff which makes him grin a little.

"so you did become jealous! i knew it!"

"i did not. now stay silent and fix the car, make yourself useful!"

he hums, looking into the vehicle like he is concentrating on something, then back at you.

"i have no idea how this works" he says.

"are you telling me that we're stuck here?" you say every word slowly, frustration penting up in you.

"exactly!" a big smile spreads on his lips. "don't worry, i already told shoko to come and get us."

you narrow your eyes a little bit. the wind was blowing hard, your hair blowing in your face, you felt like you're about to become a snowman if you stand there for more than two minutes.

"then why are we even standing here gojo??"

a dramatic gasp escapes his lips, hand on his heart theatrically.

"c'mon love, not the last name!! did this date mean nothing to you?" he whines.

"you didn't answer my question!" i cross my arms, looking around. we really are in the middle of nowhere. not even street lights were around, it was starting to get dark.

"it's adorable to watch as your cheeks turn red from the cold" he finally answers, not surprising you the least.

"i can't help but feel like you're still trying so hard!"

"and the problem with that...?" his smirk widened, making you a little angrier. if he could've just apologised for flirting with the waitress, you two would be in a so so much better situation, but no that's where he draws the line!

you just leave him there before he could say anything, you get back into the car on the backseat, shivering as you already feel the temperature of the car lower drastically, windows becoming somewhat icy, the seats feeling hard and cold too.

you look around for any blankets but get interrupted by the white haired annoyance, dropping himself on the seat next to you.

a sigh of frustration leaves your lips, crossing your arms as an attempt to warm yourself up while staring outside through the window once again.

the car was pulled over in a quite pretty area, a forest covered in soft snow, the lonely branches of the trees holding the weight quietly, a few crows sitting on them before all of them opens their wings, flying away and only leaving two behind. the restaurant he brought you to was higher on the mountain, making the landscape from there even more beautiful.

of course he had to fuck it up.

the moments were slow, every second lasting decades as you two sat in silence, cold running on your body, the shivering was now undeniable.

you glanced at him, he didn't make any effort to warm himself up, he even took off his coat. suddenly unwanted thoughts started to invade your mind, talking about how warm his body must be.

"aren't you cold?" you ask after a few minutes.

gojo's blue eyes meet yours, at first, for a teeny tiny second he seems like he'll smile but then just pouted instead, his hands fiddling with his clothes. if he just held your hand in his, that would probably make the cold more bearable.

"why? you worried?"

you huff, turning your head away again. you knew that your worry was exactly what he wanted at that moment.

"you're just crazy" you answer, expecting the conversation to continue but he doesn't say another thing.

you look at him again, but as soon as you do, he wraps his black coat around you, trapping you with it and pulling you into his arms, your head against his chest, a small yelp leaving your lips.

his body felt warm, but yours started to feel a little bit warmer somehow. the stiffness leaves you seconds later, even though you try not to melt into the hug too much.

his arms were holding you close, his head rested on top of yours, his heartbeats seemed to speed up even if just a little bit.

"gojo-"

"don't even start a sentence like that" he interrupts you with an almost childish frown on his face.

"you have three seconds to say that before i push you away and drag you into that forest." your voice is threatening but somehow he still managed to hear the smile in your tone that you tried to hide with every fiber of your body.

"c'mon, don't be cruel!" gojo whined, glancing down at you.

"two..."

his grip around you slightly tightened as if he was afraid that you'd really pull away.

"one-"

"fine, i love you!!" he said as fast as he could, his gaze turned away.

your breath hitches, eyes widen at the sudden confession, you feel like you've been slapped in the face, in the best way possible.

"you what?" you ask, trying to steady your voice.

at least being cold definetly wasn't your number one problem anymore.

"isn't that what you wanted to hear??" he questions dramatically, raising his voice a little.

"i wanted a fucking apology!" disbelief in your voice as you match his tone.

a few moments of silence comes as he is just staring at you, blinking slowly. you had to admit he looked quite adorable like this, big blue eyes looking at you, a small blush creeping on his cheeks.

"oh!"

you can't help but chuckle at his reaction, a grin appearing on your face.

"so you love me?"

"and if i do?" he huffs.

"then, satoru" you start out, already seeing his expression light up when you finally say his first name. he just loved how it left your lips so effortlessly yet with so much kindness. "you're extremely lucky because i may be feeling the same way."

"i knew it!" he says smugly, trying to forget that he ever questioned it. of course you love him. "from day one."

you raise one eyebrow, glancing up at him once again.

"day one i wanted to strangle you."

he pouts again.

"and now?"

"i still want to strangle you" you say. "but now with a little affection."

he chuckles, pulling you so close that you're basically sitting on his lap at this point. he hides his face in the crook of your neck, his hair in his face, arms around your body as he is still trying to warm you up.

big snowflakes started to fall from the sky, the storm quieting down. all you could feel was his body hugging yours warmly, his scent filling your mind, fogging your rational thoughts as you melt into his embrace.

time slowed down but you couldn't been happier.

"say it" he mumbled eventually.

you sigh, eyes closing while a smile is spreading on your lips.

"i love you too."

after those words, you slowly start to feel like your eyelids are becoming heavier, all the adrenaline from the frustration leaving your body. your breathing becomes relaxed and before you drift into sleep, you have to admit, maybe shoko was right about this whole thing after all. maybe it could work out.

haii!! i hope you had a good time reading this, it's the first fanfic i've ever written so sorry if it's not that good! also, english is not my first language so if i made a mistake feel free to correct me (^-^)

comments are appreciated!!

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screaminglygay · 4 months ago

Text

KINKTOBER (day 10)

pairing: darkish!marvel ladies x fem!reader, wanda x reader, natasha x reader, kate x reader, yelena x reader, carol x reader, maria x reader - multiverse

summary: you find yourself shyly admitting your desire to be with them... and they love it

warnings: possessive behavior, teasing, edging, dirty talk, swearing

wordcount: 3.9k

an: last day of kinktober wohoo, enjoy halloween my little gays and be safe!!!

part one here!

Hours later, you’re sprawled across the bed, Wanda´s? Natasha´s? You´re not really sure, feeling a hazy warmth as the adrenaline fades and soft laughter fills the room. You’re nestled between Wanda and Natasha, each of them gently stroking your hair. Kate lies at the end of the bed, propped on her elbow, eyes glinting with a lingering mischievousness as she watches you with a fond, satisfied smile. While Carol is taking a shower and Maria is just sitting in the chair.

“Look at her,” Kate murmurs, her tone laced with both awe and amusement. “We might have worn her out.”

Wanda hums, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Worn out or not, she’s still perfect,” she whispers, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder. There’s an undeniable pride in her gaze, something that feels as possessive as it is affectionate.

Natasha smirks, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, her expression softer than usual. “Precious is an understatement,” she says, her voice still rough but now tempered with a quiet admiration. “I think we might have a problem if anyone else finds out how amazing she is.”

You chuckle weakly, warmth blooming across your cheeks as their words sink in, and Wanda gives your hand a squeeze, her thumb brushing tenderly over your knuckles. “Don’t worry, malysh,” she murmurs. “You’re ours. We’ll make sure of that.”

Kate lets out a laugh, reaching over to give you a playful poke on the arm. “Hey, remember, Captain gets all the best cuddles,” she teases, eyes twinkling. “I wasn’t joking earlier. So make some room for her too.” She winks, making the girls roll their eyes.

Carol steps out of the bathroom, her hair still damp from the shower, wearing only a loose tank top and shorts. She glances over, a smirk tugging at her lips as she takes in the scene of you nestled among the others.

“Looks like I missed the after-party,” she murmurs, eyeing the way Kate’s hand rests on your arm and Wanda’s fingers trace gentle circles on your shoulder. She raises an eyebrow at Natasha, who’s standing up and adjusting her clothes.

Natasha gives Carol a knowing look and nods. “I’ll be back in a little while. Just have to… deal with something.” The tone in her voice is vague but carries weight, and the other women exchange glances, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

You, however, just watch as Natasha slips out the door, wondering what exactly she has to handle. But before the thought settles, Carol slips onto the bed beside you, drawing your attention back to the moment. Her arm wraps around you with a lazy familiarity, pulling you against her as she gives you a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Missed me already?” she teases, her voice low and warm, her fingers trailing down your arm in a way that sends a pleasant shiver through you.

You chuckle, nestling into the warmth of her embrace. “Maybe,” you say, trying not to sound too eager, though the comfort of her presence makes your heart flutter.

Kate grins, leaning over to you, “careful, or Captain here will get spoiled by all the attention. Next thing you know, she’ll be monopolizing all your time.” Her voice is teasing, her eyes gleaming as she shoots Carol a challenging look.

Carol chuckles, tilting her head as she meets Kate’s gaze. “Oh, you’re one to talk, Bishop. As if you don’t hog enough time with her already.”

“Both of you,” Wanda interjects, her tone light but possessive as her hand smooths over your arm. “We all know who she comes to for the real quality time.” She smirks at you, her fingers curling around yours in a gentle but unmistakably possessive hold.

You feel your cheeks flush under their collective attention, a warm glow settling over you as each of them stakes their playful claim. Maria, still sitting in the chair by the bed, shakes her head with a soft smile, watching the scene unfold with a quiet amusement.

“I mean, can you blame her?” she teases, crossing her legs and leaning back. “With all of us making sure she feels… appreciated, she’s got it pretty good.”

Carol chuckles, tightening her arm around you and brushing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll keep you occupied until Nat gets back. We can’t have you getting bored.”

Wanda leans in close, her voice a soft murmur against your ear. “Or distracted. We like keeping you right where you belong… with us.” Her lips brush your cheek, her gaze lingering as if daring you to look away.

As you sink deeper into the warmth of their embrace, a faint thought tugs at the back of your mind. Where did Natasha go? You can’t help but wonder, a trace of curiosity and concern flickering through you.

But before you can follow the thought any further, Wanda’s fingers brush your cheek, and you glance over to find her looking at you with a knowing smile. Her gaze is soft yet focused, and for a second, you feel as if she’s reading every unspoken question in your mind. Wanda’s eyes narrow slightly, a subtle, affectionate warning, as she exchanges a quick glance with the others, a silent cue for them to keep your mind occupied.

Carol picks up on it immediately, shifting closer to you and giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Pretty little thing,” she teases, her tone light as her hand trails down your arm. “are you here with us?”

You hum, Wanda looks at you, pulling your attention back to her as she strokes a finger along your jawline, her eyes glinting playfully. “Let Natasha handle her business, malysh. She’ll be back soon.” Her words are soft but intentional, grounding you in the moment.

Kate leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as she tilts her head. “Or are you just that eager to get rid of us?” She arches a brow, her grin widening as she watches you, daring you to respond.

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Not at all. You all make it… pretty easy to stay right here,” you admit, warmth pooling in your chest under their collective attention.

Maria’s voice joins in, her tone smooth but with a hint of playfulness. “See? Nothing to worry about, sweetheart.” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms with a satisfied smile. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

As you sink deeper into their warmth, a sudden, pleasant haze settles over you, a fuzzy, dizzying sensation that leaves your mind feeling light and blissfully blank. Each touch, each brush of their fingers on your skin, starts to feel heightened, like every sensation is magnified a thousand times over. Your senses are filled with them, the soft murmurs, the warmth of their bodies.

You feel a soft, warm pulse at the edges of your mind, almost like a lullaby. Your eyelids flutter, and you catch Wanda’s gentle smile, her gaze holding a spark of focus. Her fingers trail along your arm, featherlight and soothing, and the faint traces of questions about Natasha and everything beyond this room begin to slip away. In this moment, there’s only the soft laughter of the others around you, only the warmth spreading through you like the gentlest wave.

You notice the way the others glance at each other, small smirks and knowing looks passing between them. Carol’s hand finds yours, her thumb brushing along your knuckles, and the touch feels so overwhelmingly perfect that it melts any lingering thoughts from your mind. Kate’s laugh breaks through the fog, and she gives you a playful nudge, bringing you fully back into the comfort of the moment, leaving everything else forgotten.

The world outside this room disappears entirely, replaced only by the shared laughter, tender touches, and the feeling that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be wrapped in their warmth and undivided attention. Maria smiles and sends Natasha a simple text, "We got it all secured here, Wanda took care of it."

The morning light filters into the room, waking you gently. As you stretch and sit up, you realize you’re alone. Wanda, Kate, Carol, and Maria have all gone, leaving only the faintest scent of them behind and a folded note on the pillow next to you.

Good morning, gorgeous. Thought we’d let you get some extra sleep, didn’t want to wake you. See you later. Love, W.

You smile, tucking the note to your chest as you savor the quiet moment, replaying the warmth of last night in your mind. But then you remember something else. Yelena’s invitation, her mischievous smile as she’d told you to come to her room once you were finished with the others. A thrill of excitement rushes through you at the thought, and you slip out of bed, quickly freshening up and making your way down the hall to her room.

The door is slightly ajar, and you hear a faint hum coming from inside. You knock softly, pushing it open to find Yelena leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her expression one of smug satisfaction. She straightens when she sees you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she teases, her eyes twinkling as she beckons you closer. “Thought you might’ve forgotten about me after all that… attention from the others.”

You step into the room, closing the door behind you, feeling the familiar warmth spread through you as she studies you, a playful edge in her gaze. “Oh, trust me, I didn’t forget,” you reply, trying to match her confidence. But there’s something in the way she looks at you that makes your pulse quicken.

“Good,” she says, her tone lower now as she takes a step toward you. “Because I’ve got some ideas of my own, and I’ve been waiting long enough.”

As she pulls you into her arms, the events of last night fade into the background, your focus entirely on her. And with the same sense of warmth and safety from the night before, you let yourself be fully present, knowing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be - surrounded by those who treasure you.

"Alredy this needy?" Yelena chuckles as she feels you bucking your hips.

You open your mouth to protest, but the words catch in your throat as she leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “What’s the matter?” she teases, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “Cat got your tongue?”

Her fingers find their way to your chin, lifting your gaze to meet hers. The confidence in her eyes is enough to leave you feeling completely flustered. “You know,” she says, drawing out each word, “I could get used to seeing you like this... speechless and staring at me like I’m the only one in the world.”

You swallow, desperately trying to keep your composure, but Yelena only grins wider, clearly enjoying how easily she has you unraveling. “Aww, don’t tell me you’re already getting shy on me,” she taunts, her voice laced with that familiar sarcasm. “You weren’t so shy with the others last night, were you?”

You try to answer, but her hands slide to your waist, pulling you even closer, and any coherent thought melts away. She leans back slightly, studying your face with a smug expression, fully aware of the effect she has on you.

“Oh, look at this mess,” she purrs, feigning sympathy as her thumb brushes lightly across your cheek. “All flustered… just from me standing here. I didn’t even have to do anything.” She chuckles softly, and the sound sends another shiver through you.

Her fingers tap against your waist as she tilts her head, eyes narrowing playfully. “You think you can handle me, детка?”

Finally finding your voice, you manage a breathless, “Yes.” But even you can hear the doubt in your tone, and Yelena’s smirk grows, clearly reveling in the power she holds over you.

She chuckles, shaking her head. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart,” she says, her voice softening slightly, though the teasing glint never leaves her eyes. “Just remember, I don’t make things easy.”

And with that, she leans in, her lips brushing yours, a lingering, torturous pause that leaves you yearning for more.

Before you can process what’s happening, Yelena’s hands are on your shoulders, gently but firmly pushing you back until you’re lying on the bed, looking up at her. A wicked grin spreads across her face as she leans over you, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face before trailing down your arm.

She dips her head, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both soft and intoxicating, leaving you completely breathless. Her lips move with a practiced ease, each kiss sending butterflies tumbling through your stomach, and you find yourself melting under her touch, any semblance of control slipping away.

When she pulls back, you’re left dizzy, caught up in the warmth of the moment, until you feel the light pressure at your wrists. You glance down, realizing that Yelena has tied your hands, her knots tight and secure, the silken fabric binding you to the bedframe.

Your eyes widen, and Yelena bursts into laughter, her expression both proud and amused. She looks down at you with that familiar, confident smirk, clearly relishing the surprise on your face.

“Oh, you really are something special, aren’t you?” she teases, crossing her arms as she watches you struggle with a playfulness in her eyes. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d notice. Took you long enough, though.”

You open your mouth, searching for a response, but her laughter cuts you off, and she leans down, her lips just inches from yours as she whispers, “Don’t worry. You’re in good hands.”

She brushes her nose against yours, her eyes dancing with mischief. “What’s the matter? You didn’t think I’d let you get away so easily, did you?”

You tug at the binds, but Yelena’s knots are impeccable, each one a testament to her talent and training as a spy. She watches your efforts with a smirk, her fingers tracing along your cheek as she murmurs, “Oh, you’re too easy to fool. But that’s what makes you so much fun.”

Her voice is soft yet laced with amusement, and you can feel the heat rise.. You realize she’s enjoying every moment of your reaction, her own satisfaction evident in the way her smirk widens.

“Relax,” she purrs, giving your tits a light squeeze. “I’ve got you all to myself, and you’re not going anywhere.”

Time blurs as Yelena’s hands roam over you, her hands everywhere. She keeps you right on the edge, bringing you so close but never quite letting you tip over. Each time you think she’s finally going to let you cross that finish line, she pulls back, she chuckles at your frustrated whimpers.

Hours slip by, and every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, a mixture of yearning and helplessness. Yelena, always just out of reach, seems to be thoroughly enjoying your reactions, her smirk growing wider with each plea you let slip.

Finally, when she’s had her fill, she leans over and unties your wrists, her touch gentle despite the teasing grin she wears. You’re left feeling breathless, limbs heavy and mind fuzzy, completely undone by her relentless torment.

"W-what?" You breathe heavily.

Yelena sits back, her eyes dancing with amusement as she looks over your thoroughly wrecked state. “Oh, poor you,” she murmurs with mock sympathy, brushing her fingers over your flushed cheek. Her voice is a soft, teasing purr. “Did you really think I was going to let you finish, hm?”

You open your mouth, still too dazed to respond, and she grins, her tone dripping with playful condescension. “I didn’t say I’d make you cum, did I? Oh,” she whispers, her smirk growing, “you’re just too easy to mess with.”

She leans in, pressing one last, taunting kiss to your forehead. “Maybe next time,” she murmurs, giving you a wink as she stands.

Before Yelena can give you moment of aftercare, the door creaks open, and Wanda steps inside, her eyes landing on the two of you. She tilts her head, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow, her gaze drifting from your dazed, messy form to Yelena’s thoroughly pleased expression.

“Well,” Wanda says, her voice a mix of curiosity and amusement as she takes in the scene, “looks like someone’s had a lot of fun.” She gives Yelena a pointed look, smirking. “Mind telling me exactly what you’ve been up to, Yelena?”

Yelena grins, unabashed, stretching out with a look of satisfaction. “Just a little… patience training,” she says, her voice dripping with smugness. She winks at you, “our girl here is a very good learner.”

Wanda’s eyes soften as she watches you, noticing the dazed, needy look in your eyes, and she steps closer, brushing a hand gently along your cheek. “Poor thing,” she murmurs, her voice filled with sweetness and care. She shoots Yelena a half-playful, half-scolding look. “You’ve completely worn her out, haven’t you?”

Yelena chuckles, unrepentant. “She handled it,” she replies with a smirk, but there’s a hint of affection in her gaze as she watches Wanda fuss over you.

Wanda shakes her head, her expression softening as she carefully helps you sit up, supporting you with a gentle arm around your shoulders. “Come on,” she murmurs, her voice soothing as she guides you up. “Let’s get you to your room. Can you walk on your own, malysh?”

You nod and you cling to her, grateful for the warmth of her touch and the gentle way she leads you through the halls. By the time you’re back in your room, you’re feeling incredibly clingy, leaning into Wanda as if you never want to let go.

She chuckles softly as she helps you settle into bed, her fingers brushing through your hair with gentle, soothing strokes. “You did so well,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m here now, alright?"

You nod, a sleepy smile spreading across your face as you nuzzle closer to her, feeling a warmth and comfort that wraps around you like a soft blanket. Wanda’s arms hold you close, her voice a soothing murmur as she reassures you, letting you know that you’re safe and adored, right where you belong.

You stir awake, your eyes fluttering open to the soft rustling of pages. Wanda sits beside you, legs crossed, reading a book, a serene look on her face. She glances down, noticing you’re awake, and her face lights up with a gentle smile.

“Hey sleepyhead,” she murmurs, closing the book and setting it aside.

You stretch and blink, trying to shake off the drowsiness. “What time is it?”

“It’s lunchtime,” Wanda replies, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Time for some food, what do you say?”

Food sounds amazing. Yum.

Her words send a little thrill through you, and you nod, letting her help you up as you both make your way toward the dining area. As soon as you step into the room, you notice the others - Carol, Maria, Kate, Yelena, and Natasha, all sitting around the table, their voices dropping to a hush the moment you walk in.

Natasha’s eyes meet yours, and a sly smile spreads across her face as she gets up and pulls out a chair for you. “Oh, detka, there you are,” she purrs, her voice warm and inviting. “Hungry?”

You feel your cheeks flush as everyone’s attention settles on you, and you nod, settling into the seat Natasha pulled out. Wanda takes the spot beside you, and the others exchange knowing glances before Kate starts piling your plate with food.

“Yelena really did numbers on you,” Kate teases, shooting a smirk across the table at Yelena, who only shrugs with an innocent expression. “Guess she wore you out?”

“Oh, not completely,” Yelena chimes in, her tone dripping with mischief. “Our girl’s tougher than she looks.”

Carol laughs softly, shaking her head as she takes a sip of her drink. “Really? Looks like she’s still a bit… unsatisfied.” Her gaze falls on you, her eyes glinting with playful curiosity.

You shift in your seat, feeling a warm, needy ache flare up at the memory of Yelena’s endless teasing earlier, which none of the others seem to have forgotten. You clear your throat, trying to keep it together, but they’re all watching you with varying degrees of amusement, each one fully aware of your lingering frustration.

Natasha leans in, her lips close to your ear as she murmurs, “Don’t worry, malyshka. We’ll take good care of you.” She pulls back with a wink, her voice dripping with a sultry promise that sends a shiver down your spine.

Maria, leaning back in her chair, gives you an amused once-over. “You know, we all like a challenge. And you? You’re definitely worth it.” Her words hang in the air, a mixture of sweetness and mischief.

Wanda reaches for your hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze, her expression soft but knowing. “Poor thing,” she coos, voice just loud enough for the others to hear. “Looks like we might have to put in a little extra effort today, hmm?”

You squirm, feeling all their gazes fixed on you, the warmth spreading from your cheeks down to the pit of your stomach as they continue to pile on the teasing remarks. Kate chuckles, taking a bite of her food. “Hope you’re ready, sweetheart. We’ve got plenty of energy to make sure you don’t feel… neglected.”

You try to focus on your food, but every little touch, every lingering glance, only heightens the needy ache that hasn’t left since this morning. It’s clear they’re having way too much fun watching you squirm, and as lunch goes on, you realize they have no intention of letting you off easy.

Eventually, Kate leans forward, “so, how about you, sweetheart?” she asks, her voice smooth and teasing. “What’s your opinion on all of this?”

You blink, caught off guard, and you stammer as you try to form a response. “I, um… well…” You can feel the heat rising in your face as all of their eyes turn to you, each one wearing an expression that’s both amused and intrigued.

“I mean,” you start, swallowing hard, “I think… I’d like it… if you all—” You falter under their collective gaze, words fumbling as you try to explain yourself, but each attempt only makes them grin wider.

“Would like it… if we all…?” Carol raises an eyebrow, the hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Come on, honey, you can say it. We don’t bite. Well, unless you want us to.”

The others chuckle softly, and Wanda squeezes your hand, her voice a gentle murmur. “Just say what you’re thinking, malyshka. We’re all listening.”

You take a shaky breath, gathering what little courage you have left. “I just… I wouldn’t mind if… if you all…” You trail off, feeling your cheeks go warm, but you push through, your voice barely a whisper. “If you’d all just… have some fun with me.”

The silence that follows is electric, charged with an anticipation that has your heart pounding. Natasha grins, her eyes darkening as she exchanges a glance with the others. “Well,” she murmurs, her tone laced with satisfaction. “There’s no need to be shy with us.”

Maria chuckles, leaning back with an approving nod. “Took you long enough to ask, sweetheart.”

Wanda’s fingers trace lightly over the back of your hand, her expression soft yet possessive. “Don’t worry, malysh,” she murmurs, a smile curling her lips. “We’re just getting started.”

Thank you for reading, also HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

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axinite25 · 3 months ago

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Bishova A03 Wrapped 💜💚

#bishova #kate bishop #yelena belova #fanfic #hawkeye #kate x yelena #marvel #mcu #yelena x kate #spotify #spotify wrapped #a03 #fanfiction #lgbtqia #black widow

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daydreamgoddess14 · 21 days ago

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What's it take to get your number?

What's it take to bring you home?

Here she is! My first Bucky fic (😬)

From my Valentine's Lovebomb event, this one is for Emily 💜

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader insert, no use of y/n, no applicable warnings - just some cute fluff while I dip my toe into another fandom.

Masterlist

Of all of the things Yelena had talked you into, this was undoubtedly the worst.

And she had, of course, talked you into some truly awful shit.

If she could see you now, scowling into your margherita, she’d probably throw something at you.

Hey! Smile a little, huh?

As it happens, the thought of it does make you smile.

She's been good to you since you met. Being Valentina's PA was often an utterly thankless existence. The way she'd collected up Yelena, Alexei, John Walker and the others had been admirable.

Adding Bucky Barnes into the mix had been a goddamn coup.

They mostly went about their business as instructed and paid you little to no attention, but Yelena had spotted you still working away late into the night just before Christmas. She'd disappeared and returned twenty minutes later with cartons of Cantonese food which she insisted you shared.

Since then, a tentative friendship had blossomed between you both.

At the bar, there’s plenty of small talk going on in the background. Lots of organising.

The tables have been arranged loosely in a grid with plenty of space between them to move around.

Not that you have to move anywhere.

The instructions have been made very clear.

Yelena read them out with such glee, you suggested that she go instead.

So you sit, and you wait… then they ring a bell and the men come in and also sit down, yes? Hmm… says you have five minutes. Seems not long enough? Then bell goes again and you stay in your seat. The men move around and you have more handsome men to talk to! Fun, right?

Oh yes. Great fun. So much fun.

Next time Yelena suggests speed dating, you’re going to drag her kicking and screaming with you.

You steal a glance at the time, only a few minutes until the shitshow kicks off.

You signal the waiter for another drink, god knows you need it.

A couple of deep, cleansing breaths and the bell goes.

The noise and activity around you does distract you.

You glance around quickly at the couple of people around you, the beautiful women in their barely there dresses, poker straight hair and lashes so long they could be used as a fan.

You’ve made an effort, of course.

A certain blonde pain in your ass made sure of it.

This top, this skirt, these shoes.

She threw them at you.

Girl, the skirt has pockets!

The woman at the table next to you looks completely underwhelmed by her first five minute attendee.

Her eyes wide and her mouth in a fixed line.

The poor guy loosens his tie nervously.

A tie? Yikes.

He seems uncomfortable, clearly aware of the unfavorable impression he's making.

You’re almost transfixed by the car crash about to unfold in front of you.

This has got to be more entertaining than your date, right?

This is the shit you could watch all night long.

A low cough alerts you to your own car crash.

You steel yourself, a fake smile already in place.

“Hey,” he says.

The smile begins to slip.

You know that voice.

Why do you know that voice?

How do you know that voice?

By the time you actually look at him, the smile is long gone.

“Oh fuck.” It could be a whisper. It could be a squeak.

Either way, it’s barely audible so of course he heard it.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he grins, slightly incredulously.

“What are you doing here, Bucky?”

“Same as you, apparently.”

“Did you follow me?”

“Why the hell would I follow you?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Did Yelena put you up to this? I’m going to fucking kill -”

“She didn’t put me up to anything,” he held up his hands in surrender. “And, I’d like to see you try,” he adds disparagingly.

He’s not wrong.

“So, why are you here?”

“Sam thought it would be a good idea. He says I’m too introspective.”

“Nice. He’s such a good friend,” you bite back.

“Right? He’s got enough charm for both of us.”

“So you don’t want to be here either?”

“Does it look like it?” He frowned.

“Fine. So we sit in silence until you can move on.” You tell him sternly, reaching for your drink and taking a long gulp. You signal the waiter again for another.

He scoffed and shook his head.

“I’m not sitting in silence. Sam says I should talk more, so let's talk,” he declares, and you just roll your eyes at his stubbornness.

“What the hell is there to even talk about?” you ask, “you literally have no idea who I am?”

Bucky seems undeterred by your attitude.

“What kind of books do you like?” he asks casually. “What kind of… seriously?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Yeah, you’ve always got your head in a book. You say I don't know who you are but I've seen you. Recommending stuff to Yelena - not to me, though - so what do you like to read?” He leaned forward on the table, making it wobble.

“Anything,” you mutter with a sigh, “everything, really. The classics, fantasy, thrillers, romance.” He nods along as you speak. “What about you?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’ve been reading the classics lately, actually,” he admits.

“Oh sure,” you roll your eyes.

“Hey, it’s true. I just finished Pride and Prejudice.”

“And did you enjoy it?” As you ask your question, the bell rings out.

“Gentlemen, time to move on to the next table please,” the organiser calls out.

“Hold that thought, doll. Guess I’ll see you around?” He stood, waiting patiently for the man in the tie to move along.

The woman at the neighboring table suddenly seems thrilled with her new date. Bucky offers her a smile, and she responds with a giggle.

He takes his seat at the next table, but instead of engaging with his new date, he leans back over to you.

“I loved it. I like the chemistry between Elizabeth and Darcy and the layers of their relationship. It’s probably my favourite romance.”

The woman next to you looks a little put out.

“Your favourite romance? Which others have you read?” You can’t help but ask.

The man directly across from you is growing increasingly annoyed, watching the conversation unfold with a sense of irritation, like he's watching a tense tennis match.

“I liked it more than Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights.”

A small, surprised smile curves up the corner of your mouth as Bucky continues to ignore his next date.

“Uhh, excuse me?” she interjected, her voice laced with irritation.

“Sorry ma’am, I’ll just be a minute.” Bucky calmly replies, not breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m not a fan of Wuthering Heights either, I tried to be in my tortured youth.” You admit.

He laughs and it’s… magical.

“Any others you’d recommend?”

“North and South -”

“Gaskell?” He confirms, you nod. He mirrors your nod, a small smirk crossing his face.

“Yeah, another brooding gentleman and headstrong woman.”

“Huh, sounds familiar.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

Meanwhile, your new date grows increasingly impatient, tapping on the table incessantly, while Bucky's date becomes frantic as she attempts to catch the organiser's attention.

The man at your own table finally interjects, addressing Bucky directly.

“Excuse me, buddy, you're supposed to move on after five minutes, you know?”

“Sorry man, just seeing where this goes,” he shrugs before looking back at you. “Got any newer recommendations? Feels like I’m… stuck in the past sometimes,” he grins lopsidedly.

“Romance, or something else?”

“Let’s stick with romance,” he leans in with his elbows on his knees.

“Try Emily Henry,” you tell him as your new drink arrives.

“Excuse me sir, you do need to move on?” The waiter insists as he carefully places your drink down.

Bucky sighs, turning back in his seat to face his actual date.

“Finally, I might be able to grab a quick minute before the bell goes -” your date starts with a smile.

“Emily Henry, huh? Book Lovers author? I saw it but didn’t pick it up,” Bucky leans over again.

“I’ve got a copy, I’ll bring it over.”

“That’s great, thanks.”

“And North and South, too?” You ask.

“I look forward to it.”

“Excuse me!” Your date interjects loudly.

You look down at the table with a blush as Bucky turns away again.

“So, how long have you been single?” You hear your date ask as the bell goes again.

“And move on again please, gentlemen.” The organiser smiles.

Your date does so, following Bucky with an angry frown.

With another table between you, you assume that’s your additional ‘date’ with Bucky over and turn to greet your next date.

Now, from three tables away, Bucky calls down the row to you.

“Hey, doll, there’s a new bookstore opened by Sam’s place. We should check it out?”

You nod to placate him while disgruntled voices around you mutter and curse his interruptions.

The bell rings again and everyone moves on once more.

From five tables away he asks about the recipe for the pasta dish you made for lunch with Yelena last week.

From seven tables away he shouts to ask whether you saw the last episode of Traitors.

“That is enough, sir. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” the organiser says with exasperation at the next bell.

“But we're getting along so well,” he protests as two waiters try to lead him to the door.

Giving up, he gives you a half shrug and a wave.

“See ya later, kid.”

He leaves without further disruption.

You turn back to your latest date but your enthusiasm has left the building with Bucky.

Despite the tedious hour that follows, no conversation manages to match the level of engagement you experienced in your initial encounter.

You had been under the distinct impression that he had no idea who you were. Of all of them, Yelena was the only one who made an effort. Alexei occasionally pulled you into conversation, usually when he needed an additional body on his side in an argument, but Bucky walked past your desk almost daily without a word or a glance.

You couldn't help but wonder why he chose tonight, of all evenings, to engage with you.

He could have ignored Sam's suggestion to attend. He could have ignored you completely.

You'd given him an out, offered to sit in silence.

His casual comment to your second date echoed in your mind: “Sorry man, just seeing where this goes.”

Those simple words had hinted at a deeper curiosity or interest, beyond just passing time at a speed dating event.

It had been both impressive and frustrating to see the usually stoic Bucky calling across tables, asking you questions about your job, how long you'd worked for Valentina, with an animated excitement that seemed to be reserved solely for you.

The organiser called time and you wrapped your coat tightly around you, the mid-February nights were cold and you were ready for bed.

You shot Yelena a brief text, letting her know you had arrived home safe and sound, choosing to leave her hanging when it came to details about the event.

After a fitful night, you arrived at the office the following morning, books safely nestled in your bag.

Yelena is parked at your desk, her feet casually propped up as if she'd taken permanent residency.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“So, did you find the love of your life?”

“I'm never doing that again,” you warn with a pointed finger in her direction.

“Really?” A familiar voice behind you asks. “And here I thought you had a good time.”

You turn around to see Bucky standing there, his gaze fixed on you with a cheeky smile.

Yelena can barely contain her excitement, her grin widening even further.

Her feet hit the floor with a thud as she eagerly joins the conversation, eyes darting between the two of you. She turns first to Bucky.

“Wait, you were there?” Her question laced with disbelief.

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to have attended a speed dating event.

“Yeah, and?” He asked, his indifference only increasing Yelena's excitement.

“You went speed dating?” She asks incredulously. He doesn't look at her as he answers, he looks only at you.

“I went speed dating.” He confirms.

“And all you got were book recommendations?” You add, reaching into your bag to hand him the two books.

“Well I was kinda hoping I got a little more than that,” Bucky smirks, his expression filled with a hint of mischief.

Yelena's eyes widened, her gaze darting back and forth between you and Bucky.

“Wait, what's this? What's with you two?”

“I mean, I did think you were scared of me-” he began.

“You don't scare me,” you cut in firmly.

His smile widened further.

“Good to know.”

Yelena watches the exchange with wide eyes.

“This is so weird,” she mumbles to herself.

“So, you think you'll do it again?" You ask him brazenly.

Bucky grins at your bold question.

“Maybe,” he muses before adding with a twinkle in his eye, “but only if you're there.”

FIN

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #marvel thunderbolts #yelena belova

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upat4amwiththemoon · 9 months ago

Note

came up with this idea and now i can't get it out of my head lol so nat saves and adopts a teenage reader but when yelena finally meets the reader she hates her guts bc she feels like nat loves her more/has replaced her ( i imagine yelena in her 20s so not that much older than the reader) and like during a sparring session or something yelena takes it too far and like breaks the reader's arm so nat obviously blows up at her but then they eventually talk about their feelings and then yelena apologizes to the reader for acting so immature and cruel to them

Fight for affection

Summary: aka jealous Yelena has a one sided fight with a teenager.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x daughter!reader, sisters Natasha Romanoff x Yelena Belova, Yelena Belova x teen!reader

Warnings: mean Yelena, purposeful hurting

Word count: 1983

a/n: best sister ever

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @strangegardentaco @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Very nervous Y/N sits on the couch, moving her leg up and down as she waits for Yelena to arrive. She has never met the woman before, but Natasha has been waiting to introduce her two favourite people to each other, so, once Yelena found a free day to come over, they immediately made plans.

It doesn’t take long for Yelena’s car to park on the driveway. Natasha goes to open the door right away, while Y/N waits in the living room, taking some deep breaths to calm herself down.

She can hear the two talking, though she isn’t fully paying attention to it. Once they start walking towards her, she stands up with a smile on her face.

Natasha and Yelena stand before her, the latter looking confused. “Yelena, this is Y/N.” She gestures at the teen with a smile.

“Hi.”

There’s a silence. “She isn’t a baby?” Yelena whispers to Natasha, but due to their closeness Y/N can hear it clearly.

Now it’s Natasha’s turn to look confused. “Why would she be a baby?”

“I thought you adopted a baby.”

“I specifically told you I adopted a teenage girl.” An annoyance grows in Natasha, not wanting to have this kind of conversation in front of her daughter.

Yelena scoffs. “Well, you can’t blame me for not hearing that. You said you adopted someone, and then I lost focus because I started thinking what to buy to a baby.”

Natasha lets out a harsh breath, but she brings a smile to her face once she notices Y/N’s tense body language. “Well, she’s not a baby.” She whispers quickly before going to set her arm over Y/N’s shoulders, bringing her closer. “This is Y/N, she is 16 years old, and I adopted her.” A proud smile adorns her face as she looks down at her daughter.

“Hi.” She says again, bringing a slightly shaky hand forward. “It’s nice to meet you, Yelena.”

A tense silence follows. Yelena has a frown on her face, but it disappears quickly when she glances at Natasha. “Hey, you too.” Her voice doesn’t match the enthusiasm that Y/N has and the hand shake feels very forceful.

They move on quickly, going to sit down on the couch to talk. For the rest of the time they’re together, Yelena has a subtle glare fixed on Y/N, especially whenever Natasha touches her.

Her sister speaks so highly of this teenager, but Yelena doesn’t see what’s so great about her that she doesn’t have. They’re both grew up in a bad place, they both know how to fight, though Yelena would bet her whole fortune she’s better at it, and they were saved by Natasha. The biggest difference they have, is that Natasha has known Yelena so much longer. So, why does it seem like she care for the teenager more than her?

Once Yelena starts to leave, she is in a sour mood. It’s like the younger girl is flaunting Natasha’s love and care in front of her face.

“-sit us soon again?”

She lifts her head to look at Natasha. “Huh?”

Natasha lets out a laugh. “Will you come visit us soon again?”

“Right.” She sighs. “Maybe. I have a busy schedule.”

“Okay, we’ll see you at the compound some time then.” Natasha hugs Yelena. “Bye bye.”

“Bye, sestra.”

“Bye!” Y/N waves, half of her body hidden behind Natasha.

Yelena walks to her car, completely ignoring her.

The next time they meet up is at the Avengers Compound, and Yelena’s feelings have not changed. If anything, her hatred and jealousy have grown while having time to wallow in those feelings alone.

Natasha and Yelena are talking in the compound’s living room, while Y/N is sitting in silence, only following the conversation from the sidelines. She can feel Yelena’s dislike, but she is too afraid to comment on it.

“Hey, Nat?” Steve pops up from the hallway. “Could you help me out with a report now that you’re here?”

“Of course,” she stands up, “I’ll be back soon.”

The smile on Yelena’s face disappears when she notices the assurance was given to Y/N instead of herself. The jealousy bubbles to the surface once again.

“Y/N.”

Her wide eyes snap to Yelena. This is the first time she has been talked to by Yelena since they first met. “Yeah?” There’s a sliver of nervousness in her voice. A sliver, that Yelena can hear.

“Do you want to train together to pass the time?”

“Uhm,” she doesn’t, “I guess so.”

“Great!” The grin on Yelena’s face is unmistakable. “Follow me,” they start walking towards the training room, “the compound has the best supplies to train anything and everything you want.”

Once they get into the training room, Yelena leads Y/N straight to the mat placed on the middle of the room. Y/N feels the mat under her feet, it’s soft enough to make landings bearable, but it won’t take the pain completely away.

“You were trained in hand to hand combat when you were at HYDRA, yes?”

Y/N’s face screws up at the mention of the organization she was saved from. “Yes.”

Yelena gets into position, her hands raised and feet apart. “Good, then this won’t be a problem for you.” Before Y/N has time to prepare herself, Yelena is already lunging at her.

With a blink of an eye, she is on the ground. Y/N groans, looking up at Yelena with a frown.

“Come on!” Yelena claps her hands together. “Up, up, you gotta be ready.”

Y/N takes a breath and stands up, this time getting into position before Yelena can fully surprise her.

They start sparring.

It’s more like fighting, at least on Yelena’s side.

Y/N is good at fighting, but Yelena is better. She is older, she is bigger, and she was in the Red Room for a long time.

She gets slammed to the mat two more times before she starts panting, her hands on her knees. “I think I’m done.” Her voice comes out as a mumble.

“Come on! Don’t be a party pooper.” Yelena circles around her. “One more round, this time like you mean it.”

Y/N doesn’t have time to disagree. She desperately fight back against Yelena’s onslaught of hits and kicks.

After five minutes, she gets dropped to the ground, again.

She lays there on the ground, her breathing heavy and laboured. But Yelena doesn’t seem to be finished. There’s a certain fire in her eyes as she brings her foot up. Fear runs through Y/N’s body as her wide eyes are stuck on the bottom of Yelena’s boot.

A loud crack echoes through the training room.

Y/N cries out, rolling to her side to hold her now broken arm against her chest. Yelena’s eyes widen, shocked by what she did, though the feeling goes away just as quick.

Unfortunately for her, an immense feeling of guilt fills her body when a loud “Yelena!” comes from the door. Natasha comes running in, instantly kneeling to Y/N’s side. “What the hell was going on in your head?” She practically growls out while lifting up her daughter, shushing her in a comforting manner when she lets out a cry of pain.

Yelena opens her mouth to speak, though she doesn’t know what she could even say, but a harsh glare from Natasha shuts her up. She stays in the training room while Natasha and Y/N leave to the medical room.

After three excruciatingly long hours of pacing in her room, a knock on the door finally breaks the silence. Yelena opens the door, instantly stepping to the side to let Natasha walk inside.

“What were you thinking?” Natasha’s arms are crossed over her chest as she stares at her sister with an icy glare. “She’ll be okay, thank god for that, but she has a broken arm, Yelena.”

“I’m sorry.” She whispers.

Natasha shakes her head. “Sorry isn’t going to cut it now. You’ve been incredibly cold to her, and I chalked it up to nerves, but this,” her brows are raised as she gestures around, “this is unacceptable. She’s my daughter, Yelena. I can’t have you around her if you’re going to hurt her.”

“I won’t!” Her eyes are turning misty from tears and her voice wavers. “I- I don’t know what came over me. I was feeling…jealous…and, and insecure.”

“Why?”

Yelena tugs at the skin on her fingers, at times pressing her nails against her palm as her eyes drop to the ground. “I was scared you’d love me less.” A few tears fall down her cheeks at the confession.

A deep sigh leaves Natasha’s mouth. She rubs the space between her brows. “I love you, Yelena, I would never love you less. But I also have so much love for Y/N, she is my daughter.” There’s no anger in her tone anymore, but there’s a certain steadiness to make sure Yelena fully hears her. “I love both of you so, so much.”

Yelena nods. “I’m sorry.”

“You need to apologize to her.” Natasha mumbles, combing her fingers through her hair. “I’m really upset right now, so I’m going to leave.”

“I’ll make it up, okay?”

Natasha opens the door. “Make it up by treating my daughter well, be genuinely nice to her. You hear me? She is my daughter, that means she is your family too.”

“She’s my niece.” Yelena whispers with a nod, fully absorbing the words. She hurt her niece.

After Natasha leaves and Yelena has a minute to gather herself, she makes her way to the infirmary.

She knocks on the door gently, opening it after she hears a quiet come in. Yelena steps inside. “Hey.”

Y/N lifts her head. “Hi.” She scratches the cast on her arm, her eyes anywhere else but Yelena.

Clearing her throat, she takes a few careful steps inside, stopping beside the hospital bed. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, truly.” She whispers, her eyes on Y/N. “I was an asshole, an insecure and jealous asshole, who was scared that her sister would love me less because she got a daughter.” She lets out a butter laugh. “Which was very stupid of me, because I know Natasha isn’t like that.”

“She’s pretty great.” Y/N whispers.

“She is.” Yelena sits on the chair next to the bed. “She is my sister and you are her daughter, which makes you my niece. And…I’ve always wanted a niece, even though it might not be obvious from the way I’ve acted. I want to be what Natasha was to me for someone, except a little more fun, you know? I’d let you break the rules and drink a little bit and I’d teach you how to run away from the cops.”

Y/N giggles softly, glancing at Yelena every so often, but never looking at her for too long.

“Could we start over, maybe? I could be the aunt that you deserve.” There’s a silence as Y/N stares at the cast while biting the inside of her cheek. “You don’t have to be scared of me.” Yelena whispers. “Which I know is a stupid thing to say after I-“ she glances at the cast, “after I broke your arm.”

“Yeah.” She lets out a shaky breath. “I’m a little scared of you, but I’d like to have an aunt.” Y/N raises her head, giving Yelena a small smile.

Yelena smiles back, wider than ever. She inches closer to the edge of the seat, gently setting her hand on Y/N’s healthy hand. “I will make it up to you, I promise. I’ll spoil you so much.” She grins, already excited with the idea of buying things to her niece.

“Okay.” She laughs, already feeling better despite her broken arm.

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notsopersonalcharlie · 8 months ago

Text

My Belle

Biker!Bucky Barnes x Fem!reader fluff

Bucky is part owner of a mechanic shop and bar, but his girlfriend is the one who rakes in the big bucks, so who's to judge him (his friends) if he's just a little (very) whipped for her.

Notes: Based on this post and this post! In my own personal headcannon readers name is Noelle, which explains the nickname bell(e) lol. There will CERTAINLY be more installments of this story. Gif isn't mine

You muttered under your breath as you pulled your work shoes off your stockinged feet. There were runs at the toes because you were too lazy last night to cut your toenails. Too lazy and distracted by a certain biker coming home. The same biker who was waiting outside, who had kindly turned off the idling engine, but still waited on the sidewalk patiently holding an extra helmet.

Bucky looked down at his phone. The Howling Commando group chat was blowing up about some sports game and Bucky turned the notifications off before making sure you hadn’t messaged. You hadn’t. He checked your location, you were inside the building in front of him. He checked the texts again and then put his phone in his pocket. Staring at it won’t help, is what you would say. What did you know? Everything, Bucky thought to himself. Sam would have laughed in his face if he could hear the inner monologue.

“See ya monday!” Your team's receptionist called.

“Not a moment sooner!” You quipped back over your shoulder as you pushed open the glass double doors. All six feet and a bit of your biker were waiting on the sidewalk, tattoos peeking out at the neck and along the wrists speaking of one of your favorite features of his.

“Hi Buck!” He looked up and a grin split his usually stoic face.

“There’s my girl.” Two long strides and you were wrapped up in his arms, a warm kiss pressed hard to your lips. Bucky spun you in a circle.

“I missed you, belle.”

“I missed you too, Buck.” Anyone would have thought you hadn’t seen each other in days, but Bucky had stopped by only a few hours before to drop off your lunch.

“You’re not getting on the bike like that, honey.” You rolled your eyes, setting down your bags.

“I know, I forgot to grab my overpants this morning. Do you have extras?” Of course he did, you knew that, but it was the sweet pout and big eyes just for him. You knew he loved to take care of you, so if you “forgot” the pants, maybe it was just because he liked to know he was always prepared.

“Of course I do.” He waited as you slid the cargo looking pants up over your work bottoms. He stored your bags away as you did, and then sat down on the bike, making sure your helmet, the black one with muted flowers sprouting along the edges that he bought especially for you, was secure on your head.

You slid onto the bike behind Bucky, taking a deep breath of the mechanics grease and sweat smell that always seemed to live on his biking jacket, before snapping your visor shut. Bucky couldn’t help the way his heart leapt a little like always when you wrapped his arms around his middle and rested the chin of your helmet against the middle of his back. Two squeezes to check that you was ready or okay, two back to tell him you was good to go. Three squeezes to say I love you, four back to say I love you too.

Bucky started the bike and took off back toward the little house they shared just two blocks down from the Howling Commando. You watched the scenery passively, relying on Bucky’s expert riding to get you home safe. You was so glad it was the weekend. Work had been busy, all week you had found yourself calling Bucky, letting him know that you had to stay late, that you would call a rideshare home so he didn’t have to come. Of course every night by the time you were ready to go, Bucky was sitting outside, leaning against his bike. The only day he wasn’t, it was because he had to drive a few towns over that afternoon to pick up a special part for your car.

Instead Steve had been waiting with his own motorcycle, grinning ear to ear as he recited precisely the text Bucky had sent to make sure you was dressed properly and your helmet was on correctly.

“You know he has never, since childhood, through the service, after, never once, acting like this with a girl.” You just rolled your eyes, followed the instructions as you always did, and sat on the back of Steve’s bike and let him drop you off right in front of the white picket fence Bucky had insisted he would build when you first moved in.

“You there, belle?” You blinked and found that they had already gotten home.

“Yeah, just... thinking.” You slid off the bike, gravel driveway crunching under your feet. Bucky pulled your helmet off your head and his blue eyes were intent on your expression, his adorable little pout on his lips.

“What’s up?” You took the helmet from his hands, setting it on the bike before pulling his gloves off his fingers and then intertwining your fingers together.

“I love our life, Buck.”

“I love our life too.” He looked worried, the little crease between his eyebrows so endearing as always. You lifted one hand to rub your thumb to the spot, eliciting a smile from him.

“That’s all, baby. I want to spend every day of my life with you.” The grin grew, and you found yourself lifted in the air again, and seated back on the bike. His sweet demeanor towards you and his friends made it easy to forget that Bucky was six feet tall and made entirely of muscle, even if he had built up a healthy bit of relationship chub since you started dating. Bucky kissed you, soft in the dying light of the evening.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you too, belle.” You stood like that for a long while, till the glow of the sun was barely left in the sky and the automatic yard lights had turned on.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Bucky asked. Sweet, as always, but it was the same thing you did every night.

“I can get changed and we can head over to the bar.” And as always, “Only if you want, honey.”

Bucky put your things away, dirty lunch containers in the dishwasher and bag beside your desk in the living room, while you got dressed. It felt like it was a fresh start to life when you pulled on comfy jeans and one of the well worn and soft shop t-shirts. You grabbed a sweatshirt, and then paused and got another one for Bucky, before heading back into the kitchen where Bucky was looking at his phone.

“Howling Commando, huh?” Bucky joked. You nodded with a grin, tossing him one of his gray Army sweatshirts.

“Only if you'll let me be one."

"You're already an honorary member," Bucky responded, pressing a kiss to your temple. You walked down the road less than a half mile hand in hand. The bar must have been getting busy on a Friday night, because you hadn’t even made it within view before you could hear the rowdy sounds of your friends and regulars. The front patio was full of folks, some spilling over into the front driveway of the shop.

“Oh! Can I check on my baby?” You asked, popping up on your toes to try to look into the tinted glass of the garage doors.

“I thought I was your baby!”

“She was my baby first,” you shot back, already heading for the side door between the bar and shop. Bucky tossed the keys to you.

“Do you want your usual?” He was already headed toward the front door of the bar.

“Mmm, how about whatever cocktail special Sam is whipping up today?” He nodded and you unlocked the door, pushing into the dark mechanics shop. The side door led right into the garage, as opposed to the neat front office, or at least Yelena liked to keep it neat, and you fumbled in the dark momentarily to find the lights. They were slow to warm up, but you started toward where your car had been sitting for a few weeks, inoperable while Bucky painstakingly replaced every piece of the engine to make sure it was as safe as possible for his girl.

Bucky walked in the front of the bar after saying hello to a handful of regulars and service buddies who still stopped by. Steve was leaning against the front of the bar, and clapped him on the back when he sidled up beside him.

“Where’s your better half?”

“Checking on her baby,” Bucky waved for Sam’s attention, “Where’s Nat?”

“Trying to get her to take a break.” Yelena scoffed from where she was sitting on a stool on the other side of Steve.

“As if you could ever make her do that.”

“I said trying to,” Steve shot back as Sam walked over.

“Where’s your belle?” Bucky scowled at his friend.

“Wants whatever cocktail concoction you’re making. I’ll take the usual.”

The custom painted powder blue vintage Mini Cooper was more assembled than it had been when you checked in on it a few days ago, and as you got closer you could see that it was almost done, a few pieces were still sitting on Bucky’s workbench.

A slightly Russian accented call of your name identified it as one of the two Romanoff sisters, one who ran the front of the shop and the other the front of the bar.

“Yeah, I’m back here.”

“I figured.” Natasha appeared from the other side of a Cadillac SUV.

“She’s almost done!” You grinned.

“I heard. The guys put me on break and when I was refusing, Bucky said I should come make sure you didn’t linger too long.” You laughed.

“He hates when I mess with his work.”

“Then maybe you should come let him mess with your make up,” Natasha suggested.

“Are you flirting with me for Bucky?” you asked incredulously. The redhead laughed as you followed her out the side door, locking it behind you before going into the bar from the front. Multiple of the regulars called out your names, offering waves and grins, and the cacophony doubled inside.

“Finally! The better one! I have your drink right here!” Sam called. You smiled, taking the drink.

“Thank you, kind sir.” The bar was reaching capacity, pool tables in the back already in full swing. The waiters were a constant blur, Howling Commando Bar shirts identifiable in the bustle from the star logo in white.

“Buck said you had a long week at work,” Nat said, returning to her spot at the front of the bar waiting to intercept underaged looking patrons.

“It was a busy one. We’re tr- Actually, you don’t really care and I don’t really want to talk about it. Where is Bucky?” You responded good naturedly, trying to spot the brunet in the crowd.

“I think I can see Steve’s blond ass over there,” Sam said, pointing further into the bar. You took your drink and headed toward the general direction. Steve and Bucky were in the corner near the office, heads together.

“Hey Steve!” Both men looked up, eyes wide, at your appearance, and quickly took half steps apart.

“Not at all suspicious guys. Good thing you were special forces.” Steve smiled, and Bucky looked a little shy.

“Buck keeps trying to hustle me in pool,” Steve responded, “I have fallen for that many many too many years in a row. Your turn to carry the burden.” He pushed into the crowd, leaving you beside Bucky.

“What was that about?”

“Just business stuff. How is the Sam special?” You eyed him as you took your first sip, pleasantly surprised by the lack of a remarkable burn on the back end of the taste.

“Better than the last one.” Bucky's hulking presence should have been stifling or claustrophobic, but instead it was comforting. You looked up into sincere blue eyes and he leaned down, pressing warm lips to yours. Your hands slipped up around his neck, holding your drink out so the condensation wouldn’t drip down the back of his shirt. Bucky’s arms were strong and warm and one hand palmed your ass before pulling away. Bucky’s hand found its way around your back as you looked across the bar.

“You know, you guys really did something,” you said, “I know I say it all the time. But it's just amazing.” Bucky and Steve had wanted to start something after they left the service and with their penchant for drinking and ability to fix nearly any mechanized vehicle a bar and mechanics shop made the most sense. Three members of their team, Tim Gabe and Percy, had moved on with their lives, even though they stopped by when they rolled through town. Sam, the Romanoff sisters, Tony, and a half dozen more had joined the family since the start, but there were still plaques honoring the fallen Commandos above the bar.

“All we knew how to do.”

You spent the rest of the night drinking with regulars, Bucky beating them in pool and not taking money from them, and you running drinks and convincing one of the girls at the bar that Sam was actually sweet and coming by again couldn’t hurt.

“If that’s what kinda wing woman I get when I make a good cocktail, I should really do it more often,” Sam joked when the group of women moved off. Bucky appeared over your shoulder, sliding his pint glass over to his friend who refilled it.

“What’s that?”

“Just trying to get Sammy a girlfriend, since he blew his shot with all our friends.”

The bar was still in full swing when Bucky and you said your goodbyes, and if Bucky picked you up and carried you over his shoulder fireman style while you giggled the whole way home so they could get back a little faster, that was between the two of you.

Wonder what Bucky and Steve were talking about... Find out here right now!

#charliewrites #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky #james buchanan barnes #marvel #mcu #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #biker!bucky fluff #bucky x reader #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #yelena romanoff #notsopersonalcharlie

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jeanbie · 2 years ago

Note

Hi hi! I got an idea for yelena x female reader with she/her pronouns. So basically (spoilers for s4 ahead) instead of sasha getting shot it would be the reader? she would survive but you know worried, protective and soft yelena:)) Of course, feel free to ignore it if you don't like it!! Have a nice day!

SILVER BULLET ★ masterlist.

warnings: blood mention, shot wound, fem!reader | wc: 2.5k

⏤ i am so sorry that this took so long! i haven't thought about yelena in a long while, so stalled this request, but now that i had a free weekend since my dissertation is finally finished and submitted, i produced something for you! enjoy!!

Yelena twitches. With the war ongoing beneath their feet, that noise could have been anything.

A gun in the distance, debris hitting the underbelly of the boat, a soldier next door who’s celebrating victory with two left feet. This war had felt eternal. Her eyes flick towards the door that leads out of the room she’s standing in, and she watches it as it remains tightly closed. Nothing comes, nothing goes- nobody moves at the sound of two gunshots. It’s like everybody is immune to the sound of warfare, and she can’t blame them.

Yelena frowns and turns back towards the scene around her. Zeke sits on his knees, steam emerging around his body like a hot meal straight from the oven. Yelena feels her stomach churning- god, she’s hungry. There’s a slight shift in the room as Levi glares down at Eren, displeasure and pain on his face. Wordless, she watches the display before her like the theatre, uncommitted to a side, just happy that the fighting is over for a while. Two soldiers dressed in black stand behind Levi, equal looks of upset on their faces.

Yelena knew that these people loved Eren like family, and she looked back at him, sizing him up, before thinking of you. You’d loved Eren, too. When she first met you, she remembered you looking like you’d put your life on the line for him. She twitches again, looking back at the door. The last time she’d seen you, you were preparing to follow the soldiers to hideouts, submerged in the darkness. Since then, you could be anywhere and she wouldn’t know it- not unless the ship landed back on the island, not unless she left the room to go searching for you.

Her mind wanders as the soldiers continue their display. More are in the room now, the steam is lifting in the air as Zeke’s wounds heal. Yelena stands close to him, her eyes trained on the door. Behind it, the soldiers roar, thumping and yelling muffled through the walls. Her body feels clammy suddenly, and her eyes flick over to Levi as he turns his head in the direction of the noise. Nobody seems on edge. She chews her lip- she needs to calm down. You’re fine. You are.

“They’re still making noise?” Levi says, his eyes narrowed. He tsks, shaking his head. “Idiots.”

“They’re celebrating victory,” someone says. Yelena’s not looking at who, she’s still looking at the door.

“Some victory,” Levi replies.

Yelena stares for so long at the door that her eyes burn, the noise rising and falling in volume every so often. It doesn’t sound like celebration, not an ordinary celebratory chant, at least. If only she could get a glimpse of the room. She tries to picture what you might be doing in there, and if you’re part of the cheering. She pictures you with your arms wrapped around another soldier, a smile on your face, with little to no injuries. Maybe you’re drinking, maybe you’re laughing, maybe you’re wondering if she’s alright, too–

Jean appears in the window of the door, his face gravely still. He pushes open the door, and Yelena’s eyes fall to two children standing before him. Her heart leaps- everybody knows these children, or at least the people in this room who have changed their allegiance within the last year. Of course, Yelena knows Gabi and Falco, but that doesn’t explain how they got here. Something feels off, and she blinks at them and steals a look at Zeke. He looks equally confused and surprised- alright, so something is definitely off.

“How the hell did they get here?” Levi asks, his tone tense. Judging from the way Zeke looks so shocked, Yelena can tell that a feeling of unease has filled the air. Everybody can feel it.

Yelena focuses her attention on Jean, trying to read the anguish in his face before he speaks. It’s too hard to make any assumptions- there are too many emotions on his face, a permanent tiredness in his eyes. She almost feels bad for him. Almost.

“They killed Lobov-” Yelena doesn’t recognise this name too well, but she’s sure she heard it somewhere. At least it’s not your name, and she relaxes slightly- “and used his gear to get here.” Jean takes a slight pause, as if trying to find the right words. He blinks, gulps, and looks at Levi flatly. “Then this girl took his gun, and she shot Y/N.”

Well, fuck.

Yelena takes one step forward, pausing when Jean looks up at her. He looks guilty, but it’s not as if he’s the one who shot her. Yelena knows that, but the feeling of grief and rage fills her anyway. Her eyes flicker between Jean and Gabi, like she can’t decide who to be more angry at for letting it happen. Expectantly, she looks back at Jean, anticipating his next words.

“It doesn’t seem like she’ll make it…”

She’s heard enough. Yelena abandons her post, moving forward to skirt past Levi and past Jean. Someone calls out her name from behind her, but by the time they can call out to her again, she’s out of the room and headed towards the circle of soldiers on the floor. Her head is spinning, ears ringing. How could this happen?

Yelena notices the red blood on the floor, smeared as the soldiers dragged you to the side. She sees you before you see her, as your eyes are relaxed and closed, a twitch of pain on your face as somebody presses a hand to the hole, keeping the blood from gushing out. A girl with brown hair sits next to you, tears on her face, and blood on her hands. She holds your free hand tightly, moving the hair from your face as sweat lines your hairline. Yelena has only ever seen you at your best, and what she thought could have been your worst back on Paradis. Nothing could have prepared her for ever seeing you this way, bleeding out, gasping at every touch.

She pushes forward, ignoring the looks of disgust as male soldiers pave the way for her to move towards you. It was hard to ignore your relationship with Yelena, even when they didn’t understand why you liked her in the first place. Yelena was hard to read, sneaky, vague with all of her answers. She made people feel uncomfortable, and spoke as if she didn’t even believe her own words. You were kind, and honest, and compassionate- all the things that people like Yelena took for advantage. But you were respected, well-liked- loyal. These soldiers would lay down their lives for you, and you to them, and Yelena was now a thing that came with you, like a pet that nobody liked but they tolerated enough because they were around you so much. Yelena makes it to you in five steps and looms over the three soldiers gathered around you.

The girl with brown hair looks up between her tears. Her eyes widen, she sniffs, and she rises. Yelena looks at her once.

“It’s my fault,” the girl says. Yelena looks away, looking down at you. “She-she pushed me out of the way. It should have been me.”

“Sasha!” another soldier says. Yelena blinks, remembering their faces. Veterans of the wars, Sasha and Connie, two of your good friends. “Don’t say that. It shouldn’t have been anybody, now pull yourself together and help me!”

Yelena takes Sasha’s place, her eyes focused on you as you breathe heavily. Connie fiddles with bandages as another boy brings forward a med-kit, one that a soldier -Floch- takes quickly and sets between his and Connie’s knees. Yelena assesses the situation, looking back at you. Your eyes flutter as Connie removes his hand, looking at your wound. The blood rises back out, like jam in a doughnut, and he cringes.

“My girl,” Yelena mutters, pushing the hair from your face. Hearing her voice, you force your eyes open. They’re bloodshot and your skin is clammy and pale, but you still try to smile when you take in the sight of her. “Oh, my poor girl–”

“Yelena,” you say. Your voice is hoarse and scratchy, and you wince as you speak.

“Don’t,” Yelena says. “Don’t move, either. Seems your friend here will patch you up, and when we get back, we’ll find you a doctor, mkay?”

You don’t move, as she instructed. You blink at her, huffing through your nose and using your finger, you tap her leg. Yelena notices your hand by your side and takes it gently, squeezing with little pressure when you close your eyes again. Connie moves your waist, trying to wrap a bandage around your middle to keep the pressure on the wound, to prevent an infection. Yelena watches his face twist and turn, and then she looks back at you, taking it all in.

If it wasn’t for the audience, Yelena knows she’d be in worse condition. Her throat tightens as she takes note of every crease of pain on your face, every whimper as Connie moves you, every time you try to look past her to find Sasha, still crying over Yelena’s shoulder.

Yelena looks at Connie. “Can you do it?”

Connie goes white. “I’ve never done this before.”

“What, put on a bandage?”

“Never had to bandage my shot and close to dying friend,” Connie says with a level voice, but Yelena can spot the tenseness beneath, the slight shake in his words. “There’s- there’s so much blood, so–”

“But, can you do it?”

Connie stares at her, and Yelena looks back. Connie gapes at the sight– Yelena’s face is downturned, every expression solemn. “Can you save her?”

Floch nods on Connie’s behalf, opening the med-skit and finding a pair of scissors for Connie to cut the bandage. “She’s gonna make it, Yelena.”

For a while, Yelena watches every move that they make, every time they wrap a bandage and cut it. Connie’s right, there’s a lot of blood, soaking through your clothes and on the floor. Yelena looks over her shoulder at Sasha, telling her to stop crying. She just had to trust in these soldiers- your friends- to keep you safe, which was more than she could do.

Stroking your face, Yelena ignores the world as it moves around her, taking note of the seconds between your breaths, of the pain on your face, of the way your fingers tighten and release around her hand. Yelena knew what loss was, and how it felt, but just the thought of losing you was unbearable.

The ship wasn’t due to land in Paradis for another hour or so–would you even make it until then? Yelena tried not to think the worst as she watched you writhing in pain.

“I could give her a sedative?” Connie suggests, looking at Floch for answers.

“Do we have that?”

There’s a pause. “Captain Levi might know where sedatives are. Maybe there’s some in the cockpit with Hange–”

“Sedative?” Yelena interrupts, and both of them look to her with surprise. “Is that safe? You said you’ve never done this before, how do you know it will be good for her?”

“It’ll help with her pain,” Floch explains slowly.

“Or it could make it worse,” Yelena says. She thinks about titan serums, stuffed into syringes, looking like ordinary fluids. It wouldn’t be possible, but she didn’t think that you getting shot would ever be possible, either.

Floch looks at Yelena with confusion. “Yelena, it will help take the pain away. It could help save her life, why wouldn’t you want that for her?”

“Do it.” Your voice is low, almost silent, but they hear it anyway. Yelena snaps her neck towards you. You’re looking at her, gently squeezing her hand. “It’s…it’s okay. I hurt.”

Yelena opens her mouth, trying to form the words. Floch has already risen to head towards the front of the ship, and Connie still has one hand over your wound, scared to lift it. Sasha is calmer now, and sat next to Yelena’s right leg. Yelena cups one side of your face with her other hand, gently rubbing her thumb over your cheekbone.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be okay,” she assures you. “We’re almost home, and then we can get you to a real doctor, okay? Don’t speak if it hurts.”

You try to laugh, and Connie’s hands press tighter on your stomach when a circle of blood soaks through the bandages. “Ouch.”

Yelena frowns, looking at you seriously. “I mean it, Y/N. Stop. Be careful.”

“I’ll be okay,” you say. Yelena’s not sure if you’re trying to assure her or to assure yourself. “Dr Connie’s got me covered.”

Connie bites his lip, trying not to cry as he smiles. “Hope I never have to do this again. Yelena’s right, Y/N, don’t overdo it, your wound is still open. Breathe. Yelena- can you hold her wound? I’m going to find a towel to wipe the blood up.”

Yelena nods once and takes over. Her hand is bigger, covering the entire wounded area and she doesn’t watch as Connie and Sasha scurry up towards where Floch disappeared to. Yelena expects your life, still hanging on, will be of excitement to other soldiers, so she soaks up the time she has with you alone like a final meal for prisoners, not wasting a single moment. Yelena looks at you softly, smiling when you catch her gaze after a long blink.

“Y/N, I was so scared that you weren’t going to make it,” she says quietly. You look up at her, drumming two fingers against her palm twice. “How could this happen? I should have been here. We should have been more careful about who was coming on board, how could we be so stupid-?”

“It’s not your fault,” you assure her. Yelena’s breath hitches in her throat. “It’s nobody's fault but mine. I-” you wince, and Yelena’s brows raise in concern- “I pushed Sasha. It was gonna be her. I made it me. And I’m okay.”

“You could have died.”

“Many people died today,” you say. “It would have been an honour dying for my friends. But…I’m fine. And you’re fine, and you’re here.”

Yelena shakes her head. She felt that way once about Zeke. Once, she had this protective desire towards him, and would have taken a bullet for him. If she thinks honestly, it would be with reluctance that she’d take a bullet for Zeke now, now that she has someone to live for. Yelena sighs, knowing she can’t change your mind about it, and she presses a kiss to your knuckles. Her stomach hurts, her hunger gone and replaced with fear.

She sighs again, loudly, and settles down more comfortably on the floor. “I’m glad you’re safe. Really. It’s a long ride home, anyway. I’ll lecture you about it all when you’re better.”

You smile, air puffing from your nose as you stare at her, your cheek on your shoulder. “It’s the reason I’m staying alive.”

#𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 ✧*。#yelena x reader #yelena #aot yelena #yelena fluff #yelena imagine #attack on titan yelena #yelena fanfic #aot imagine #attack on titan imagine #snk #snk yelena #yelena imagines #ittojean #s4 aot #aot #attack on titan #jeanbie

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yourlovergorl · 9 months ago

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Natasha: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess.

Wanda: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to?

Yelena: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit.

Y/n: Guys.

#marvel mcu #fanfic #marvel incorrect quotes #marvel #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #black widow #scarlet witch #source: ???#reader insert #y/n #incorrect quotes #haven’t posted in forever so hi yall 👋🏻

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chaxan08 · 4 months ago

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Yelena: *feels arms around her waist*

Yelena: *putting a knife against the stranger's throat*

Yelena, turning around: I have a girlfrie—

Kate, already so fucking turned on: Hello, love.

Yelena: Oh, hi girlfriend!

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fictionandcinema · 1 month ago

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Bucky Barnes masterlist

Don't forget to read the warnings :)

🌶️ = smut | 🌧️ = angst | 🎀 = fluff

FALSE GOD [on going] 🌶️🌧️🎀 — On the night of your movie premiere, you and director Bucky finally get closer.

TREAT YOU BETTER [complete] 🌶️🌧️🎀 — Caught between playing the girlfriend of Bucky’s younger brother and the unexpected allure of Bucky’s genuine affection, you don’t know what to do.

YOU’RE MY DESIRE [complete] co-written with @marvelouslizzie 🌶️🌧️🎀 — Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers’ date but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes’ arms.

SPARKS FLY 🌶️🌧️🎀 [complete] — While you are looking for Rebecca, you unexpectedly meet her brother, Bucky Barnes, your new gorgeous neighbor.

LOVE ME LIKE YOU PAID ME co-written with @marvelouslizzie 🌶️🌧️🎀 — You accompany businessman Bucky Barnes to all the events he has to attend, and you find yourself wishing he wasn’t paying you to be his date.

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME co-written with @marvelouslizzie 🌶️🌧️🎀 — When you find out your boyfriend’s cheating on you with his best friend, you immediately tell Bucky Barnes about the affair and propose revenge séx.

YOU WERE MINE JUST YESTERDAY co-written with @marvelouslizzie 🌶️🌧️🎀 — It’s been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you’re still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn’t take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

BUCKY’S HERE 🌶️🎀 — “Are you sure a kiss is all you want?”

WAIT FOR HOURS 🌶️🌧️🎀 — Bucky and you have a small fight about making him attend a business dinner on your one-year anniversary.

WHAT IF I AM TOO MUCH? 🌶️🌧️🎀 — When Sam’s girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

PRETTY LITTLE THING co-written with @marvelouslizzie 🌶️🎀 — Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it’s impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.

OUT OF STYLE 🌶️🌧️🎀 — A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends’ wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky’s hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

TYING YOU TO ME 🌶️🌧️🎀 — When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

BEST DADDY EVER 🌶️🎀 — When Sam drops by unannounced, he discovers something new about Bucky.

SHE CHOSE ME 🌶️🎀 — Steve’s hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you’d choose him over Bucky.

BUCKY BARNES x YELENA BELOVA

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steinpughhawke · 6 months ago

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➳ ⧗ a MASTERLIST of all my bishova fafic rec threads 📚💜💚

all credits go to the rightful author. thank you to every single bishova author out there. you are appreciated so very much. thank you for feeding us!

[transferred from twitter]

Green - Completed

Purple - Ongoing

100k stories

high school/college au

jealous!yelena

5+1

fake dating au

underrated stories

underrated oneshots

soulmate

haven’t been updated in year(s)

outsider’s POV

pitch perfect crossover

sad/angsty

enemies to lovers

18+ stories

top!yelena

top!kate

omegaverse

recent completed (9/28/24)

#kate bishop #yelena belova #bishova #kate bishop x yelena boleva #katelena #bishlova #marvel #hawkeye #black widow #white widow #kate x yelena #katelena fanfic

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nataliasquote · 4 months ago

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Double the trouble | Switch Up | n romanoff

Double the trouble AU

Summary: Yelena is back, the twins are older, and her scheming ways do nothing but backfire. a mother always knows…

Age: 8

Warnings: none

wc: 3.3k

note: hello! I’m back with another little oneshot for DTT. I’ve missed writing tbh and although this isn’t the best, I’m pleased to finally write. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting!

-⧗-

Leaving the twins with Yelena was either the best idea or the worst idea Natasha had ever had. But with Wanda away visiting her brother, Natasha didn’t really have much of a choice. Work didn’t allow her to take time off like this, so she turned to the next best thing.

The blonde was as grumpy as anything until she was faced with the two bundles of joy that were her nieces. She hated kids, but Isla and Y/n were an exception. She opened the door with a huge grin as the twins came barreling towards her, crouching barely over the threshold to collect them in a hug.

Natasha hovered back by the stairs with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Despite having a rocky patch, she truly loved Yelena with all her heart. And seeing her girls happy was all that mattered. She wished she could stay, but with new development plans happening at the studio, she had to oversee the final meeting.

“Are you staying all day?” Isla asked, peering round to look at Yelena’s truck parked in the driveway. “Where’s Fanny?”

“I’ll get her out in a minute, and yes I am, lucky duck.” The twins cheered at her response, their chatter tumbling over the top of each other as they bombarded their aunt with questions. Natasha quickly stepped in, taking them by the hand so Yelena could finally enter the house. After sending her girls over to the couch, Natasha pulled Yelena to one side, whispering in hushed voices.

“It shouldn’t take long, but in case I’m held back, there’s boxed mac and cheese in the cupboard and the girls made cookies last night so they’re in the green jar.”

“Mac and cheese, green jar, got it.”

“Please don’t give them too much sugar,” Natasha warned, knowing her sister’s tendencies, “and they have been arguing a lot, so good luck.” She didn’t really need to tell Yelena what to do, she’d babysat since they were really little, but it gave Natasha a piece of mind to know they were well looked after.

“Natasha, they’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me? Yelena asked with a grin.

“Absolutely not.”

Yelena rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “So who’s the troublemaker this time?”

“Y/n has been in a mood for the past few days, so it’s currently her. Apparently Isla's existence annoys her.” As if on cue, a yell sounded from the living room and Natasha inwardly groaned. A moment of peace was never on the cards.

As she went to sort out whatever argument was occurring with her eight year olds, Yelena let Fanny out of the car and watched the Akita bound up the front steps, her tail wagging frantically. Any normal person would feel bad about the amount of hair she shed, but it only made Yelena laugh. She truly made every place her home.

The scene in the living room was absurd even for Yelena. Natasha was scolding a pouting Y/n whilst Isla cried in her arms, clutching something hidden behind her hair. Yelena hovered awkwardly, unsure how to approach, and Fanny did the same. It was almost like she could read the room.

Natasha, breathing a sigh of relief, gestured for Yelena to approach, to which she did. A sniffly Isla was pushed in her direction and the young girl lunged at her aunt, clinging to her waist with a sob.

“What happened?” Yelena mouthed, her eyebrows shooting up as Natasha held up what looked like a barbie doll. “Where’s the hair?”

“This one got scissor happy,” Natasha said exasperatedly, jabbing her thumb in Y/n’s direction.

“She stole my barbie!” Y/n protested, folding her arms across her chest in a huff.

“No!” Isla burst out,” that’s mine!”

“Well I don’t care, I was playing with it!”

“Get your own!”

Above their heads, Natasha gave Yelena a look. This is what she had been dealing with since Wanda left and although she hated leaving her kids, the bickering was starting to wear her down. It was Yelena’s turn to handle it for once. She just hoped the house would still be standing when she got back.

“Girls, please,” Natasha sighed, standing up with the barbie in her hand. “Mama has to go in a minute, and I’m not having you acting up for Yelena.” She used her stern mom voice and Y/n paled, hating being told off. “Y/n, can you apologise to Isla please.”

“No.”

Natasha may have a soft spot for her youngest but the glare that crossed her features made the little girl’s eyes well up and she hung her head in shame. “Y/n…” Natasha warned, knowing what came next if she didn’t start behaving.

“Sorry,” Y/n mumbled, suddenly very interested in the sleeve of her pink sweater.

“Good,” Natasha stated, brushing off the dog hair from her sleek black suit trousers. “I want you two on your best behaviour, and Yelena will tell me everything that happens. If I find out that you’ve been disrespectful and naughty, I will tell Mama. Okay?”

The girls mumbled in chorus, with Isla still clinging on to Yelena and Y/n standing by herself. It was just a phase, Natasha had to keep reminding herself that, but it certainly felt as though it was going to last forever. She wasn’t the bad mom, but Y/n’s behaviour had been so bad lately that not a day went by where she wasn’t being told off. It hurt her to see her daughter so upset, but Natasha stood strong. It was her own kindred spirit that she saw in Y/n, and now she understood why she was such a difficult child sometimes.

“We’re going to have fun, right guys?” Yelena asked with extravagant enthusiasm, although the responses she got were far from it. “You can go and do your boring adult stuff whilst the cool kids do… cool kid stuff.”

Natasha anxiously glanced at her kids, a wave of doubt washing over her. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I can cancel-”

“Natasha, go, I’ll be fine. They’re angels with me and I’ve got Fanny with me if it all goes wrong.”

The dog in question gave a small woof and Natasha eyed her warily, far more a cat person than a dog person. She wasn’t totally convinced, but motherhood had made her anxious so she straightened out her jacket and nodded, psyching herself up.

“I’ll be back by 5, 6 at the latest.”

“Have a good day Mama,” Y/n said quietly, trying desperately to get back on her good side. Having Wanda mad at her was bad enough, but having Natasha was the worst thing she could think of. And when her Mama crouched down and opened her arms, Y/n took her chance to get to the hug first, muttering another ‘sorry’ to try and make amends.

“Be good, girls. I’ll be home soon.”

‘Aunty Lena, does Mama hate me?” Y/n asked as the door closed. The blonde frowned and turned to her niece, her large green eyes piercing into the Russian’s soul.

“Of course not, little bug. But you have to start being nice to Isla, okay?”

“I know,” Y/n replied. “She just really makes me mad.”

“That’s what sisters do. Your mama and I used to fight all the time.”

Y/n’s eyes lit up. “You did?”

“It’s totally normal, little bug. When your mama had blue hair, I used to tease her about it all the time.”

Isla’s head perked up at that. “Mama had blue hair?”

“Has she never shown you pictures?” Yelena asked in disbelief. Both girls shook their heads and Yelena grinned. “I’ll make some hot chocolate and I can show you. Your grandma put all our photos as kids in an album.”

The twins cheered loudly and ran to the kitchen, laughing with each other. It was such a stark contrast to earlier that Yelena had to do a double take at what she was witnessing.

“I’m glad you’re not this much work,” she muttered to Fanny, who barked happily at the noise. Kids really were hard work.

~~~

“Lena, kick it!” Isla yelled across the garden, dancing around the goal whilst her aunt really took her time. She was doing it purely to mess with her niece, and it was working perfectly. With another yell, Isla sprinted out of the goal in an attempt to tackle, but Yelena took her chance and sent the ball flying into the goal with a thud.

“That’s not fair!” She cried, running over to retrieve it.

“Another point to Aunt Lena!” Y/n announced from her place at the side before launching into another back walkover. She’d only recently learned the skill at dance and was more than happy to do acro tricks whilst they played. As long as she kept score as promised.

“No! That doesn’t count,” Isla protested, one foot propped up on the ball. “She cheated.”

“I didn’t cheat, you just have no patience,” Yelena said sassily, propping a hand up on her hip. “You’re not going to make a very good goal keeper.”

“I hate soccer anyway,” Isla grumbled, kicking the ball as hard as she could in Yelena’s direction. “It sucks.”

“It’s only because you’re bad at it,” Y/n piped up, now sitting on the porch steps after exhausting herself from cartwheels.

“You’re worse!” Typical comeback but Yelena had had enough. With a roll of her eyes, she marched towards the goal, giving Isla a bump with her elbow as she walked past.

“New game, I’ll be in goal and you have to work together to score. Deal?”

Isla shook her head. “I’m not playing with her, she can’t even kick a ball!”

“I can too!” Y/n protested, sprinting up to her sister. “I’m better than you and I don’t even have lessons.”

“That’s so not true. You-”

“Guys!” Yelena shouted, her Russian accent thickly coating her words. “Do you ever stop this fighting? It’s so annoying!”

The twins went silent, an uncommon phenomenon. Y/n muttered something under her breath but Yelena didn’t have it in her to care anymore. Every time she babysat it made her more and more impressed at how Natasha did it. A true saint.

“New rules. You have to pass it to each other before trying to score. If you don’t, the point goes to me. Okay?”

“Fine!”

Surprisingly, very few fights broke out over the course of the game. Isla did most of the scoring after Y/n well and truly botched her tries. But in her defence, her legs weren’t made for kicking the shit out of a soccer ball.They were made for cartwheels, which Isla soon got fed up with.

After far too long outside, Yelena rounded them up and herded them back inside after teeth started chattering and Y/n’s soaked trouser legs from falling over were turning her lips slightly blue.

After a quick bath she sat them both on Isla’s bed and dug through her closet for some comfier clothes. After a few minutes she sat back on her knees, her mind racing.

“Do you guys match anymore?”

“Ew,” Isla said, her nose scrunching. “Never. All Y/n wears is pink, and I hate pink.”

“You also hate dresses too.”

Yelena was quiet for a moment, the cogs in her head turning. She turned around with a sheepish smile, almost shaking with excitement.

“I have an idea, but you need to cooperate… okay?”

~~~

Natasha sighed as she stepped out of her car, her breath forming a small cloud in front of her. It was far too cold for October and she rushed up the front steps to get inside. The building work was looking amazing and she knew Y/n was itching to get back to the studio just as much as she was (there was only so much kitchen ballet they could do).

It was eerily quiet as the front door opened, only her heels sounding on the wooden floor as she approached the kitchen. She wasn’t met with a pile of bodies throwing themselves at her, which was probably more strange than the silence. Had she trusted Yelena too much and her sister had kidnapped her children and ran off to Russia? Honestly it wasn’t such a surprising theory.

Empty kitchen… empty living room… this was weird. But the sound of giggles couldn’t be hidden and Natasha kicked off her heels at the bottom of the stairs and took the stairs two at a time, her trousers straining around her thigh muscles. Isla’s laugh was the most distinguishable and she pushed the door open slowly, trying not to startle anyone.

The wholesome sight of the three of them sitting on the floor surrounded by stuffed animals was enough to melt Natasha’s heart and she smiled softly, leaning on the doorframe waiting for someone to notice her. And strangely it wasn’t Y/n but Isla who jumped up first, almost stumbling over Fanny to get to her Mama with a shriek.

Natasha caught her daughter in her arms and pressed kisses all over her face, warmth flooding her body. She would never feel complete when she was away from her girls.

Y/n quickly joined in, wanting the same cuddles. Natasha crouched down and stroked their cheeks before pausing slightly, squinting. Something wasn’t right and Yelena’s overly wide grin didn’t help her suspicions either. She stroked Isla’s hair with a chuckle and straightened up, her back aching from bending down so much.

“Did you girls have a good day?” She asked, watching as Y/n settled back on the floor beside Fanny. “You both look happier than when I left.”

“We played soccer and beat Aunt Lena!” Y/n piped up. “I scored all the goals.”

“No, I helped too!”

Natasha didn’t miss the way Yelena nudged her nieces or how their eyes went as wide as saucers. But the redhead just chuckled and took a seat on Isla’s bed, her legs slightly aching from standing all day.

Isla stood in front of her, clearly torn with where to go. Natasha knew she wanted to sit on her knee but watched as she settled beside Yelena again. It was impressive, Natasha gave her that much. Very dedicated to the cause.

“You did? Well done baby. Have you behaved today?”

“They’ve been angels, sestra, as usual. It’s only you they are bad for.” Yelena had a shit eating grin and it took everything in Natasha not to launch a pillow at her head. But she could not condone aggression around her violent children anyway before Y/n got any more ideas.

“Is that right?”

“Mama you had blue hair!”

If looks could kill, Yelena would be well and truly dead. If there was one thing Natasha hated, it was pictures of her younger self. She made far too many questionable decisions and went through one too many boxes of hair dye, so seeing pictures was a no no. Not even Wanda had seen many. And now her daughters had seen the worst ones which she was never going to live down.

“Yelena Belova… what did you do.”

The blonde just shrugged and jumped up, causing Fanny to do the same. The queen of avoiding things. “Who wants Aunt Yelena’s special mac and cheese?”

The twins both cheered and raced out of the room after their aunt, leaving Natasha slightly bewildered in the blue and white room. There were times where Natasha convinced herself that Yelena wasn’t all that bad, and then she pulled stunts like this and put herself back on top of Natasha’s hit list. But that was never going to change.

“What else did you show my kids, Yelena?”

No reply. Typical.

Natasha truly was outnumbered when her sister was around. But then she remembered what was really going on and a small laugh escaped Natasha’s mouth. Adorable, really.

Y/n and Isla helped as much as they could to make dinner, including standing on a chair to stir the boiling noodles and dumping the cheese packets in when instructed. Natasha was banished to setting the table after Isla gave her a lecture about her inability to cook, clearly something else she’d picked up from Yelena. But Natasha yielded, setting the cutlery down with a shake of her head. The longer it went on for, the more she tried not to laugh. And the more slip ups she noticed.

Like how Isla wouldn’t stand on the chair because she was scared of heights, even though yesterday she climbed the largest tree in the backyard. And how Y/n stood still when waiting for her turn, when she’d usually be twirling around with her apron. Natasha could only watch as Yelena heavily emphasised their names and the twins burst into giggles whenever they answered her. It was adorable to see and she couldn’t wait to tell Wanda.

They ate in silence, which was usually the case when mac and cheese was involved. And the girls did very well, Natasha gave them that, until she pulled an admittedly evil move.

“How about cookies?” Yelena asked once plates were cleared and the table was wiped down.

“It sounds good to me,” Natasha agreed, grabbing the tin and sitting back at the table. “One each, you too Yelena. And Y/n, you know the rules. You got in trouble today so you don’t get a cookie.”

She slid the tin to Isla who happily reached in until a protest sounded from the girl next to her.

“That’s not fair! That’s my cookie!”

Isla had already shoved her cookie in her mouth at this point, the crumbs sticking to her cheeks and the front of her shirt. She grinned happily, thankful she agreed to Yelena’s scheming plot.

“Mama! That’s mine!”

Natasha shook her head. “No Y/n, those aren’t the rules, you know that.”

Isla smacked her palm against the tabletop. “I’m not Y/n! She is!” She pointed at her sister harshly, who was licking the crumbs from her fingertips. “We switched!”

“Isla!” Y/n whined, “You weren’t supposed to spoil it!”

“I’m not losing my cookie, give it to me!”

“No,” Y/n said with a grin. “Mama said you can’t have one, so you can’t.”

“I hate you!”

Natasha watched the scene unfold, with Yelena looking more and more concerned. The blonde turned to her sister for help, but was met with only a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Do something!” Yelena hissed, but Natasha shook her head.

“Absolutely not,” Natasha said, leaning back in her chair. “It’s your mess, you fix it.”

“Tell her Aunt Lena!” Isla cried, tears threatening to spill. “Tell her I’m Isla! I’m not Y/n.”

Whilst Isla was nearing a breakdown, Y/n’s mean streak thickened. “These cookies really are good.”

“Mama please!”

Natasha rounded the table and placed a kiss on Isla’s forehead before passing her the biggest cookie from the tin. “Here baby, you’re okay,” she soothed, gently wiping her tears. “But your Aunt is an idiot. I did know it was you all along Isl’s, I’m sorry baby.” She picked her daughter up and set her on her lap, holding her close as she ate her cookie.

Yelena’s mouth fell open. “You knew?”

“From the moment ‘Isla’ ran to me first.” Yelena hit the table, muttering ‘dammit’ under her breath. “A mother always know, Yel. Always.”

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