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sashaisready · 12 hours ago

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Since You've Been Gone: Chapter 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series Masterlist

After a regrettable first meeting in the cemetery, you discover that you have something in common with a certain member of the Avengers. Unfortunately, you can't choose your neighbours, even in death.

(Setting is approx. post TFATWS)

After that, you saw him there quite frequently.

Not every time. But often when you were there, he was there too. You guessed your schedules overlapped in that way. One time you’d nearly said, ‘I guess we have the same dead-parent visiting hours’, but fortunately had managed to hold your tongue.

The two of you didn’t really speak. A nod of acknowledgement here, a mumbled hello there. Once, something fell out of your bag onto the ground without you noticing and he’d said ‘hey’ and pointed to it as you turned around, and you’d thanked him. That was the extent of your interactions.

And that was fine. You remembered all too clearly the fury in his eyes at that first meeting. Best to leave him be, and not accidentally invoke his wrath. You were still a little sore about how he’d spoken to you then, but you also cut him some slack – you’d probably be quite prickly if you’d been through what he had. Your parents’ deaths had given you some perspective in life, you tried to think the best of people and take their actions in good faith unless they proved otherwise, as you never know what they’re battling.

But you weren’t a doormat, either.

One chilly afternoon you were both at the cemetery. James…or should you refer to him as Bucky? Was standing at his parents’ graves. He’d brought flowers but now stood there in silence as he looked down at their head stones, pondering. He often did that.

You were hunched over your own family’s plot, trimming the leaves on some chrysanthemums (your mother’s favourite) with the mini garden shears you kept in your kit. You had pulled your free arm across your body in an attempt to shield yourself from the biting wind when you clumsily slipped, the shears nicking the skin on your hand.

“Ow!”, you whispered sharply as you abruptly dropped the shears and looked at the damage.

“Fuck…” you mumbled under your breath. Crimson seeped across your hand, dripping onto the grass below. You weren’t squeamish but you couldn’t help but feel queasy at the sight of all that blood, the cut was deeper than you initially realised and at an awkward angle across your palm.

You trembled slightly as you attempted to find a tissue or similar in your bag with your free hand, scrambling before locating a microfibre cloth you fortunately hadn’t used yet. As you struggled to free the cloth from your kit and move it onto your injury, a gloved hand moved across you and scooped up the cloth – effortlessly swiping it onto the cut and holding it in place over your hand.

You blinked, bewildered, as you turned your head to find James or Bucky or whatever he called himself leaning over you. He furrowed his brow as he applied pressure to stem the bleeding. You tensed up as he touched you – not expecting physical contact, his proximity so close you could smell his cologne. But he was gentle, gentler than you expected a burly, metal-armed man to be. This was all quite unexpected from your normally silent neighbour.

“You wouldn’t think those little suckers could cut so deep,” he gruffed as he glanced down at the discarded shears.

“I’m not quite sure how I managed it…” you told him, “and…uh…thank-you…for helping me”.

He didn’t respond, just expertly wrapped the cloth up and tied it at the sides to create a makeshift bandage across your hand. He worked quickly, but with the precision of an actual medical professional. You figured he must’ve had a lot of experience with this sort of stuff.

“You okay?” he asked.

You looked up at his face, searching for well…anything. Despite the care and concern shown in his actions, his tone was still grumpy and monotonous like it always was. The juxtaposition between the two contrasts was dizzying. It was as if he was doing all of this as a tedious chore, even though you hadn’t asked him for any of it. His blue eyes stared back at you, nothing given away. The man was a vault.

“Yeah, was just a little shocked. I’m fine, thanks,” you replied as you tore your eyes away, looking down as you lightly flexed your hand beneath the cloth/bandage. It was well secured – the bleeding seemed to have stopped.

“That’s good for now,” he nodded towards your hand as he stood back up, “but you should probably take a look at it when you get home. Clean it so it doesn’t get infected. Put an actual bandage on it,” he ordered sternly.

“Okay. Thanks, I uh, will,” you nodded back at him, “I need to get going, anyway”.

You began putting things away in your bag �� which was harder with one hand - and to your surprise he helped, carefully packing up the kit without a word.

“You don’t have to-” you attempted to protest, but he ignored you – leaning over you sliding each item into your bag as if he did it all the time. After he was finished you slung the bag over your shoulder.

“Bye,” you hesitated as you moved to leave, “and thanks again, for all…of that”.

“See ya,” he responded casually. He’d already turned his back to you as his focus centred on the graves once again.

You kissed your fingers and placed it on your parents’ headstone to say goodbye, as you always did when you left them. As you walked away, you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your head. Did he…like you? Or the very least tolerate you? Or were you just a nuisance? But you didn’t ask him for any help, he just-

Stop.

You did your best to remove it all from your mind. Nothing good ever came from arguing with yourself.

As you walked, you didn’t notice the intense gaze that followed your movements until you disappeared from sight.

🍂

The weeks rolled on. You saw Bucky here and there. The two of you probably exchanged ten words in total over a period of months. Hellos. Byes. Nods of acknowledgement, hands held up in greeting. Little else. You simply minded your own business, and he minded his. He seemed satisfied with that. You certainly didn’t want to piss him off.

It was a Sunday morning when it happened. Autumn was becoming winter and the air was changing, the chill sharper than it had been in the weeks before. You had bundled up in a hat and scarf but still came to see your parents as you always did. You were an all-weather visitor.

Bucky was there too, still in his coat but not quite wrapped up in the way you were. You supposed he didn’t feel the cold the way you did. He was standing quietly as usual while you swept up the last of the autumn leaves that had blown onto your family’s plot.

It was quiet which was unusual, Sundays were often busy here as it was a popular day for people to pay their respects - but it was still quite early in the morning, and it’s possible the cold had put some of them off. You liked the peace and solitude of the weekend mornings, and it seemed that Bucky did too.

You could see a man in the near distance wandering around seemingly aimlessly. He had his phone pointed at various head stones, swinging around as if filming them on the phone camera. He didn’t seem to be visiting anyone specifically but taking a scattergun approach to where he was going. You frowned. That was odd, but you didn’t like to judge how people visited the cemetery. Maybe he was trying to find a certain plot, or filming the place to show someone else. You put your head back down and ignored him as you moved away the last few leaves and became engrossed in your tasks again.

“Oh FUCK, I knew it was you!” someone squealed excitedly.

You whipped your head around at the abrupt voice. The man with the phone was now standing just a few feet away, his phone aimed at Bucky’s face as he grinned.

“Hey, man,” Bucky said calmly, the discomfort obvious across his face, “How’s it going…look, I’m just-”

“The WINTER SOLDIER,” the man yelled into the camera, “in the FLESH. THE METAL. Right here in the cemetery. I knew I’d find good content in this creepy ass graveyard but I never thought-”

“Put the phone down, please,” Bucky asked. Well, more demanded. His voice was even, but from the sidelines you could hear the hint of annoyance creeping in. His face tightened; his eyes suddenly seemed darker. You subconsciously tensed up as the air changed.

The man, oblivious to any of this, or just refusing to acknowledge it, continued.

“So why you here man?” he asked obnoxiously as he thrust the screen closer towards Bucky. “Can I get a selfie? It would be great for my channel…”

Bucky winced, “look, no offence, but I’m just here trying to keep my head down. This is a private moment for me. Can you just-”

“What, what’s the big deal?” the guy scoffed, “don’t get all diva celebrity on me. You think you’re too good to meet fans?”

“No, I just…”

“What? You visiting the grave of one of your victims or something?” the man laughed vindictively as he mimed a gunshot to the head and made a shooting sound with his mouth. You gasped at his callousness.

Bucky didn’t blink. He yanked the phone from the guy’s hand and crushed it between his metal fingers in a split second, the debris sprinkling onto the ground below. The guy gasped in response, but before he could protest Bucky had grabbed him by the shirt and was holding him in the air, staring him down with a terrifying sneer as the man’s legs dangled and he wailed in fear.

“Hey, whoa…whoa…put him down,” you said softly, moving to Bucky and placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s not worth it…and this isn’t the place for it…”

Bucky inhaled sharply but listened to you, keeping his eyes locked onto the man but releasing him. He fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

“Everyone’s gonna hear about this…” the man said anxiously as he righted himself, his breathing heavy in spite of his clear attempt to seem tough.

“No, they’re not,” you spat back.

His eyes widened in shock as he jeered at you, “What?? Says who? You? That maniac broke my damn phone and picked me up by my collar!”

“You disturbed someone at a cemetery who was privately mourning, and were disrespecting the graves by treading all over them and filming it all for views,” you said venomously, “I’m guessing you didn’t get a permit to make a video here either, huh? They take that very seriously here, you know, after all, this is a place of rest. They could even get you on grave desecration if they decide to file a complaint with the police…”

He didn’t respond, but his panicked face said it all.

“You’re lucky all you got was a broken phone. Besides, you have no evidence,” you toed at the phone remains, “and your only eyewitnesses will say you tried to attack a veteran as he was having a private moment of mourning, so he accidentally broke your phone in self-defence”.

The man opened his mouth in dismay, looking between you and Bucky in shock. Bucky nodded, affirming your version of events.

After a few moments the man harumphed.

“Fine…whatever. You’re both crazy anyhow…” he muttered as he stormed off. The two of you watched him go.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Bucky said quietly without meeting your gaze, “I should’ve kept it together”.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “I hate people who are disrespectful to this place. And what he said to you was really out of line”.

“I’ve had worse. Do you really need a permit to film here on your camera? And they’d really call the police?”

“Oh…no idea. I just said that to rattle him,” you smirked.

Bucky looked at you with surprise, then the corners of his mouth turned up into a small smile.

“Thank-you” he mumbled.

“Yeah…no problem,” you smiled back at him.

“I’m James by the way. But everyone calls me Bucky”.

You gave him your name in return, and he gave you a small nod.

You both stood in the silence for a little while, until he leaned over and started picking up the broken shards that once resembled a smart phone.

Bucky, you thought to yourself. I can call him Bucky.

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fan fiction #since you've been gone fic

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mikasnazz · 7 months ago

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Constantly unsatisfied and out of reach

#you’d think this was referring to avengers #but #no #lokius #loki laufeyson #loki show #loki odinson #mobius m mobius #loki #Loki quotes

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anika-ann · 4 months ago

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A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 1 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 7,3k

Summary: It's just a bunch of Avengers and SHIELD agents who often cooperate on missions - hanging out and getting to know each other better on a camping trip. What could possibly go wrong?

A few things. A few things could and they all seem to have you at the centre. Luckily, you have a hero in shining armour to help you in the time of need.

Warnings: allusions to NSFW, minor injuries, mention of misogyny, brief reference to PTSD, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congrats @bigtreefest and thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - in this one, you shall find “why’s it…sticky?” and modified “here, you can share with me”. I hope to finish the second part in time 😁

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The afternoon North Carolina sun warmed your skin pleasantly, even as you found yourself panting after the having climbed up the hill you. The backpack with an attached sleeping bag and a tent pack was growing heavier and heavier on your shoulders with every step, but the view and the company – most of it anyway – were certainly worth it.

Everyone seemed affected by the fresh air and exercise the Great Smokey Mountains provided, the atmosphere light and content as this was, for most, the first trip in a long time that had nothing to do with a mission.

Sure, one could argue there were some strings attached, as the ‘mission’ was to solidify relationships within the group – several Avengers and several SHIELD agents who were often outsourced for Avengers-level missions – but still: no one was shooting at you. And you wouldn’t have to write a report. That counted for something. For a lot, in fact.

Plus, the path was the goal. The destination, while set precisely according to Steve’s plan, might as well be just about anywhere.

You glanced at him as he walked by your side, smiling absently. The corners of his lips only twitched higher as he noticed you watching him, his gaze flickering to you as well.

He looked as if he was born to do this. A halo of dark blond hair around his head ruffled by the wind, sunlight painting them almost golden. The heaviest backpack of all sitting on his wide shoulders, straps around his broad chest and thin waist. Legs clad in light track pants that hugged his thighs and ass in the best way possible, a downright magnetic sight--- no.

Uh-huh, no.

No thoughts of that sort. You had forbidden yourself from that, at least for the duration of this trip, because you had known Steve would be a literal walking thirst-trap, the sheer happiness surrounding him making his glow ten times brighter. You had forbidden yourself from thinking like this, because this was not an appropriate observation to make about a colleague, a superior no less, even as everybody else probably thought along the same lines.

It didn’t matter that you wanted to throw hands at the mere idea of someone else making that observation as well. You didn’t exactly have the right to do that and it was a lost fight before it even started. Steve Rogers was simply too beautiful and essentially perfect in all his imperfections, and god knew that those imperfection had nothing to with his body. Ass included-

Gaze quickly snapping up back to his face, you found him smiling at you warmly, a soft dusting of freckles adorning his cheeks from the prolonged exposure to sun. The same phenomenon could be observed on his bare arms; a constellation of freckles, where angels had kissed their kindest, prettiest and most loyal creation; a constellation of places where you’d love to press your lips and linger, breathe in the scent of his skin and taste it.

God, he was breathtaking and all kinds of alluring. The nature around you was too, sure, the smell of pines and sandy rocks whispering of vacations and good times, but the way he-

“Whoa!” you yelped as you suddenly found yourself tumbling towards the ground, foot having slipped on a rock, you supposed.

Hands outstretched, you had no chance to break the fall, only to slow it, the burden on your back completely changing your momentum.

The second your palms as much as brushed the rocky floor, you were being held by your waist so firmly that none of your actual weight landed on the ground. You would recognize the arms holding you anywhere – just like the scent of sandal wood, musk, man and comfort, suddenly wrapping around you.

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

Your stomach made a little flip-flop as his hands squeezed you gently and helped you up, only releasing you when his eyes found yours, silently asking if you were okay.

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

“Whoa, you okay?” Daisy rushed to your side, bless her, breaking the brief moment you had allowed yourself to bask in the sweet worry in Steve’s gaze and in the heat his body was radiating, despite the fact you could feel everyone staring at the newly nominated klutz of the group of superspies. You.

Heat of embarrassment flooded your skin under everyone’s scrutiny – and more so under the judgement in Agent Hopkinson’s glare, the jerk. Then again, you could hardly blame him for looking down on you right now.

Allegedly one of the deadliest agents known to the world; bested by a few rocks on a hiking trail and Steve Rogers’s smile.

You chuckled self-deprecatingly, quietly thanking Steve and turning to Daisy to assure her that besides your pride, nothing had been seriously wounded.

“I’m fine,” you said, scratching your forehead with a poor attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Must have missed a step, I don’t even know how…”

You did know how. You knew it precisely. You hadn’t been watching your step, too mesmerized by the beauty of your favourite Captain – and favourite person in the world. The man with the most honest, goodest, fiercest and most beautiful soul you had ever met, your closest friend.

“I do,” Agent Melinda May commented dryly, a pointed look aimed at your feet, revealing the culprit – and making you wish the Earth could swallow you, especiallysince it was her, the second in command at SHIELD – and one of the most admirable women in history of anything. And she had just seen you, an agent for both Avengers and SHIELD, a master of martial arts, to trip on nothing like a five-year-old. For the same reason too. “Your shoelaces are undone.”

“…thanks. And sorry. Go ahead. I think I can tie my shoelaces on my own,” you chuckled again, swallowing the shame even as you were among friends. Albeit some of them more reluctant than others.

“Clearly not,” Agent Hopkinson remarked, not missing the opportunity to belittle you, making you sigh as you crouched down, taking extreme care not to as much as wobble despite the heavy backpack.

Case on point, you supposed.

Having worked for SHIELD for years now, acting as the main liaison for situations where Avengers needed help, be it due to too many hostiles or the nature of the job leaning more towards spy-work that alien-invasion-work, your general experience was that tolerance and cooperation were the way. Some people were less pleasant than others, that much was true, but one should handle disagreements, various personality traits and different views on life. You certainly could; your approach to conflict, your supposedly calming presence and search for harmony in a team and the calm composure you maintained under pressure to quickly weigh your options, had even earned you your codename, Libra.

You genuinely believed tuning down an attitude for the sake of the mission was the custom, the golden rule.

And then you encountered Agent Martin Hopkinson. He was the exception. And a pain in your ass.

He got along alright with most people despite his arrogance; but you and him were a trainwreck happening in slow motion. He did not like you. Whether it was jealousy of your position, misogyny, or both, or something completely else, you wouldn’t know. But he was bitter and biting, always looking for a flaw, always making snidey comments.

You could handle that – an insult here, a mean comment there. After all, you could take a punch, a stab, a gunshot wound. You could take down men twice your size with your bare hands and just a little wit, if you tried hard enough. You had faced soldiers, rapists, murderers; Agent Hopkinson was but a small hindrance, annoyance on legs. But by god, your fists itched whenever he opened his mouth. And the feeling was mutual.

However, as a professional, you worked hard not to reciprocate his aggression, even as it only ever remained verbal; the same could not be said about him. And he didn’t care zilch about who heard him be ‘smart’ with you either, which, in turn, led to several reprimands; and on one delightful occasion, to Steve almost breaking his jaw when he heard him utter a comment about Coulson pimping out the pet agent again, clearly meaning you. The wrath Steve had showed was nothing hort of holy, and holy was the miracle that Hopkinson was still alive; the fact he barely toned down his attitude was just idiocy.

But had you mention Steve was an angel? A fiercely loyal protective friend, a gentleman, who might swear on occasion and be a little shit par excellence, but god should help anyone whose behaviour towards others offended him. He might be an angel, but was an avenging one.

A caring one too.

As soon as you stood up again, Steve was carefully cradling the backs of your hands, examining the teeny scrapes over your palms with about five droplets of blood in total, frowny gaze flickering to your knee which you hadn’t even realized you had grazed too.

“We should disinfect that.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you laughed, even as you let him examine the barely-there bleeding, knowing there was no use trying to resist. “Thank you for caring, but it’s literally just a scratch… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, his expression darkening a bit. “That’s not comforting and you know it. And any wound, if infected, can be dangerous – I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

You knew instantly what instance he was referring too, a small shudder running up your spine. Yet, the rational part of you argued that there was no comparison, even if the cut on your arm over a month back had not been all that deeper and wider than this.

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

“We were about to take one more break before reaching the destination anyway,” he interrupted you, unrelenting. “Let’s head up to that clearing and we’ll rest for a bit. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“Steve-“

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Bobbi uttered nonchalantly as she passed you, joining the others who had gone ahead already.

You sighed. Bobbi Morse – an agent with a clever sense of humour, sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude, a good friend – and she was using all of her powers against you. Wicked.

“It’s just a-“

“Captain’s orders,” she almost sing-sang, earning a grin from Daisy who only shrugged, as if to confirm her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes; acutely not aware that Steve was still holding your hands in his and your body was heating up from inside at the prolonged contact – particularly your chest and something deep within your belly.

You looked up at him, mildly annoyed and rather amused at his insistence and protectiveness. And even though you wouldn't admit that out loud, touched.

“You’re overbearing. You’re lucky I like you,” you scolded him in a whisper.

He only grinned, his worried gaze clearing and lightning up at your feigned outrage, and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

You bit your cheek as you nodded, reminding yourself for at least the tenth time since you had set off hiking: friends. The keyword of this trip was ‘friends’.

It was just really hard to actually remember that when Steve looked at you like that, talked like that, and you could still feel the warm imprint of his hands on yours.

Steve Rogers was a man impossible not to fall for; from almost absurd handsomeness to even more absurd goodness he lived by, from his sharp wits to effective moves, from the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled to the tenderness in his touch. His sense of humour equalled to the one of duty, his drive and determination in leading interlacing with a soul of an artist and a simple man who appreciated the most ordinary things.

You had clicked instantly; your friendship bloomed almost effortlessly, working alongside him making for many opportunities to spend time together. Despite barely having met about three months ago, the times you owed him your life for were numerous; and the few times he owed you his, even as there was no such thing as keeping score, only strengthened your bond. Moments where you thought you wouldn’t make it out. Long nights at motels or in a stake-out cars, filled with mindless chatter, profound talks and comfortable silences. His goddamn smiles alone, always feeling a little warmer, fonder, when directed at you.

The fact he had quickly slipped into a habit of calling you Lee, a nickname derived from your codename with a wordless implication of you being his refuge, with that damn smile on his plush lips, was making something in your ribcage tremble with affection.

You had fallen hard. But who wouldn’t? You were only human.

And his proximity, his friendship, his affection, they were most precious to you; no matter which form they’d have, you’d take it.

Even if it meant inappropriate thoughts and your heart racing fast enough to collapse from exhaustion when he cleaned your scraped knee and palms with such care and focus one might believe they were fatal wounds.

Your heart would tremble less if he hadn’t kneeled in front of you as he did so, but you supposed Steve Rogers was just that kind of deadly. He cradled your hands in his huge ones as if they were as fragile as butterfly wings, smiling when he was done; and grinning when you said Thank you, nurse Rogers, the words carrying both humour and respect for his late mother.

His smile resembled the sun so much you almost missed how the actual sunrays grew less and less warm. It was only a few minutes later – every one of them making you aware of the either knowing or incredulous looks following yours or Steve’s every move, almost enough to make you self-conscious when snacking – when you realized you were getting cold.

The solution was easy; and despite how effective it would have been in chasing away the cold and lifting your spirits, it did not involve hugging Steve. Instead, you dived your hand down your backpack through the layer of snacks and other small necessities towards your clothes for the occasion.

And your hand reached something it most definitely shouldn’t have.

“What the-“ you murmured, still acutely aware of all the gazes on you, now joined by Steve’s. “Why is it… sticky?”

Puzzled and horrified – and suspicious, because Hopkinson might have never played a prank on you, but lines always had to be crossed for the first time someday – you threw out the things from the top, pulling out what was normally one of your favourite sweatshirts.

Fairly soaked in a rusty-red oily substance that now resided in your luggage.

Not that it hadn’t been there before – but before, it was safely stored in a Tupperware container along with the thin marinated steaks you had been tasked to carry for the team’s first dinner above fire, Hunter carrying the grate.

“What is it?” Bobbi asked, frowning at the poor article of clothing you had intended to wear.

You didn’t have to sniff it to answer; mostly because the scent of spices was strong enough to answer for you.

“It’s the… marinade from our dinner,” you informed her with a grimace, a small whine escaping you as you went to inspect the rest of your clothes with dread and irritation rising. Because you already knew that the sweatshirt would not be the only thing having been hit. There had been enough to marinade to drown Steve and Bucky in – that was why you had triple-checked it was secured when you had pulled the straw for carrying it in your backpack. “How is that even possible?! I swear I checked it at least five times! I used rubber bands and a plastic bag and- ugh.”

“It probably gave out with all the moving around,” Natasha said, compassion evident in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

And it was. You were only just beginning to feel the mountains part of your destination. You weren’t even shivering – and god knew you had been exposed to much worse conditions with fewer clothing. It wasn’t even raining. You had been through much worse – this was but an inconvenience.

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

Your gaze flickered to him as he himself put on a thin hoodie, your gaze narrowing in subtle suspicion; but there was no way. He almost looked as if he was pitying you. Genuinely. Though not enough to share his clothes; not that you’d accept if he had offered. But that was beside the point. The point was he probably wasn’t to be blamed for your current misery. Not where marinating your clothes was concerned anyway.

It was probably all on you. It seemed your Tupperware skills still needed some work. Goddamnit.

“It is fine,” you spoke to yourself more than anyone else. “I’ll walk the cold off and then stay close to the fire-“

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt a presence by your side, a large navy-blue hoodie entering your sight; it was as if talking about your potential inconvenience summoned him.

An angel by your shoulder.

With a soft frown and a welcoming smile, he set the hoodie next to you as your hands still held onto your tainted clothes.

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

You opened your mouth to protest, the words dying in your throat when you met Steve’s gaze. The golden hour had arrived, highlighting the freckles and the god-like warm glow of his smile. Your fingers reflexively twitched in the fabric of the t-shirt in your hands as the urge to run them through Steve’s hair instead hit you like a sledgehammer.

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

He was offering a friendly gesture. It was no different than borrowing boxing wraps from Hunter for training if yours had torn, borrowing a dress from Natasha because none of yours fit the theme of a party, or borrowing heels from Daisy because they matched better than anything you owned. There was nothing special about this and no one would think twice.

Yet, it was a gesture you had to turn down, no matter how gentlemanly it was – no matter how at home you knew you’d feel in that hoodie. The idea alone was tickling along the most sensitive parts of your body and for that alone you should refuse.

“Thank you, Steve… but that wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You shouldn’t be cold because of me.”

Plus, I know this one is your favourite, you wanted to say, but bit your tongue, aware that the scene was already out-of-chart intimate as it was. It certainly felt like it.

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

You are hot, you wanted to say – but a little choked noise from Hopkinson and Bucky had you quickly set your mind straight.

Until Steve pulled out the big guns – rather literally. Long fingers wrapped around your bare forearm, goosebumps erupting on your skin despite the nearly burning sensation, breath catching. It did not help the situation that something you didn’t dare to identify for the sake of your sanity flashed in Steve’s eyes when he touched you.

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

“See. All warm. And it will stay that way even without a hoodie. Take it. Please,” he added. And soon, a content smile appeared on his face, because he recognized the signs of you yielding.

A girl had to pick her battles. Arguing with Steve was not one of those which you had no chance at winning – it would be like trying to move a ton-worth block of concrete with bare hands. You had enough experience with that – fighting with Steve on the matter of your comfort, not moving concrete – and there was no winning. He respected your choices, yes, but he’d fastened straps of a parachute on you himself if it came to it, even if it meant he wouldn’t have one himself; he was a sweet hypocrite like that.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling just a bit. “If you insist… thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You would swear you heard at least three people mutter under their breath: I bet.

Thoroughly warm and comfortable despite the numerous miles in your feet and tens of pounds on your back, you trailed behind Hunter and Bobbi, who were fighting animatedly – and most lovingly – about which European brand beer was the finest. For a couple who had been married and divorced, once talking about each other in not so nice terms including Bobbi being called ‘a demonic hell-beast’, they sure appeared very much in love – but every bit professional when it counted. They were lucky to find each other again, that was for sure. It made one long for a love like that; explosive as they were, you wouldn’t shy away from calling them soulmates. They belonged with each other; they were lucky to have find one another.

As you tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing, long to easily hide your palms, you wondered if you were being lucky or cursed on this trip so far. Tripping. Spilling sauce onto your clothes. Withstanding Hopkinson’s moody glares of which exactly one resembled a shred of compassion and only lasted until you put on the hoodie of the Captain America himself. And yet, surrounded by colleagues, friends and Steve, on a trip with a sun that had slowly begun its descent at your back, you had to count your blessings.

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

Daisy had joined you for a bit, walking side by side with you when the path allowed it, meaningless chatter altering with meaningful; a natural course of conversation between close friends who were together for a few hours with nothing else to do but take it step by step, literally, admire the nature and talk.

Steve had promised it would only take less than an hour and you’d make it to where you were supposed to set camp. He had fallen behind, walking with Natasha and Bucky, who, judging by his tone and Steve’s groans, roasted the team captain about something with Natasha’s occasional but effective help.

Now, about what you assumed was twenty to thirty minutes later, the last challenge of today’s journey awaited you; fording a river.

A rather cold river.

The weather was nice, sure, and you were having a good time; but the idea of warding through water reaching your thighs was not all that alluring.

But of course, Steve Rogers was the man with a plan.

Walking down the river and finding a relatively shallow section of the river with several large rocks, all you had to do was to step from one slightly slippery stone to another without face-planting or letting your heavy backpacks break your balance. Easy – or it should be for a group of athletic agents.

Yet, Bucky and Steve were discarding their shoes in a blink, rolling up their pant legs, ready to dip in and get wet so other wouldn’t.

Your heart skipped a startled beat, a lump growing in your throat, as you watched Steve regard his friend, already knee-deep in water, with the tinniest bit of hesitance.

Cold water. Cold water.

In the early June, the water couldn’t be colder than fifty, fifty-five degrees; but if the supersoldiers planned to stand there until all of you crossed the not-so-unsignificant distance while they’d assist, they would certainly feel it. And while history taught you both Steve and Bucky could clearly take the cold better than anyone, the idea of being the person knee-deep in the water was anything but pleasant.

Especially to someone who had already laid his life by diving a plane into icy waters of the North Atlantic.

Without a second thought, you left the line forming at the best crossing point, walking down the bank to crouch at Steve’s side.

He noticed your presence in an instant, snapping his head to you, an all-easy smile forming on his lips. As if you couldn’t see the brief flash of anxiety before he hid it. As if you couldn’t see his carotid pulsing wildly. As if he, the supposedly fearless man to all, could hide the one flicker of apprehension he allowed himself to feel from you.

“Are you sure about this, Steve?” you asked, voice as low as possible as not to attract attention.

As you met his gaze, understanding flashed in his eye. A silent conversation; he knew why you came to him, where your concern came from.

And in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he ignored it. He just gulped and squared his shoulders and rose to his feet, suddenly towering over you again.

“Of course I am.” Of course he was. “It will be much easier than all of us fording through.”

You sighed, looking at him pointedly as you swallowed your irritation – and worry. That was not what you were questioning and he knew it. And you weren’t questioning his dedication or his ability to help either; just the decision to put himself through discomfort anyone else could have taken upon themselves, when it meant more hardship for him than others.

“I know. It just… it can be literally anyone else-- hell, I can do it.”

You could. You’d warm up after soon enough, judging by the terrain awaiting you. It was a better option that him going in there to freeze his toes off at and bring him back to--

To prove your point, you reached for the backpack buckles on your belly to take it off.

Steve’s hand was on your forearm stopping you before you could undo a single one, squeezing.

As your head snapped back to his face, there was a little crack through the mask he had put on, showing just the slightest hint of anxiety now. But there was a fresh wave of warmth in his expression too; gratitude lit up the blue of his irises the way the sun lit up the summer skies, dreamy and sweet.

His thumb pressed into your forearm gently, stroking, reassuring. You felt the tension melt from your shoulders faster than a butter on the stove, something stirring deep inside your bones as you took a shaky inhale.

“Thank you, Lee, but I’ll be fine,” he said, one of his eyebrows arching, a little quirk to his lips. “And we don’t want to undo the work the hoodie has done on you.”

Right. The hoodie. His hoodie. Yes, you were very much aware you were still wearing it, while he remained in a t-shirt that was at least one size too small for him and did all things delightful for his already insanely impressive physique.

Not the point.

You opened you mouth to argue, only to be interrupted by a shout from behind you.

“Oi, punk! You gonna help or just stand there enjoying the view?”

As you both turned to Bucky, you could see him helping Agent May cross the river, already halfway through.

Steve let go of your forearm, smiling at you once more.

“At least take the hoodie,” you insisted. He shook his head, your mouth opening on empty, deeming your effort fruitless.

“I have a jacket if I want… don’t need the hoodie,” he assured you, his grin earning a glint of danger that made your stomach flip-flop funnily, the heat in your abdomen burning hotter. “Plus, it looks much better on you.”

With that, he set off, jogging towards the water, and leaving you stand there with cheeks exploding with heat.

Damn you, Steven Grant.

Shaking your head, you returned to the line, anxiously watching Steve climb down into water, a shudder running down his spine.

“Come on. I saved you a spot,” Daisy said, gesturing for you to stand in front of her, earning an eyeroll from Hopkinson who stood behind her. “Everything okay with you and Steve?”

The phrasing had your head snap up with a startle, heart speeding up.

“What?”

What did she mean by that?! You and Steve?

No. There was you. There was Steve. Two separate entities. Friends.

Checking up on each other. Wearing each other’s clothes. Typical friends.

You relaxed when all you found in Daisy’s gaze was genuine care and curiosity, no trace of implying anything. Right.

You smiled back. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Hunter and Bobbi followed after May; then it was your turn. The sight of the river, while beautiful, got a little less pleasant as you stepped on the first stone, testing just how slippery the surface was. It wasn’t awful – you could handle that, even as you felt the extra load on your back disturbing your balance.

But hey – the worst that could happen was you taking a cold bath. Just another inconvenience, right?

Yet, you didn’t have to worry. You didn’t even make it to the second large stone when a familiar pair of warm hands wrapped around yours, offering a gentle but firm support.

You met Steve’s reassuring gaze, a message without words: I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

You send one back, squeezing his hands: I know. You makeme feel safe. You okay?

A tiny nod on his part and then you were on your way, careful taking step after step, always testing the surface first, making sure your every move was secure before shifting your weight. From one to another, you made it halfway to the deepest part of the crossing without any issue, actually enjoying the little adventure – which had obviously nothing to do with Steve’s touch, because you were not at all disappointed to see Bucky heading back from the other side of the river where he had left Bobbi to take you off of Steve’s hands. Not at all.

You were just stepping on the next stone when you felt a sudden drop in weight on your shoulders and back, an embarrassing yelp erupting from your throat as you scrambled for balance.

A fleeing thought of this trip being cursed for you indeed flashed through your mind as you braced yourself for the impact into cold water despite still trying not to have it come to that.

And it didn’t.

A splash sounded next to you, a few drops cooling your ankle, but that was it; you stood tall and firm on the irregularly-shaped stone, a hot vice of a grip on your hips, your hands having found purchase on just as hot and solid surface nearby.

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

Attentive blue eyes looking up at yours to assure both you and himself that you were okay.

Your face heated up, but the rest of your body was set on fire; indecent images of a wholly different situation with Steve’s hands having a steel-like grip on your hips and his eyes boring into yours flooded your mind, a wildfire of visceral need spreading through every single cell of your body and lightning it up. Steve was all about touch. Steve was all about eye-contact. You knew with absolute certainty that he’d never once let his gaze wander from your face when he’d sheathed himself inside you, feasting his eyes, because he lived for capturing images of beauty and he was a giver, the pleasure of people he loved being his own--- and you wouldn’t dare to look away. Your eyes might flutter shut at the sensation of utter-

Forcing yourself to snap back into present – into reality –, looking everywhere but at Steve as your whole body burned, a floating object caught your eye behind Steve’s back. A dark prolonged object, neatly packed, carried away by the stream.

Your tent. The thing that had fallen into water and nearly knocked you off balance was your tent, slowly sinking lower and lower as it slowed down its path down the river.

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

“I got it!” Bucky hollered, changing course, heading to retrieve what was supposed to be the roof over your head for the next three days.

He’d get it; you weren’t worried. It was fine.

And the tent would be fine too. It was in the waterproof case. It would--- it would be absolutely soaked, because it was sinking. The entirety of the tent had gone under water, including the protective layer that was meant to save you from rain should it come to it.

There was no cloud on the sky but you had a feeling there’d be water dripping on you all night anyway.

How could it have fallen off? You had secured it with the buckled straps to the bottom of your fairly new backpack, checking repeatedly – every time before you put the backpack on again – that it held.

Then again, maybe you hadn’t done that after the fiasco – and the lovely result of it – with your marinated clothes. So you might be cursed, but by your own fault, really-

A squeeze to your hips brought your attention back to Steve, making you realize you were still standing in the middle of the river, stalling.

“I’m sorry, moving on, moving on,” you babbled, only to have him still your movements, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

You reciprocated the scrutiny; eyes roaming his handsome features, you searched for any signs of discomfort – not from having to hold you, but from still soaking his legs in the cold water. All you found was a reassuring smile; and yet, you couldn’t but brush your thumb inconspicuously over Steve’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort, incidentally along the hem of his t-shirt. An emotion flashed in his irises, eyes darkening a fraction, the grip on your flesh turning almost bruising before he began to release it, taking one of your hands again and then the other. You licked your lips – and you’d swear Steve’s gaze flickered to your mouth at that – standing up straighter.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky dropping your tent on the bank of the river.

“Thank you, Bucky!”

“No problem, dollface. Get moving though, my old knees aren’t built for this cold anymore,” he said, causing you to glare at Steve accusingly.

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

And he had the audacity to grin when you looked at him with accusatory and genuinely worried eyes.

“Let’s get you to the other side, shall we?”

“I packed your favourite snack, but I just decided I’m gonna eat it alone,” you threatened your vengeance for him for not being honest.

Steve feigned hurt so well you might as well believe it; but the hold on your hands remained gentle and secure as he helped you continue the path. “That’s cold, Lee.”

The corners of your lips quirked up.

“I know it’s cold. Now was it so hard to admit it?” you questioned as you beckoned to the water – causing Bucky to chuckle and Steve to deadpan when he instantly realized your trickery.

“You should be around more often, dollface,” Bucky said, approaching you and taking up on Steve’s task.

Steve just grunted and made his way to help Daisy. You felt your face heat up further at Bucky’s remark, grateful no one else could hear the exchange.

…were you though?

“I’ll take your words for it… and Steve?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly not really offended. “Thank you for catching me.”

His smile, no matter how small, said it all and felt like the softest blanket to wrap around you on a cold winter morning; I’ll always catch you.

Always.

Just as you had expected, once you all made it through the river, you reached the camp spot in no time; and just as you had expected, your tent was a lost cause. You could build it, hoping it would dry out overnight at least bit, but actually sleeping in it was out of question unless you wanted to wake up soaked up and sneezing.

In a brief moment of self-pity you granted yourself, you planted your butt on the ground, laying the drenched parts of your tent next to you, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it as you stared at the traitorous pieces of equipment, including the buckles that had been meant to hold the package to the backpack but had given out.

While everyone busied themselves with unpacking their temporary shelters as well – Natasha with Bucky, Bobbi with Hunter, May, Daisy and Hopkinson each on their own in the lightest and therefore smallest tents possible, Bobbi took note of your state, smiling compassionately.

“Are you okay? The water really did a number on that thing, huh?”

You reciprocated her smile wryly, no less grateful for her care.

“Yeah… But you know what? I win. Sleeping outside? I can stargaze. I’ll be fine,” you said, shrugging and rising to your feet to get to work. You could build the tent to have it dry out at least and wash your clothes in the lake you had settled at. “I’m just… gonna sleep by the fire under the open skies, in… borrowed, non-marinated clothes and with no sleeping bag, because with my luck, it’s probably full of bugs or itching powder or something. It’s fine. God knows I slept in conditions a lot worse than that.”

And wasn’t that the truth. You had slept in much better conditions too, but that was beside the point. You tried to summon the memories of horrible nights spent in damp clothes, freezing, teeth clattering so hard the sound made it impossible to fall asleep; unbearable heat, loud noises, even just annoying persistent chatter. Sleeping under the open skies was practically a blessing in comparison. A dream.

And you did not want to remember nights that had been very different, because that would only make you miserable at your predicament.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Steve called out lowly, placing another hook in the ground, using his foot to step on it and dig it deeper. “Not when the solution is obvious.”

Your heart skipping a beat at the obvious solution, you barely had time to breathe in to respond when someone else did – in an extremely irritated manner.

“Seriously?! What, you gonna lend her your tent too?” Hopkinson spat, rising from where he had been crouching by his tent. “Maybe even keep her warm through the-“

Steve lunged his direction so fast you didn’t even have time to be offended by the implication.

But Bucky, the supersoldier he was, was much faster; his metal arm stopped Steve in his tracks, palm pressing against Steve’s chest before he could make the almost-breaking-Hopkinson’s-arm a pleasant memory for the man.

Still, Hopkinson had enough wit to shut up and step back hastily, raising his hands defensively. His face turned white as a sheet of paper; good. He had some brain left then, it seemed. How he had survived for so long you had no idea.

Gulping – and shamelessly satisfied at the fear in Hopkinson’s eyes, because Jesus he did not just say that, even as you had thought about exactly the same – you turned your gaze back to Steve and Bucky.

And something in your core exploded hot, a tug so violent and visceral it was almost painful.

If Steve had looked at Hopkinson like he could break his arm all those weeks back when he had made his stupid comment, now he looked like he could break every single bone in his body, snap the guy in half and enjoy it. And he’d enjoy doing it for you. To defend you.

Steve’s smile was always a beautiful sight and so was the softness he could look at you with at times; but the rage in his face now, the fire in his eyes, on your behalf, were nothing short of breathtaking.

Avenging angel indeed.

He might not be carrying a flaming sword, nor had his shield on his arm, but that made him no less menacing, no less divine; and no less beautiful.

“Do we have a problem, Agent Hopkinson?” Bucky asked calmly, despite the clear effort with which he was holding Steve back still, even as Steve visibly didn’t move a muscle.

You were barely moving at all too; your chest was heaving, the rest of your body strung tight with effort not to let show just how affected you were by Steve’s near literal white-knighting.

“No, sir,” Hopkinson saluted, nodding stiffly, before he scrambled to finish building his tent.

“Good.”

Few seconds of deafening silence was only interrupted by the scrape of shoes against ground as the camp slowly came back to life again. Bucky shot Steve a look before he let his metal arm down, watching Steve avert his still flaming gaze from Hopkinson with shoulders remaining squared; and so alluringly wide you just wanted to run your hands over them, just as breathless at the sensation as you were now-

“I mean, makes sense you’d share,” Daisy broke the silence, everyone visibly relaxing. “It looks like your tent is pretty big, eh?”

Your eyes went wide.

Loud cough erupted from Hunter’s direction as he spitted the water he had been drinking; Bobbi patted his shoulders, amusement clear on her face. Bucky’s face twisted in a questionable grimace; Natasha pursed her lips, seemingly one second from making a comment. May bit back a smirk; Hopkinson was only showing his back, but he clearly froze in his movements.

Steve just looked shocked – shocked enough to snap from the anger that had overtook him on your behalf.

You would think it would take Daisy a few seconds to realize how she had worded her statement, accidentally referring to a figurative ‘tent’ men grew in certain situations – but judging by her seemingly innocent smile and the sparkle in her eye, she knew exactly what she had implied. And she had done so on purpose and with delight.

She was right, however. Steve’s temporary dwelling was probably the biggest one at your site and it even included a vestibule, where all the equipment which was meant for everyone was to be stored. His tent had the most space for the reason he could put his backpack to the vestibule alone.

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps to you, a relaxed smile having found way back to his face.

“…are you comfortable with sharing a tent with me?”

You reciprocated his smile, shrugging, even as you had to work hard to swallow your amusement at Daisy’s comment. One that was very much on point.

Yes. You were very comfortable sharing a tent with him indeed. More than, actually, but not everyone needed to know that; and you could feel several knowing gazes on you as you answered as levelled as possibly.

“I mean… we have shared a room before for a mission. I’m fine… are you? Comfortable with that, that is?” you asked, perfectly polite, considerate and friendly, even as your heart was racing in your ribcage.

There was no reason for the racing heart though. Because this was okay for friends to do. Absolutely. If you having shared the room sometimes included sharing a bed, which had naturally resulted in cuddling, body heat searching body heat, no one needed to know – especially not Agent Asshole Hopkinson. What happened in a motel room stayed in a motel room. Always.

A cute crinkle appeared in Steve’s eye as he gave the answer you already knew.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Of course, it’s fine.”

More than, whispered his gaze, so you averted it and busied yourself with gathering the wet parts of your tent, clearing your throat.

“Good… that’s good. Thanks. I really appreciate it, Steve.”

“Any time, Lee.”

You could feel his gaze on you, the warmth of his smile like a soft blanket on your back. It was going to be a long, long night.

Part 2

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

I hope you enjoyed reading 🤭 if you did, please consider leaving feedback and reblogging💕

I hope July has been kind to you!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #steve rogers fluff #essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #summer lovin’ celebration #essie’s 300 follower special #anika ann #a series of unfortunate events

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m0nsterqzzz · 8 months ago

Text

Something Stupid

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary: and then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like...."I love you."

content: absolute teeth rotting fluff. pining for each other but wandas is much more intense? tiniest bit of blackhill if you squint.

a/n: had this idea for a while, and I actually kinda like it??? idk. first time for everything. reader is referred to as "sweets" like twice just because I love the nickname. it's what my boyfriend calls me. anyway. love yall!!

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Wanda Maximoff loves you.

She’s known that for years.

She’s known it since she first became an avenger and felt a strange urge to gain your forgiveness over everyone else's after what her and her late-brother Pietro did during the battle against Ultron.

She knew it when you became her best friend, teaching her how to control her magic and really just how to enjoy life.

She knew it when she had to watch as you got ready for dates with people that would never live up to your standards. Not she thought she would live up to your standards- no, she knew she couldn't- but she did know she treat you better then any of those no good pigs who are just looking for a fuck buddy ever good. The witch wouldn’t go up against your suitors though, just standing on the sidelines as her heart slowly breaks faster and faster the more you don’t see her in the same light you do them.

Little she did she know, she was the only one you truly wanted.

So finally, Wanda worked up the courage to ask you out so she no longer had to cry into her pillow while you were out sucking face with someone else.

Surprisingly, you agreed easily. The only thing you had to say was that she had to promise it wouldn’t change anything between you guys for the worse. If it didn’t work, you guys couldn’t become like Natasha and Maria. (those girls can’t be in the same room as each other for more than 2 seconds without making a backhanded comment about their four week long situationship)

The Maximoff girl agreed, eagerly setting up a dinner date.

It had quickly gone wrong.

The reservation was somehow not in the book despite the fact that Wanda called the fancy dinner place with insane prices about six times in the hour-long drive there. So you told her it was fine, that you’d be happy with some food from the delicious Thai place down the road as long as you were with her. But they were out of your favorite and Wanda ate so much that she felt ready to barf as you guys walked out of the restaurant- that was before she actually did barf in the parking lot.

Finally, you guys headed to a bar near the Avengers tower for a quick nightcap, but that quickly turned into you both downing two drinks each before stumbling onto the dance floor.

A sweet looking old man who’s been reading a comic book in the corner sees you two and decides to put his own change in the jukebox and press play on a slow, but peaceful song. He sends you guys a smile, winking Wanda's way before he continues to read about some cool looking superheroes.

Wanda’s hands fall to your waist, gently gripping them as you both sway. Your head falls to lay on her shoulder, arms wrapped around the back of her neck as the music fills your ears. Her breath is on the back of your neck, warm, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of her lips as she places a gentle kiss in that same spot.

Then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like, “I love you, sweets.”

You roll your eyes, thinking back to how many times people have told you that during first dates just to get in your pants. Though you will admit that when you hear Wanda say it, it brings a small, warm, fluttering feeling to your chest, and you manage to let out a small giggle before you say, “No you don't. You don’t love me Wanda. You like me. There’s a difference.”

She fights the urge to tell you that she knows there is a difference between love and like. She knows that because she’s felt both those ways towards you. Why can’t you just understand that so she doesn’t have to find a way to put it into words?

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After a few days of her saying the same thing and you never believing her, the witch realizes she has to put it in words. Nothing else is capable of explaining how she feels about you. How she’s felt for so long.

So she recruits Natasha and Clint for help, and they spend the day working on some speeches. By 2pm, she has this;

“Are you from Tennessee? Cuz you’re the only ten-I-see.” - A line from Natasha which she used on Maria who was passing by at that moment just to prove to Wanda it works. (Natasha left and was found leaving the agents room an hour later. Apparently that’s back on)

“I love you.” - Clint Barton, the stupidest man on earth. There is a reason people call him bird brain. They were there because the three words are not enough to describe what she feels towards you. Did he even read what was on the brunch invitation? It clearly stated; “fixing Wanda's love life; no I love you’s, no magic town in which she controls so she can make Sweets fall in love with her against their will.”

“Hey, do you have wifi? Cuz I’m really feeling a connection.” - Natasha. She once again used it on Maria and was gone for another two hours. Can someone please address this?

“Start listing facts about the baby turtles you saved. Always gets the ladies.” - from Tony, who was walking by the living room and decided now was the best time to interrupt. He has never once gotten close enough to endangered animals to be able to ‘save’ them, but we can pretend if he wants too.

“Are you a beaver? Cuz dam.” - Natasha. (someone needs to restrain Maria from jumping the redheads bones. She is literally needed at this meeting.)

So, as we can see, no one is any help.

She decides after that to just go with her gut, and her gut is telling her that you’ll know when the time is right, and hopefully will send her a sign.

Maybe the sign is sooner rather than later.

The witch spends about an hour in her bedroom in front of her mirror, trying on every outfit from sweats and a t-shirt to the 10,000 dollar dress Tony bought her for her birthday. Which clothes would draw your attention to her? She thinks about that alot, which is why she wears different outfits everyday simply in hopes of you sending her a small compliment. She always spends countless amounts of time planning the perfect outfit just to hear you say, “You look pretty Wans.”

Why is this happening to her?

It’s when she sets up a cute little picnic under the stars with all your favorite foods and snacks and a makeshift tv screen with a projector to watch your favorite film do you realize that you are deeply and utterly in love with Wanda Maximoff.

She’s sweet, and pretty. She can always make you laugh when you truly think you no longer can.

And besides all that, she’s your best friend. The one that will stick with you through thick and thin simply because she wants to be beside you.

You can’t help but feel your cheeks beginning to heat up every single time she even glances in your direction, let alone actually speak to you. You can feel your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nerves as she just… exists.

You don’t tell her that though, afraid of getting your feelings hurt.

You just sit down on the nice thick blanket with her, grabbing some grapes to give a few to her and a few to herself as she presses play on the movie. It’s silent other than the sound of the movie, but she can hear your thoughts louder than any film. It’s not like she’s trying to read your mind. The witch vowed to herself to never use her magic on you unless it was necessary or life saving. That includes mind reading. Your thoughts are too loud though, and even with the amount of control she has over her powers, they still fill her head as she tries to focus on the movie.

“I love her.”

“She says she loves you.”

“She doesn’t mean it.”

“Yes she does.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. I love her.”

Your internal battle on if she truly does love you or not breaks her heart into a million pieces, though she doesn’t want to call you out on it and make you feel uncomfortable. So you guys continue silently watching the movie. She doesn’t mention your loud thoughts, and you don’t mention that you can feel her eyes burning into the side of your face as she stares.

When the movie is over and the projector turns off, you guys sit in the darkness of the night. There are stars dressing the night sky, so you silently look at them as Wanda turns on her side so she can gently pull you closer to her.

The moment is perfect; looking up at the stars in each other's warm embrace, your back pressed against her front and she moves around until she snuggles her head into the crook of your neck, so close to you that your perfume fills her senses and puts her into a peaceful bliss. Your truly happy as is she, and this time, as she says the tree words, you find yourself believing her;

“I love you.”

She doesn’t regret it or cringe out of embarrassment when she says it like she did last time. The witch just lets the words hang in the air. If you choose to say them back, you do. If not, at least you'll understand how much she truly means it.

“I love you.” You whisper back with new found confidence, and her chest fills with warmth and pure happiness. You finally believe her. Her words sounded so sincere and simple, not like the drunk words she said a few days ago. It’s the only reason you feel okay telling her the truth. You love Wanda Maximoff.

“I love you.” She mumbles, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“I love you.”

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#Spotify #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #the scarlet witch x reader #the scarlet witch #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel mcu

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scoonsalicious · 6 months ago

Text

3.4 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of Bucky's past, minor fluff.

Word Count: 482

Previously On...: Bucky and Lily went out to brunch, and Bucky lied about his upcoming plans with you.

A/N: I'm going to let you all know well in advance that, once I finish posting through Chapter 5, I am going to take a small break from updating so I can write (I'm thinking maybe a week, tops). I've had some things going on recently that have been taking up a lot of my mental and emotional energy, which has prevented me from being as invested in the story as I want to be, so I need to take some time to get myself in the right headspace to where the story just flows out. I'm currently only two chapters ahead, and that makes me nervous, so I would like to build my buffer back up again. So, there will be a pause in updates starting on Tuesday, May 14th, and updates will resume on Tuesday, May 21st. I do hate doing this, and I know that, as a reader, it's so annoying when you have to wait between updates, but it needs to be done in order to provide you with the best story possible. I probably should have taken more time between finishing Unwanted and beginning to post With Friends Like These..., but I was too eager to share it with all of you to wait, lol. I want to be upfront and honest with all of you ahead of time, so I hope you understand.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

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

You’d spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon digging up everything you could about Bucky’s trial. At first, you were getting nowhere, not being able to find any information about ‘Bucky Barnes,’ but then you nearly slapped yourself on the head when you recalled Lily referring to him as ‘Jamie.’ Obviously, ‘Bucky’ was a nickname, and once you searched ‘James Barnes + trial,” you were nearly overwhelmed by the number or results you got.

Meticulously, you went through them, as if you were gathering intelligence for a military op. You read all about his history in World War II with Steve (which, admittedly, you sort of already knew about from Nat), but things took a turn when you discovered he’d been declared MIA: Presumed Dead, only to resurface around 2014.

You nearly started crying when you read what had been done to him– the loss of his arm, the experiments, the serum, all under the control of the terrorist group, Hydra. The brainwashing. And you really did start to cry when you read about what Hydra had made him do for them. The assassinations, the murders. Screw whatever Zadie and Rand thought. This poor man was a victim. One who didn’t deserve to spend a moment behind bars. Your heart positively broke for him.

You were wiping the tears from your eyes when Zadie popped her head in. “Hey, Major,” she said, a devilish smile on her face. “You got a delivery.”

You look back at her, puzzled. You weren’t expecting anything. Getting up from your chair, you made your way to the front reception area. There, on Zadie’s desk, was a beautiful gold bowl holding a live fuschia orchid plant.

“There’s a note!” Zadie squealed, bouncing on her toes and wringing her hands together in excited anticipation.

Biting your lip, you reached over and picked up the note. Unfolding it, you tried to make out the messy scrawl:

‘Major,

Thanks for bringing some beauty into my life last night. Figure it’s only fair I return the favor. Looking forward to seeing you tonight for dinner. - Bucky’

“Oh. My. God.” Zadie picked up a piece of paper from her desk and began fanning herself. “I don’t care how many people that guy murdered,” she said. “That’s the most romantic fucking thing I’ve ever seen!” She paused. “How did he even know orchids are your favorite?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently running your finger along the edges of the soft petals. “I guess I’ll have to ask him tonight.” You looked back at the note, rereading it, and smiling. You felt your stomach fill up with butterflies, as though you were a sixteen year old girl again, getting flowers from a boy for the very first time. God, but this man seemed absolutely perfect.

But you were never this lucky. You couldn’t help but wonder when the other shoe would drop.

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

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

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Home Truths: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (4) Loki is given a shake, and the four of you hit up the local supermarket. Warnings: Minors DNI. Ex-Loki. Major Satchelage. Humour. Brotherly/ Domestic fluff. Smut references. Mild angst. Pining. (w/c 4.5k) Recommended Folklore Track: Hoax

The rain hadn’t stopped. You’d spent the next few hours limping between rooms, keeping busy, stealing glances out the droplet-streaked windows where you could.

Where was he?

The kiss had lingered on your lips. The taste of Loki absorbing into cracks of delicate skin like water in thirsty soil. Nobody knew where the god had disappeared to in the early hours, allegedly.

What's more, they didn't seem surprised.

It had been another two hours before Loki returned holding a string of thoroughly deceased rabbits.

He stalked through the front door, turning abruptly into the kitchen and lowering them to the dining table with a macabre series of thumps.

“Holy Moses-” Steve scoffed disapprovingly, folding his arms.

The kettle began to whistle on the stove as Loki paraded to the cupboard. He pulled out a mug sporting a large yellow bear with an eyepatch.

“I saw no reason why our ‘education’ need be stifled by a mild weather-tantrum” he drawled, gesturing to the window before plucking a teabag from the tin. He glanced back to you as you leant against the kitchen doorframe. His eyes narrowed. There was no hint there of what had passed between you only hours before. It made you sad. But not surprised. “Don’t you agree, Agent?” he purred. Thor emerged by your shoulder.

“What the-?” his eyes fell on the limp pile of fur adorning the plastic tablecloth; gasping sharply. “Hodorekorn, brother?” His excitement was electric. Loki shook his head. “Alas, no brother. Rabbits. But much the same to ensnare.” The god tilted his head as he poured from the kettle, throwing Steve a wink. “See, Rogers?” he smirked. “I am not completely useless.”

Thor’s arm stretched above your head, pressing his hand against the frame. “It took you four hours to capture five hodorekorn?” He chuckled wrly. “Rusty indeed, brother.” “Rabbits.” Loki corrected, stirring his tea.

Steve swallowed, eyeing the bundle. “What are we supposed to do with ‘em?” he said, regretting the words as soon as they were spoken. “Skin them, and cook them of course!” Thor’s boom filled the tiny kitchen.

Steve gagged.

You couldn’t stop the smile that spread. Loki’s eyes met yours, giving the smallest nod. “Yeah, we can do that” you said, “good thinking Thor. Steve? How about you take the first one? Dealer’s choice.”

Steve clapped a hand to his mouth, pushing Thor into you in a hasty sprint to the bathroom. Dry wretches followed as the three remaining Avengers descended into laughter.

Tears streamed down Thor’s face while you doubled over, clinging to his forearm. Even Loki’s demure overtures of mirth rumbled across the linoleum, although you were certain that it was the sight of you and his brother that was the cause rather than the captain’s overdramatic heaves. Just like the old days, you thought with a pang. Thor wiped his face, catching his breath while there was a pause in the theatrics from the bathroom. For a moment, silence. And then... ‘Heuuuuuurgh-’

You and Thor looked at each other with simultaneous disbelief, the following whoop of laughter utterly uncontrollable. Loki took a sip of tea before placing it down, walking silently to the table. He tilted the chin of a rabbit towards him, frowning.

“We really should skin these brother,” he said sharply, “they will lose succulence otherwise.” You looked up through misty eyes, the release making you forget everything else. Loki had bristled, his mood altered somehow. Thor caught his breath beside you, panting heavily. “I- I can show you how,” you gasped as you wiped a trail from your eyes. Loki waved a dismissive hand. “No need. My brother and I are not quite as incapable as Rogers would have you believe.” Thor’s brow furrowed, shaking his head lightly in your direction. Don’t mind him, it said. “Outside or inside?” you asked, reaching for your jacket on the hall hook. It was still wet. “Outside,” Loki said with finality. His eyes flew to your hand, resting on the anorak. “Your presence is not required, Agent. My brother and I are perfectly capable, as I said.” He shot a piercing glance to Thor. The blonde swallowed.

“Uhhh...yes. Indeed, yes – brother, lead the way.” Loki breezed between you, stooping gently at the door-frame as a slick waxed Barbour unfurled over his lithe body. It hung to his thighs, the taut curve of his muscled ass shifting. The ghost of his knuckles grazed your palm as he passed. Accidentally, you were sure.

Thor lingered by the coat-hooks, shoving an arm brutishly through the sleeve of a particularly beaten-looking yellow raincoat. The material creaked menacingly as he hoisted it up his biceps.

There’s no way that is zipping closing, you thought – half watching the outline of Loki pacing towards the small hut at the edge of the cottage boundary.

Thor threw a look over his shoulder, checking Loki was out of earshot. He tugged the sides of the raincoat down. The edges lined perfectly with his nipples. Rain fell vertically outside the open door, a gush from the awning gutter pooling around the doorstep.

“He probably wishes to recount his version of what happened last night,” Thor said in hushed tones. Hushed for him, anyway. “What do you-” Thor waved a hand, eyes closed to your protestation. “Sister, please – the neighbours over yonder valley likely heard the commotion my brother’s intransigence provoked. Rogers and I heard everything.” The strap of your backpack hanging on the rack suddenly became very interesting.

“I’m not your sister, not anymore. Never was – technically” you heard yourself say, avoiding his inquiring eyes.

Pursing your lips, you scratched a nail down the strap’s weave. Thor squeaked as he shuffled closer, constrained arms wrapping around your shoulders with difficulty.

Breath heaved from your lungs as he pulled you tight. “You’ll always be my sister, sister” he smiled, resting his chin on your hair.

“If these last decades taught me anything, it is that blood relation is the least important quality.” He placed a kiss on top of your head. “Now, I must depart, and entertain my brother’s lukewarm justification for his boorishness.”

He turned, throwing a ridiculous pointed yellow hood up with a flourish.

“And skin some rabbits, of course” he projected loudly, throwing you a calculated wink. From behind the bathroom door, Steve wretched again.

Loki flung the rabbits on the small bench squeezed in the corner of the hut. A ragged door hung from its hinges. If he wasn’t sure it would disintegrate, he would have slammed it. He didn’t know what to think.

Growth, he surmised, was becoming more trouble than it was worth.

He pushed his hair back from his face, the wet slick that met his hand more familiar now than he would like.

“That was rude, Loki” Thor rumbled, shaking himself like a dog in the doorway. “Hardly,” Loki snapped, casting a disparaging look in the speaker’s direction. He felt a snarl curl at the corners of his mouth at the sight of his brother spilling from the tiny yellow raincoat. “And you look ridiculous.” Loki sat abruptly on the bench, turning his attention to the rabbits. He divided them out. Three for himself, two for Thor. His brother was slower. Always had been. “It was rude,” Thor repeated, squeezing himself to the bench on the other side of the sad bundle. Loki slid a small hunting knife over in silence. Hadn’t used them in years, he realised.

Not years, Loki thought. Centuries.

Perhaps more. The shuffle of fur coming skilfully away from muscle rustled the air.

“You’ll never win her back being like that, you know” Thor murmured, drawing the knife respectfully around the rabbit’s hindquarters. Loki scoffed in spite of himself.

“Who says I wish to win her back?” he huffed, laying the first completed rabbit on a clean cloth by his side. Despite stoic intent, he found himself looking up to meet his brother’s incredulous stare.

“What?” Loki said sharply.

Thor released a theatrical shrug, rabbit swinging. “Oh I don’t know brother-” he started, laden with sarcasm.

“Something about your perpetual hangdog expression, insufferable lovelorn mooning and thwarted midnight attempts at seduction led me to believe there could perhaps be something more at play.” He tapped the half-skinned rabbit against his temple. “Not just a helmet-hold, brother” he drawled.

“It was barely ten pm,” Loki muttered petulantly, busying his hands. They continued in silence, before Thor cleared his throat. “What did you wish to speak to me about, if not that?” “It was that, you cretin. But I wish not to discuss it anymore.” “Your feelings for her?” “They have never been in question, brother. You know that.” “Yes.” “Well.” Loki snapped with finality. “Well?” “Her feelings towards me. Her concerns, the ones that broke us...she was, right.” He faltered, grateful for the pause Thor held while he gathered his thoughts. “She told me I was hurting her, and I cared not. And I know not why. At the time, her protestations seemed unreasonable.”

The confession hung around his neck like a ceremonial amulet. Heavy, powerful. “And now?” his brother probed quietly, concentrating on his work.

“Who am I, Thor?” Loki whispered, peeling the fur back from the delicate soul in his hands before stopping. “Who am I if not who I have been for centuries? Millennia?”

“People change, Loki” Thor said quietly, reaching for his brother’s hand. Loki looked up, brows peaked softly.

“But brother, we are not ‘people’. Are we?” Thor was silent. Sympathy swam in the depths of his eyes, darkened by the gloom of the cabin. Rain hit the roof. Loki was glad of it, filling the empty silence. “I’m trying,” was all Loki could muster.

“I’ve noticed,” Thor replied cautiously. “As has she, I suspect. But the palace of Asgard was not built in a day.” “She kissed me,” Loki hummed quietly, staring at the bundle in his lap. “This morning.” “Ah,” his brother hummed mysteriously.

The blonde drew his hand away from where it sat atop Loki’s. He flipped the knife, inspecting the ornate handle. “Do you remember when father gave us these?” he said thoughtfully, a smile stretching across his face. Loki frowned, gazing at his own knife. “The summer with the-” “- Haugan sisters.” They both paused, sighing simultaneously at the wall. Thor shook his head, waving nostalgia from the air. “Father said that they symbolised our transition to maturity. Protection, sustenance, a connection to our roots Loki.” Loki closed his eyes, summoning the memory. The grass was long that endless summer, a log cabin with a stone chimney that dwarfed the exterior. A cabin that had no right to be where it was – and yet, “Loki?” He opened his eyes, meeting his brother’s. In that moment, they could have been three-hundred again.

The blonde god flipped the knife back to position. “Your problem, brother, is that you spend too much time worrying about what you think you should be, rather than what you are.” “And what am I, brother?” Loki bristled, laying his second rabbit down by the side.

“Someone who’s afraid to be loved” Thor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He pulled the final tug of fur from his charge. “Ah-Ha!” he smiled, turning. “Thank you,” Loki said quietly, cradling the offering and placing it with the others.

“All she wants,” Thor murmured, his concentration fixed on the second rabbit in his lap, “is you. The real you. The one that I know. But maybe one who listens better. And not the mural version, or the lore from battle tales...” He paused, before a sly grin stretched his lips. “Well, perhaps sometimes...if you catch my drift.”

"What if he is not enough?" Loki whispered. He wasn't sure if Thor heard him.

His brother's face had become serious again. He was on a roll. “To feel that your lover sees himself as superior to you in every way? Takes any opportunity to remind one of that? To never try to adapt to a reasonable request? I can see how it can become tiresome.” He shook his head, frowning. “Mother would never have put up with that nonsense. Why should she?”

“Indeed,” Loki muttered softly. He placed his third rabbit to the side as a sigh rattled his chest. His brother was making far too much sense for his liking these days. “Fear not, brother” Thor rumbled as he leant over, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I have a cunning plan. A kiss this morning is most welcome news.” “It was a strange situation. She knew not what she did- it would not have ended well, it-”

Loki’s eyes widened in horror, realisation blossoming. “A cunning what-?” There was a knock on the hut door.

Suddenly, Loki realised that the rain had stopped. Your face popped around the corner. Loki straightened, wiping his hands on his Barbour.

“Steve and I are driving into town” you said, casting glances between the gods sitting hunched on the rotten bench. “Want to come?” Thor propped his fists beneath his chin, smiling obscenely. “Oh, please, brother!?” Loki thought about rolling his eyes, before stopping himself. He pursed his lips instead. “Certainly. Although I am surprised considering-” “We’ll be ‘undercover’, obviously” you cut with air-quotes, glancing backwards. “Apparently Steve needs something from the shops. He seems a bit flustered. The nearest one is pretty small but…” Your head disappeared again, only delicate fingers remaining curled around the door’s ragged edge. He had the sudden urge to protect them from rogue splinters. Loki frowned, noting an impish smile had worryingly taken up residence on his brother's face. “-Yes, I’ll...yes I’ll tell them.” Loki and Thor looked to each other warily, before you appeared again. “Steve says wash your hands,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “And lose the yellow slicker” you nodded to Thor.

From the assortment of abandoned jackets hanging bushel-like in the hallway, they had managed to find one for Thor that wasn’t quite as conspicuous. The 3XL puffer jacket spread around him like a navy cloud.

Steve turned abruptly, eyeing Thor and Loki in the back of the Fiat. A hiss squeezed from the puffer every time Thor fidgeted. “Where am I supposed to put my legs?” Loki muttered scathingly. “This thing has gotten smaller since the drive here.” Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Speaking of magic-” he said, taking his time. “It seems that some of my personal items have gone missing.” Loki glanced at his brother, brows peaked as Steve continued. Thor’s gaze wandered out the window, following a passing bird. “We need to pick up some supplies, like bacon – that’s the cover with her,” he thumbed backwards, “since someone ate the whole week's ration.” Steve’s judgemental gaze swung towards a distracted Thor.

“But on the sly, keep your peepers open for some…” he cast a wary glance out the front windscreen, seeing you locking up the cottage. “-Unmentionables.” “Condoms?” Loki quipped factitiously. Steve flushed. “No, Laufeyson” he hissed, tone frantic as you crunched towards the car. “Rogers underwear has mysteriously vanished, brother” Thor chuckled. “One minute they were lined up in the suitcase, all thirty-six pairs. The next-” he made a whooshing gesture. “Thirty-six?” Loki mouthed incredulously. “Christ, Rogers. Did you intend on soiling yourself thrice daily?” The god twisted towards his smirking brother. “What did you do to them?” “Me? Tis not I who suspicion has fallen on, brother” Thor gasped, pressing his fingers innocently to his chest. Loki rolled his eyes, and this time – he meant it. “Well it wasn’t me.” Loki huffed, folding his arms as Steve’s stare pinballed between them. “I have better things to do. And besides, what fetid joy would I gain from such a waste of-”

You pulled the car handle with a jerk, noting all three men inside bristle and straighten in a way that could be considered nothing short of suspicious.

“Everything okay?” you murmured, settling into the driver’s seat. They nodded in silence.

Thor’s jacket hissed.

“That better not be a parp, Odinson” Steve muttered, followed by the low buzz of a lowering window. You adjusted the mirror, meeting Loki’s eyes and quickly looking away. “Okay,” you sighed to yourself. “Let’s do this.”

The comforting Tesco Express sign glowed in mid-afternoon gloom.

It was barely three, and yet it may as well be sundown. Clouds still smothered the sky, hanging low and ominous over the town’s uneven rooftops. You pulled into a parking spot outside, thanking the powers that be it was quiet. Steve cleared his throat, digging into the breast of his raincoat. He produced four mismatched caps, jamming one low on his brow before handing out the rest. “I don’t think I need to remind you to exercise caution. Don’t be suspicious. Don’t draw attention to yourself, and if anyone asks – we’re just four pals from out of town here for some good ol’ fashioned cottaging.” You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t mean what you-” “May we begin this expedition so that it might end sooner?” Loki drawled. With no warning, Thor farted.

The captain’s eyes widened. “Get out...get out!” he gagged. It was the fastest evacuation of a hatchback you had ever witnessed. Thor was last, his cheeks pink. “All the bacon,” he explained sheepishly while pushing the seat forward. You took Thor’s arm, letting the puff of his jacket warm your chilled fingers. While the god’s wide eyes inspected the snack chiller inside the door, you saw a non-nonchalant Loki meander straight to the checkout followed by a jumpy Steve.

The captain hung back, picking up a packet of gingerbread men and inspecting it over a pair of sunglasses.

Loki drummed his fingers on the counter, smiling wryly as a member of staff appeared from the back. “Hi, with you in one second-” they said, holding up a finger before disappearing again. Loki murmured pleasantries, adjusting the cap holding the stuff of his hair. “What are you doing?!” Steve hissed. Loki caught a musty waft of his own waxed jacket as he turned, shooting Rogers a perishing glare.

“You’re the one that has us looking as though we intend to rob the place. Hush,” Loki hissed back. Steve snapped back to the nutritional information as the Tesco worker re-surfaced. “Sorry about that,” they said.

Loki released a dazzling forced smile. “Do you happen to have any mens undergarments in this” he raised his palms, searching for an accurate descriptor, “place?” The man on the other side of the counter frowned. “Like, underwear? No...you’d need to go to one of the bigger stores for that kind of thing.” Loki stared at him. “There’s one in Millom?” the man added nervously, making the sides of Loki’s eyes crinkle before his features softened. “I see,” he purred, tilting his head. “How unfortunate.” “Anything else I can help with?” the mortal asked. Loki sighed thoughtfully, rocking on his heels.

“One package of,” he squinted at the shelf behind the counter. “Durex Extra Safe, if you would.” The heat from Steve’s cheeks radiated the short distance from the bakery display. There was the squeak of a shoe, the telling crack of biscuit as the captain’s sensibilities floundered. Behind the counter, the man turned without a second thought, reaching up before glancing back. “Pack of three or pack of twelve?” he asked.

Loki smirked. “Pack of three or pack of twelve, darling?” he crooned to Steve, whose face had flushed an alarming shade of beetroot. He turned back to face the cashier. “Pack of twelve.” Loki winked.

You couldn’t hear what what transpiring at the check-out, but the shade of Steve’s skin gave the distinct impression it wasn’t on script. The oblivious shop worker reached up, bringing down a box and handing it to Loki who parted with a crisp twenty pound note. Where did he get cash, you thought; before realising what the box was. Are those...

“Agent, look-” Thor exclaimed beside you as he held out an oblong package. “Party Rings,” he said smugly, “If ever there was a snack made for I, tis this – surely.” You muttered a quick uh-huh, stalking down the aisle to where blustery Steve was busying himself picking up a random assortment of foodstuffs piled high in his arms. “Steve?” you said warily as you removed three packets of bacon and a tub of yoghurt. It revealed his face, still flushed and sweaty.

“Laufeyson bought...prophylactics,” Steve rasped as his eyes darted around the empty aisle.

“I saw,” you responded sympathetically while the captain shook his head. “In broad daylight too” he added, narrowing his eyes over your shoulder.

The increasingly erotic scent of waxed Barbour jacket filled your nostrils. “Got everything?” your ex quipped. Steve’s lips flapped, forming words that didn’t come. He released a goose-like hiss instead. You quickly unloaded the rest of the groceries from his hands, spilling them into Thor’s basket just as he parked himself beside you. “What’s happening?” Thor said. Crumbs from a ravaged pack of Party Rings clung to his beard. Loki continued, unperturbed.

“I’m sorry they didn’t have your unmentionables, Rogers. But nevermind – not a totally wasted trip.” He tossed the box of condoms to Steve who caught them out of instinct. “Oh, Extra Safe – excellent choice,” Thor rumbled far too loudly. “And a necessity, for my brother and I – nothing else seems to hold the force of our seed without making quite the mess-” he cast a knowing glance to you. “She knows,” he winked. Steve looked between the gods, aghast. Thor produced a chicken drumstick from his pocket, taking a casual bite. “Are you the same, Rogers?” he said, chewing thoughtfully. “I imagine you must be with all that super-whatjit-serum business.” There was silence. “Oh, right” Thor laughed awkwardly. “Well, you never know...this trip might be the one.” He slapped Steve on the back, chortling.

“Stop calling me Rogers…” Rogers whispered. He looked like he was in shock, staring at the pack of twelve condoms in his hands. “Someone might…” Steve’s face paled as catastrophic images fell into place inside his head. A picture of him on the homepage of every gossip site there was, holding a box of French Letters in Tesco Express like a pervert. He stuffed them in his pocket.

“Let’s pay for this stuff and go.” he said firmly.

“Excuse me?” a voice creaked from further up the aisle. The four of you broke your huddle, battle-stances activated.

An old man shuffled closer, the tap of his walking stick echoing on the polished floor. “What should we do, Agent?” Thor muttered out the corner of his mouth. Your face softened, looking the geriatric up and down. “He’s clean, just an old dude,” you said. Steve tutted beside you. “Could be a disguise.” “A disguise?!” you hissed. “Excuse me, are you-” the old man started, before stopping in a haze of coughing. You began to step towards him, but Steve’s arm flew out to stop you. Four sets of eyes watched the man pick up pace, rubber end of his cane tap tap tapping on the floor as his crinkled gaze widened. It swept between the tall figures before him. Recognition. “Code Amber. Breach. Do something normal,” Steve whispered in panic. Without missing a beat, Thor lifted a sandwich carton from the basket and held in front of his face.

You turned, colliding with Loki’s chest. “Follow my lead,” he growled as he yanked you around the end of the aisle.

Before you could protest, he had you caged against a row of toilet paper. Matt plastic packaging cushioned the back of your head while Loki’s forearm pressed against the face of a sweet looking puppy. “This is normal... isn’t it?” Loki breathed, eyes flickering nervously from your shocked expression to where Steve was checking the expiry date on milk.

You stared up at him, fighting the urge to inhale deeply against the hollow of his neck with all your strength. Pine and smoked cedarwood and that fucking wax jacket. Loki's throat bobbed, working anxiously as the elderly gentleman bypassed the strange man holding a sandwich in front of his eyes. He was gaining on Steve. He's actually worried, you realised. “Move, Rogers” Loki grit, frowning as the intruder finally tapped an undercover captain on the shoulder. The god's eyes widened earnestly. It made you want to sink onto your knees.

The bow of Loki’s jawline was strained, veins tight and pulsing like they did when he was about to cum down your throat; his eyes pleading and needy, mouth open and- You swallowed. Letting your fingers clasp around the rough material of his open jacket, you tugged it gently. “It’s just an old man,” you whispered. Loki tilted his head, seemingly just realising the position he had manoeuvred you into. A gulp made his throat stiffen, then relax.

“Two old men,” he hummed, mirth warming his eyes. You smiled, and so did he.

Loki shuffled closer, his breath mingling with yours. He glanced towards the scene unfolding one aisle over, wetted lips hovering dangerously close to your own.

“Update,” he purred playfully, “the decrepit man has asked Rogers to get something from a high shelf. He has obliged.”

You pursed your lips with an approving nod, hoping Loki couldn’t smell the adrenaline seeping through your pores. “And my brother is still the village madman.”

A giggle escaped you, before the pad of Loki’s index finger smothered it gently. He leant close, your foreheads touching conspiratorially as silent laughter made his chest shake. His mouth creased in a soft smile, rolling the bottom lip beneath the top. “Shhh, you’ll get us in trouble,” he murmured in a way that made your soul leave your body. You wondered if he was hardening beneath his trousers right now. He would have, before. Maybe – if last night was anything to go by. But your awkward kiss this morning flashed back with frightening clarity, the hard look in his eyes as he said the only word that ever seemed to matter. Go. Don't be an idiot, you thought bitterly. Your hands slipped from their rest on his jacket, catching briefly on his belt. Loki watched them fall.

“Me in trouble,” he corrected, face stiffening. You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Thor’s face peered around the corner, a half eaten ploughman’s sandwich in his grasp. “Time to leave before Rogers goes into cardiac arrest,” he chuckled, nudging his head towards Steve loitering jerkily by the door.

“Can you pay for these?” Thor said, holding out the basket. Empty packets lay nestled amongst the survivors. “You’re the least famous.” You rolled your eyes, nodding up towards Loki. “That sounds like something he would say,” you quipped without thinking. Loki’s brow furrowed. He let the protective arm resting above your head fall without a second glance, striding the long way around towards the exit. Thor took another bite of sandwich. He shrugged, before following his brother. But he didn’t, you thought with a stab of guilt as the three of them disappeared into the street.

The glow of the Fiat’s lock lights flashed. He didn’t.

--> Continued in Chapter Five, A Cunning Plan

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#the lakes #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x female reader #loki smut #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki series #loki fluff #loki angst #loki imagines #loki odinson #loki x yn #loki gif

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lives-in-midgard · 10 months ago

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Stay With Me

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Steve is there for reader after a mission.

Word Count: 830

A/N: Hey everyone! I had this idea when I saw the prompt: "Please, stay with me." of the Fluffcember from @buckys-wintersoldier But because it wasn't Christmas themed and then I also didn't have time I decided to not post it for the Fluffcember. So, here it is I hope you enjoy it!

Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

Returning to the compound after a mission was not always easy. Sometimes it was, but not today. A lot of bad things happened on this mission, and you didn’t know how to deal with it right now. The whole flight you just looked at the ground, trying not to look at the others, but you could feel them all looking at you. Especially Steve, who sat across from you.

When the Quinjet landed on the compound, you were the first one who made their way out of it, not looking at any of the other Avengers. You could hear Steve calling your name but you didn't care, you just wanted to go home. Home to the comfort of your apartment.

When you got to your car, you turned on your favorite playlist as loud as you could and drove off.

The first thing you did when you got home was to take a shower and change into comfortable clothes. You quickly looked at your phone and saw that you had received a message from Steve.

"Hey y/n, are you okay?"

You didn't answer and put your phone away. Then you sat on the couch with a blanket over your shoulder and started thinking about the mission. How you almost caught the HYDRA agent until he suddenly escaped. How many people had to die. And then you started thinking about the moment you could have died until Steve came and saved you.

You sat there for a while until you heard a knock on the door. You weren't really in the mood to see anyone at that moment, but the person didn’t stop knocking.

After the tenth knock, or at least that’s what it felt like, you got up and went to the door. When you opened it, you saw a very worried Steve standing there.

"Hey." You said quietly.

"Hey." Steve said, looking over your body to see if he could see any injuries.

"I came here to check on you. You drove to your apartment so quickly after you got back to the compound." He said softly.

"Yeah, umm sorry. I just had to get away from there." You mumbled.

"You know what happened on the mission wasn't your fault, right?" Steve said, referring to the things that happened there.

"I don't know." You mumbled and looked at the ground.

"No, hey, it definitely wasn't your fault. You did your best; we all did our best." He said, took your hand and you looked back at him.

"Deep down I know this, but right now it feels like it’s all my fault."

"I know this feeling all too well. He paused a moment and then said.

"If you’d rather be alone now, I can go."

"No, please stay with me." You confessed and Steve gave you a comforting smile.

"Of course." He said and you opened the door more so he could walk in.

You both sat on the couch very close to each other so that your knee touched his. You sat in silence for a while until Steve said something.

"Actually I also wanted to check on you because I wanted to see if you have any injuries." You looked up at Steve who had another worried look on his face.

"I'm fine, I just have a few small scratches and a few bruises, but nothing serious."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked and you nodded.

"What about you?"

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me, sweetheart." You blushed at the petname he gave but tried to smile at him.

"How about we watch a movie and order some take out?" Steve suggested, placing a strand of hair behind your ear, making you a little nervous.

"That's a good idea." You smiled at each other. Steve suggested ordering the pizza while you searched for a movie. You found one that you remembered Steve wanted to watch and decided to pick that one.

You ate the pizza and watched the movie. After the movie ended, you decided to watch another one. You had a great time together and were really grateful that Steve came over. The movie had just ended when you decided to say something.

"Thank you, Steve. Not only for coming over but also for saving me on this mission." A small tear fell from your eye and Steve's gaze softened. He wiped the tear away and wrapped his arms around you. Then Steve pulled you into a tight hug.

"Of course, I saved you and came here. You mean so much to me." You sniffed a few times while Steve rubbed your back and hugged you for as long as you needed him.

After a while you broke the hug but stayed close to him. You placed your head on his shoulder, and he held you close to him. Steve insisted that he wants to stay the night to make sure you were okay and because he didn't want you to be alone.

Taglist:

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lesbojournals · 9 months ago

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Three's A Crowd (Stucky x Reader)

Nobody at the Avengers compound knew about you, Steve, and Bucky. In fact, not even Bucky and Steve knew you were seeing them both. To be fair, you started your…situationship with them both on the terms that it wasn’t just them you were seeing, and that you weren’t ready to commit to a relationship yet.

It’s just that neither of them knew who was the other you were referring to. Or so you thought.

The night started like any other, you were in your sweats and a tank (your usual pajamas) in the kitchen making a bowl of ice cream for yourself. You added some whipped cream to your dessert and nearly jumped out of your sweatpants when a pair of hands met you from behind.

“How’s it going babygirl?” Bucky teased you, taking your spoon and eating some of your ice cream.

You jokingly scoffed, taking the spoon back. “Get your own ice cream, Buck.”

“What’s this I hear about ice cream?” Someone called, and that’s when the smile on your face was wiped clean off.

Steve entered the room, joyfully at first, until he made sight of Bucky’s hands around your waist. His eyes turned dark and he looked at Bucky, who just smirked back.

“So…” He started. “This is who you’ve been seeing.”

You pulled yourself out of Bucky’s arms. “I can explain-”

“No need.” Bucky interrupted. “We’ll be in my room.”

And with that note Bucky walked away from you and towards Steve, giving him a painstakingly long kiss before dragging him off and away from the kitchen.

The whole event shocked you so much you didn’t even notice you’d been making an “o” face, AND had dropped your spoon on the floor.

Your mind was swimming with questions, and without even thinking about your ice cream you left it behind, practically running to Bucky’s room.

“What’s going on?” You demanded as you entered, walking in on Steve and Bucky in a beautifully posed make out session.

Bucky had a small smile and Steve smirked at you.

“What do you mean, beautiful?” Steve asked.

You stammered as you came up with what to say next, the “guns blazing” technique not working to the best of its abilities. “Did you both know this whole time? Were you playing some weird twisted game on me? Are you two dating? Literally Steve, tell me, what’s going on?”

“Well,” Bucky spoke first, sitting up. He caused the blanket to shift down, making you just now realize they were both shirtless. “We kinda figured it out ourselves from the beginning–you weren't being very slick. Thought confronting you about it should come organically.”

Steve added to his comments. “Plus, we'd always been seeing each other. Hard to believe you hadn't noticed.”

“We thought you were just teasing us–” Bucky continued. “...turns out you're just a little lacking in observation.”

It was like a quick montage of moments between both Steve and Bucky flashed before your eyes. The wistful glances, the long touches, the soft smiles.

“Oh.” You were shocked by your own obliviousness. Had it really been that obvious? “I…I uh…I'm sorry.”

“What're you apologizing for beautiful?” Steve cocked his head to the side, almost daring you to look at the hickeys Bucky had clearly left behind.

You looked down at the ground, blush rising to your ears. “I shouldn't have been messing with you guys if you're a couple. I should've realized sooner.”

“Don't be stupid.” Bucky quipped. “You think either of us would have gotten with you if we didn't want to?”

“I…I don't understand.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “We want you to join us. Be with us. Romantically.”

Steve rushed to add more. “You don't have to say yes if you don't want to. Don't feel pressured. But just know that the option is out there.”

You took a deep breath. “Yea I…I think I'd like that.”

#should i make a part two #i've never written smut before #stucky x reader #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky

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upon-a-starry-night · 7 months ago

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Number Neighbors Pt.33

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Finally away from the chaos, you relax your tense shoulders as soon as the door to Nat’s bedroom shuts. You take notice of the way Nat constantly protectively hovers near you and the subtle brushes of her hand against yours. If you’re honest you hadn’t been expecting her to be this physical but you’re not complaining.

The first thing you notice is her gray comforter and you smirk at the reminder of your previous conversation.

“What are you smiling at?” You could give her a long list of reasons you would be smiling right now (most of them pertaining to her presence) but instead, you opt for the truth.

“You really need better taste in comforters”

Nat groans, shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. The apprehension from the car ride seems to have completely dissipated and you’re grateful that she’s feeling as comfortable around you in person as she was over the phone.

Taking the opportunity to observe her room, you notice the decoration is minimal but still cute. Books on the shelves, a few framed pictures of her and the other Avengers, a few framed drawings made by some kids who call her “Aunty Nat”

It feels incredibly intimate to be in the space where Natasha spends all of her time and you’re unsure what to do with yourself until Nat gestures for you to sit at the edge of her bed.

You take the invitation and plop down on the gray comforter while Nat chooses to stay standing, the two of you observing each other in privacy for the first time. Your hands itch to touch her again and you have a feeling you were going to have that urge for a while.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was full of things the two of you were too afraid to say. Was it too soon to tell her how you felt? Maybe you should diffuse some of this tension between the two of you?

“So not an FBI agent then” It’s the first thing that comes to mind and it feels appropriate to mention the first conversation you’d ever had for one of your first in-person conversations. Like an ode to the past but a promise of a playful future.

She smiles at the reference “Not quite” Now that the two of you are alone her expression has changed into something softer. Her once-guarded eyes now shine with an expression so profound it makes your heart ache. A permanent smile stuck on her inviting lips.

Without the pressure of other people, the two of you could express your love for each other with more than just a verbal longing. Your body language spoke more than your words ever could.

You don’t know if Natasha can read the emotions on your face, or if her reading them would be a good or bad thing but you know you don’t want to say goodbye anytime soon.

”I think you owe me a picnic date” it’s the only thing you can think to say to comprehend your desire to stay without outright asking. You hope it quells any doubts in Nat's mind that you would want anything near the opposite of being with her.

“Oh yeah?” Her reply is sultry, the rasp of her voice seems to intensify tenfold in the privacy of her room and you’re suddenly aware of just how alone the two of you are. If Nat didn’t want anyone to enter and interrupt then no one would dare.

You have to clear your throat before you can reply, afraid the want would be too prominent and scare her off. Truthfully she could do anything she wanted to you in this moment and you wouldn't object.

Her signature smirk is back in an instant and you’re sure you’ve been caught just by the look in her eyes but she doesn’t comment on it “I think I can do that”

Her phone buzzes in her back pocket and it reminds you that there’s a world outside of the two of you- reminds you that Nat is a woman with a tough life and even tougher responsibilities. A life that you would hate to get in the way of.

The thought makes you frown ”You must be busy with sorting out the government and superhero business and other stuff” She doesn’t give you more than a second to drown in your thoughts-

”I’d drop everything for you, Y/n” It's a quick response, and even she seems surprised by her own words but she doesn't seem to regret them. It’s a bigger admission than you were ready for but it’s still a welcome one. If anything it gives you confidence in your own feelings.

The two of you spend the next hour catching up on each other's lives and dancing around the obvious tensions between you. Nat remains standing and you wonder if it’s a force of habit until you notice her restless hands and come to the striking realization that she was holding herself back- from touching you.

When there’s a lull in the conversation you gather up the courage to ask her a question you’ve been wondering since you figured out Nat was Natasha

“Why did you keep texting me? You could’ve blocked me or probably disabled my phone if you wanted but you didn’t” You don’t tell her yet how grateful you are that she never stopped texting you. How you were so consumed by your loneliness that you never even went out before her.

The thrill that anyone could be her was one of the things that pushed you to go outside more.

Nat smiled softly “I don’t really know why either. I probably should’ve done those things but…” Her eyes turn solemn despite the smile on her face and it makes you want to distract her from whatever memory is making her sad but the desire to know why she kept texting you kept your mouth shut “I think part of me needed someone to talk to who didn’t know who I was or what I’d done. It also didn’t hurt to get such high praise about myself all the time”

You blush, looking away. The memory of all of your fan-girl rambles causing you to groan and cover your face in embarrassment.

“Oh my gosh, I said all of those things about how much I liked you to you” You hear her footsteps get closer and when you peek out from between your fingers you see her standing right in front of you staring down at you with mirth in her eyes.

“Don’t be embarrassed, it was cute” You choke out a sound of embarrassment, you’re not sure how red you are but you’re sure tomatoes would probably be jealous.

“I regret so much” You mock whisper and in a second two hands are tugging yours away from your face, the sly smile on Nat’s face is replaced with a more serious look

“Y/n,” You struggle to maintain eye contact when she’s looking at you so strongly “Nobody’s ever talked about me the way you did, it made me proud of who I am, which is something I’m not often” You frown a little and Nat’s eyes drop to your lips for a split second before regaining eye contact

“You can be embarrassed but you’re not allowed to regret it” You nod slowly and she pulls away, letting go of your arms but still standing over you. Your skin burns where she touched and you’re sure your heart is beating loud enough for her to hear it.

She had no business having this much of an effect on you but you were helpless to stop it. -Not that you wanted to.

“So…” You start “ This might make things a little awkward between us but I don’t think I can keep it to myself anymore” She tilts her head in question but stays silent for you to continue. You take a deep reassuring breath in and begin speaking before you can convince yourself to quit

“I know this might sound a little bit crazy because this is our first time meeting in person but you’re such an incredible person inside and out, and you were always there for me when I needed you, and you’re unfairly funny for someone who claims to not have a sense of humor and well… it was kind of inevitable that I would fall in love with you”

It’s terrifying to admit to her but there’s a weight that lifts off of your shoulders nonetheless. The silence is heavy and you can’t bring yourself to look her in her eyes, scared that all you’ll find is rejection or disgust. You’re so sure that you’ve just ruined the best potential friendship and regret begins to sink into your skin when Nat once again guides your face to look up at her.

Much to your surprise, you don’t find disgust or disappointment, instead, you find two glassy green eyes staring at you with so much adoration it fills your whole body with warmth. She looks like she can’t believe what she just heard is real and it’s your turn to hear just how rapidly her heart is beating

“Say it again” It takes you a few seconds to register her words but once you do a hopeful smile creeps onto your face

“I love you.” You say a little shakily, and then with more confidence “ I love you, Nat. More than I probably should love someone I met on the internet but what can I say? I fell in love with you.” You laugh a little as happy tears begin trailing down your cheeks, “You don’t have to say it back I just-”

“I love you too” She interrupts and your heart tugs blissfully in your chest “From the moment I met you I should’ve blocked your number but I couldn’t. You just had this magnetic energy even through the phone and it drew me to you in a way I knew would end up with my heart in a mess.” You’re crying even harder now and Nat takes a moment to wipe the tears from your face before continuing-

“- And then I saw you at Starks party and you were… everything. Witty and gorgeous and beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined you’d be. That’s when I knew, even if it was terrifying- even if it was unfamiliar and I could get hurt- I knew then that I was in love with you.”

You’ve never heard anyone talk about you in such a way and it moves you so much that you can’t bear to hold yourself back any longer. Your hand drifts to her face and your eyes search hers for permission only for her to pull you in.

Your lips meet in a teary overwhelmingly tender kiss and you think you could live in this moment forever. Nat’s hands tug at your cheeks to pull you even closer and your hands find purchase around her neck, the two of you lost in each other.

Your body melts at her touch and you lose track of time as your mind hazes over, incapable of thinking of anything but the feeling of Nat’s lips against yours until the need for oxygen pulls you apart.

Even though you pull apart Natasha keeps her forehead pressed against yours, not wanting to break contact. Overwhelmed with joy, a small breathy laugh escapes you as you stare into Nat’s heady gaze.

“Do you think we could do that again?” You’re a little shy to ask but Nat responds with a husky laugh of her own

“I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, Y/n”

Epilogue

A/n: Gah! Finally! God they’re so perfect for each other :( I’m going to miss them ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff @autorasexy @gay4hotmilfs @tofu9162 @dyslexic-dreamer @graniairish @colettehope @kosmichs1 @nmhlver @natblidaclexa @skittlebum @dorabledewdroop @nothanksbye07 @mrsrushman @midastouch013 @thalia-is-not-ok @tessalah @annab3113 @officialnighttime @taliiiaasteria @bgwlsmahf25 @chibilauren @natashasgirlll @nmhlver @strange-night-owl @obsessedwjill @autorasexy @madamevirgo @kissesfornat @gemz5

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siconetribal · 3 months ago

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Beyond the Bookshelves (8)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Friendly banter, overworking

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

“You have it?” Loki raised a brow at this, pulling out his phone to see her full name and some extra information about her that Steve had stored on his phone. The sight of it only made his mood even more sour as he shoved the device back into the pocket it came from after saving it. “Quite a bit of information you have saved on here.”

“Yeah? It’s stuff I picked up on overtime.” The innocent, casual shrug of his shoulders held arrogance in the eyes of the God of Mischief. A smug punctuation of how the star-studded super soldier was able to freely come and go from the library and he was not.

“Oh? ‘Just stuff’ that you picked, huh? ‘Overtime’ you say? What kind of ‘just stuff’ did you save overtime?” Tony leaned in closer, a smug little smirk on his face with a twinkle of interest in his eyes.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Tony. Y/N and I are just friends. Don’t go spreading unnecessary rumors. It’s nice to just have someone to talk to and not have to worry too much.” The stern tone in his voice earned a groaning sigh and eye roll from the impulsive scientist. “Also, dating in the workplace is unprofessional and would inevitably lead to complications.”

Romantic involvements are always troublesome. Loki silently agreed, the tension in his shoulders slipping away as Steve made it clear that there was nothing going on between the two of them. The last thing I need is her feeding him misinformation or him spying for her to see what I’m saying or doing. I require access to the library, not an extended sentence. He reasoned with himself.

“Mr. Rules strikes again, don’t you know any other tricks? Or is justice and teacher’s pet your only ones? I don’t even know why I bother talking to you, give me her number. There’s something there, I know there is!” Loki sat up straight at the words that came out of the short Midgardian. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Share her contact with me.” The prince’s eye twitched at the demand. He could not fathom why all of them wanted her number now that it was clear that none of them actually had it. What good was there in having contact information for someone that would never be contacted.

Especially when his interests were more fickle than the tide, ever-changing from one stupid notion to the next.

“I’ll pass on that,” Steve rolled his eyes at the petulant child look that Tony gave him. Loki silently agreed with this decision. “But you’re more than welcomed to get it from yourself.”

No, he is not! What sort of denial is that?! You may as well have given him the damned number if you’re giving permission to get it! His jaw ached from how tightly it was clenched, his leg rapidly bouncing under the table. Thor noticed the changes in his younger brother’s demeanor, but said nothing. He figured the company of the others was the cause, and as the elder of the two, he thought it best that Loki grew accustomed to the presence of the other Avengers.

“Are you gatekeeping her number? Why not just give it to me?”

“Because, I want you to actually work for something. Plus, this is just you trying to get under my skin, and you’re not actually going to go after her to get her number, Tony, I know you. This is a shiny new toy that you’re going to forget about the moment something else comes along.”

“You do like to play with things and toss ‘em aside when you’re bored.” Clint agreed, sipping his drink as he nudged the empty tray forward. “You’re not actually going to call her anyway.”

“Et tu, Robin Hood?” Tony gasped in horror. “Is that what all of you think of me? That I’m someone so callous to just use a poor innocent maiden like Y/N and just throw her away like yesterday’s newspaper the next day? I am offended. I’ll show you, me and her, we’re going to be like this.” He entwined his index and middle finger of one hand before standing up from the table. “You’ll see, and you’ll all regret it!” He threw his nose into the air and left, the others amused by his dramatics as they continued to not take him seriously. The only person not amused was Loki. They all goaded the chatty Tin-Man into actually getting her number instead of leaving her alone, the exact opposite of what should have been done.

It’s horrible enough that Major Constellations over here frequents the place, and he’s friendly with her, now I’ll have to share my sanctuary with that aluminum can? I refuse to accept this! There has to be some logic I’m missing, unless this is all some ploy to ruin my peace and quiet. No, I can’t be, can it? They’re all trying to ruin what little solace I have here? He eyed the remainder of the group suspiciously. Thor is working with me on that infernal project that started this mess, I doubt he is tied to it. The straight-laced sergeant only comes when he needs to for missions. I don’t think I’ve seen the bird-man there. That leaves just that nuisance of an existence, but his focus is currently on troubling their leader. Perhaps that is all there is to it? If it truly is, then I have nothing to worry about, so long as I get to her first and convince her to not share her contact information. To do that, I need her to first lift this Stygian banishment!

“Well, I thank you for her number, you proved most helpful in this matter of miscommunication. I should start putting my efforts towards composing a proper response, so I take my leave.” Loki stood from the table and left without giving anyone a chance to pry anymore than they already had.

“Director Y/LN, looks like everything checks out here. The programs are all running and there hasn’t been any repetition of the errors we first faced.” The weary voice of her subordinate pulled Y/N’s attention from her laptop screen.

“About time,” Y/N pushed a chipper tone into her voice to mask the true exhaustion that had taken lodging inside her. Lacing her fingers together, she turned her palms outwards and stretched as she sighed. “I swear, technology isn’t as amazing as it’s cracked up to be…especially when it flops like this first thing.” She grumbled as she logged the successful trial and cleared this site as operational.

“When it acts up, I can’t agree more. When it’s working, I have no complaints.” Her subordinate’s soft chuckle could not mask the fatigue. “C’mon, it’s late, but we still have time to grab dinner. The rest of us are heading out to celebrate that we’re finally online!” The eager twinkle in those brown eyes made the offer more tempting, but Y/N had to decline.

“You gotta join us, Chief!” Another chimed in, hearing her answer.

“Pretty please?” Came another plea.

“I really wish I could, but I’ve got a red-eye to catch. I need to finalize and submit the report before I’m off.” Y/N closed her laptop and pointed to the large clock on the wall.

“Damn, they’re really not giving you any wiggle room, huh?”

“That’s not fair at all! Other directors don’t go running around like they’re making you. This is abuse!”

“Let’s not get too hasty, I choose to handle certain things personally to make sure it’s done properly. It reduces the chances of unnecessary back-and-forth. Next time we can celebrate, I promise. Thanks for all your hard work, everyone. Let’s keep it up and get this project completed as soon as possible.” With a chorus of confirmations and cheers. Y/N packed her things and gave one last wave before leaving back to her hotel.

She dropped back onto the awaiting mattress, heaving a heavy sigh as she finally let the fatigue show itself. For the last five weeks, Y/N flew between all the S.H.I.E.L.D. locations that had a library department to manage the setup and checks of the new system that was provided per location as promised. She had been formally trained on the software, but sat through the boring session with the staff each and every time it was given. There was no doubt in her mind that if she were to die now, her last words would probably be incoherent ramblings from the lecture. The only good news in all this was that she was finally done. This flight would bring her one step closer to her much-needed comfy bed in her small, cozy apartment.

Forcing herself up, she pulled out her laptop to edit her report one last time before sending it off and logging out for the remainder of the evening. She changed to something comfortable and made sure everything was packed away and ready to go before ordering room service.

At least they don’t cheap out on where I stay and pick up the tab entirely. She leaned back into the padded headboard that was attached to the wall. “Did I check in to my flight? Crap, I don’t think I did.” She muttered, feelings round the covers until she found her phone hidden away under a pillow. A good hour and a half was burned away through all her editing and rechecking the report. Her stomach growled in protest. Gently patting the disgruntled creature, she quickly checked in through the app and sighed with relief at the boarding pass notification on her status bar. It was then that she noticed the message notification that was sitting there unread, still.

The corners of her lips tugged downwards into a frown. Y/N could have sworn that she read all of her messages. Opening the texting application, she noticed the unknown number had sent about 3 messages to her, the latest being from a couple of days ago. Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the glowing screen, trying to recall anything. When nothing came to her, she gave in and opened the chat. Her jaw dropped as it all cam rushing back to her.

Oh shit, I’m in trouble now! She lightly and rapidly hit the heel of her left hand into her forehead several times. Way to go, Y/N, you completely ignored someone for almost three weeks now! “What do I do, what do I do?! Obviously, I need to reply, but how?!” She bit her lower lip, typing, reading, erasing, and retyping too many times to count before giving up at the knock at her door. Paying the server a tip, she sat at the table and began to eat. Clearly she needed food to get her brain in some semblance of working order as she reread the messages.

<Librarian, this is Loki, the second prince of Asgard. It has come to my attention that you have been working under a misunderstanding. Remove the banishment order.> It was the first text that came roughly three weeks ago.

<Librarian, this is not amusing. You placed a banishment order with no means for me to rectifying your misunderstanding by leaving the facility. Remove it at once.> This second text came four days after the first.

<Why do you not answer me, woman? I have repeatedly asked you to remove your misguided decision, and it has yet to be fixed.> This text, which made her snort, came almost two weeks ago. <I know you have read my texts.>

None of this is asking me anything, you’re demanding. She rolled her eyes.

<Perhaps my prior texts were not properly worded. As per the insistent pestering of my brother and the others, I am messaging you again. I did not intentionally ignore you the day you banished me from the library. I had just come from a lengthy training session and review/strategy meeting afterwards. The only thing I had done between then and arriving at the library was to refresh myself in my quarters to be more presentable in public. The ‘promise’ I made slipped my mind completely, but I had no control over that matter due to how long it took. You make ask your precious admiral if you wish to confirm my story, or you can request the data of that session to prove the time. With all that being said, I understand why you would be upset. I would greatly appreciate it if you would remove the order given to the system so that I may read peacefully in the library once more.> She was surprised to see such a lengthy text coming after all the short, demanding ones that came before it. What surprised her even more was the last text sent earlier today when she was fighting with the program errors. <Are you alright? You have not read my last text.><Sorry for replying so late, I was tied up with my work. Also, I accept your ‘apology’. By ‘admiral’, do you mean CAPTAIN America, Steve?> It took her a minute to realize who he was referring to, and she nearly fell out of her seat laughing at the mistake no one has ever made. At least not to her. <Why would I go ask him or check the records? I doubt you’re lying about a long session, I trust you. Sadly, you’ll have to wait until I’m back on site to cancel the order. I can only do those type of changes while on S.H.I.E.L.D. grounds and on their network. Good news is I’ll be back Monday, so just two more days!> She confidently sent her reply and finished the rest of her meal. Glancing at the clock, she sighed and called for the driver to come as she made her way to the lobby and checked out. Soon you’ll be home, Y/N, soon.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne

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sacharinee · 1 year ago

Note

hey! so i’ve noticed all your office references and it’s one of my favourite shows ever <3 i was wondering if you’d write something where the reader and bf!peter are both obsessed with the show and quote it at any given moment, confusing (and probably annoying) everyone around them. i love your fics by the way!!

pairing: bf!peter parker x reader

w/c: 800 ish

a/n: dinnertime with the avengers edition! peter and reader being an annoying power duo. a crap ton of office references obviously. this is so weird and all over the place BUT it was so much fun writing. i tweaked ur request a teeny bit to them simply saying lines from the show, but everyone is just as confused and annoyed lmao i hope ur okay w that!! this is also my first time writing with the avengers so i tried my best on getting them right. thank u so much for requesting this!! i had an entire office marathon playing in the background while writing this

“the food looks great, nat,” you take your seat at the dining table.

“yea, it’s amazing, thanks for cooking tonight,” peter chimes in.

you both are sat at the dinner table in the lavish dining room among the earth’s mightiest heroes, who also happen to be your colleagues.

“wait, where did you learn to make all of this? i never pegged you as a cook,” tony questions.

“i’m not,” the redhead answers, “my fake mother used to make this dish all the time when i was younger,”

“awe, that’s adorable,” thor replies.

“right before she and my fake father sold me and had me brainwashed.”

the others freeze midchew and stare as scott drops his fork against his plate.

nat clears her throat, “so anyways, enjoy,” and takes her seat.

the rest of you begin placing heaps of food onto each other’s plates and digging into the meal in front of you.

“well, um,” tony sips his water, “how ‘bout you kids, get any good action tonight?”

peter raises his eyebrows at him, “us? oh yea, we got a good chase during patrol tonight,”

“it was super fun,” you add.

“well what’d he have on him?” wanda asks.

“he was, uhh,” you purse your lips as you hesitate, playing with the food on your plate and quieted your voice, “a-uh, a wanted animal rapist.”

wanda shakes her head at you in repulsion, regretting having asked you.

“that is so disgusting!” the god announces, food spilling out of his mouth.

“thor, close your mouth, you look like a trout.” steve reprimands.

he dismisses his comment and goes to steal the mashed potatoes, eating straight out of the bowl with no shame.

“did he put up a good fight against you guys?” bucky questions.

“well he wasn’t exactly intimidated by me, i usually let y/n play bad cop while i just web them up,” peter admits.

you’re chewing your food while you watch bucky and your boyfriend converse, “see what i told you? you gotta take control, pete. ask yourself this: would you rather be feared or loved by your enemies?”

“easy,” he answers, “both. i want people to be afraid of how much they love me.”

nat pokes her tongue to her cheek and tilts her head in confusion.

“oh, that reminds me,” you nervously chuckle and pull out the slip tucked into your back pocket, “i need you to pay for my speeding ticket, tony.”

“again?! y/n that’s the second time this month!”

“that criminal guy was a surprisingly fast driver. besides, life is short. drive fast and leave a sexy corpse. it’s one of my mottos.”

“goddamnit, y/n” tony mutters and shakes his head in disappointment.

steve interrupts, “you should listen to him, young lady. seriously, what would happen if you were in a speeding car crash? why do you think those laws are enforced? it’s to keep everyone safe. so you better straighten up the attitude before you get yourself k-”

“cap, you ignorant slut.” you’re tired of everyone treating you and peter like little kids, “you want to talk about being safe? are we forgetting about banner’s little experiment that went wrong the other day? he almost blew up the tower!-”

“wait, what did you just call me?” the soldier looks at you dumbfounded.

“what did i- … what’d i say?”

“you just called me a-”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. i talk a lot so i learn to just tune myself out.”

“you and me both,” strange clips.

“wow,” you respond, feigning hurt, “sorry i annoyed you with my friendship.”

tony, having enough, intrudes, “you know, i think i have to put you and peter through some training again.”

the boy skeptically squints towards the man and chews his food slowly, “...what type of training?”

“sensitivity training. all this trash talk is-”

“oh my god, not again,” your head falls back as you groan, “i’ve changed, tony. i’ve learned to keep my unmannerly thoughts to myself every time i see someone wearing black socks with white shoes.”

“uh that’s definitely not true,” bucky cuts in, “just yesterday you called me out for wearing sandals.”

“exactly! sandals! who the hell still wears sandals, you look like you just got off the boat. i don't need to see your hairy toes,” you shudder in disgust.

“yea, mr. stark,” peter reverts his attention back to tony, “we don’t talk trash,” he shrugs.

“we talk smack,” you finish.

“okay… and how are those two any different,” the man challenges.

“well,” peter clears his throat, “trash talk is hypothetical. like, ‘your mom is so fat she can eat the internet.’”

“totally,” you eagerly nod your head in agreement, “but smack talk is happening, like, right now. like, ‘you’re ugly and i know it for a fact ’cause i got the evidence right there,” your hand motions in a circle to the person in front of you.

“are you calling me ugly?” thor sniffles.

“i don’t know what the hell you just said, and i don’t even wanna know,” tony wipes his mouth with a napkin, “but it’s happening. nine am sharp, do not be late. it’ll be quick and easy, not that hard. you’ll be in and out without the attitude.”

you pout as you and peter give each other a dismay look.

“that’s what she said.”

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natsarrownecklacx · 2 years ago

Text

Agent Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary- Talking about your feelings for your superior in the locker room may not be the best idea. Especially when she’s not as far as you think she is.

Word count- 728

Warnings- Natasha flustering R. That’s ab it. Minors DNI

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

“I think I’m in love.” You say half jokingly, in reference to the spy who’s training session you’d just walked away from. “I mean did you see the way she took us all down without even breaking a sweat. Hot.”

Your friend, Rose, another new recruit for the avengers, laughs at your antics. Thinking you're just being silly. Because of course you’d think that way of your superior. “Sure, y/n/n.”

“Ugh no, you don’t understand.” You sigh exasperatedly. “I would do anything for Natasha Romanoff. Well- almost anything.”

Rose continues to laugh, her eyes crinkling at the sides as she bends over in an effort to catch her breath. “Of course you’d have a thing for Romanoff.” She continues to laugh, making light hearted jokes about you and your inappropriate feelings for your teacher. Until something behind you catches her attention. You watch as her eyes shift slightly to the left of you as she stands up straight, stopping her laughter completely.

“Leave.” A voice comes from behind you, making you freeze in place. You know that voice. It lingers in your mind throughout your days and haunts your dreams. God her voice.

Rose shoots you an apologetic look. Wordlessly nodding her head in understanding and exiting the room. No doubt going to her room to binge watch the hunger games.

Heat rises onto your cheeks as you realize she must have overheard your conversation with your friend. Too embarrassed to turn and face the other woman, you keep your eyes locked on the showers ahead of you. Listening as her steps get closer until you can feel her standing not even half a step away.

Natasha waits for you to look at her, to turn and acknowledge her presence. But patience has never been her strong suit, and she wants to see you. Reaching out her left hand she places it on your waist, using her grip there to turn you to face her. The contact along with the movement causes your breath to catch in your chest, a noise that didn’t go unnoticed by the spy.

“My eyes are up here y/n.” She says smugly, noting your hesitation to meet her gaze. Slowly, you move your line of sight from the arrow necklace around her neck to her eyes. Your gaze catching briefly on her lips.

Natasha’s eyes are dark when you look into them. With anger from what she overheard or something else, you can’t tell. Though you really hope she’s not angry with you. Having your new boss not like you sucks enough. But when you factor in the fact that your new boss is an avenger and part of her job is to train you, training that requires hand to hand combat, your life would be hell.

“I’m sorry, Agent Romanoff. I meant no disrespect.”

Natasha only hums in response to you, amusement in her eyes at the way you've just addressed her. “Why almost anything?” Natasha asks, catching you off guard. She moves closer to you, so you're only a breath away from each other. Instinctively you move to take a step back, but the tightening of Natasha’s hand on your waist keeps you in place.

“What?” You ask, confusion clear in your words.

Amusement flashes through Natasha’s eyes. Her signature smirk curls onto her lips as she asks again. “Why would you do almost anything for me.” She mumbles, moving closer to you so that her next words are spoken against the skin of your cheek, her lips brushing against you. “What wouldn’t you do for me? What lines wouldn’t you cross? What do you deem as too far to go in order to have me?”

Your throat goes dry. Natasha steps closer to you, so that now you can feel her body against your own. This can’t be happening, you must be dreaming. “Or should I ask what would you do for me y/n?”

“Anything.” You answer dumbly, your mind fumbling desperately for the words. “I would do anything for you.”

“Anything?” She asks. You can feel her smile against your skin. Her hot breath fanning against you makes you shiver. You nod, not trusting your voice, closing your eyes to focus on the drag of her lips against your skin.

Slowly, she moves her lips across your face, up your cheek and across to your ear. “Good.” She whispers, before stepping away from you completely.

She smiles at you then turns to leave the room, walking out without even glancing back at you. She’s just left you a blushing mess in the locker room. She’s amazing and frustrating and so so hot. She’s your superior. And now she knows you have a thing for her.

She’s going to have fun using that to her advantage.

ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ <3 ⴵ

Part Two

A/n- I don’t usually write stuff like this, just wanted to give it a try. Lmk what you think

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #agent romanoff #Agent romanoff x new recruit reader

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jtargaryen18 · 11 months ago

Text

One Night With You ~ Pt 3

One Night With You ~ A Halloween Tale in 3 Parts

Masterlist

Read Part 1 | Part 2

Words: 5.8k

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader

Warnings: A little language, references to the sound of people having sex, masturbation.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and any original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content in the third act. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I don’t consent to having my work reposted or translated.

Summary: For @iheartsebstan who was my very first follower here on Tumblr and one I adore. 💕 It’s all about a chance encounter and how it can make everything in your life so much better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 31st: Halloween

The trick-or-treat in your apartment building started at 7 PM. You had no idea just how many kids were in the apartment building because you usually went out with Denny or your coworkers. It was 8 and the event ran until 9. You’d gone through more than half of your candy. And you remembered joking with Bucky that he had enough candy to spare if you ran out.

The problem was, Bucky wasn’t home.

Would he be home? Was he out saving someone as a member of the Avengers?

Was he avoiding you?

You didn’t know who your neighbor was when you agreed to have dinner with him. This morning it was the first thought that popped into your head. With Denny snoring next to you, you were Googling James Buchanan Barnes.

Sure, everyone knew the story of Captain America and his best friend who’d been taken by Hydra and made into an assassin. You hadn't thought it was all that interesting in school. You remembered reading that Sergeant Barnes had been rehabilitated and was free from the dark mind control he’d been a victim of for long decades. That was good news. But, like Captain America, he was over a hundred years old. The man had to have some massive PTSD from what he’d been through.

How to reconcile that story with the man who lived next door? Bucky had seemed a little intimidating at first. Now that you were getting to know him better, he didn't feel like a threat at all.

Still, it explained why someone who looked like him wasn’t out in clubs, meeting people. It might have had a lot to do with the simplicity of your evening with him. Helping him make pasta and cook dinner. A nice conversation over a meal and for once, a man seemed truly interested in who you were, not what you had to offer.

Then Denny texted and he might just have ruined everything. It gave you something to think about last night. By the time Denny was trying to sneak out super early in the morning -- like he did most of the time -- you confronted him. He broke the agreement of your "non-relationship." You'd agreed there would be no displays of jealousy or possessiveness. You broke it off.

You hadn’t confirmed to Bucky that you had a boyfriend because Denny wasn’t that. But the minute he thought someone like Bucky was interested in you, he flew to your door to end what had been a wonderful evening. You didn't regret your decision there.

Bucky must think you’re either jerking him around or you were just straight-up crazy. Either way, that opportunity was probably gone.

“Wow,” Bucky’s voice rose above the din of all the kids' voices. He rounded the corner and his blue-eyed gaze locked with yours. He smiled and it just about stopped your heart. “There’s a lot of kids.”

You laughed. “That’s what I thought too. I’m glad you’re back, I’m almost out of candy.”

“Hang on,” he said, working through the crowd to get to his door and let himself in. In a flash, he was in his doorway like you were, holding a huge basket of candy. Walking over to you, he dumped some of it into the plastic pumpkin you were using. The faint notes of sandalwood and amber reached you.

Because being a super-hot reformed assassin isn’t enough. He had to smell good too.

Going back to his door, there were now two of you, it was a little less crazy on your end of the hall when another flock of them came around the corner. But when nine o’clock rolled around, you breathed a sigh of relief. You’d been dangerously close to running out of candy again.

“How bad was it before I got here?” Bucky asked.

“About as crazy as it was after you got here.”

The two of you laughed.

“At least it's Friday,” you offered. “I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

Bucky nodded. “Same. Hopefully.”

When he was about to turn to go back into his apartment, you asked, “You want to have a drink, watch a Halloween movie or something? With me?”

You sounded a lot less confident than you thought you would.

He stopped, looking surprised. Then that smile… “Yeah, that would be great.”

“Yeah?” you asked. Maybe you still had a shot.

Bucky started to follow you, then remembered he was holding a mostly empty basket of candy, and his apartment door was wide open. He set the basket just inside the door before locking it and coming with you.

Nerves almost got the better of you. Now knowing who he was? It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. You didn’t feel like he posed any threat to you, but you did hope you could talk to him like a normal fucking date instead of a fan girl. He must have so many of those.

Closing the door behind the two of you, you headed to the kitchen. “I’ve got bourbon and scotch, and I think I have some vodka here somewhere.”

“Vodka is fine,” Bucky said, taking a seat on your couch. “If you have it.”

That was easy enough. You made a vodka and tonic for each of you. Carrying them back to the living room, you joined him on the couch.

“I’m not going to get you into any trouble, am I?” Taking a drink, he kept his gaze on the glass in his hand. “Or have I already?”

“No, you didn’t have anything to do with it.” Well, yes you did. “Denny and I got into a fight this morning when he left, and it got a little loud. I hope we didn’t wake you up.”

Bucky shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything, but I left at 5.”

“Good,” you told him. You took a couple of drinks, wanting the temporary courage the alcohol might offer you. “You didn’t miss anything really.”

“Was everything alright?” he asked, the sincerity in his expression made your heart skip a beat. “Did you get everything settled?”

You drained your short glass on that note. Bucky watched you but didn’t say anything.

“Everything is settled,” you admitted. “I ended things with him.”

Did you imagine those smoky blue eyes lit up? “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment.

You shook your head. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

Bucky placed his glass on your coffee table, scrubbing a hand through those gorgeous locks of hair.

“Last night, you asked me if I was happy,” you admitted. “I thought I was for a while. We were friends with benefits, you know? Denny had just gotten out of a bad relationship when I met him. We were friends, then we started hooking up. He didn’t want a committed relationship because of all the awful things that happened to him in his last one.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Bucky said quietly. “That wasn’t you.”

He was right. And you knew that.

“What did you get?” Bucky asked carefully.

“I wasn’t…” Sitting here and admitting this to Bucky, it hit you how ridiculous it all was. Your heart sank to think of how sad it was going to sound. But there was something in his gentle expression. A lack of judgment… “I wasn’t alone anymore. A couple of times a week I had someone to watch a movie with or have dinner with, you know?”

He nodded, his sensual lips pressing into a line.

But he did know. Flashes of what you’d read about him on Google flashed in your mind. He knew about being alone. He’d been held captive for decades. Who knew what the monsters of Hydra had done to him? Put him through? And what, you expected him to feel sorry for you?

“I’m sorry,” you told him. “I shouldn’t be complaining to you about… “

Easing back on your couch, Bucky’s expression was kind.

“You can complain to me if you want to,” he said.

“I mean, with everything you’ve experienced,” you said carefully. “I must sound pretty pathetic.”

Bucky nodded. “I didn’t think you recognized me.”

“I didn’t,” you told him. “Denny told me. The reason he texted me and showed up here last night all upset was because a friend of his saw me walking with you.”

“He was afraid for you?” You didn't like the worry that started seeping into his expression.

“No, he was jealous I guess,” you said.

Bucky huffed at that. “Jealous of me?”

You nodded. “He was. I guess he was afraid I was trading up.”

“I wouldn’t consider me trading up.”

You would.

“He can’t make pasta,” you finally said, hoping to lighten up the mood.

That made him smile. And he was so gorgeous when he smiled… But there were shadows behind his eyes. Shadows of doubt or fear? You couldn’t tell. You just knew you wanted to take them away.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Really, none of it was your fault… And yet, it was. You showed me more genuine attention in one meeting than Denny did in our entire non-relationship – and that was before you made me dinner. I had a really nice time, Bucky. And I guess it got me thinking that… I want a relationship like that. Someone who is talking to me and listening instead of talking at me.”

“You deserve to have someone treat you right, doll,” Bucky said.

Doll, huh? You liked it.

“So, you’re an Avenger,” you finally said, now that things were out in the open.

Bucky shrugged. “Not really. It’s an opportunity.”

You didn’t understand. “An opportunity?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, for me to go out and try to wipe out some of the red in my ledger. So to speak."

The poor man. "That red didn't belong in your ledger, Bucky. The things they made you do? Those weren't your decisions. Right?"

“No,” Bucky told you. “They weren't. But I still did those things. So many terrible things. I remember all of it, in painful detail. Those memories will never go away.”

You processed that for a moment. They had him for so many years. You were sitting next to a man who was over a hundred years old, most of that time he spent as an assassin for one of the worst criminal syndicates the world had ever seen. You could almost see the guilt weighing him down.

“Do they, the Avengers, still consider you a threat?” you asked.

“Before they cleaned my head out, I was a threat,” he explained. The pain etched in his expression had your heart squeezing. What the poor man must have been through. And it wasn't his fault.

“I’m just surprised,” you admitted. “I feel perfectly safe here with you.”

The pain eased out of his expression at that, replaced by surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you told him.

“That’s good,” he whispered. “I never want you to feel afraid of me.”

You believed him.

“So you wanted to watch a movie?” he asked.

That he wanted to direct the conversation away from himself, you got that. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. And you did invite him over for a movie. Snatching up your remote, you went to your collection of movies for streaming. You loved horror movies and you’d bought several over the last couple of years.

“See anything you want to watch?” you asked him. But when you looked at him, you caught him staring at you.

And you were fine with that.

His gaze shifted to your flat screen. “How about… what’s The Conjuring?” he asked.

Perfect. Ghosts. Possession. Hopefully nothing there that would bring back any bad memories for him.

“The Conjuring it is,” you told him, selecting it. You sat back on the couch, moving closer to the center. To Bucky.

The movie began, opening with Ed and Lorraine Warren giving a lecture back in the 70s. You could quote most of the movie, but Bucky hadn’t seen it yet, so you didn’t want to ruin the movie for him by talking.

Halfway through the movie, Bucky moved a little closer, resting his left arm, the prosthetic arm, along the back of the couch behind you. It was a chilly October night and the warmth of him was tempting.

Yeah, everything about the man is a fucking temptation.

You leaned a little closer. Then he shifted closer to you. You went to put your head on his shoulder, but he stopped you.

“Sorry, that’s not going to be very comfortable,” he sounded apologetic.

Sitting up, you met his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t want him to feel bad about his arm. You scrambled for a solution, and it came to you pretty quickly. Rising from the couch, you moved to sit next to him on the other side. Flitting around nervously as you were, you tripped and fell on the man.

Bucky caught you, face to face with him, your arms braced on the back of the couch on either side of his head. You weren’t rightly sure who moved first. All you knew was that your lips met his. The kiss was explosive, with him pulling you in to straddle his lap and your hands clutched in his hair as his kiss set you ablaze. The moan he pulled from you was a deep, raw sound. Bucky just felt so good beneath you, the soft locks of his hair in your hands, the taste of him filling your senses.

Long heated minutes ticked by as the two of you kissed, moving together. His lips were a tender tease, dancing against your own as if he couldn’t resist. His hands skimmed over your back and hips as you ground down on him, hard and heated beneath you.

Bucky was the one to break the kiss, panting against your lips while his hands held you in place. “Doll, stop,” he said. “I’m sorry. Jesus.”

Your breath came as fast as his. “Why are you sorry? Why—”

Bucky’s flesh hand cupped your face as he gazed into your eyes. “I want this… I think you get that. But this isn’t the only thing I want with you… I'm not Denny. And I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t.” You were panting. “You can’t… “ Your body ached, literally, and all he’d really done so far was make out with you.

You started kissing him again and he didn’t fight you, he was clinging to you. Now his arms around you tightened. He rolled his hips beneath you, nudging into the ache where you needed him most.

He chained hot kisses across your jawline to your ear. His tongue teased the sensitive shell of it, his breath hot as he whispered, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” you begged him.

The deep moan that pulled from him pushed your arousal even higher. In a hurry, you pulled the heavy sweater you wore over your head and flung it away. Your fingers moved to undo the buttons of the blouse you wore beneath it.

The heated velvet of his lips burned a path from your ear down your neck. His mouth claimed each patch of skin you revealed in opening the blouse. Bucky didn��t wait until you were finished to slide his good hand up under your bra, kneading the flesh that filled it. While you hurried to shed the blouse, he reached behind you to undo the clasp of the little black bra you wore, roughly pulling it off you. With your breasts on display for him, the heated look in those stormy blue eyes had desire burning you from the inside out.

When his flesh hand returned to your breast, you gasped at the gentle touch. You were used to sharp squeezes for someone else’s gratification. Bucky’s warm hand skimmed over your flesh like it was an honor to do so. The metal of his other arm warmed against the skin of your back while his head dipped, his lips wrapping around your nipple. His mouth was tender, careful. He didn’t bite you. His tongue played with the tight peak in a way that had you squirming on his lap, eager for more of his gentle touch.

You couldn't remember the last time a man was so careful with you.

When his lips blazed a trail to your other breast, you twisted to give him better access, to give him everything. If you hadn’t been so turned on, you would have been embarrassed at your own desperation. Still, he took his time, handling you with delicacy.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you, and he rose from your couch with you with no visible effort at all. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you held on. You were about to tell him where your bedroom was but then you realized, he knew the way. He’d never been in your apartment before. How did he know that?

Your bedroom was cool and dark. He was careful when he lowered you to your bed, reaching around you to turn on the lamp on your bedside table. You knew you were staring at him. With just a knee on the edge of your bed, and the man had beautiful thighs, Bucky stopped and looked at you in question.

“How did…” How did you ask without making him feel like he was doing something wrong? “How did you know where my bedroom was?”

Automatically his hands came up to scrub through his hair and you were cursing yourself. What the fuck were you thinking asking that? You were right there – in your bedroom where you wanted to be – with your super-hot, superhero neighbor.

“I’m sorry,” you said in a rush. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

When his troubled gaze moved to the door, you moved closer to him, placing a hand on the heavily muscled thigh before you.

“Please, don’t go,” you whispered.

Blowing out an exhale, Bucky slowly turned and sat on the edge of your bed. His back was to you, but his attention was very much on you. You could feel it.

“When they took me," he said slowly, "They gave me the serum that gave me all these abilities I never had naturally. Everything was enhanced. I was so much stronger than before and faster. All of my senses were enhanced. I can see things from a distance in great detail. I can pick up scents. My hearing..."

His hearing? Feeling a little awkward now, you crossed your arms over your bare chest. Bucky pulled off the black boots he wore.

Turning his head, he watched you from the corner of his eye. "The abilities they gave me, made me the ultimate predator. There was no one I couldn't find anywhere in the world."

Shivering on your own bed, you just listened. Your mind was scrambling as empathy battled with fear. Bucky was a good man, wasn't he? Because it occurred to you that if you were wrong about him or things went badly, you couldn't hide from him. You couldn't run from him.

While your mind was throwing up red flags in the background, the need that coursed through your body intensified. You wanted him in the worst possible way.

"Back in the real world, my abilities aren't necessarily a good thing, doll," he said as he turned to face you on the bed. His fingers started undoing the buttons on his flannel shirt and you couldn't pull your gaze away from those quick movements. "I've been your neighbor for many weeks now. I've seen you so many times in passing, always in a hurry to be somewhere."

Bucky wasn't wrong. You weren't the most punctual person. Self-sabotage and procrastination often made you late, always had you scrambling to get where you needed to go.

A chill of anticipation ran up your spine when he pulled that dark blue flannel shirt free of his jeans and peeled it off. Your gaze was immediately drawn to all those muscles, the elegant black metal arm with threads of gold adorning it. There was scarring at the skin around that arm but it wasn't as bad as you'd expected.

"You've got this style about you," Bucky said. "I would think someone who wears so much black was either in mourning or trying to hide themselves, to blend into the background. But you're not hiding. You drive me crazy, every time I see you. I love those little skirts you wear, those stockings and combat boots. I love the blood red lipstick you wear, the little silver earrings..."

You had no idea he'd noticed you at all. As it was, at this moment, you were only wearing jeans. You edged back towards the center of your bed. Almost as if it were a predator's response, Bucky followed you. The ache between your legs only grew, had you trembling under that heated gaze.

"I wasn't trying to listen to you in your apartment, doll," he went on. "I really wasn't. I can't really help what I hear."

Hear? Your gaze moved from studying that arm, cutting off thoughts you shouldn't be having about that arm, to meet his. Your mind struggled to push thoughts through your aroused state, to think about what he just said. What did he not mean to hear in your apartment?

How were you supposed to be able to hold a thought with him on your bed with you? All those muscles and warm flesh. How would he feel in your arms? On top of you? Inside you?

Bucky whispered your name softly. "Did you hear me?"

You nodded, at least you thought you did in your lusty haze.

"What did you hear?" you asked. "In my apartment."

"Most nights, I just heard you moving around in your apartment." Bucky's intense gaze held yours. "You watching TV or making yourself dinner. A couple of nights a week, he came over. And then I got to listen to you make dinner, listen to him talk about himself, his day. It pissed me off so much that he never asked how your day was, never brought you flowers or cooked for you. He didn't treat you right, doll."

Bucky had heard a lot. But if he'd heard all that...

"Then..."

"Then?" you prompted him. "You listened to us..."

Bucky paused, and a hint of chagrin bled into his expression. One hand slid over your right ankle and with care, he pulled off that shoe.

"I wasn't trying to," Bucky explained, removing your other shoe before leaning over to place both on the floor by your bed. "It wasn't a lot different from listening to the two of you have dinner... It was all about him."

You were somewhere between humiliation and shame. The look in those smoky blue eyes, the care you read there, lessened the sting.

"I'm not saying you did anything wrong or that anything is wrong with you," Bucky moved closer, crowding you into your pillows. "Every time he was in your bed, it was all about him. He got off. You didn't. Not one time." When you dropped your gaze, careful warm fingers under your chin put it back on him. "He never even noticed."

Tears stung the backs of your eyes. Every word he spoke was the truth. This time when Bucky moved closer, pressing you onto your back beneath him, you didn't inch away. Tears slid from the corners of your eyes as he hovered over you. Propping himself on his metal arm, his natural hand smoothed over the side of your face, brushing your tears away.

His heated gaze locked with yours as he settled next to you, one heavy thigh draped across yours. His hand slid down to cover your right hand, his fingers lacing with yours. With care, he leaned over and began kissing you. The hand he captured, he moved to his head and you were fine with that, sliding your fingers through the satiny locks of dark hair. His shift in position had his thigh between yours now and you weren't going to lie, the way he nudged it up into your melting center made the ache worse. So good...

Bucky's kisses went to your head like good whiskey, sending ripples of heat and euphoria racing through your bloodstream. Your thighs clamped around that muscled thigh as his lips danced with yours, gently but demanding all the same. When he dropped some of his weight on you, you fought to breathe, vining around him to get more. Now both your hands were sliding through his hair as his lips blazed a trail across to your jaw then seeking out all the places that made you weak just under your ear.

You'd pretty much disappeared beneath him, and you were loving it. He pulled a chorus of sounds from you as his mouth trailed down your neck, down to your chest. He chuckled at the way you whined when he moved off you.

"Shhh," he soothed. "I've got you."

When his lips surrounded one nipple, your hands clutched in his hair. You didn't have the time or wherewithal to consider how careful he was being or to remember how Denny more or less treated your breasts like stress balls. You were gasping as his lips and tongue teased the aching peak over and over. The desire he was stoking in you was unfamiliar, even in your private moments which was usually the only time you could find release.

Your body had a mind of its own. Your back arched, a wanton plea for more, more... It gave him easier access and he took it. Your thighs clutched his in desperation because you needed relief from the fire he was building in your body. The intensity of that delicate ache was climbing. His hot mouth moved to your other breast as both his hands, warm and warming metal, began roaming over your body like fever chills.

Bucky loved it when you pulled his hair. He groaned when you started pumping your hips rhythmically, begging him without words for more. You felt that raw sound all through your body, gasping as he moved further down. He was rough when he plucked open your jeans, yanking them down with your panties to reveal all of you to him. His gaze roamed over all your newly revealed curves, making you shiver as anticipation threatened to get the best of you.

Without a thought, you slid a hand down to your own swollen, soaked flesh. Watching him licking his lips as you showed him how you worked your clit had you on the edge of the cliff...

"No, you don't." Bucky's voice was low and rough.

Batting your hands away, he dove for you with his mouth. His lips and tongue in that tender flesh had you climaxing in seconds, wailing into the quiet of your bedroom. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them open as he really went to work, teasing you through the orgasm in a way that kept you flying, kept you riding that wave the way you rode his tongue. You couldn't move your lower body, couldn't get away from the onslaught of pleasure he was subjecting you to.

You writhed wildly on the bed in his clutches. The sight of his dark hair, the locks dancing around your thighs as his mouth took you apart would be forever seared into your memory. The way he teased you relentlessly until you came a second time on the tip of his tongue had the world spinning around you. Your nipples were hard, aching peaks in your hands, your back arching wildly as he worked you through it.

Jesus. Would you survive this?

When all sensation stopped, you lay trembling on your bed like you'd been hit by lightning. Bucky scrambled to undo his jeans, shoving them down his body with haste as you watched him with hungry eyes. As soon as his cock was freed, you were staring, marveling at its size. Your hand slid around that heated stalk of flesh, warm velvet in your grasp. He was bigger than Denny or anyone else you'd been with. You were excited and nervous all at once. How was that going to feel?

As if he could read your mind, Bucky came back up to you. His shadow swallowed you again as he kissed your lips and gave you a taste of your own lust from his shiny lips. It only pushed your desire higher, had you winding yourself around him eager for more. When you reached between your bodies for him again, Bucky captured your hand and thwarted your efforts.

"Doll," he whispered against your lips. "I want you so much... But I need to slow down a little here. Okay? It's everything I can do not to come right now. And you're so small..."

"Please," was the only word you could get out.

"M'gonna take care of you," he whispered. "I promise... I'm treating you right."

You couldn't conjure an ounce of humiliation now. You did need more of him. You wanted all of him.

Taking himself in hand, he slid the swollen head of himself through your slippery folds back and forth. Each pass was a soft brush against your clit, a shot of pleasure to take your breath away. You held onto him as he slowly pushed into you, his breath a heated rush just like yours.

And he was huge. You sucked in a breath as he kept pushing into you. It helped that he had you soaking wet, but feeling your pussy walls stretch around him was intense. The slightest pain blended with a sensation of fullness that had your thighs quivering around his. His blue-eyed gaze stayed on you as he kept going, watching you for any signs of distress.

By the time he reached the end of you, you were on that ledge again. The only thing that kept you from sailing off that cliff now was the fact that he'd stopped moving. Bucky's body was still inside you as your body stretched around him.

Bucky's eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth slack above you.

"Are you okay?" he whispered.

Aside from feeling almost split in two in the best way possible, you were pretty fucking far from okay. You were squirming beneath him, hands clutching at his hair, at the damp muscles of his back. When you slid your hands down to the firmness of his ass, you squeezed. You needed him to move. You needed him to ride you like you were going somewhere.

"Don't...stop," you managed, fighting for air. "Please."

"Look at me," he whispered.

And you did, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.

"Does anything hurt?" Bucky asked, sounding as wrecked as you felt.

You shook your head frantically. "Please."

Because you weren't sure you were going to survive if he didn't start moving soon. You were burning from the inside, your lower body stretched around his cock, quivering in need sharper than anything you'd experienced so far. When you raked your nails up his back, you hoped he'd take the hint and take you. Destroy you.

Slowly, he started moving and it was everything you craved. Bucky's cock was hitting places inside you that left you breathless. His body was heavily muscled, pressing yours into the mattress. All you could do was hang on as his thrusts sped up. Bucky wasn't fucking you. He was claiming you. It was in the tender possession of his hands that skimmed over your body. The sweet caress of his lips over your face and shoulders, dropping on your skin like warm summer rain.

And all the while, he made you take his cock, filling you again and again with thrusts that were driving you insane. When your inner walls began to quiver around him, you braced yourself for a release that was approaching so fast. Your heart hammering against his, Bucky sped up.

"Let go for me," he purred in your ear.

You didn't have a choice. This time, you buried your face in his chest to muffle the scream. And Bucky kept going as you rode that wave, pleasure pulsing through your body as he began chasing his own end. Your name was a prayer on his lips as his movements quickened, desperate now instead of careful. At the last second, Bucky pulled himself free of you, his come spurting over your tummy, your thighs. There was a lot of it, hot and thick drizzled over your skin. Bucky looked so beautiful above you, lost to the same pleasure he'd just drowned you in as he worked himself with his hand.

Your eyes slid closed, you struggled to breathe. You couldn't remember the last time you felt so sated after sex, so fulfilled.

"I hope that smile is for me," Bucky said softly, using his flannel to clean his spend from your skin.

You were smiling. You were happy. But as your skin cooled, you shivered. Bucky tucked you under the covers, climbing under with you to stretch out on his back. When you moved close for cuddles, his right arm pulled you to him. You loved the steady beat of his heart below your ear, the sheer warmth of him.

"Sleepy," you murmured. "Will you stay?"

Denny had stayed after sex but he'd immediately turn his back to you and get on his phone. You didn't know Bucky's intentions but you were hoping he might want to stay the night.

"I'll stay," his voice was rough and sleepy.

You held each other in the cool quiet of your bedroom. Bucky only moved you to turn out the lamp. Maybe now that it was dark, you felt a little braver.

"You said... that sex wasn't the only thing you wanted with me," you reminded him. "What did you mean?"

Bucky pressed a kiss into your hair. "I meant just that. Not that the sex wasn't good because it was amazing..."

Your heart skipped happily in your chest at that.

"But it's not all I want from you," Bucky said in the darkness. "I want to get to know you. I want to talk over breakfast in the morning and eat leftover candy." His fingers traced circles around your shoulder and arm. "I want to wait for you to get off work at the florist and take you on a date. I want to have hot chocolate and watch it snow outside together."

Snuggling closer, you smiled. It all sounded wonderful to you. And if sex was that good on top of it?

"Is that yes?" Bucky asked.

"Yes," you whispered. "But... do you think we can do what we just did again before breakfast in the morning?"

His sigh was a happy sound.

"Doll, we can do anything you want," Bucky whispered.

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96 @texmex

#One Night With You #Bucky Barnes #Winter Soldier #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Halloween

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larcenywrites · 1 year ago

Note

Could you write about how Tony is with a younger gf that's like half his age? And maybe a lot more energetic than him if you know what I mean 🤭 I understand if age gaps make you uncomfortable and you don’t want to write it though!

I’m into age gaps given the right circumstances, and I completely understand the appeal! I wasn’t quite sure what to write since it’s not something I really put much thought into anyway, but I think it turned out okay and pretty cute :)

Warnings: 18+ for sexual references and themes | mentions of Dom/sub stuff | age gap obviously | like two feminine/she/her pronouns used

💠 Tony doesn't particularly mind either way that his s/o is (a lot) younger than him, but admittedly, he didn't expect that he'd end up with someone younger! He figured he'd prefer someone closer to his age, with whom he could share similar experiences of life...

💠 But the world works in mysterious ways! And it definitely works in mysterious ways when you find yourself in a loving relationship with Earth's grumpiest Avenger! Well... one of Earth's grumpiest Avengers 🤭

💠 It's partly his older age and partly his stressful job that has him tired and irritable, but lucky for him, you found this grumpy old man sweet and handsome 🥰

💠 And now he’s your grumpy old man 🥰

💠 He’s always had a thing for being the more dominant one. He wants to be bigger and stronger, the protector and provider, and his older age helps play into that!

💠 He definitely loves to spoil you! Anything you want!! He just loves spending money on his lovers, but in a way, he’s kinda showing off 🤭 not necessarily to you, but to prove that him being older still has its advantages 😉 a much younger man probably couldn’t treat you this well 💅

💠However… there’s often a difference between how much a person in their early 20s works and how much a person in their 40s works. You may not be used to your boyfriend working like 8-9 hours a day nearly every day! It might be quite the learning curve not having him around as often as you’d be used to :( Tony does feel pretty bad about it, he can remember being much more free and clingy too, so he cuts you some slack when you wanna bother him at work or in the lab 😉🩵

💠 He loves when he can teach you new things! He has a soft spot for it 🥰 even if it’s just the cleanest way to separate the egg yolk or just, like, how to do taxes, he enjoys being helpful and teaching you new things :) it’s cute tbh 🥰

💠 And he also loves getting to watch you practice things and keep learning things!! Are you cooking a ton of new things every day? Awesome! Even if it’s the same stuff or doesn’t always turn out good!! If you’re a college student, he’ll adore watching you work and read!

💠 You’re also from a whole different generation than him, so you’ve probably got a few things to teach him, too 😌💅 From new music to social media! While he’s still not really into the latter, he does enjoy all kinds of music!

💠But because you’re from different generations, his gestures may feel a bit more… old fashioned? But they’re classy! Always bringing flowers, always kissing your hand, always offering his arm for you to hold onto on a walk, offering his coat— it’s enough to make you feel like royalty honestly 🥰

💠 Though, it may feel a bit weird at first hanging out with his little social circle? They’re pretty much all Tony’s age, so you may feel a little out of place. Rhodey is actually quite welcoming though! Well, you weren’t there when he teased Tony about it a little 😅 but it wasn’t aimed at you! Honesty he was just happy to see his friend going out again :) in fact, Rhodey is probably the first person you’ll meet! After all, Tony’s parents aren’t around, and there’s no one else quite so important and close to him 🥲

💠 But don’t worry, Tony feels just as awkward with your similarly-aged friends 😅 and he was very nervous to meet your friends and/or family! Shit, he’s likely the same age as your parents 😭 while that might make things a little awkward as well… it’s actually pretty nice that they can share and bond over their very similar experiences and childhoods!

💠 Sometimes he wonders what his parents would think… but he’s pretty sure his dad was older, too! He likes to talk about them a little bit, and about his younger years. It probably kinda reminds you of how your own parents talk about how they grew up and how different it was from how you did, but it’s much more cute to hear Tony talk about it 😘

💠 Obviously loves to be called Daddy, but the age gap really has it driving him up the wall 😈 it's an authority thing, a power thing, and definitely a Dom thing 😏 and plus, you’re probably more, uh, innocent than he is 😏

💠 Bunny, princess, little deer, sweetie— he has all sorts of pet names to remind you of not just the age gap, but the gap in your power dynamic, too 🥴

💠 He definitely also loves teaching you new things in the bedroom 😈 there’s gotta be something you haven’t done yet if you have been sexually active before, and he’ll be sure to figure it out and teach you right 😌😉

💠 But he is still older, probably a lot older, and that does come with some… differences. Sure, he can go for a while, but once he cums a time or two 😮‍💨 he’s down for the count! So when you still want to go for another round, he’ll probably just have to hype you up while you touch yourself, or you’ll just have to settle for his hand 😅 it is kinda cute, the way you can tire him out 🤭 and he does find your high sex drive pretty hot 😘 he can go again as long as you can wait like an hour or two! The cuddles are great, though, if you do fall asleep 🥰

💠 He calls you the Energizer Bunny since you can go for so long 🤧 but he can remember being like that, too, when he was younger 🥴

💠Sometimes he (maybe a bit sad or insecure) jokes about if only you’d been able to meet him when he was younger, but give him a little kiss and remind him how glad you are to have met him now 🥰🥰🥰🥰

💠 He never thought he’d be insecure about his age, but… he is a little :( especially if you do comment on a picture of a younger him about how hot he was 😔 young age had him so naturally sculpted and more physically inclined. He was very pretty, huh! And while he’s obviously still strong, he’s got a little bit of tummy, and scarring, and crinkles in the corners of his eyes— a shame you didn’t get to see him back then!

💠 “You’re so silly, Tony~” you scold lovingly, interrupting his reminiscing of the past. You enjoy hearing his stories, but not when he starts to beat himself up! Another quick kiss shuts him up 🥰 And eventually he stops worrying so much about it 🩵

💠 But… Tony Stark dating someone younger? Possibly someone even like- half his age or more? It’s bound to gain traction in social media. Of course, some are positive, some are not, but either way, he really doesn’t want to deal with it :/ and he really doesn’t want you to deal with it :( and it kinda makes him feel worse that you have to :(

💠 But he’s gotta admit: your brighter mood and energy has made him happier, even at work! He wants to do stuff again! Like take you to his favorite cities and go on picnics and to the aquarium! Like the dates he took plenty of exes on when he was your age and loved 🥲 sometimes he even comments about how you make him feel young again 🥰

💠 And when he says stuff like that, you’re probably like “🙄 You sound old when you say stuff like that 🤭” but without skipping a beat, he makes sure to correct you.

💠 “I am old 🤨.”

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark headcanons #tony stark imagine #tony stark fanfiction #iron man #iron man x reader #iron man drabble #iron man headcanons #iron man fanfiction #tony stark drabble #marvel #marvel fic #marvel headcanons #marvel x reader

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ghostfacesvalentine · 1 month ago

Text

HALLOWEEN DAY 13: Bad Halloween - Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of bad luck, a little NSFW, fingering, kissing, hickies, biting, some dirty talk.

Type: One shot

Request: N/A

Word Count:

Prompt: Reader has a series of bad Halloweens and Steve tries his best to make it the best best one yet for them

Notes: i feel like i half assed this, I’m still trying to get back into writing help.

You were absolutely dreading Halloween. There was absolutely nothing to be excited about. You thought you’d grow out of it but it seemed to only get worse throughout the years.

Since you were little, you seemed to be cursed on the 31st of October, never able to properly enjoy a single holiday of Halloween.

As you grew older, you avoided even acknowledging the holiday in hopes that it wouldn’t phase you.

Nevertheless, the evidence of its near presence was plastered through stores and businesses, even the own avengers. With neon orange lights slimy green goblins, black bags and spiderwebs.

Reluctantly joining the devils nights holiday, you decided to go as Karen’s choice of costume in meangirls, excited to answer everyone with “I’m a mouse, duh”

Those who saw the movie, understood, those who didn’t, were confused as to why you were standing in the middle of their living room with lingerie and mouse ears.

The only one who didn’t question it without knowing much of the reference to the movie, was Steve.

Dressed in a black button up and a cape Nat grabbed for him while doing a snack run, he opted to the traditional Dracula costume. A stain of red rubbed against his lips to give the illusion of blood, even in the common choice, he still looked gorgeous.

“You see? It’s not so bad after all. I think you just never had anyone to do anything with or for you during Halloween.”

You promised the team you’d show to their Halloween kickback, even with your superstition. They all swore up and down that this would be the best Halloween yet, especially Steve.

As you walked around with your decorated drink, you began to second guess your choice of costume, feeling all eyes on you. Not your team as much as the unwelcome men you’ve never met, friends of Tony? You weren’t sure.

Three shots in and the music just started playing, alcohol definitely helped with the nerves.

What it didn’t help was all the awkward eye contact. The only person it didn’t feel awful with was Steve, even if he was mentally fucking your brains out.

It wasn’t like Steve even wanted to take the costume off of you, not knowing whether it was because he opted to keep it on or because he was just too desperate to be inside you that he chose not to.

There had been tension between you both, anyone who spent more than five minutes in the same room with you two could tell.

He played into the boyish shy method of playing with your head, but he couldn’t withhold it anymore around you like this.

Five drinks in and he was already pulling you by your wrist back to your room, nothing was said, just a buzzed smile meeting a lustful face.

“I told you it wasn’t going to be so bad. Over here worried about nothing”

You felt your heart jump, mindlessly letting him tug you around anywhere.

“What are we doing?” You finally asked before being led to your own room. “I just wanna makeout with you.” He admitted in a matter-of-fact manner, which didn’t help your nerves either.

After breathless, warm, open mouthed kisses against your door, Steve’s arms pulled you upwards, pressing his whole body against yours. His cheesy Dracula costume disheveling in the process. You were desperate for him of course, but the way his hands traveled your exposed skin seemed like Steve needed you more than anything.

The music from downstairs was rumbling through the walls and floors, sounds of laughter along with it. If anyone knew how to throw parties, it was Tony Stark.

“You tell me that you love me

And I know that I'm right

'Cause I hear it in the night”

Fitting. You could hear the lyrics faintly, slowly focusing less on what was going on behind the door and more on Steve’s movements.

Your body was crying out for him, feeling his hand wrap around your throat, causing you to abruptly hit his chest, moans fell out of your mouth like they were cries for help. It was no secret you were begging for him to take you and he had every intention to do so.

There was no time to assess what Steve was going to do next, he was already doing it. His free hand slid down to lift your babydoll, yanking your panties down from your core, only able to shove them down to your knees in a swift move. It was surely enough for him for now.

“I hear the secrets that you keep

When you're talkin' in your sleep”

Cries fell from your lips as you felt his hard on against your now exposed ass, only disrupted by the fabric of the underside of your babydoll fabric and his pants. You didn’t even have time to complain, before you knew it Steve’s fingertips were pressed against your slick folds.

Your breath hitched, uncontrollable and desperate. Your head attempted to break from his hold to get a blissful glimpse of what was going on, but he had you pressed firm against him. The more you tugged, the tighter the grip was.

The only real control you had were your moans along with the very restricted movements of your hips, crying out to have Steve devour you.

“You look so fucking hot right now you know that baby-” There was no way you could keep your sight straight, especially with the first finger you felt shoved into you. A cry gripped your throat, you almost felt like actual tears were going to stream from the corner of your eyes immediately.

Steve on the other hand was relishing the torment he was putting you under. He was completely basking in your desperation “You’re bold to walk around like this. Is this how you wanted to end up? letting me use you up. Look at how even your body cries out to me. ” Your eyes closed as Steve deliciously pumped his index finger in and out of your soaked hole. He was the one demeaning you, but he couldn’t get enough of your breathy whimpers and whines that fell from your lips. The way you buckled your hips as your last resort to get more attention only encouraged him to keep his mouth running.

“Fuck” Steve grunted when he looked to your reflection in front of you both. The dressers mirror exposing your bliss. “Look at how pretty you look” Steve mumbled into your ear as he leaned his head down to pull what he could of your hair away from your face with his chin. The pumping only increasing when he took a good look at you.

You looked so pathetic and hopeless, only writhing to his touch.

“This is even better than what I imagined you like.” Steve admitted as he chuckled as he watched your legs jerk in pleasure, wanting to close but your mind convincing them they were better off draped on the sides of Steve’s thighs, leaving you open and exposed for his delight.

“Such a good girl too” You heard a breathy laugh next to your ear. He kept his pumping steady, your head stupidly unable to stay still, falling from side to side in pleasure. This would only cause Steve’s ego to erupt taller than Tony’s tower.

“What do you think two fingers would feel like?” He asked into your ear, not expecting you to respond at all. Tightening his grip around your throat, pulsating every so often to let you breath for only half of a second.

Moans fell from your lips like they were prayers and Steve answered to them immediately.

Your eyes widened unexpectedly when you felt a second finger trying to enter your hole, slowly sliding in and curling slowly. You could feel the fuzz from the lack of circulation in your head, your eyes starting to meet one another in pleasure.

He kept both fingers in, only tugging them side to side for a few seconds before his lips upturned into a smile at your loosening eyes.

Your knees raised as Steve struggled to get his middle finger into you. You were soaked, to say the least, but Steve’s fingers were huge compared to yours.

Complaints continued to drool from your lips as eventually Steve prepped you up. He was overwhelmed with the pleasure he was giving you, he couldn’t admit it now but he was close to climaxing just by toying with you.

“When I hold you in my arms at night

Don't you know you're sleepin' in a spotlight”

Steve forced you to look at yourself in the mirror as he slid the second finger in. You were so lost in bliss, losing count of how many times Steve pumped your creamy liquids in and out of you. Your eyebrows furrowing on and off every time you came. Your nails gripped onto his biceps, whatever muscle you could reach when you were close.

“Pretty frowns, but it feels good right? Good girl, there you go.” Steve sinfully encouraged you as you squeezed your eyes shut. Your whole body trembled, your breathing hitched as he encouraged your moans, pushing the hair away from you face, darkly chuckling to himself to see the mess you’ve become due to his obscene actions.

He hadn’t even unbuckled his belt and you already soaked his sheets. His grip stayed on your neck as he rubbed his fingertips around your plumped clit, rubbing them lazily across your folds, bringing his soaked fingers to his lips. He watched you as you whimpered at the loss of friction, sucking off the cum briefly. “Such a messy girl. Already fucking came everywhere, I should make you lick it all up.” He groaned, squeezing your neck in the process as a faux punishment.

You didn’t have the slightest clue, but Steve was trying everything in his power to not lose control. Looking down to see your black panties with white stains, glossy folds plump and begging for more, all while you’re lying there, your hands giving up on gripping onto Steve.

Steve wanted to eat you out for hours, but he genuinely felt like if he didn’t stick his dick in you he was going to explode.

Removing his grasp of your neck, he stood up and began to work at his belt. All while you laid there involuntarily whining for more attention. Steve would never admit it, but he secretly loved when you were a handful, he knew it was all because you were desperate for his attention, that’s all it was. It got him off knowing that he caused that much of a commotion in your body to beg for him involuntarily.

Loud banging clashed against your door, still in a haze, you only looked when Steve stopped his movements. The frustration visible in his eyes, especially when the banging didn’t stop “this rooms taken!” He voiced over in hopes the unwelcome visit would disappear.

It did.

Steve’s eyes trailed over to you again, his fingertips pulling away from your folds and up against his lips. Looking at you again as if you were prey, he wanted to take in every second of this encounter. The way you smelt, the way you felt, the way you looked at him, the way your body pleaded for him.

He was going to find every way to make sure you were claimed as his, starting with love bites. His head dipped down to your neck, prepping the spots with his spit. All of his movements sending shivers down your spine.

“You tell me that you love me

And I know that I'm right

'Cause I hear it in the night”

The bites turned into hickies, marking you in the darkest shade he possibly could without hurting you. Breathless moans fell from your lips as he caught some of your sweet spots. The unease of your legs being a dead giveaway, he practically cradled your body, his cape half on and draped over a part of your thighs.

Your hands ran up to comb through his hair, closing your eyes fully submerged in the moment.

He lost himself in marking you, tiny bruises from the grip his fingertips had on you, your heart had to be fluttering and you knew he felt every beat. Your eyelids half opened, you looked over to him and his dedication to leave evidence.

“You tell me that you want me

You tell me that you need me”

Steve was determined to break that Halloween curse of yours and it was working. “Maybe you just ought to spend more Halloween’s with me”

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