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intrepidacious · 8 hours

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“Oh,” he said, with a smile verging on predatory, “this is going to be fun. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’ll have a favorite.”

oooohhh yes yes yes yes yes 🔥🔥

Giving Me a Thrill

Pairing: Sex worker!Johnny Storm x 40s something female!reader

Word Count: ~2k

Summary: A few years after your divorce, a friend gives you a nudge to try something new.

Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, insecurity, me being a giant tease

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here it is! My first entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 's Cum Together 2024 event!! The prompt I used was "Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.” This was so fun! Thank you so much for hosting this event Siri and Bella!!!

This was my first time writing Johnny! And I definitely got a little in my head about the whole thing. So please let me know what you think! I love being screached at in reblogs or asks! So come say hi!

Thanks for reading, dears! 💜

“It’s been three years,” she said from over the brim of her mimosa.

“Yes, Heather, thank you, I know exactly how long it’s been,” you said as you took a desperate gulp of your bloody mary. Three years, two months, and five days since he’d left. Two years, 4 months, and some change since the divorce had been finalized. About eighteen months since you’d seen him. Three days since he’d messaged you. But you were fine. You were doing fine.

“They’ve been married for over a year, you know? They just got back from Cancun, he was telling Dave all about it.”

“Is there a point to this conversation?” You asked tersely. This brunch had taken a turn you didn’t appreciate. You just wanted to get day-drunk with your friend and now it was this.

“I just,” she sighed. “I think it’s really unfair that he gets to be happy, while you’re…”

“While I’m what?” you challenged, draining your drink.

She looked at you thoughtfully. “Paused,” she finally said.

“I am not paused!”

She reached across the table and put a gentle hand on top of yours. “You are, babe.”

You weren’t paused. You were just… focusing on work right now. And taking a breather. A three-year breather. That was all.

Heather was still looking at you, her face serious for how tipsy she’d been just a few moments earlier. “I just– you retreated inside yourself when it happened. And I kept thinking you just needed time to come back out, to get back to your old self, but… It’s been three years.”

You looked down, unable to bear her scrutiny anymore. “I’m not sure the old me exists anymore,” you said quietly.

“Ok, that’s ok. But then maybe– maybe it’s time to discover someone new.” You looked up when you heard her rifling around in her bag. “I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, trying to build up the courage to give it to you. Just keep an open mind, ok?”

She reached across the table to hand you a business card. It was black with flames in the background and in white script the name Johnny Storm with a url underneath. You snorted. “Johnny Storm? That’s definitely a fake name.”

Heather nodded. “Yeah, probably.” She took a long drink of her mimosa, then, “He’s an escort.”

“What??” you said, much too loud. Then, trying to get a hold of yourself, you whisper-hissed, “You think the solution to all my problems is to hire a sex worker???”

“Uh, yeah,” she said. “I kind of do.”

You threw up your hands. She had to be much drunker than you thought to think this was a good idea.

“I just think you need someone to help you rediscover your power.”

You scoffed. “What power?”

“Yeah,” she nodded sadly, “exactly. Just, promise me you’ll look at his website, ok? And really think about it.”

“Fine, I’ll take a look,” you said as you slipped the card into your wallet, knowing you’d do no such thing.

It wasn’t until a week later that you even thought of it again. You were getting out your credit card to pay for groceries when the edge of a flame on the business card, tucked into the last slot in your wallet, caught your attention. You didn’t do anything about it at the time, but then it just stayed in your head all day.

That night, with a glass of wine in hand, you sat at your computer and opened up an incognito tab. “This is so stupid,” you muttered to yourself as you typed in the URL. The front page opened to animated flames with moving text that said The Human Torch. Oh my god. This was so stupid.

You navigated to the photo gallery and– oh. It was just as dumb as the landing page. A tall man, not a day over twenty-four, with buzzed hair doing dumb macho poses in a series of shirtless costumes – firefighter, mechanic, trucker, or something? It was ridiculous. But. There were abs. For miles. Broad shoulders. Cheekbones that could cut glass. And most of all, the most piercing blue eyes you’d ever seen. Photoshopped. They had to be. But still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The want was starting to build in you in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You poured yourself another glass of wine.

A week later found you pacing outside a fancy hotel bar downtown. Your phone was clutched tightly in your hand and you felt the hotel room keycard burning a hole in your purse. You silently cursed Heather. This was so stupid. This was such a mistake. But you were already here. You already had the room. A voice in your head told you not to back down now. So you took a deep breath and went inside.

He was already there, leaning against the bar, chatting with the bartender. She was his age and very pretty, in a way that seemed effortless. Soft and sweet. He smiled at her, laughing at something she’d said and it made you feel even more out of place than you already had. Your dress was too tight, pulled out of the back of your closet. Something you hadn’t touched in years. Probably too young on you now. It must make you look even older. Even more desperate. Sad.

You pushed yourself forward and sidled up next to him at the bar, interrupting their conversation. You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Uh, Johnny? Hi,” you said and gave your name.

He turned to you and gave you the most blatant once-over you’d ever received. After trailing his gaze all over your body and pausing significantly on your chest, he finally brought his eyes up to yours with a broad, pleased smile. “Hi,” he said, his eyes sparkling, and oh shit, they hadn’t been photoshopped. “Should we get a drink?”

All you could do was nod, so he turned back to the bartender and ordered two glasses of champagne. She glanced at both of you and you knew that it must be so clear what was happening here. But she didn’t say anything, just turned to get your drinks.

While you waited, you took a moment to take him in. He was wearing dark jeans and a sport coat over a collared shirt, but it was a little askew. His shoulders seemed even more broad in person. The whole thing was kind of unkempt but good. He looked very good.

His hair was a little longer, a little darker than it’d been in the pictures. You had a sudden, sharp thought of what it might feel like to take it into your hands and tug. You blinked, hard, trying to come back to yourself, the present moment. Once you did, you found him holding both glasses of champagne and smirking at you.

“Let’s go sit down,” he said, handing you a glass. He slowly placed one hand on your lower back, his fingers fanning out to touch as much as he could. You stifled a gasp as heat spread from his fingers through your entire core. When was the last time you’d been touched like that?

He guided you to a secluded table in the corner, pulling out your chair before seating himself across from you. “How are you?” he asked and you wondered if that smirk on his face was permanent.

You took a sip of your drink. “I’m good,” you said dumbly, feeling so off-balanced. “How are you?”

The smirk got bigger. “I’m great. Excited for tonight.”

You stopped yourself from snorting. Sure. Excited for the paycheck probably.

He seemed to expect you to say something else. When you didn’t, he leaned forward. “Tell me a little about yourself. What you want from tonight.”

“Oh,” you said, wracking your brain for words, caught under his gaze. “Um, I don’t know. I’m not that interesting, I don’t think. Probably about twenty years older than you, so that’s something,” you chuckled softly, embarrassed. “And, I mean, sex, right? Isn’t that what everyone wants from this sort of thing.”

He smiled softly and shook his head lightly. “Not necessarily,” was all he said.

“Oh, uh, well. How about you? How did you get into this?” you asked and then immediately regretted it. You felt incredibly rude. It was none of your business.

But Johnny just shrugged good-naturedly. “I like women,” he said with a grin. “And sex is fun.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“You don’t take anything seriously, do you?” you asked, slightly in awe of it. What it might be like to live that way, to not care about everything so fucking much. How freeing that must feel. It was a young person’s game, you thought. Maybe you’d felt like that too, when you were his age.

“Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ just a little. He looked at you carefully. “But not you, huh? You take everything seriously. I can tell.”

“Yeah?” you asked, a little defensive sarcasm sneaking into your tone. “Is it all my burgeoning wrinkles?”

His eyes swept over your face. “No,” he said firmly. “You know it’s not.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, but then, “My friend says I’m paused,” you said, out of nowhere. You had no idea what you were doing but under his watchful eyes, that were still playful but now taking on something else that you couldn’t quite identify, you couldn’t stop talking. “She says that after the divorce, I just stopped. Curled up inside myself and never came back out.”

“Is that what happened?” he asked lowly.

“I don’t know,” you said quietly, honestly. “Maybe. We met in college, you know? He was the second person I’d ever slept with. Everything I built, I built with him. When he left, the uh, the new woman, she was younger, prettier. And now they’re married. Now they’re building things together. And having a kid. He just told me a couple weeks ago. Wanted to give me a heads-up before they started posting about it.”

“Is that something you wanted with him?” Johnny asked softly.

You shook your head resolutely. “No, never,” you said. “Just the road not taken, I guess. I thought he’d never wanted that either. Just trying to figure out what I missed.”

He hummed and then reached out, skating his fingertips over your knuckles. A shock traveled through you at his touch. “I don’t think you’re the one who missed something,” he said, in what felt like a whisper.

You swallowed but couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He just kept brushing his fingers over your hand where it rested on the table. And looking at you, like, like– Oh. Like he wanted you.

He made eye contact with you and you couldn’t look away. “Can I tell you what I see when I look at you?” he asked. And you didn’t miss the way his voice had suddenly gotten huskier.

“I– I guess,” you breathed, apprehension but also excitement shooting through you.

“I see someone,” he started quietly, “who’s lived a life but still has so much in front of her. Someone who doesn’t understand just how much is inside of her. And a woman who is really, really, fucking sexy and just needs to remember how to use it.”

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, and laughed, you couldn’t help it, caught off guard by what that’d made you feel. How alive. How you felt here in the moment, not stuck in the past, or worried about the future for the first time in a very long time.

“Tell me your favorite way to cum so I can satisfy you the way you deserve.”

Your eyes shot back to him. “What?” you gasped. “I– what?” You laughed again, a giggle this time. “I– I don’t know, I just–” He just stared at you while you spluttered. “Do people really have favorites? I thought– Aren’t all orgasms good? The same?”

“Oh,” he said, with a smile verging on predatory, “this is going to be fun. Trust me, by the end of the night, you’ll have a favorite.” And as he looked at you, his eyes fully dancing, he licked his lips, and you thought that, maybe, just maybe, you were starting to feel some of that power Heather had been talking about.

Tag lists are open

@yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @midnightramyeoncravings

#do not be in your head this was GREAT!!!#nika reads #krirebr #johnny storm x reader

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intrepidacious · 10 hours

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rereading this for my mental health <3

At World’s Beginning - Ch 1

Pairing: James Norrington x Mermaid!OC

Series Summary: When a man dies, it’s of the common belief he ought to be afforded the well-earned dignity of an eternity of peace. There’s to be no more strange business with dread captains and monstrous Krakens and bloody thrice-Damned pirates.

When a man dies, the story of his life is ended. For better or for worse, the ink is dried and the book is closed.

…except when, as the unfortunate case may be, said man dies on a cursed ship that decides it’s not done with him quite yet.

James Norrington’s death is only the beginning of his problems.

Chapter Warning: Major Character Death (temporary)

AO3

“It’s too late to earn my forgiveness.”

Even now, after all that had transpired and all the hurts and injuries he had accumulated, she could wound him far deeper with words than any edged steel ever had.

“I had nothing to do with your father’s death.”

Regardless, he should have prevented it. He knew that, and his next words reflected it.

“But that does not absolve me of my other sins.”

And they were many in the counting. More than could warrant forgiveness. Or redemption, for that matter.

“Come with us.”

Those three simple words ignited a flame of hope he dared not warm himself with. Her eyes could almost make him believe.

“James, come with me.”

Do not make me dare to hope, he thought, heart pounding painfully in his chest. Do not be so cruel as to allow me to believe you ever cared for me the way I care for you.

But his traitorous heart made him believe, for an instant, that Elizabeth was asking because she could not bear to leave him behind. That there was a small part of her that truly wished for him to leave the ship, leave this empty life behind, and go with her into her world of lawless freedom.

“Who goes there!”

James pulled Elizabeth behind him and craned his head upwards, drawing his sword as he met eyes with the cursed sailor who had shouted the warning. He watched for a few seconds more and then vanished.

They were out of time.

Keep reading

#i am absolutely obsessed with this moodboard!!!#nika reads #wolveria #james norrington x oc

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intrepidacious · 11 hours

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so the ao3 writer curse really isn't a joke huh 🥲

*taps microphone* this thing on?

#physically i am fine #emotionally i'm at my last fucking straw i swear #drabbles at some point probably. i'm sorry #nika rambles #i need 47563 hours of sleep

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intrepidacious · 13 hours

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kissing you on the forehead <3

for seven sentence sunday:

steve rogers + losing a bet

liar, liar | s.r.

a/n: i genuinely wanted to write something silly for this prompt but then this idea popped into my head and i couldn't not write it

It was meant to be a joke when you said it, wrapped in Steve’s arms, comfortable in the safest place you’d ever found, whispered half-laughingly, I bet you’ll get sick of me first.

Later, you didn’t remember what had led up to that conversation, just remembered his arms tightening around you even though you were joking, clearly, one head lifting your chin to look you straight in the eye, Never. You remembered the chill that went down your spine, the way something softened in your chest when he kissed you, again, again, never.

It was a Sunday when they released you from the hospital. The shops were closed and the apartment you returned to was empty and hollow, just like the sickening ache inside; it didn’t feel like home anymore. There was no one to turn around and smile at the sight of you, no bedside lights clicking to life, no note on the kitchen table.

Apparently, never had come when Steve had gone back to the past; your bedsheets still smelled like him.

#nika replies

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intrepidacious · 17 hours

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time after time - masterlist

summary: After what starts out as a fairly normal mission, you find yourself stuck in a time loop. Which would already be bad enough in itself if it didn’t also mean having to watch Bucky die over and over again.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

series word count: 60.6k+

warnings: f!reader; more or less canon compliant; time loops, canon typical violence, repeated major character death (in a russian doll/supernatural's mystery spot sort of way); slow burn, mutual annoyance to reluctant friends to lovers; negative self-talk; just a lot of angst (but with an eventual happy ending i promise!!)

this series is set after the events of the falcon and the winter soldier and will include spoilers for marvel projects up to and including multiverse of madness

a/n: welcome to the fic i've been thinking about for almost a year!! i am beyond excited and terrified to finally start sharing this. if you want to get notified whenever i post a new chapter, you can follow @intrepidacious-fics and turn on notifications or follow along on my ao3 💚

please mind that my blog is 18+ only, minors and ageless accounts will be blocked

✨ this series is ongoing; last update 08/09/23

one: turn back the clock

two: twice upon a time

three: every day’s a holiday

four: groundhog day

five: carousel

six: butterfly effect

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

epilogue

bonus chapters

frequently asked questions about time travel

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

fun stuff

🎵 series playlist

#️⃣ browse the series tag

moodboard by @barnesafterglow 💚

moodboard by @sweetascanbee 💚

moodboard by @idkitsem 💚

#i really needed this reblog today thank you 🥺#time after time

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intrepidacious · 18 hours

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i'm late but yes hi that is probably me 💚

Hi, there was one where the reader and Bucky were stuck in a time loop and he kept dying. Do you know this one?

Hiya! This sounds like it may be “Time After Time” by @intrepidacious :)

#nika replies #time after time

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intrepidacious · 2 days

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thank you!! 🥰

not even a little

summary: The problem of living with Bucky is that he makes it impossible not to fall in love with him. Even though you could list several hundred reasons why it’s a bad idea. And you have.

pairing: roommate!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5.7k

warnings: pining idiots in love, slightly questionable roomie behaviour, simultaneously the softest and cockiest bucky i've written so far, blink and you miss it throwing shade at iron fist

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: this is my very late submission for kathie's (@pellucid-constellations) love letters writing challenge <3 thank you for this lovely idea, writing this was a challenge indeed but that is, as they say, a me problem. also huge shoutout to @barnesafterglow and @sweetascanbee, this really and truly would still not be done without you. love you both 💛

masterlist | read on ao3

You’re screwed. You know that you’re screwed.

Surely, there’s a rule book for these kinds of situations, and rule number one tells you in big, blinking neon letters that you should absolutely, under no circumstances, not ever fall in love with your roommate. Especially not if he also happens to be your best friend.

And yet.

Trouble is that Bucky Barnes is the type of guy that makes it very, very difficult not to fall for him.

Honestly, you should have known better when Nat had suggested the two of you move in together, that night at the bar right after college, “since you’re both new in town and all”. You’d almost spat your drink in her face when she waved him over to where you were sitting, because there was no way in hell a man called James looked like that.

“Friends call me Bucky, actually,” he’d said, a smirk on his lips that went straight to your core.

Natasha glanced between the two of you with that smug look of hers, and you shot her a warning glare because she knew. She knew from the moment you awkwardly shook Bucky’s hand that he was gonna mean trouble for you, with his leather jacket and his blue eyes and his fucking horrible tendency to be both suave and sheepish within the same sentence.

So how are you supposed to say no after that?

It’s so easy to grow close to him, too. Way too easy. You fall into a routine with such effortlessness it has you wonder how you've ever managed without him at all. Grocery runs after work and movie nights on tired Friday evenings, conversations that would be nonsensical to anyone eavesdropping, dreary-eyed breakfast at 2 p.m. Quickly, it becomes difficult to remember a time in your life that didn’t include Bucky.

Needless to say, it’s a struggle.

Thankfully, you come up with a brilliant plan about a month into your new living arrangement. Or rather, your friends do.

“You should kill him.”

“Darcy!”

“What?” Darcy tucks into her mozzarella sticks. “We’d claim temporary insanity in court, if he’s that hot, there’s no way the jury wouldn’t understand.”

“You’d make an awful lawyer,” Colleen says drily, continuing to pat your head awkwardly.

Darcy raises one impeccable eyebrow. “Got some better idea to save Y/N from Barnes’ death grip, buzzkill?”

“Remember before I broke up with Danny?”

You snort at the visceral shudder that goes through Darcy. “Those were the dark days.”

“Hah.” Colleen rolls her eyes. “Anyway. I wrote down every single time he did something that pissed me off, and whenever I felt myself falling into old habits, I went over the list. Worked like a charm. I was over him like that.” She snaps her fingers.

“And thus, another national holiday was born,” Darcy says, clinking her bottle against Colleen’s. “May we always commemorate Independrandce Day to remind ourselves that bad times don’t last.”

“All the things that piss me off?” you ask doubtfully. “I want my crush to go away, not make my apartment unbearable to live in.”

“Just try it for a while, then,” Colleen shrugs. “If it doesn’t work, you can still resort to physical violence. There’s an open spot in my Thursday class.”

You’re busy Thursdays.

It’s almost surprising how little time passes until you need to take your friend’s advice. You’re just headed into the kitchen to grab a snack before you leave for work when you screech to a halt.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Bucky turns around slowly, having the audacity to look confused even as he’s still holding the bottle. “Having a drink?”

“Of milk?” you say, trying not to actually gag. He’s lucky you’re not a milk-sharing household or you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from going off.

“Gotta keep my bones strong.” There’s a glint in his eye as he says it, too, because at this point he already knows exactly how to rile you up. He loves seeing you explode.

This time, though, you won’t give him the satisfaction.

Slowly, an empty smile on your face, you pull out your phone. Bucky, you are an actual horrible disgusting psychopath, you type with a forced sense of serenity. who tf drinks milk straight from the bottle.

You feel strangely better after that and another deep breath.

“I’m gonna go now,” you tell him a bit too sharply and turn on your heels. You’ll get food on your way.

It quickly turns into a habit. Every time he does something small that would normally set you off, you open your notes app and write it out, instead. It helps at least somewhat to stop romanticizing your situation. Level things out a little.

Because the truth is, Bucky Barnes absolutely aggravates you sometimes, and it’s good to remind yourself of those times when he’s once again wandering around the apartment in nothing but his sweatpants.

“Jesus, Buck,” you say, slumping down on the couch a few feet away from him. “Would it kill you to wear a shirt every once in a while?”

“It’s like a hundred degrees in here,” Bucky whines, not moving from where he’s reading.

“So? You don’t see me strip naked.”

His smile is lazy, but his eyes sparkle with amusement as he turns his page. “I know, and it’s a shame.”

“Fuck off, Barnes.” Your cheeks are on fire and you can only hope he can’t tell. “Nat’s gonna be here in five minutes.”

“Okay,” he says, not moving an inch.

You stare at him incredulously. “Can you please put some clothes on?”

“I am wearing clothes,” Bucky states dryly. “Besides, Nat won’t mind.”

“Dot might,” you mumble, but he ignores you. Not that you expected him to; his on-again, off-again relationship has been a topic of contention for a while now, and not because of you.

Truly, you’ve been doing a lot better lately, keeping a lid on your feelings. Which is why you’re able to look at him and his naked torso and his arms and be completely fine. Really. You pull your gaze to the book he’s holding and frown.

“Is that mine?”

Bucky finally glances at you, looking almost bashful. “You said it was good.”

You blink in surprise. You did say that, but not to him. You remember telling Colleen how much you loved it the last time you were facetiming in the living room while Bucky was perched at the kitchen counter with a bored, absent expression on his face as he silently scrolled through something on his phone.

The fact that he listened makes you choose to ignore that he’s definitely going to ruin the spine if he keeps holding the book like that.

“How do you like it?” you ask, voice slightly higher than usual.

“It’s great.” His smile returns, and you will never be sick of him looking like that, looking at you like that. So content.

The doorbell wakes you from your trance with a start.

Bucky sighs quietly as he carefully places a bookmark between the pages and gets up from the couch, rolling his shoulders. You watch him as he shuffles away to his room without another word, sweat making the hair stick to his neck. It takes you another moment to stand up yourself.

You pull out your phone as you wait for Nat to get upstairs, hesitating for a moment before you open your notes app. The feeling in your stomach uncoils.

***

There are days, despite your best efforts, that you still let yourself hope. Like when Bucky makes enough pancakes for dinner to feed an entire football team and you talk about the book he’s borrowed over maple syrup and jam until it’s eleven at night. Or when you’re out with your mutual group of friends and his gaze always finds yours after he’s made a joke, as if to gage your reaction, as if to make sure to catch a spark of amusement in your eyes.

Other times, like right now, you simply don’t have the time to question your relationship too much.

While the prospect of your upcoming promotion is great, it leaves you with an almost insurmountable pile of work that’s to be done as soon as possible, and the long hours make you putter around the apartment like a zombie. Thankfully, Bucky’s been avoiding you while you’re in this state, spending his days at Dot’s, or at Steve’s. You’re sure he’s told you at some point, but you don’t really remember.

You’ve set up your little work space in the living room, because it’s the only room with proper light in it. Most of your time is spent on the couch, noise-canceling headphones on and trying to focus on what feels like seven different projects at once. You miss feeling the sun on your skin.

As you’re trying to get your eyes to focus on the numbers and nonsensical reports flickering over your laptop screen, you notice movement in your peripheral vision. You flinch, pulling off your headphones, and then blink.

Bucky freezes mid turn, clearly not having expected you to notice him. “Sorry,” he says. “I just got home.”

Your stare remains fixed on the table. Your favorite mug is filled to the brim with tea, placed delicately on the previously empty coaster next to your pile of books.

“You looked like you needed it,” he continues, and your heart swells.

“Thank you,” you mumble and he shrugs.

“Dinner should be here in twenty, if you want some.”

You nod, watching the steam curl when he leaves you to your reports again. Strange, how easy it is to suddenly overthink a cup of tea.

You wait a couple of minutes for it to cool, then take a tentative sip. Your nose scrunches up.

He’s oversteeped it to the point of no return.

Still, you find yourself drinking most of it, because for some reason you can’t bring yourself to just pour it down the drain. It’s like you can’t quite let go of the gesture.

When the week is finally over, you both sit on the fire escape with a drink in your hands and breathe in the cool early night air. There’s undone dishes and at least three machines’ worth of laundry and a thousand other things demanding your attention, but for now, for this one evening, you’re finally content to do absolutely nothing and do it guilt-free.

It’s nice to just sit next to each other in utter silence as you watch the people below hurry along home through the traffic. The streets smell like spilled gasoline and the very last fringes of summer. The sun is setting at a deliciously lazy pace.

Bucky nudges you and points to the other side of the street. You coo as you watch the corgi waddle around the corner, almost itching for your phone to take a picture. Instead, you look up.

The sky looks beautiful, as if someone had softly smudged the deepest blue ink while it was still drying and dabbed the most glorious shades of pink and orange at the edges. A plane goes by overhead, blinking and leaving a trail of gray across the vast firmament.

“You know,” you say, leaning your head against the wall. “When I was little, I used to think these clouds were made of cotton candy.”

Bucky doesn’t laugh, but you feel the smile radiating from him without even turning. It’s like that, between you. Random thoughts are never weird. Only there to be outweirded.

“I used to think the moon was made of cheese,” he offers tonight.

You do laugh, then, short and loud. When you meet his eyes again, they’re the color of the darkest parts of the sky, and the look on his face is indescribable. Almost like surprise. It sends a chill through you.

“What?” you say, and he shakes his head.

A car alarm goes off in the distance, and you avert your gaze again, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. Bucky’s phone vibrates with a message, but he doesn’t duck inside like you expect him to. Instead, you both sit there until the sun has fully disappeared, and something seems to settle.

It’s a setback that follows you well into the next year.

“I vote arsen or arsenic,” Darcy says. “You have insurance, right?”

She reaches over to grab your phone, swiftly entering the pincode with that set frown of hers as if she’s trying to hack into the pentagon again.

“I doubt they cover homicide,” you deadpan.

“Manslaughter, actually” she reads from your phone. “In the first degree. Ow!” She rubs her shin.

“Who are we getting rid of?” Natasha asks, sliding back into the booth next to you.

“No one,” you say at the same time as Darcy says, “Barnes, duh.” You give her a sharp look. She sticks her tongue out at you.

Nat bumps her shoulder against yours. “How long has it been, coming up two years in June?”

“Shut up,” you murmur, taking another sip of your milkshake. “Darce, what are you doing with my phone?”

“Well, I’m done googling, I wanna see if you actually made that list.”

“What list?” Natasha asks.

“Okay, give me that.” You try to grab your phone back, but Darcy snatches it out of your reach quickly.

“Come on, you never tell me these things anymore,” Darcy complains and continues scrolling. “We used to have so much fun! Does he snore? Does he leave his socks all over the floor? I have a need to know!”

“And it’s making you rhyme, too.”

She’s still dodging your efforts to get your phone back while she’s talking. Natasha watches both of you in amusement, eating her cheesy fries.

“Hah!” Darcy exclaims and your heart drops. “I knew it, he seems like the type to break a spine. I can always tell.”

“Darcy,” you say warningly.

She gasps theatrically. “He killed Fernadette? You said it was an accident!”

“Plants die, Darce, it’s not a big deal.”

In the moment of her outraged distraction, Nat plucks your phone from her hands. She scrolls down once, smirks, and finally hands it back to you. “Change your passcode, WikiLeaks.”

You throw the phone back in your bag resolutely, cheeks burning.

Darcy pouts. “I didn’t even get to the good stuff.”

“You know,” Natasha says, dipping her fry into the melting whipped cream on your shake. “Some of this stuff you should probably tell him.”

“It’s fine,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. We’re both still alive, aren’t we?”

“Only because you’re boring,” Darcy rolls her eyes.

Natasha lifts her glass. “To two years’ survival in June,” she grins innocently at you.

As you clink your glasses together, there’s something in her eyes that makes you feel like you’re toasting an ultimatum.

***

It’s irrevocably over with Dot when Bucky officially breaks up with her the day before Valentine’s, which is a bit extreme even by your standards, and you’ve never liked Dot.

Matter of fact, it would have made the list anyway, but all the more so when he decides to wreck your following evening as well in the process.

Being eternally single, you’d planned a nice, relaxing night home alone with a movie and some takeout to keep you from obsessively refreshing Instagram as a way to torture yourself. Cozy, quiet, totally not alone forever.

Instead, you now have a sullen-faced Bucky to contend with.

“If you’re gonna be moping all night, you can do it in your room,” you finally snap after he’s complained about your choice of food, the candle you wanted to burn in the living room, and how you decided to eat the giant box of chocolates you’d treated yourself to.

“I’m not,” Bucky says mopingly.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously, you couldn’t have chosen literally any other day of the year to break things off with her? There are a lot of them, you know.”

Bucky throws a pile of chocolate wrappers at you. You retaliate with a pillow to his face.

There’s a second for you to laugh at his expression, when he’s still too stunned to react, before the pillow comes flying back to hit you in the temple and you almost fall off the couch with a shriek.

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?” Bucky asks, grabbing a pillow in each hand to use as defense.

“Pretty sure that’s a dumpee privilege,” you say, mimicking what he’s doing.

You stare at each other for a second, then Bucky throws one of the pillows he’s holding at your head. It lands on the floor as you block it with your own, taking the unlit candle down with it. You smack another of your pillows at his face.

Finally, there’s a little glint in his eye again. “I thought you didn’t like her.”

“Doesn’t mean she deserves to be dumped on February thirteenth,” you say. The second pillow misses and Bucky’s grin turns feline. Shit.

Slowly, you put one foot on the floor, Bucky watching your every move. You can see the pillow on the floor out of the corner of your eye.

You dart towards it and Bucky throws his second pillow. You duck. Your chocolates go flying to the ground, scattering everywhere. Both of you grab the floor pillow at the same time, struggling for it.

“Dickhead,” you gasp, thinking of your nice ruined chocolates. You twist to wrangle the pillow out of his grasp, but in doing so stumble. Bucky, to his credit, tries to stop your fall, but you only take him down with you, landing uncomfortably on top of each other on the couch.

Your breath hitches when you feel his weight on you, closer to him than you’ve ever dared before. There’s something in the depths of his eyes that makes it very hard to have a single coherent thought.

“Maybe,” Bucky says, and there’s a tiny crack in his voice as if he knows it, too, “I was sick of pretending.”

Time seems to freeze. He doesn’t move, and his face doesn’t change as he looks at you, not really. It’s just Bucky. Just … everything.

You can feel heat rising.

The doorbell saves you from embarrassing yourself further. You can hear Bucky cursing under his breath as you gently shove him off you and hurry to the door, your heart still thundering.

It’s a moment you keep replaying in your mind obsessively even weeks later, as if remembering it as often as possible would change the outcome at all. Would stop your food from arriving at that exact moment, and instead …

Going down that line of thought is a dangerous game, especially now that you’ve seen the freckle next to his mouth up close, delicately placed there like a dimple, like it was painted with the softest brush. It begs to be kissed.

Sam’s voice calling your name snaps you back to the present and you lock your phone, sharply turning on your heel and almost spilling the buckets of popcorn you’re precariously holding in one arm while attempting to balance the nachos with the other.

“Isn’t that a lot of snacks for four people?” Bucky asks, taking some of the stuff off you.

You don’t meet his eye and frown instead. “Why four people?”

“Nat just sent a text,” Sam says, his arm still around Misty’s waist. “Apparently Steve’s got a cold and they’re staying home.”

And with Joaquín still in Mexico and Darcy running so late at work she’d meet you at the bar later, your group of eight had just been reduced to a date with a plus two. Wonderful.

“Did you only get salty?” Bucky asks, already eating as you make your way to your seats.

“Of course not,” you say, keeping the second bucket out of his reach. “But we’re sharing these. Every time I trust you with the popcorn they’re mysteriously gone ten minutes into the movie.”

“Ain’t no mystery about it,” Bucky says. “Gimme some.”

“No!” You sit down between him and Sam. “You can wait until the trailer show at least.”

“That might be hours! I could starve by then!” He looks at you with his saddest puppy dog eyes, and it might have worked on you, too, had you not had this exact discussion several times before. “Please?”

You cross your arms over the bucket so that he won’t just reach over. “Nope.”

Sam grins. “You got a ruthless one there, Buck.”

The lights go down before anyone can notice the slight twitch in your expression.

Bucky does make it all the way through the trailer show before he starts shifting in his seat, softly tugging at your sleeve. You keep staring at the screen.

“Come on, sweets,” he whispers and you swear you feel all the hairs in your neck stand up. You don’t turn your head or move your arms. He leans over until his head is basically on your shoulder, his knee nudging yours, his hand sneaking for the bucket in your lap.

“The popcorn. Stays. With me,” you hiss. You’re tempted to slap his fingers away, but you find yourself completely immobilized.

“You said you’d share,” Bucky says into your ear. His entire arm is pressed against yours now, and it takes everything in you not to tremble. “Just let me have what’s mine.”

You can only hope no one will ask you about any particulars of the movie later on.

***

You don’t expect it all to fall apart so soon after that.

“Well,” Darcy says as the five of you huddle underneath the tiny awning in front of the bar. “I sure am glad I still came out tonight.”

It’s pouring down in buckets, the wind tearing at your jackets, the sky pitch black. The nearest subway station is a seven minute walk away, and you share a total of two umbrellas between you, one of them snatched from the lost and found box at Luke’s.

“Any of us going in the same direction?” Misty asks, opening her own umbrella. Sam takes it out of her hand to cover them both.

“Not really,” you answer, looking at Bucky. “Uber?”

He nods. “My phone’s empty, though.”

“Jesus, why isn’t this working?”

You snort, unlocking your phone without looking and pressing it into Bucky’s hand before hurrying to assist Darcy in her fight with the lent umbrella. “You need to hold it against the wind. Seriously, for someone with two PhDs—”

It finally snaps open, cutting off Darcy’s cussing. Her glasses are already blurred with raindrops.

“Well,” Sam says. “We’d offer to wait with you, but I don’t think this is gonna get better any time soon, so …”

“Just go,” you reassure him. “I’m sure we won’t be long, either. Right, Buck?”

“I don’t know,” he says, and the unexpected iciness in his tone makes you turn around slowly.

You have never seen this kind of look on his face, that coldness skewing his beautiful features into an ugly mask. In his eyes, there’s nothing, not even a trace of the fondness that swirled in them less than a minute ago. Your heart drops.

“Are you alright?” you ask softly.

“Great,” he says brusquely, shoving your phone back in your hand. “In fact, I think I might go on a walk.”

And without a word of goodbye, without a second glance, Bucky walks out into the opened floodgates.

For a moment, none of you can do anything but gape after him in disbelief. He doesn’t turn when you call his name, doesn’t seem to hear it at all. His hair is wet through immediately, sticking heavily to his neck, but it’s like he doesn’t notice the rain, his hands shoved into his pockets as he turns a corner and disappears out of your sight.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sam asks, and even though you understand why the question is directed at you, it feels like an accusation.

“I don’t know, I—”

It’s then that you glance at your phone, still opened to your notes app, and your stomach plummets again as you read your own angry, frustrated words. I actually hate you, you know that? Hells even wrong with you.

Your vision blurs.

You want to vomit, vomit or cry or both, but there’s no time.

“Take this,” you say to Darcy, pushing your phone and bag into her startled hands before you run. The wind and rain whip in your face, but you don’t care.

You have to find Bucky. You have to tell him that this is all a misunderstanding, a terrible, terrible error.

Youre such a fucking idiot.

Your boots splash water in all directions as they hit the pavement. Slow. You’re too slow. “Bucky!”

This was a mistake. I shouldve never moved in with you.

When you reach the corner of the street, Bucky is long gone.

***

You’re not sure how long you stand there in the rain before they catch up with you, huddling you between them and their two umbrellas until you stop crying long enough to get into the car they’ve called for you.

Darcy climbs into the seat beside you, and by the look on her face you can tell that this time, she’s read the entire thing.

She doesn’t say anything about it, for once keeping her mouth shut as she fishes for your keys and lets you both into the empty apartment. She’s offered to take you to her place for the night, but you shook your head so vehemently at the thought you got dizzy with it.

Maybe he’d come home. Maybe there’s still a chance to clear this thing up.

But his shoes aren’t there when you stumble through the door, and it’s cold in here. As cold as the look in Bucky’s eyes had been.

Darcy forces you into the shower, and when you get back out, there’s a steaming cup of tea waiting in your favorite mug. Of course, she still doesn’t quite understand why that only makes you cry again.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” you whisper as she wraps her arms around you.

There’s a long pause before Darcy says, “He’s got no clue what he’s walking away from.”

You don’t plan on moving from the couch, so you get Darcy to agree to use your bed for the night. She seems hesitant to leave you, even if it’s just down the hall. You stay where you are, half-seated and huddled in the patchwork blanket Bucky’s mom had sent from Shelbyville. It smells like dust and homemade cookies.

The hours seem to tick by ever so slowly, and the only noises you hear are those of the city. You doze off every now and then, for no more than a couple of minutes at a time, your head turned towards the hall.

It’s very, very early in the morning when the soft click of the front door wakes you. The rain has reduced to a drizzle, the first hesitant rays of sunshine glimmering through.

“Bucky?” you call out quietly. His steps halt for a moment, as if he’s not expected you to be here, but he comes in anyway.

He looks terrible. The rain has molten off the terrible cold mask, but his expression underneath is even worse. He doesn’t meet your eye, doesn’t even acknowledge you sitting there as he walks past you, his dark circles not quite hiding the shattered, matted blue of his eyes.

He doesn’t react to your saying his name again, and the bathroom door closes behind him before you can get up.

You stand there, unsure what to do next, how to make him look at you, talk to you again. You’re still standing there, twisting your phone between your hands, when he comes out of the bathroom again only to vanish into his bedroom without so much as a glance at you.

Two minutes, you decide. You’d give him two minutes to get dressed and sit down.

The eternity of that time span seemingly flies by, and you make yourself move.

“Bucky?” you say quietly, putting your palm against his door.

Of course, he doesn’t answer. He’s not pacing, either, like he usually does when he’s upset, but in this case, you’re not sure if that’s better or worse. Swallowing hard, you open the door.

Bucky’s sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he’s been waiting for you, his head leaning heavy against his arms. He looks terribly small like this.

“Hi,” you whisper, awkwardly. Your face feels like it’s about to melt off. “Can we talk?”

He lifts his head slowly, as if each degree it takes costs too much energy. When he finally looks at you, it almost makes you flinch.

There’s a sadness inside them, mixed with tiredness, that you’ve only caught in your own reflection.

For a long moment, you just stare at each other, before Bucky finally says, “Do you want me to move out?”

Of all the things you expected, this is not one of them. Particularly not with this hoarseness in his voice.

“I want to explain,” you say, taking a tentative step closer.

Bucky huffs a dry breath, pressing the palm of his hand to his eye. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory that you think I’m the ‘biggest pain in the ass the world has ever seen’.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest to keep them from shaking. “I know I wrote that, but I—Colleen said I should—that it would help.”

“Help what?”

“Make it easier,” you say, so, so quietly, but he still hears you.

“And did it?”

You shake your head slowly, uncrossing your arms. “It pretty much backfired.” You unlock your phone again. “You see, I was supposed to write down all the things you did that made me crazy, but at some point … at some point I started adding the things that made me crazy about you.”

Nothing but confusion in Bucky’s eyes as he stares at you, then at your phone. “What are you saying?” he asks softly.

You close your eyes. “You should continue reading.”

Your hands are trembling so hard now he has to take the phone from your hands to make out any of the words. The silence that follows is unbearable, but you don’t dare look at him. So you talk.

“Like, remember when you went to IKEA with Steve and I couldn’t come with you, so you got me one of those shark plushies and a whole almond cake?” You can’t help but chuckle, even though you don’t feel like it. “I tried reading into that for so long, if it was his idea or if I just got stuck in your mind.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, so you continue, still not opening your eyes.

“Or when Dot used to stay over and you’d make me an extra batch of waffles to make sure I wouldn’t feel left out. Or when we stayed up until 4 to make those Christmas cookies, even though it was September?”

He huffs again. “I broke up with her that day.”

You do look at him, then. “No, you didn’t.”

Bucky’s still staring at the list on your phone. “I brought her the last of her stuff before Valentine’s Day. I don’t think it’d hit her before then, that she could be nasty about it all now.”

His eyes are very blue again when he turns them towards you, clear and focused entirely on you. It’s hard to keep your knees from buckling.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

And there it is. The question that’s been haunting you for almost two years now, that’s been unspoken in Natasha’s gaze and in Darcy’s hug, even though they knew the answer.

Because you’re a coward.

“You’re my best friend, Buck,” you say quietly, your eyes burning. “I just didn’t … I don’t want to lose that.”

“Hey.” He stands in front of you before you even notice him moving, his hands cupping your face and turning it towards his. A shuddering breath falls from your lips. “You,” Bucky continues, “could never, ever do anything to lose me.”

“I almost did today,” you whisper and his face falls.

“I’m sorry I ran away.”

You shake your head and he pulls you into an embrace. His hair is still damp, but soft from his shower. He doesn’t smell like city rain, only the way he always does. As if it all had never happened.

And when he finally draws back to look at you with that glint in his eye, hands still loosely gripping your waist, it almost feels like a bad dream.

“So,” he says, and the cadence in his voice makes your heart stutter. You inadvertently move backwards, out of his grasp, and a wicked grin appears on Bucky’s lips. It’s impossible to look away. “She ‘didn’t deserve me’, huh?”

“She didn’t,” you say warily, watching him. He takes a step closer and you retreat.

“At least she never ‘wanted to burn all my shirts’.”

“And how would you know?” He’s still coming closer. “Just because no one’s done it …” You trail off.

Bucky hums. “No one’s ever told me my eyes ‘look criminal in this light’, either. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Bad,” you say, wincing as you bump into his dresser. “So bad.”

He’s very close to you now, his arms trapping you on both sides, towering over you. Your eyes flit between his own and his lips. That freckle.

The look on his face reminds you of late evenings on a fire escape.

Bucky’s nose bumps against yours, once, twice, as if testing the waters. You don’t think you can breathe. His eyes are so dark when he looks at you, the longing suddenly bursting through the surface, and you realize you’ve both been pretending for far too long.

His brows are knitted slightly, contemplative, as if he’s trying to commit you to memory. If he weren’t standing so close, you’d be shaking.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and the words explode into a million butterflies in your stomach. “You did get stuck in my head.”

And then he kisses you.

The rain stops.

thank you so much for reading!! please don't forget to leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed this 💛 if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!!

#nika replies #not even a little

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intrepidacious · 2 days

Text

not to sound like a broken record but i really am working on it <3

time after time - masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

series word count: 60.6k+

this series is set after the events of the falcon and the winter soldier and will include spoilers for marvel projects up to and including multiverse of madness

please mind that my blog is 18+ only, minors and ageless accounts will be blocked

✨ this series is ongoing; last update 08/09/23

one: turn back the clock

two: twice upon a time

three: every day’s a holiday

four: groundhog day

five: carousel

six: butterfly effect

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

epilogue

bonus chapters

frequently asked questions about time travel

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

fun stuff

🎵 series playlist

#️⃣ browse the series tag

moodboard by @barnesafterglow 💚

moodboard by @sweetascanbee 💚

moodboard by @idkitsem 💚

#nika replies #time after time

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intrepidacious · 3 days

Note

apologies :')

for seven sentence sunday:

steve rogers + losing a bet

liar, liar | s.r.

a/n: i genuinely wanted to write something silly for this prompt but then this idea popped into my head and i couldn't not write it

It was meant to be a joke when you said it, wrapped in Steve’s arms, comfortable in the safest place you’d ever found, whispered half-laughingly, I bet you’ll get sick of me first.

Apparently, never had come when Steve had gone back to the past; your bedsheets still smelled like him.

#nika replies #vy 🪁

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intrepidacious · 3 days

Text

ooohh hell yeah @brandycranby i love these 🥰 for about 3/4 of this my answer is yes both but i tried going with my instincts hahah

bookstore au or fisherman au ♥ bartender au or spy au ♥ neighbour au or farm au ♥ wedding planner au or roommate au ♥ billionaire au or mob au ♥ western au or hospital au ♥ rockstar au or bodyguard au ♥ office/coworker au or firefighter au ♥ lumberjack au or deserted island au ♥ fantasy au or soulmates au ♥ modern au or historical au ♥ sex worker au or a/b/o au ♥ bakery au or academic au ♥ pirate au or babysitter au ♥ camp counselor au or werewolf au ♥ coffee shop au or flower shop au ♥ apocalypse au or treasure hunter au ♥ tattoo artist au or single parent au ♥ royalty au or vampire au

no pressure tags <3 @aphrogeneias @sanguineterrain @demxters @sanguineterrain @barnesafterglow @marvelettesassemblenow

it's been a while, let's do a little this or that tag game, but make it with AUs for the lols

no pressure tags: @chvoswxtch @ghostlyfleur @chxrryhansen @bunmurdock @slvttyfied @venuslore @amorchai @katyswrites @mystcldydrms @bradshawed @bcyhoods @midniteluv @bruisedboys @skullrock @appocalipse @ddejavvu @spideyheart @reidslovely @inklore @cosmal @fettuccin-e @oncasette

#tag games #brandy 🫶🏼

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intrepidacious · 4 days

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thank you for including me darling!!! 🫶🏼

2023 FIC REC LIST

DISCLAIMERS

DO NOT REPOST THESE FICS AS YOUR OWN OR ON ANY SITE, EVEN IF YOU GIVE THE AUTHOR CREDIT! Unless you have permission from the author, do not claim, translate, or repost things that don’t belong to you. It’s rude; don’t be an asshole.

[18+] means NO MINORS! This is not to be discriminatory; it is to protect you and the authors.

***this list is linked in my Marvel Fic Library so be sure to check it out so you can see some other amazing fics!***

Loved a fic? Reblog it to show the author some love! Reblogs > likes!

Hello fellow Fanfic Fanatics!

Sorry this is almost two months late (oops 😬), but here are my favorite fics from 2023. As always I hope you are all happy and thriving!

Happy Reading,

Violet

★ BUCKY BARNES

Pretty Boy by @heli0s-writes

blurb Learning to be good with receiving compliments.*

I Am Worthy, Mjolnir by @/heli0s-writes

blurb supportive Bucky*

Dollhouse by @/heli0s-writes

blurb antique shopping with bucky.*

Look At Her Now by @/heli0s-writes

blurb; avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader Reader goes through big change*

Shut the Hell Up by @/heli0s-writes

blurb sparring with your frenemy*

Bucky, Steve, + Cuddling by @/heli0s-writes

headcanon

Housemate!bucky by @/heli0s-writes

headcanon; idiots to lovers Bucky had a bad day.*

Hot Summer by @/heli0s-writes

headcanon a summer day with boyfriend!bucky*

Breakfast!bucky by @buckyland

headcanon bucky's morning routine. *

Mr. Barnes, Teacher Aide of the Year by @soulgazingwithbucky

headcanon Your brooding Avenger boyfriend becomes a regular visitor in your classroom.

surprise by @sonderosa

drabble Bucky has a surprise for you, and he is very pleased with himself.

Not What I Heard by @antiquarianfics

drabble Bucky's in trouble with his wife

Bad Night by @winter-soldier-vibes

drabble Bucky helps you through a bad night*

untitled by @pellucid-constellations

drabble; 40's!bucky; childhood friends to lovers

angstober (2) by @/pellucid-constellations

drabble; angsty angst; college!au Prompt: "I want to believe you"

angstober (4) by @/pellucid-constellations

drabble; avengers!au; angst with a happy ending Prompt: "Just Breathe"

angstober (5) by @/pellucid-constellations

drabble; avenger!reader; post-endgame Prompt: "Lessons in Failure"

angstober (7) by @/pellucid-constellations

drabble; angsty angst Prompt: "Weakness"

untitled by @numberonestuckyshipper

headcanon 40s!bucky

Bucky with the Good Hair by @beccaanne814

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; friends to lovers “Why won’t you let me braid your hair?”

She Just Knows by @buckysbabygorl

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; friends(?) to lovers Y/N has incredible perception abilities; which she uses on literally everyone. Except for Bucky, much to his dismay...

Punching Bag by @/buckysbabygorl

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; enemies to lovers As much as Bucky can't stand Y/N, he's tired of her taking all the blows on the field. They have to come up with a plan.

Soft Strokes by @/buckysbabygorl

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; friends to lovers Y/N paints on her days off, and Bucky has to come find her…

A Million Summers by @intrepidacious

modern!au, college!au; childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers Something shifts between you and Bucky when he comes back home from college.

Lessons in Love by @violentdelightsandviolentends

avenger!bucky, baker!reader; strangers to lovers Bucky didn't believe in love at first sight. Then he met you.

☀ Fairground by @softlyspector

established relationship The reader and Bucky go to a summer carnival. Bucky is determined to win a prize for the reader.

Day Off by @/softlyspector

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; established relationship Bucky really wants to take a nap with the reader, but she just wants to read.

Trust by @/softlyspector

established relationship She panics the day she finds him in the bathroom with scissors in his hands and freshly cut hair in a soft pile on the floor, innocently sandwiched between his bare feet. In which Bucky cuts his hair abruptly and the reader tries to help.

Three Times by @/softlyspector

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; established relationship Some people say things differently. Bucky learns how to say I love you. Y/N learns how to hear him say it.

The Fabric of A Soul by @/softlyspector

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; strangers to lovers; angst with a happy ending Bucky wrestles with what state his soul might be in.

❄ Drive by @/softlyspector

Undesignated!au; winter vibes Bucky asks the reader on a date to which she readily agrees. Or, Bucky’s attempt at a car make out.

🍁Bullets by @/softlyspector

autumn vibes; fluff Bucky naps, Y/N bakes. No more bullets.

Faking It by @/pellucid-constellations

modern!au, college!au: athlete!bucky, medstudent!reader; established relationship Bucky Barnes was in love with his girl—disgustingly, annoyingly so. Enough to start fights on the ice just to make sure he saw her after a game.

Wallpaper by @cosmicbucky

friends to lovers Bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to.

Flowers by @lovelybarnes

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; idiots to lovers y/n is whipped

Flirting and Football by @/lovelybarnes

series: in progress; modern!au, college!au: football player!bucky; strangers to idiots to lovers College football star Bucky Barnes is immediately enamored when he meets you. You? Not so much. But Bucky Barnes is determined. And the teetering-on-cynical views that you hold for relationships are about to realize exactly how determined he is.

Flustered: Part 1 & Part2 by @/lovelybarnes

avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; friends to lovers Bucky loves to get you flustered*

Bag of Tricks (oneshots) by @/heli0s-writes

series: complete; avengers!au: avenger!bucky, avenger!reader; chaotic dumbass!reader x exasperated!bucky; friends to lovers The shenanigans of one chaotic dumbass and one smart ass.*

Wordpeddler by @/heli0s-writes

social media!au, avengers!au: avenger!bucky; strangers to lovers An online petition for the Avengers to be interviewed turns into a series of misadventures with the so-called wordpeddler.

✪ STEVE ROGERS

Steve + Pain by @/heli0s-writes

headcanon

Steve + School by @/heli0s-writes

headcanon Art History nerd, Steve Rogers.*

Is Steve a Himbo? by @/heli0s-writes

headcanon Is Steve secretly a Chaotic Dumbass deep down inside or just a himbo?

untitled by @brandycranby

drabble domestic scene of Steve Rogers and his girl.*

As I'm Sinking, I Relive The Story by @nightowlwriting

Avengers!au: avenger!reader; angst with a happy ending steve is acting weird. avoiding you, being snippy and mean, leaving the room when you enter. all you want is your boyfriend back, but all he wants is to pretend you don't exist. when he's almost hurt on a mission, you do what you're made to do.

Felt the Fever, Knew it was Mine by @/heli0s-writes

avengers!au: avenger!reader, Vampire(adjacent)!reader Bucky gets cursed and Steve, begrudgingly, turns to the one person who can fix it.*

Forget Your Perfect Offering by @/heli0s-writes

18+; post cacw; Clumsy adjacent Captain America hasn’t been home in years and it’s turned him into something a little lost, a little broken.

Night Terrors by @wkemeup

post cacw; established relationship Steve has a nightmare*

Bridges Break by @shurisneakers

series: in progress; post-endgame!au, roadtrip!au; friends to lovers; scientist!reader steve shuts himself away. you pull him along on a trip of a lifetime in an attempt to reconnect. great plan! except there’s one big secret he’s keeping from you that could change the course of your entire relationship, and there’s no greasy stack of diner pancakes in the country big enough to hide behind.

⎊ TONY STARK

Untitled by @fotibrit

No Reader; Tony and his ridiculous quotes*

Tony is Clumsy by @/fotibrit

headcanon

NATASHA ROMANOFF

Close by @/buckysbabygorl

platonic!reader Yelena has a late night request for Y/N, one that reminds Y/N of an old friends.

✨LOKI LAUFEYSON

blurb by @tricksterlokilaufeyson

#a million summers

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