#mcu fic

[beyondspaceandstars]

Date Night

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: slight frustration but mainly fluff Summary: Nothing seemed to go right with your date night plans... A/N: This is an older one shot (from 2020, omg) that I published on ao3 but never on here! (At least, I hope I didn't! I can't find it if I did, haha) so I edited it a bit and decided to release it into the wild here. it's really short and simple but I think it's sweet :)

You wanted one nice night in with your fiancé. Just one. A simple dinner with a fresh, home-cooked meal, couple glasses of wine, some shitty romantic comedy, all follow by bedtime at 10 p.m. It was all you wanted. It should've been so simple.

But your dream was crumbling to pieces as the minutes, the seconds, went on. 

It started with Bucky calling to say he was running a bit late and wouldn’t be home until later than expected. You wanted to scream and remind him that you’d had this date night planned for weeks but you, luckily, kept your cool and just asked him to come home safely. This was just one little fluke, you could manage that.

So, you started the meal later than you had originally planned. You just really wanted everything to be ready and on the table for when Bucky got home. He deserved that and it should be manageable, right? You could still have a nice dinner together but the movie might have to be skipped.

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly until you got to cooking the main entree: steak. You hadn’t always been the best at cooking much above pasta but hours of watching cooking shows and a couple of YouTube videos gave you just a little bit of confidence... But confidence doesn't always equal skill and next thing you knew, the steaks were burnt. Completely charred and horrendously burnt. Smoke filled the kitchen and the smell was overwhelming. Both pieces of meat were well past saving and it made you wanna rip out your hair. You didn’t even know how it got to this point. The mashed potatoes needed your attention for one second and it all went to hell. 

The only thing you could successfully salvage were the side dishes which consisted of a salad and mashed potatoes. But even those had turned out slightly wrong. Your salad was somehow bitter and the mashed potatoes were runny. Although, yes, they were both edible… But it just wasn’t right. 

Nothing was right.

You groaned as you tried fanning out the smoke from the kitchen, praying the smoke alarm wouldn’t go off. It was literally the last thing you needed on top of how everything else was going tonight. 

You threw the burnt steaks into the trash and filled the greasy, darkened pan with hot water for it to soak in the sink. Scrubbing that was just gonna be the perfect ending, you thought as you ran your hands down your face in frustration. 

You scourged through your pantry, praying you had something to replace the meal as quick as possible when you heard the front door open and shut. You stood at the pantry, staring angrily at your dry goods. You felt a presence creep up behind you and your eyes began to water. You didn’t want to turn around.

"Doll?" Bucky muttered, confusion evident in his voice. 

"Hi, honey," You replied, trying to fight back any tears. "How was the mission?"

"Um, fine." He said. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

You sighed and closed the pantry door. You turned to face him, folding your arms around yourself in the process, trying to find some comfort. You couldn't help but feel a bit ashamed. A night you had been looking forward to seemed completely ridiculous now. You bit your lip, still trying to fight back the tears as best as you could but it was turning out to be useless.

Bucky’s eyes filled with concern when he saw the state you were in. He reached out and caressed your cheek. The metal of his hand contrasted pleasantly with your warmth. It was a familiar comfort you leaned into. He fully welcomed you in and wrapped his arms firmly around your shoulders. You buried your face into his chest as you wept.

Bucky was silent as you let your emotions finally run through you. He learned that was the best way for you to eventually calm down so he never seemed to mind just holding you when you were upset — so long as it made you feel better.

When you seemed to be slightly settling down, he broke the silence. "Can you tell me what’s wrong?"

You pulled yourself out of his grasp and let your eyes meet his. "I ruined date night."

Your fiancé’s expression morphed into shock. Without saying anything, you knew he completely forgot about the date night. You didn’t know whether to be relieved or upset.

"Date night… Oh, crap, I..."

"Don’t even worry about it," You sighed and walked over to sit at the kitchen island. The area still reeked of burnt meat which just made you wish you were in bed and finished with the day. 

"No, honey, I didn’t mean to I just got caught up-," Bucky fumbled over his words as he raced to follow you. 

"Seriously, can we forget about it?" You pleaded as tears threatened to come back. "I ruined it all anyways."

Bucky sighed. "What do you mean?"

You sniffled as you averted your eyes to the counter top. You traced the marble pattern as you spoke, "I burnt the steaks. Like completely black, charcoal, killed-the-cow-again burnt. Then the mashed potatoes were too creamy and the salad turned out bitter, however the hell that can happen-,"

"Doll…" Bucky cut you off when he saw you begin to ramble. You looked up at him, actually thankful that he cut you off this one time. You could take a breath.

"I just wanted to make a nice meal for you. Like a real meal. Meat, potatoes, the whole nine-yards," you explained. "But I couldn’t do it. I couldn't do something so simple. Are you sure you wanna marry me?"

He let out a low laugh at your question. "Honey, I’d still wanna marry you even if the only thing you could make was cereal."

You sniffled but managed a smile, feeling a bit better at his stance on the situation. He didn't appear to be upset and you were so grateful for that.

"Look," Bucky began, "how about we reschedule date night? I’ll mark it on every calendar and we’ll cook together, okay? Does that sound better? It'll be a real date."

Your heart warmed at the suggestion. You reached out and took his hands in yours. He gladly accepted the gesture as his eyes wandered over you, looking for some sign of approval. 

"That sounds perfect," you replied, your voice getting caught in your throat. Tears were making a comeback but this time, it was happy crying. Your whole body warmed with love for your fiancé and you couldn’t get enough.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #marvel fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #mcu fic #writing*

[wayneskluv]

it’s possible she wants you back ¡! ❞ | n. romanoff

summary: your super cool assassin gf broke up with you but she wants you back sooo win win ig | pt 2 with fluff/smut?

word count: 711

pairing: natasha romanoff x gn!reader

warning: mentions of alc/nat being drunk, use of petnames “love” & “baby”

authors note: i would let her do anything to me but i'd also give her a hug and tell her everything's gonna be okay & the use of y/n, i had to for it to make sense, please forgive me 🙏

NATASHA thought breaking up with you would be for your own good, she didn’t deserve you. She was always late for date night due to her duties as an avenger, she had consistent nightmares that kept you awake and she was jealous of anyone who, well, looked at you—she couldn’t really blame them though.

“Baby..” Her whines echoed from behind your front door, from where a slightly intoxicated drunk as fuck Natasha was located. She was too drunk to be able to knock on the door, but you knew she was there, you knew her voice.

You take a deep breath, before you place a trembling hand on your door handle and gently pushing down as if it would break if you looked at it. "Jesus, Nat." A small sigh escapes you as you register her pathetic state, your hand instinctively reaching out to prop her upright. You haven't seen her this drunk in years, and she, most certainly, was not a lightweight.

"C'mon." You gently guide her into your living room, being as delicate as humanly possible. You sit her down on your couch, though as soon as you let go, she sprawls out lazily. "Gotta sit up, Nat. Don't wanna be sick.” You sound like a disappointed parent berating your child, because as much as you were mad at your ex, you loved her with your entire heart, and you still cared about her immensely.

You begin to rise to your feet, to go grab her a glass of water, before a pitiful hand drapes across your arm. "Please, Don't hiccup leave me." If it was anyone else, you'd have pushed them off immediately but you couldn't ignore her pleading eyes. "Yeah, 's okay. I'll stay. 'm not going anywhere."

As you speaks, the thick stench of liquor floods your senses and you feel ever-so-slightly ill. "Nat, love, what happened?" The breakup was fresh, the pet-name was a slip of the tongue, but you couldn't go back now—it’s not like she'd remember in the morning.

"Miss you. So, so, so much." The words roll off her tongue in a drunken slur, and you wouldn't have heard them if you weren't paying careful attention to her. You felt sorry for her, in all honesty-sure, she'd broken up with you without telling you why, and sure, she'd been acting distant, but she seemed genuinely upset.

"You still haven't told me why you broke up with me." You let out a dry chuckle, your shoulders untensing subtly as you notice her slowly regain colour to her face. “Okay, I'll tell you, but you can't tell y/n." The drunken hush she tries to add to her elevated tone is adorable and you have to stifle a grin as you nod, mock seriously. "| promise."

Once she gets your confirmation, she pauses for a few seconds as her head throbs harder, but then it slows and her eyes meet yours. "I was worried I wasn't good enough." Oh. That's not what you were expecting. You were expecting her to say it was something you did, like put an empty peanut butter jar back in the cupboard or anything, really, she has a bit of a temper.

"Really? So it's nothing I did?" Your voice goes up three octaves as you glance down at her, nervously biting down on your bottom lip. "What? 'Course not." It's clear the alcohol is taking a toll on her, and she looks as if she's going to vomit all over you.

You let out a slightly overdramatic sigh, “You take the bed, l'll the couch.” Your arm loops down around her waist, carefully pulling her up off the couch—if you weren't holding her so tightly, she'd had fallen head first into the ground.

The sound of hiccups echo your apartment as you both walk into your bedroom, something she was rather familiar with. You took no caution in letting her drop onto your bed, though you made sure she was in a proper sleeping position to avoid choking on her own vomit.

She falls asleep almost immediately and it's the first time since you've broken up you've seen her look so peaceful. You stand in the door for a few more moments before reluctantly dragging yourself toward the couch.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel mcu #mcu #mcu fic #mcu x reader #wayneskluv

[deathbyathousandspiders]

peter and reader at avengers tower and they’re both avengers but they’re “best friends” cuddled up on the couch asleep and none of the avengers let them forget it for weeks

i gotchu ;) also thank you for the request !! i really appreciate it! <3

!!! read part two | part three | part four | part five here !!!

✨masterlist✨.

1.4k.

Being an Avenger definitely came with plenty of risks, seeing as you put your life on the line every day in attempt to save the world. Along with the risks, there were several upsides that outweighed your anxieties about the superhero lifestyle.

Every few months, the team was required to spend a week at the compound for training; it was something fairly stupid, but staying in the mansion for a week wasn’t something you’d complain about. Especially when the team made the most of it.

You enjoyed getting up at dawn to run with Steve, and cooking dinners with Wanda. One thing always stood out to be something you looked forward to most: movie night. You came up with the system so that everyone had a chance to pick a movie, and this week, it was Steve’s turn to pick. Unfortunately, he chose “Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.”

The entire team corralled on the couch, sharing four or five bowls of popcorn and chips, and watching the movie on the giant flat–screen in the meeting room. You were sandwiched between Steve and Peter, attentive to the screen in fear that Steve would be offended if you weren’t. It made you crack a small grin to overhear Sam trying to commentate on the movie, and Bucky immediately tell him to shut the hell up.

You don’t recall at what point of the movie you fell asleep, or how the blanket got draped over you, but it didn’t catch your attention quite like the silent snorer you were cuddled next to. The sound was oddly soothing, and the arm snaked around your torso warmed you more than the blanket did. You would’ve tried to drift back off to sleep in the midst of comfort, if not for the snickers heard beyond your closed eye–lids.

“They look so cozy.” Bucky’s voice was hushed, speaking just above a whisper. The dark of your closed eyes lit up for a second by what you recognized as a shuttered flash photo.

Shit.

“I’m going to make that my lock–screen.” Sam added, trying not to sound as amused as he felt.

There was a quiet pause. “Isn’t that a little weird?” Bucky’s whispered question carried itself above the scattered footsteps of their departure.

When their ascending paces creaked the carpeted floors further out, your eyes lifted, turning your head up to look up at your designated pillow. Upon shifting your sleeping position, you watched Peter adjust mid–slumber, unconsciously catering to your new position.

A smile touched your lips at how peaceful he looked beside you — mouth parted slightly, eyes gently shut, curls falling in front of his face. When you moved to sit up a little, his armed grip around your waist grew tighter, and his sleep stirred at the idea of your absence. You decided against leaving, or moving, and rested your head in the nook of his shoulder. Sleep welcomed you back into slumber quicker than Sam changed his wallpaper.

When you woke in the morning, you thought almost nothing of falling asleep next to Peter. The only thing left to remind you was the lingering aroma of Peter’s cologne, and the ghost of his arm leaving your waistline colder than the rest of your body.

You didn’t pay much mind to it, nor how frequently your train of thought seemed to derail back to Peter somehow; how snug his hold was, the way your head fit with his shoulder like a missing puzzle piece. It felt like a slow–burning ache, the way you missed him. But he was merely your best friend, and the rest of the team seemed to agree with that.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Sam chimed, watching you waltz into the kitchen. He leaned the small of his back against the marble countertop beside the espresso machine, waiting for the pull of his latte shots.

Your hair was still damp from your shower, and your hoodie husked over your body to protect from the looming winter chill. You arched a brow lightly at how amused he seemed to be, slowly recalling his whispered conversation with Bucky from the night prior. You decided to be coy with him. “I think you’ve got your Disney movies mixed up.” You started, pressing on your tiptoes to reach a bowl from the shelf. “We watched Snow White last night, Sam.”

He hummed, sounding skeptical. “Well, everybody but you and your little cuddle–bug boyfriend.” Sam tried to keep himself from laughing. He started to steam the milk he’d set aside to froth to cut you off from giving a witty remark.

Boyfriend. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, and he probably wouldn’t ever be your boyfriend. Admitting that to yourself sent a sharp jab at your heartstrings, but the pain was quick. Quick like the blush that fanned your face before you dismissed it. Quick like the pour of cereal into your bowl like the thought didn’t flash through your mind.

The steam wand simmered down, and you made it a point to let out a scoff that he could hear. “He’s not my boyfriend–”

You turned. Like an idiot, you turned, bumping bodies with someone and nearly spilled your entire bowl of cereal across the tiled floors of the kitchen. Wide eyed, you looked up, meeting the familiar stare of your best friend. His arms hovered inches from yours, but the electricity flowing between you felt like that length was much shorter. The scent of his cologne filled the room so quick, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Peter tried to laugh off how tense the room felt, feeling safe enough to once he knew you were okay. “Who’s not your boyfriend?” He asked, the chuckle weaving through his words, sending a pink glisten to your cheeks.

You could feel the smile Sam pressed to the lip of his mug, slurping his latte as he eyed the two of you. “I’ll give you guys the room.” With that, he left, still leaving the kitchen with just as thick of tension. It felt like he left a gigantic elephant in the room, one that had never existed to them until Sam pointed it out. He pointed it out all because you passed out on Peter’s shoulder.

Shaky fingers set the bowl of cookie crisps on the kitchen island before you walked to the fridge for some milk. Your eyes stayed glued to your task, almost like you were trying to avoid eye contact with Peter for some weird reason. How odd.

“Boyfriend?” You pressed air through your closed lips, blowing a dismissive rasberry. “I didn’t say boyfriend, I said Boygenius–” It was a solid cover up, for sure; you thought, pouring milk over your cereal. “They’re performing this weekend with Clairo–”

Peter pressed his palm into the kitchen island, leaning against the structure right beside you. The body heat from him radiated into yours from your close proximity, reeling you in with how intoxicating his presence was. “Y/N, are you hiding something from me?” He faked an offended expression, mouth agape from his act of shock.

That’s when your eyes met. And you swore that the connection of your vision sent him every thought that ran through your head. Every feeling that coursed through your veins telepathically traveled through his too. It was a second, just one second, where you felt like he shared the same conflicting feelings you did. Perhaps he felt the same attraction towards you that you felt for him.

It didn’t help that he stared down at you with such earnesty and attentive nature. His eyes glossed over every inch of your face, studying your expression like he’d find the answer to his question there. You knew the exact moment that he found it, too.

Shit.

You picked up your bowl of cereal, stiffening your posture as you took careful steps backwards. “Nope! Nothing. I’m not hiding anything!” You sounded as suspicious as ever, so your escape route needed to be hasty. You opened and closed the fridge with just enough time to throw the milk in before rushing off to your bedroom.

This wasn’t the first time you’d gotten these intrusive–romantic thoughts about Peter Parker, or when you’d gotten these frantic–giddy jitters around him, either. Typically, you just let them die out over a day or two and then you could find your little pocket of comfort and normalcy again.

But the second you entered your room, you saw the framed photo of what you assumed was the photo Sam took of you and Peter passed out on the couch. The second you saw it, you knew this wouldn’t die out as quickly as you’d hoped. You couldn’t lie, though…It was a pretty cute photo. Although, you didn’t have too much time to dwell on the captured moment. The neon–pink sticky note on the top right corner caught your attention.

‘I better get invited to the wedding, —Sam.’

Shit.

#🕊️ .゜𝕰𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝕽𝐄𝐐. #🪷 .゜𝕭𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒. #peter parker imagine #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker mcu #mcu fic #mcu x you #mcu #marvel imagines #imagine #peter parker fluff #fluff #fluff imagine #marvel #mcu imagine #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #blurb #peter parker blurb #marvel blurb #x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker angst

[happy74827]

Let Me In

[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Steve is persistent in a lot of things. But when he catches fear in your eyes, he wants nothing more than to help you heal.

WC: 2230

Category: Hurt/Comfort {TW — Implications of SA}

The “who did this to you” trope has my whole heart.

『••✎••』

Seeing the pain in Steve’s eyes was more than enough to make your own heartache. The confusion on his face turned into a deep-set frown as his hands hovered over your body, too afraid to touch. Too afraid that if he touched you, the rest of you would crumble to the ground.

The silence between you was deafening, yet Steve said nothing. He just stared at you. You felt his gaze move from the top of your head and down the length of your body. His jaw clenched tightly when your expression faltered, and you tried your hardest not to show the pain you were feeling.

He wasn’t even reaching toward you in the first place; he was reaching for the water that was sitting by his punching bag, but the damage was done the second his hand came into your view.

Out of all the things that could’ve happened, flinching from Steve… of all people was the worst thing possible. The look of hurt on his face was enough to make your own heart drop to your stomach.

You knew he would never hurt you; he would never cause you pain. It was Steve, for goodness sake; he was a big teddy bear who wouldn't cause harm unless absolutely necessary. He had the biggest heart you'd ever seen. And yet, here you were, cowering away from him.

When his hand came into your peripheral, you jumped back, almost tripping over yourself as you stared up at him. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.

It was so loud. So, so loud.

Steve, ever the hero, immediately pulled back. The water was forgotten and all of his focus was on you now. He even tried to reach out to you again, but seeing the flinch on your face was enough to stop him in his tracks.

He didn’t know what to do.

Steve was the guy who knew exactly what to do in every situation. He was Captain America.

Captain America.

But seeing you cower away from him made him feel helpless.

His hands were still hovering, his brow was still furrowed, and his lips were set in a firm line. He wanted to touch you, to hold you, but he was so scared that you would push him away and run.

It broke his heart.

The last time he saw you, you were happy and laughing and smiling. But now, it was like someone had taken all the happiness from your face. The smile was gone. Your laughter was gone. The light was gone. And Steve hated it.

He hated it with every fiber of his being.

He was the first to speak. A small whisper. A whisper that would've been missed if you weren't hanging onto every single one of his movements.

"What happened?"

He took a small step forward and watched as you tensed up, your fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. You swallowed thickly and shook your head.

He deserved the truth, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him.

You didn’t want to tell him. Not after you had flinched away from him.

"I’m fine, Steve."

He gave a low hum and looked you over, trying to gauge the situation and find the best way to approach this. He needed to get you talking, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

"You don't look fine."

The way his voice came out, it was like a breath. His words were soft and comforting. His eyes never once left yours, not even to see where he was stepping.

You wanted to scoff. You wanted to tell him that you were perfectly fine and that he had nothing to worry about. You wanted to lie and say that the flinch was an accident, a momentary lapse in judgment.

You wanted to lie.

But you couldn't. Not to Steve.

Never to Steve.

"Who did this to you?"

It was the way he said it. The tone he used. It wasn't accusatory; it wasn't harsh. It was gentle. It was caring. It was full of concern. Full of love.

But the question brought you up short.

You could feel his eyes on you. You could feel his gaze burning through you, his worry evident. You could feel him staring right into your soul.

You knew he didn't mean to ask it, but the question slipped past his lips before he could stop it. Before he could pull it back.

You swallowed thickly and looked down at the floor, not being able to bring yourself to meet his eye. You could see his boots; you could see his toes.

But not his face. You didn’t want to see his face. You couldn’t handle the concern.

You could hear him shuffling closer, his hand reaching out slowly and hesitantly. When his finger brushed against your arm, you jerked back, but he didn't let you get too far.

His grip was gentle. So gentle, but it was enough to hold you. Just enough.

It was just your name, just a whisper, but the way he said it made you weak. The way he breathed it out had your knees shaking. You could feel the tears burning the back of your throat; you could feel them gathering in your eyes. They were going to spill over soon, and Steve was the only one who was going to be there to see it. No one else.

"Tell me"

There was a moment where you wanted to fight it. To shove him off and run to your room. To lock yourself away and never come out. But when his thumb rubbed over your cheek, it was the moment that you broke.

Tears spilled over. They flowed freely down your cheeks, dripping from your chin.

Your breath came in harsh pants.

Steve's hands moved to your shoulders. He held you firmly yet gently. His thumbs rub slow circles on the top of your arms.

“Damn it.” You breathed out. “Damn it! Of all the people I slip in front of, why did it have to be you? Why couldn't it have been Tony? Or Nat? Or Sam? Or hell, even Bruce? It had to be you, didn't it, Rogers? It had to be the guy I was trying to avoid. The one person I didn't want to know.”

Your rant was cut off when you felt Steve's fingers under your chin. He tipped your head back and forced you to look at him. He looked down at you with those soft blue eyes, the ones you had been trying to avoid since the start.

They were the only thing that could ever get through to you. They were the only thing that could make your walls come down.

His hand was gentle. It was like he was trying to hold a piece of glass. If he pressed too hard, you would break. And god, did you want to break. You wanted to feel the release, the freedom.

You wanted to feel something, anything other than this pain.

"I'm sorry." You breathed out. "I didn't mean to."

"Don't apologize," He murmured. "Just talk to me."

"Steve-"

"Please." The word was a broken plea. It was the most vulnerable you had ever seen him.

You bit your bottom lip and looked down at the ground, unable to hold his gaze.

"Please." He repeated. "Let me help."

"It's not that easy." You whispered. You couldn't believe that you were even considering telling him.

"Yes, it is. I'm right here."

You were going to regret this. You didn't want to, but you were going to.

"I can't." You shook your head, a sob rising in your chest. "I can't, Steve. Please don't make me."

“Then tell me how I can help you."

You didn’t know how to respond. How could you possibly tell him how to help?

"I- I don't know."

He sighed and stepped back. For a second, you thought he was going to leave, that he was done with you, but with the way his gaze never left yours, you knew that wasn’t the case.

He reached down and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, tugging you behind him.

You let him. You were too tired to fight back.

Too tired.

Too weak.

He led you out of the gym and through the tower, his pace never once slowing. Not until the both of you were in front of your bedroom door. Then he released his hold on you and stood back, looking at you. His jaw was still clenched, and his hands were balled into fists. You didn't know if it was because of the fact that someone had hurt you or the fact that you were hiding the truth from him.

"Let me in." He said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "If not today, then some other time. Let me in."

"Why?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Because I care."

"Why?" You repeated, your eyes narrowing. "Why do you care so much?"

"I know what it’s like," He murmured. "To feel the need to hide from the world. To feel the need to bottle everything up inside. You don’t need to do this alone. I don’t know what happened to you, but whatever it is, you can talk to me. Let me in. Tell me the truth."

You shook your head and turned, reaching for the handle, but Steve was faster. His hand shot out and curled around your wrist. He kept you in place.

"Please." He murmured.

The desperation was evident in his voice. The sincerity was, too.

“You want the name that much?” You questioned, keeping your gaze trained on the door.

It was better than facing him.

It was better than seeing the disappointment in his eyes.

It was better than seeing the pity.

It was easier to hide the emotions behind the door, not having to see his reaction.

"I want you to be honest with me. I want you to talk to me. If you’re comfortable giving me the name, then that's your choice. It's always your choice. I won't force you to do anything, but I want to help."

"It's a little late for that," You scoffed, yanking your hand out of his grasp.

He stepped forward, crowding you against the door. You could feel his warmth against your back.

"I didn't know." He murmured, his hand reaching out to brush his fingers against the back of your neck. "Had I known, I would've put a stop to it."

"There's nothing you could've done."

"I could've killed him." He murmured. "That's what I could've done.”

“You don’t kill people, Rogers. It’s not who you are. You know that.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I would stop at nothing to keep you safe. Whoever this is, they aren’t going to lay another hand on you. I promise. They aren’t going to hurt you again, not if I can help it. You have my word."

You could feel the tears pricking the back of your eyes. God, did he have to say such sweet things?

You weren’t sure if it was because he was being a good friend or because he wanted something more, but whatever it was, it had you melting.

"I didn't mean to push you away." You whispered, resting your forehead against the cool metal of the door.

"I know."

"It was instinct. I couldn't-"

"I know."

"How do I fix this?"

"You don't. It takes time. Healing isn't an instant process. It took me a long time to get back to normal… somewhat normal.”

“But—” You began, but the look on Steve's face told you that arguing wasn't going to do you any good.

So you stopped.

"It takes time." He repeated. "But I'm not going anywhere. You can take all the time in the world, and I'll be here waiting. Whenever you're ready."

"I want it to go away."

"I know. Believe me, I know." He murmured.

You felt him shift behind you. His hand pressed flat against your back and rubbed slow circles, the heat seeping through the thin material of your shirt.

You had never felt so safe, not even when you were a child.

Steve's presence alone was enough to calm the anxiety running rampant through your body. You weren't sure what had caused this particular attack, but now that Steve was here, you were hoping it would pass soon.

"What do you need?" He asked softly, his hand running up and down the length of your back.

"You." You croaked out, the words almost getting lost in the fabric of his shirt.

"You have me."

"Promise?"

"Promise," He replied without missing a beat.

You took a deep breath and leaned further into his touch.

"It'll go away soon," He assured. "We can sit down and talk about it when you're ready."

"What if I never want to talk about it?"

"Then we won't. You set the pace, okay? Just… please, don't shut anyone out. Don't shut me out. We— I care about you."

You nodded your head, unable to form the words you wanted to say.

The feeling was mutual. You cared about him too. And maybe, just maybe, you would be willing to open up about this. Maybe even share the name.

Steve does throw a good punch, after all.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers/reader #mcu #mcu steve rogers #mcu fic #steve rogers fic #x reader #reader #fanfic #fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x female!reader #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x yn #steve rogers fandom #steve rogers imagine #hurt/comfort #protective steve rogers #angst #marvelfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #thor odinson x reader #mcu fanfiction

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (ii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the things that come with (body harm, priests, etc). images all have alt texts.

A/N: if you're familiar with the format of BuzzFeed unsolved videos, the pictures in this chapter make more sense. anyway we're starting small to warm up but i assure u there's like actual paranormal shit from next chapter onward <3 thank u for the chaotic response to chapter 1 ily guys sm ! as usual, please send me things you'd like to see in the series! it always make me so happy

Previous part || Series masterlist

Bucky loves the compound. The sentiment carries a lot, considering he’s made it a non-negotiable part of his personal brand to hate everything. 

The lush landscape is quiet, spacious enough that he isn’t forced to run into anyone he’s actively avoiding, and has state-of-the art security that lets him sleep soundly, assured that no one will be able to get to his floor in an assassination attempt. 

All of his deep love and fond admiration disappears when it’s the crackass of dawn and his oakwood door receives the beat down of a lifetime. 

He snaps awake instantly, unsure of whether there was someone actually trying to kick the shit out of his door or it was just another nightmare that often blurred lines with reality. 

But after the third deafeningly loud knock confirms it, he scrambles for a pair of pants just so that he isn’t caught entirely vulnerable. 

The thrashing doesn’t cease, and by the time he makes his way to the door and yanks it open– 

There’s no one on the other side. 

Except a coffee cup on the ground and a note scribbled haphazardly on the side.

Shoot day. See you at the studio!

He stares wordlessly at the cup, unable to differentiate whether the feeling coursing through the very fibres of his being currently is pure blinding rage, or confusion that you apparently knew his coffee order. 

The studio is fucking empty. If Bucky wasn’t still reeling from the effects of being startled awake by a fake intrusion at 5am, he’d have been over the damn moon.

He does his part as a man of honour and righteousness– calls out a very quiet ‘Hello?’ and then doesn’t bother feeling guilt when his heart explodes in joy at the lack of response.  

He spins on his heel to march out, only to come to an abrupt stop when he almost runs into you. He didn’t even fucking hear you come in. 

“Oh, hey.” You look at him, hand on a bagel. “You actually showed.”

Bucky’s smile falters, and he returns to his default Grinchian state. 

“You made sure I fuckin’ did,” he grumbles. “How’d you get on my floor?”

“I have my ways.”

Bucky’s glare presses hard into you almost like a palpable entity. 

“I did a gig as an escape artist for a while. Paid super well,” you dismiss. 

He doesn’t blink once, trying to decipher whether you’re telling him the truth or not. 

You offer him a bite from your bagel in return, seemingly having moved on from the conversation already. 

“Where’s everyone else?” he asks, turning away from you.   

“Maya didn’t actually think you’d show up on time so she told everyone to come an hour later.” You speak through a mostly full mouth. “I figured you could use the company.” 

Bucky immediately feels defensive, as if that wasn’t exactly what he tried to do. 

He grumbled all through the morning when he saw fifteen text reminders sent to him through the night telling him he had to shoot a video that day. He grumbled when he couldn’t use traffic as an excuse to not show up because the studio is two streets away from the compound. He grumbled when the toaster actually works for once. Everything is right in the world. This was, of course, devastating to him. 

He finally shuts up when Sam gives him a piece of gum. Then he just glowers, but his jaw is otherwise occupied. 

“She set you on me this morning?” Bucky questions, tone on the verge of being ticked. 

You shake your head, swallowing before taking another bite. “No, that was social service.”

Bucky’s eye twitches. 

“I’ll come back in an hour,” he mumbles, arms crossed over his chest. 

You give him a look that lets him know you’re entirely unconvinced. “Will you?”

Well. No.

“I’m gonna look around the studio. You’re welcome to join,” you say instead, looking past him. “We’ll need to know where we’re working for the next few months.”

Few months? No no– few hours at max, if this were to go exactly his way. 

“Video’s not gonna do numbers,” he reminds you in a dull utterance.

“With an enthusiasm like that, it’s hard to see why you’re not universally beloved, Barnes,” you comment seriously, before clapping his shoulder. “Come on. You ever look at yourself in a mirror? You’re gonna be a star, baby.”

Bucky, in his current chosen avatar, looks less 'man of the world' and more 'reject of the jungle’. 

But the sentiment is appreciated.

The studio is moderately big. 

You find joy in messing around with set pieces of the other Avengers video series that were being shot there. Bucky finds joy in locating every possible escape route within a three foot vicinity. 

He’s admittedly surprised by learning how much actually goes into making a simple video. He just figured they’d stick a camera in his face and teleprompt him and get it over it. 

You chat animatedly about the use of gimbals and different camera gear, lighting setups and sound quality.

“You into this stuff?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No, I just did a stunt as a wedding videographer once,” you wave off, “It was great. You could always tell which couples were gonna get divorced within a year.”

Something unrecognisable flashes in his eyes. 

“Escape artist and wedding videographer,” he repeats.

You stop talking to look at him.

“Yes,” you say simply and go on to provide no further explanation. 

If the morning’s antics weren’t enough, now he’s convinced you’re fucking with him.

“Anyway, they’ll probably stick us in makeup before we go on camera because it–”  

“Makeup?”

“Well– yeah. For the video.” Your eyes dart toward him, sizing him up in a quick glance. “If you look any paler, you’d basically be translucent.”

Bucky can’t even debate it. His skin looks like it hasn't felt the gentle touch of a sunray in millennia.  

“Just say it’s part of the theme.”

You snort. “The first ghost I hunt cannot be one who sits beside me.” 

So Bucky gets his makeup done. 

By the time the studio fills in, he’s already drunk two cups of the shitty breakroom coffee and found fifteen innocuous things to fashion into weaponry if things were to go awry.

The large bright lights force him to keep wiping beads of sweat away from his forehead. Everything exists in a contrarian state of frenzy, and coordinated down to the second as if it were a damn rocket launch. He’s already had three staff members dart about him cross checking if he’s hydrated and if he’s signed the right forms. 

“Oh, you actually showed,” he hears for the second time from Maya, who doesn’t even make an attempt to hide the earnest surprise from her voice.

Bucky wants to scream.

“The team’s picked a really simple case since it’s the first video. You just need to read it out,” she explains breezily, switching from you to him, “and you need to react.” 

You flash her a thumbs up. Bucky doesn’t move an inch. He’s convinced it’ll trigger another round of people meddling with his hair until it looks ‘sufficiently casual but not artificial’. 

 Maya hurriedly leaves after wishing you good luck, probably to fix the walking PR disaster that was Clint, who unceremoniously went live on his Instagram the night before after consuming something he procured from some guy in an alleyway, who described it as ‘carbonated milk’. Bucky watched it for a few seconds and immediately shut down the app when Clint offered to take one article of clothing off for every million people that tuned in.

“I asked for there to be as few people in the room as possible,” you whisper to him. 

“Still a lot,” he replies under his breath, watching them buzz around him, still brushing up his face and dabbing at his hairline with a napkin. 

Someone hands you a folder full of papers. “We lose any more and we’re filming this video ourselves.” 

“All ready!” The camera guy, Shane, announces. 

“Copy that,” you call back, before leaning forward in your chair, grinning. “Chill. I’m gonna do the talking. All you gotta do is say a few words and look pretty.” 

That sounds…doable. 

“Make it fast,” Bucky mutters, crossing his arms over his chest.

Whether he was talking about the video or his death is still up for debate. 

“Recording in three…two…one–”

The whole studio waits with bated breath, but Bucky stares right ahead. 

“When I said a ‘few words’, I did mean one or two, possibly more,” you talk through your smile.  

Bucky continues looking into the camera like it stole his ancestral property.

You exhale, soldiering on, lips still upturned. 

You look at Bucky, hopeful that he will at least answer a question. He doesn’t offer the same kindness, and now you understand why Maya reached out to you for this. 

So you do what needs to be done, as a person with a responsibility to all these fine and tired souls gathered here on a weekend.

You kick him under the table. 

The crew waits for Bucky to say more. He very pointedly doesn’t. 

At least one sound has been procured from him, which is more than what they can say for some other videos.

You continue, “Our story takes place in 1954, in the quaint, rural town of Ravenswood. Irene–”

Bucky scoffs. “You made that up.”

Would now be a good time for him to bring up your previous job experiences you  had dropped so casually or was this enough to let you know he was onto you? 

Your eyebrows pull together, scanning over the sentence. “I haven't even said anything yet.”

“A horror story. Taking place in Raven’s Woods,” Bucky emphasises. “Really.”

Bitch.

“First of all, it’s Ravenswood, not Raven’s Woods,” you shoot back. “And it exists.”

“Where?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know– fuckin’ West Virginia?” You shuffle through the papers. “Does it matter? You wanna move there?”

Bucky doesn’t add anything further. 

You observe him for a moment before deciding to continue. 

“In the quiet town of Ravenswood,” you side eye him but he doesn’t look affected. “Irene Wendelin, a 35-year-old woman moved into a house on the outskirts to save up money. She lived alone, had no immediate relatives and worked as a secretary at the local press.”

Bucky continues chewing his gum. You’re not even sure he’s listening, but everyone got paid by the hour regardless of whether he did, so who gives a shit. 

“Within a few weeks of moving in, strange incidents started to take place. Irene’s friend Thelma, who also worked as a secretary at the press, recalled how Irene developed a persistent cough, was constantly fatigued, and had issues sleeping due to her skin itching. Thelma suggested solutions from ointments to medication, but not one remedy that she provided seemed to work. As time went by, Irene’s symptoms escalated into severe respiratory problems, leaving her breathless just from climbing up a flight of stairs. She even reportedly started having hallucinations of people crawling around in her house in the dark, but she was never able to catch them in their entirety.”

“How long did this take?” Bucky questions out of the blue, arms still crossed over his chest. 

“I think within a couple of weeks of moving in.” You try not to look too surprised. “Further, Thelma recalls Irene saying she heard strange sounds at night which kept her up. The only time the woman felt normal was when she left her house to stay with her cousins for a month.”

Bucky’s head snaps to you, eyes narrowing.  

“What?” you challenge.

“Nothin’,” he says instead. “Go on.”

You cast a look at the crew, who look just as confused as you, but you continue regardless. 

“Things escalated when one day, Irene showed up to work in complete disarray. Thelma says that upon a closer look, Irene had bite marks over her hands and legs. Thelma, a devout Christian, insisted on getting the place checked out by the church since all else had failed. Father Gabriel, a local priest, agreed to visit the house, but upon setting foot inside, claimed it was haunted by ‘forces of evil whose reality existed beyond mortal comprehension’. This was the last straw for Thelma, who had Irene move into her house until she found a new place to stay. Within a few weeks, Irene was back to normal, and the house is still considered one of the most haunted places in the country to this place, with no one allowed to enter.” 

Bucky looks at his arms, jaw tightening. 

Your eyebrow twitches.

You could see Maya shaking her head from across the room, entirely fucking defeated. 

You wait a few seconds but receive no response. Bucky’s gaze doesn’t shift from the table top. 

You start gathering the folder with the story in it, getting ready to read out your conclusion. 

You stare at him, but he doesn’t look up at you.

Collectively, every spine in the room straightens. 

“Asbestos?” you echo.

“Or mold. Could be either.” Bucky shrugs, chewing on the same stupid piece of gum that had lost its flavour hours ago. 

You look at him in bewilderment, partly because you weren’t expecting him to say anything at all, much less this. 

“Had an aunt once who thought she was possessed. Turns out her walls were full of mold.” 

You stare at him. “You’re lying.”

He finally turns to you, no traces of humour on his face. “She got remarried and moved out. Good as new.” 

“That doesn’t mean it’s asbestos.”

“Had the same symptoms an’ everything. Itchy skin, breathing problems, fatigue.” 

“Hallucinations?”

“Stress. Being poisoned twenty-four hours a day’ll do a number on anyone.”

“And the bite marks?” 

“You never had an itch so bad you just bit it?”

“On her legs?” you ask incredulously. “She bit her legs? Is that what you’re saying?”

Bucky shrugs. 

You look like you’re going to lose your mind. 

You clear your throat. “What about the priest?

Bucky snorts. “What ‘bout him?” 

“'Forces of evil whose reality existed beyond mortal comprehension’?” 

“Maybe it was her,” he fires back. “Maybe that's just how she was, how would you know?”

“You’re saying the forces of evil are just… her bad vibes?” you say it slowly, as if that would make it better. 

“Maybe.” Bucky’s shoulders rise and drop again. “My aunt was a real stick in the mud too. I coulda called her a force’a evil when she didn’t let me fire a bottle rocket into the tree.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Bucky looks back innocently.

“You’re bullshitting.”

“About my aunt?” he scoffs. “I would never. Rest her soul. Made some damn good cranberry pie.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not asbestos.”

“Then why was she fine every time she moved out?”

“Because the house was haunted.”

“By mold.”

Maya clears her throat, pointing to her watch. 

You look back at her and clear your throat as well, shuffling around your papers. 

“Right. So that’s it for this episode.”

The camera guy yells “Cut!’ and you turn to look at Bucky.

But he’s already gone. 

The video goes up that weekend. 

It takes a considerable amount of time to edit, considering they had to bleep out  the steady stream of expletives that you didn’t even know Bucky was muttering under his breath, but got picked up by the mic anyway.

To Barnes (Work):

are you ready for your influencer era

He leaves you on seen. You think you’ll send him more memes of his stupid face.

To Barnes (Work):

influenza

Five hours since the video has gone up, and your phone starts buzzing more than usual. Nat’s already sent you a clearly AI generated article titled ‘Everything We Know About the Latest Avenger’, full of incorrect information and straight up lies. 

The first reviews are promising. Sort of. The newest generation of kids on Twitter are saying shit and using terms that are beyond you, but it looks good. You think.

And then somewhere close to midnight, your phone chimes with a text from a number you hadn’t yet saved. 

From unknown

Hey. Steve Rogers here. Great job on the video.

Your eyebrows shoot up, discarding your refreshing of the Subreddit that has popped up in your name. 

From unknown

Just letting you know though– he was lying.

From unknown

He doesn’t have an aunt. 

Motherfucker.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[spidey-webz]

Sleeping with Bucky — headcanons

A/N: this is really just fluffy bucky barnes brain rot because I felt like it!

Warnings: fluff, mentions of ptsd/insomnia

Masterlist | Askbox

Bucky really struggles with insomnia for years

It’s hard for him to sleep in an ordinary bed but he gets used to it when he starts to stay in yours

And he loves to cuddle until he gets tired

Especially when you comb your fingers through his hair or hold him close

He’s very much the big spoon most of the time but whenever he’s struggling, he loves to be held instead

His insomnia gets better with time, but the nightmares stay

You love to give him reassuring kisses whenever he wakes up covered in sweat and tears

Both of you have started developing a routine for nightmares

You will get both of you a warm cup of tea and then talk about it (if he wants to) or just spend time in silence together

Soft kisses are exchanged to comfort him!

Bucky loves to fall asleep while holding you in his arms or being held by you

It makes him feel a lot safer

You sometimes intertwine your fingers before you fall asleep and hold each other close

He adores to watch you sleep whenever it’s taking him a little longer

Bucky usually moves around a lot in his sleep but he’s always careful not to wake you

(But if he does, he apologises very quickly)

Sometimes you two listen to podcasts together before you fall asleep – especially when Bucky is having a hard time

It calms him down a lot and he loves to try different ones every now and then

He loves to wait for you to wake up just so he can give you a kiss first thing in the morning

“Good morning, doll.”

Bucky always has dishevelled hair when he wakes up but it’s incredibly adorable

And he has pillow lines on his face

You’ve probably got a ton of pictures in your phone of a sleeping Bucky

Or when he just woke up

Bucky is grateful for your patience whenever you sleep next to each other and he has a rough night

He’s definitely decorated to saying he loves you every night before he goes to bed

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes headcanons #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #the winter soldier #mcu #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu fic #marvel fic #the winter soldier x reader #james buchanan barnes

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hi there ! Can I request Natasha Romanoff x reader smut? I thought maybe Natasha x virgin!reader first time OR it can just be Nat’s and reader’s first time. (Please make it super soft🥺🥺)

Okay but anon that idea is literally so cute wtf 😖💗 this is shorter than I intended it to be but I hope you enjoy it regardless 

Sidenote: mалыш means baby in Russian (to the best of my knowledge) 

Taking It Slow (Natasha Romanoff x reader)

Warnings: SMUT, afab reader, reader is a virgin, oral sex (reader receiving), mention of a safeword (although it's never used), soft top Natasha, bottom reader 

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" 

Natasha's brow was furrowed with concern as she leaned over you on the bed, gently brushing your hair from your face. 

"Yeah, I'm sure." You looked up into her loving eyes, knowing she would take care of you. "Just...take it slow, okay?" 

"Of course, mалыш." She pressed a soft and loving kiss to your lips before working her way down the rest of your body. Your jawline, neck, collarbone, none of it went untouched. She kept going until she got down to your thighs, where she settled herself between them. 

"If at anytime you want me to stop, just let me know, okay? Do you remember our safeword?" 

You nodded your head yes, to which Natasha clicked her tongue at you. "Honey, I need verbal confirmation if you want this to happen." 

"Yeah, I remember it," you said, anticipation building. 

"Good. Use it whenever you want to stop, okay? I don't want your first experience to be an uncomfortable one." 

"Okay, I will." 

Satisfied with your response, she began leaving kisses on the inside of your thigh. Occasionally you felt her nip at your skin, a sign that she was gently marking you up, leaving hickeys wherever her mouth would go. 

You sighed contentedly before letting out a series of soft moans as she moved her mouth from your thighs to your glistening pussy. She pressed gentle kisses on the sensitive area, and you could feel her smirk against your skin when you let out a sudden gasp at her lips moving up to your clit. 

She was toying with you, and you knew it; but you loved it regardless. 

You felt as she pressed feather light kisses to your clit, giving you just enough friction to feel it but not nearly enough to be able to properly get you off. 

As much as you wanted to grind up against her face, you knew you had to remain patient if you wanted to be able to truly enjoy this. You had waited this long, surely you could wait a little bit longer. Still, Natasha no longer teasing you and just getting on with it would certainly be nice.

"Nat, please." You whined, your hand going to rest on her head lightly. 

"Oh, sweetheart." She peered up at you from between your legs, a visible smirk on her face. "I suppose I have been teasing you a little too much, huh? Let me fix that." 

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt her move her tongue along your already wet folds, eliciting a moan from you so loud your neighbors could definitely hear it.

At least she wasn't teasing you anymore, but that still meant you had a long night ahead of you. 

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[swaqcenix]

༻ Sweet like Honey | Natasha Romanoff ༺

Natasha romanoff x fem!reader

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

Summary: You and Natasha had been 'secretly' dating for the matter of a month. Both of you were heading to a meeting at the compound but.. nether you nor her could go 2 hours without any steamy time first.. so a specific detour has to be taken, even if it is in the car.

Warnings: 18+, smut mainly with fluff at beginning, daddy kink, choking, edging, teasing, top!natasha, bottom!reader, public sex, car sex, strap on (r receiving), fingering (n to r), oral (r to n), spanking, dirty talk, degrading, back scratching/marking, praising, mentions of past wanda x reader

Pairings: Natasha x fem!avenger reader

Word count: 3.8K

AN: I'm a whore and got hella carried away writing this, fr..

≿━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━≾

"That was Tony on the phone detka," her voice echoed through the safe house you were staying at.

In reality it might as well be your shared home designed for sneaking around without your colleagues noticing. There was no set rules on dating other avengers, you were fucking convinced there was things going on with other avengers and you and Wanda had... something in the past.

Simply the matter of the fact was you at Natasha were still deciding when the right time to let your relationship known. Besides, the idea of tin man and capsicle mocking you both consistently would drive you insane.

"What does he want," you grumbled turning to face her.

Her hair was straightened, flowing down her cheeks and stopping short by her shoulders. You'd always complimented Nat on her hair.

Her warm shade of red hue locks glistened constantly especially when hit by the sunlight that illuminated her skin. It was no secret to the older woman you drooled after her and she used it constantly in her favour with teasing you.

"Meeting at the compound in 30 minutes. He wants us there ASAP, apparently it's not negotiable and were required to be there," irritation showing in her face.

Walking over to her, your feet padded along the floorboards as you crossed the room to be in arms reach of your girlfriend. Her eyes were closed and her forehead scrunched up in annoyance, but not directed towards you.

As you approached the redhead, you knew what to do to calm her down, wanting to release some of the tension in her body and smiled softly before cupping her cheeks. You felt her instantly relax against your touch, but her face was still contorted into a tense mould.

Lifting one of your hands away from cupping her cheeks, you lifted your thumb placing it in the crease between her eyebrows kneading and massaging it softly. Your mouth move to place a chase but meaningful kiss on her nose and another on her forehead watching her whole body melt into your embrace.

Nat tried to keep a hard exterior around everyone and everything that was in her surroundings, but when it came to you it melted. All that hard exterior faded away and she became putty in your hands entirely, no judgment no black widow just Natalia Romanoff.

Her eyes opened slowly and you were greeted with eyes emerald green shining at you with such emotion. Her eyes were the sweet hue spring of clover flecks of strength and kinds of green that comes with summer and spring. Her eyes reminded you of everything she was, home.

"Thank you," she whispered afraid to break whatever was between you, the air and the tension.

"For what love?"

"For simply finding me and also for bringing me back to reality," she chuckled at the last part bringing you to laugh with her.

You rested your forehead against her own smiling softly looking into her eyes. You felt her melt into the embrace and wrap her arms around your body, pulling you closer in. The older woman was about to say something before a ping from her phone interrupted her train of thoughts.

Reaching into her back pocket, Natasha hesitantly pulled away from you earning a whine from you in protest. Instead she used her free hand to clasp in your own and you were more than happy after that.

"We have to go detka, everyone's making their way there now," she explained and you huffed in retaliation.

Knowing there was no point in arguing you simply mumbled an okay, still being disappointed that the moment was ruined. Nat moved forward into your proximity before kissing you on the head, it was chaise but earned her a satisfied hum as you felt lighter from that.

You both headed outside your safe house, (shared home) towards Natasha's car. The older woman owned a Black Corvette Stingray and a Motorcycle. However you both decided to opt for the car rather than the usual motorcycle ride this time.

Clambering into the car, Natasha put it in gear and drove off heading towards the compound. On the journey, your girlfriend kept glancing over at you her signature smirk painted upon her face. You giggled shaking your head lightly and let your mind wander.

It was around half-way there when you had a lightbulb moment and a mischievous thought entered your mind. You despised these meetings and they tended to last 2 hours with Tony or steve debating like some old married couple on what mission was next.

You really wanted to avoid majority of the meeting so what was better than turning the redhead next to you so on so much that she'd have to pull over and fuck you senseless. You let out a cheeky chuckle at the thought, earning a glance and a confused look from Natasha.

You simply inched your hand over to her thigh and placed it there innocently. You felt her body go rigid and her face contort into realisation of what you were trying to do. She turned to look at you before pulling her focus back to the road.

"Malyshka.." Her tone had warning in it as your hand inched towards her core.

"Hmm?" you voice was a picture of innocence and you felt her legs shake in response.

"Don't."

"What if I want to?" You loved teasing her like this.

"We have a meeting," she tried to reason but you knew she was trying to convince herself more than you.

"You know you want to, this is always better than a meeting," you hand came into contact with her clothed pussy earning a short gasp from Nat.

"You're going to face consequences for this," she said through gritted teeth.

You watched as her hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Smirking at the reaction you were getting you leaned over to whisper sultry in her ear, feeling her shiver due to your close proximity.

"What will you do to me... daddy?" Your voice was hoarse in her ear as you bite her earlobe before licking the outer shell of it and leaning back in your seat.

You watched the moment your girlfriend snapped and she started to speed down an alleyway, turning away from the direction of the compound. Her once green emerald eyes had darkened, turning an almost charcoal colour that was making your skin crawl in anticipation.

"Wh-where are we," you were cut off by her hand landing on your leg, dangerously close to your core as she dug her fingers into your skin as a warning.

"Don't talk. You wanna act like a whore, hm? Daddy will show you what it's like to be one," her voice was raspy and filled with determination.

She pulled over into an empty isolated area and turned to look at you, indicating for you to get into the backseat. You both clambered over as she put the car into parked and the moment your back hit the seat, her hands wrapped around your throat causing you to gasp.

"You wanna be fucked huh? You wanted me that bad you had to tease me just to miss the meeting?" She had authority in her tone as she positioned herself above you.

"I.. I need you," you urged as heat traveled to your core and you felt yourself desperate for the older woman.

"Sluts like you don't get to decide when you get what you want, instead you need to ask nicely now and maybe just maybe I'll give you what you want malyshka," she stated and you almost whimpered.

"Please fuck me daddy, ruin me. Completely use me," you whimpered pathetically desperate to get rid of the aching sensation that had now become painful.

"Strip, now," she ordered and you followed like an obedient puppy too scared to face the consequences of disobeying her.

You discarded yourself of your top and ridded your pants from your legs so you were just sat there in your panties and bra. The smirk Natasha sent your way sent another heat to your pussy and you knew instantly you were dripping.

Natasha moved forward and grabbed your body angling it so you were now sat in between her legs facing the front towards the front-view mirror. Her hands moved towards your breasts groping them and manhandling them through your bra.

Your moans slipped past your mouth instantly and Natasha used the opportunity to slip her fingers inside your mouth as the other hand unclasped your bra and threw it to the side.

"Please Nat," you urged earning a slap to your inner thigh sending wetness straight to where you wanted her the most.

"That's not my name is it now my sweet girl?" She whispered into your ear and you realised your slip up.

"I need you daddy," you breathed out squirming in between her legs.

Her fingers ghosted down towards your aching core and cupped it lightly. Looking into the rear-view mirror you saw what a desperate whore you looked like and Natasha smirked at your realisation. She began to rub slow circles on your clit and you moaned loudly.

"Now I'm going to ruin this pussy, but you don't cum until I say, understand slut?" She bit your earlobe and you let out a whorish moan in response.

"Yes daddy," you body was aching for more and you didn't know how long you'd hold off.

You felt a tear and nearly lost it when you saw she'd literally ripped your underwear off, but didn't have time to even ponder about it. Her fingers instantly slipped between your folds, teasing you endlessly and dipping back up to your mouth.

"Open for daddy now," she commanded and your lips instantly parted as she allowed you to taste yourself.

You sucked on her fingers for a few moments before her hand dipped back down to your pussy and you found yourself almost screaming when she began rubbing mercilessly. Her talented fingers were rubbing circles in a pace that was ferocious and without any sign of slowing down as her other hand wrapped around your neck to ground you.

"See this is what you've met me do you whore. You made daddy travel away from the compound and fuck you senseless. It won't even be just the one round. No, no daddy will do as many rounds as it takes until you cannot walk anymore," she stated as she rubbed faster.

You were on the edge and whimpered, your pussy tightening ready to reach it's climax. Natasha felt and sensed you were close so instantly pulled away and you whined from the loss of contact.

"No, I said I decide when you get what you want, now turn your head towards me and be a good girl," you complied instantly as she began kissing you with an intense passion.

Her fingers went back down towards your pussy once more and this time slipped into your folds and began to pump in and out at a steady pace. You gasped into your girlfriends mouth and your tongues colliding kissing with ferocity.

You felt them speed up, before Natasha began to pound and thrust into you at an animalistic pace. You groaned into her mouth and she pulled back slightly, dragging your bottom lip with her making you feel even more turned on.

"Please.. Please let me cum, I'm so close daddy. I'll do anything," you whined and she let out a bone-chilling laugh.

"You can hold it for me, printsessa. You're doing such a good job, such a good girl for me," she whispered sweet praise that was only making you worse.

Your slick juices covered your thighs and you weren't sure how long you'd last. Suddenly you felt her fingers tighten around your throat as she somehow picked up the pace even faster, pounding into you with a speed you didn't think possible. Turning your head to face the rear-view mirror she forced you to watch yourselves in the mirror making you see what she was doing to you.

"Watch yourself in the mirror you slut, look at how much of a mess you are. Couldn't even wait till after the meeting hmm? What would they all think of you knowing you had me take you in an empty part of town, fucking you mercilessly in my car," she whispered dirtily and you moaned.

"Wanda couldn't fuck you like this, only I can right?" She pinched your clit hard and you used all will power to hold in your cum.

"No daddy no no, nobody can fuck me like this only you. Always you. Please please let me cum, let me drench your fingers," you begged and just let the words spew from your lips desperately chasing your high.

"Look in the mirror go on look in for me," and you did just as she asked listening to the sloshing sounds of how wet you were made you flush.

"Cum for daddy while watching me fuck you in the mirror, cum over my fingers like the good girl I know you are," she demanded and just on command you let out a chant of her name while drenching her fingers.

Natasha didn't slow down her pace, driving you into an insane over-stimulation as she kept thrusting into allowing you to ride your high. Her hand drew out of your pussy and you unconsciously whined at the loss of contact.

However the feeling drifted away when you watched her bring her hand to her lips moaning and sucking away your sweet juices bit by bit.

"You taste sweet like honey, all for daddy," she husked out and you flushed under her words.

Suddenly you were placed onto the seat next to you as the redhead rid herself of her own clothes.

You watched as she spread open her legs and raised her eyebrow at you with a pointed look. Instantly you understood what she was asking you to do and you moved your body to angle it so you were facing and kneeling between the older woman's legs.

"You're going to make me squirt in your mouth and your reward will be a lovely thick strap on okay sweet girl?" She said although it was again more of a demand.

She smirked at your eagerness and pulled off her underwear watching you as you eagerly moved forward. Your lips latched onto her pussy, licking through her folds like candy.

Her hands instantly threaded through your hair simultaneously pulling you closer as your mouth made all kinds of fowl sounds while sucking and licking her pussy.

"God you know how to eat me out just right don't you, such a good girl," her voice was raspy.

Her words went straight to your core drenching you once more and spurred you on further. You took her clit between your lips and pulled slightly before entering her entirely with her tongue.

The moans and gasps Natasha was making above you was music to your ears and all you wanted to do was please her. So with that you thrusted 2 fingers within her without warning and stopped moving your tongue allowing the older woman to ride your tongue herself.

"Holy shit, don't stop such a good fucking girl for me.. right there detka, right there," she mewled out causing you to hum against her clit.

"You taste so good daddy," you mumbled against her thrusting hard with your fingers as Natasha's hips bucked against your tongue.

The stimulation of your fingers and tongue mixed with the vibration of your voice sent the redhead spiralling into her orgasm as she cried out loud enough for people to hear miles away, making you grateful you were in an isolated area. She squirted all over your fingers and tongue, her juices spilling down your face and you lapped them up as well as you were able.

Suddenly, you have no idea how Natasha did this but you found yourself back in the front seat as she placed you back there moving her own seat further back. You watched her open the front compartment and pull out a strap-on, heat rushing to your face instantly.

Natasha attached it to her hips, making sure the straps were secure and the size was adjusted correctly on her before turning to you with a smirk that somehow twisted your insides making you extremely horny. Her finger made a come hither motion and you instantly followed her order's clambering over the car seat's making sure to be careful of the car gears and sat on her lap.

The strap filled you up instantly and you let our a whorish moan prepared to move, but earned a slap to your ass instead. Your cheeks flushed red once more as you felt a wave of wetness run down your leg and onto her thigh.

"You move when I tell you to move slut. Be good for daddy or I'll have to spank you 12 times," she scolded and you whimpered at that.

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you? Being spanked and ruined by daddy's hands, you'd love to be manhandled like the fucking dirty slut you are, hm?" Her words spurring you on in way's you didn't know possible.

Suddenly you felt a hand slap your ass once more and you jolted forward at the feeling. The jolt affected Natasha too as the strap rubbed against her own pussy causing the older woman to groan in response.

"You will answer me like a good girl," she stated lifting your chin so you'd look her in the eyes.

"Yes daddy, I love when you s-spank me," you were short of breathe and mind fuzzy from how turned on you were.

"You'll count how many spanks you get and when and only when I'm finished can you bounce on my cock understand?" She questioned and you nodded until she raised an eyebrow and you realised she wanted a verbal response.

"Yes- Yes I understand daddy," you responded quickly and she hummed before smirking.

A slap landed on your ass and you jolted forward once more causing both of you to groan.

"One..."

Another slap, and then another. You bucked forward each time the stimulation affecting you both in all the right ways.

"Two... Three.."

By the time she got to 13 you were in almost tears of desperation needing to move to get some stimulation. When you felt the slaps stop you looked at her and she nodded her head.

"You can move on my cock now, go on take it all detka," she granted you permission and you didn't waste anytime.

You began to ride her cock instantly, feeling the strap slip in and out of you puffy lips and you groaned at the sensation. Your lips locked with Natasha and suddenly she angled her hips upwards, thrusting with you to chase her own high.

Moans were lost in each others mouths as your tongues collided with the others. You angled forward so the strap would rub against her own core and she began to pant, desperate to cum herself. You found yourself pulling away sucking a nipple into your mouth and groping her other one.

"Oh fuck- fuck," Your girlfriend began to thrust into you at an even more ferocious pace and you let out a deep grunt to this.

Suddenly you felt a squirt of wetness hit you and drip down through to your thighs. Looking down you watched as Natasha's back was arched as she once again squirted, the sight of it allowing you to follow suit squirting all over Natasha's strap clawing at her back. Your nails were likely to leave indents in her back as you scratched at it and she moaned feeling herself ride through her high, loving that you were marking her.

As you slowed down your pace and came to a halt your head rested against her shoulder trying to calm your breathing down. Natasha's hands came to wrap around your form holding you close. You loved your girlfriends aftercare and hummed softly in response and she whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

A sudden exhaustion overwhelmed you and you felt your eyes drooping slightly. Your body weight was completely on Natasha now as you slumped against her and her voice was the last thing you heard as you felt the world slowly silence while falling asleep in her embrace.

You were awoken by Natasha what felt like hours later but was probably only 20-30 minutes. She slowly placed her hand on your shoulder squeezing slightly before kissing your forehead whispering your name.

"Detka, were at the compound," she whispered slightly.

Adjusting to your surroundings you rubbed the sleep away from your eyes to be met with your girlfriend looking at you with adoration. You noticed she'd dressed you and managed to strap you back into your original seat while cleaning herself up. God she really was a fucking good agent that was for sure.

"Did we miss the meeting?" Your voice was still filled with sleep and she chuckled shaking her head at you.

"Come on, let's go inside," her voice laced with love and you felt yourself melt at her tone.

You both clambered out the car, heading inside as she wrapped an arm around you. You looked in confusion as your relationship was not out yet, but you weren't about to complain or bring it up. If Natasha wanted it, well was ready for it to be in the open then you'd be more than willing to do so as you were completely ready for that.

As you entered the main sitting room the other avengers turned to look at you both and Sam scoffed rolling his eyes. Steve's eyebrows shot up at the hold Natasha had on you but the redhead didn't back down. Instead she pulled you closer resting her head on your own making you almost blush entirely.

"You took your time Romanoff," Sam teased and you felt like they all knew.

Wanda's eyes glanced into your own and you felt yourself move closer to Nat out of habbit. The redhead held you more closer at that knowledge and smirked in the direction of Tony.

"We had a meeting, an important one too. What the hell were you doing having some sort of sex retreat?" He bluntly stated and your cheeks heated up as memories flooded back of events that only just occurred.

Just as you were about to answer though Natasha butt in and answered for you. And oh boy did she give them an answer even you didn't see coming.

"Yes actually. 3 rounds. My girlfriend is extremely good.. If I roll my tongue around enough I can still taste her," she deadpanned and the whole room stilled as she glared at Wanda who's jaw dropped open.

She guided you out of the room and you turned back just to see Steve passing Bucky and Sam money and you internally rolled your eyes.

"Come on malyshka," Natasha interrupted your train of thought.

"I want you to make a mess on my thigh, besides we won't be missed for 2 hours since we missed before we should take advantage of that," her words were for your ears only.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fic #natasha x fem!reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #marvel #marvel fic #marvel imagine #scarlett johansson x fem!reader #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader

[notbornbutforged]

Touch of Ruin

In a world where powers shape destinies, your ability to decay anything you touch has always isolated you—until you meet Natasha. Despite your inability to share a physical connection, Natasha becomes your anchor, offering a unique blend of emotional support and companionship. Together, you navigate the complex dynamics of a life shadowed by power, finding solace in your unorthodox relationship.

But everything changes with the arrival of Wanda, the enigmatic new Avenger whose intriguing abilities capture your attention. As Wanda's presence grows, tensions rise, and alliances shift. Now, you must confront your fears and choose between the comforting connection with Natasha and the compelling allure of Wanda.

──── CONTENT

pairing ☆ natasha x reader, wanda x reader

warnings ☆ (MINORS DNI) - slow updates, explicit content, strong language, mature themes, emotional triggers including scenes of power abuse, potential mild violence, and complex emotional dynamics. Reader discretion is advised as some themes might be disturbing or intensely depicted.

notes ☆ I hope you're doing well. It's been quite a while since my last post, hasn't it? Life has a funny way of keeping us busy, but amidst the things going on, this idea has been tugging at my thoughts, refusing to be ignored. So, I decided it was time to finally do something about it, to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and bring this thing to life. I hope you enjoy diving into this world as much as I've enjoyed crafting it.

MAIN MASTERLIST

──── CHAPTER INDEX

001. Beyond the Touch [2.3k]

Your life has always been a lonely battle, every relationship and simple human contact carries the risk of destruction, leaving you emotionally and physically distanced from the world. However, everything begins to shift when you meet Natasha. Her understanding and acceptance offer you a glimmer of hope and a chance at companionship that you never thought possible.

002. Unseen Touch

As your bond with Natasha deepens, you start to experience a semblance of normalcy and comfort that had previously eluded you. Her presence brings a sense of security and the emotional support you desperately needed, allowing you to explore aspects of life you had always kept at a distance. Together, you navigate the challenges your power presents, finding solace and strength in each other's company.

003. The Catalyst

As you grow accustomed to the security and companionship Natasha provides, the arrival of Wanda introduces new complexities. Her enigmatic presence and intriguing powers draw your attention, stirring a mix of fascination and apprehension.

TBA

#wlw #fem!reader #mcu fic #natasha x reader #lgbtq #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff

[jj3llyfsh]

Drained Embrace

pairing: Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader

warnings: small angst, kate being mean once :( but she’s just tired! reader feeling bad, fluff , happy ending !! i think that’s it (?)

word count: 1.4K

summary: After a long exhausting mission, Kate wants to go home and relax.

_______________________________________________

The city lights cast a soft glow through the windows as Kate Bishop trudged into the apartment, feeling every ounce of exhaustion weigh her down. Her muscles screamed in protest with every step she took, her mind still reeling from the chaos of the mission she had just returned from. All she wanted was a hot shower and the comfort of her own bed.

The apartment was quiet, besides the gentle hum of the refrigerator that filled the room. The soft click of the door closing behind her barely registered as she dropped her gear by the entrance. It was quiet, too quiet for her liking. She had half-expected to be greeted by the sound of her girlfriend's voice. Kate's heart sank a little as she realized her partner wasn't there to greet her. She had been looking forward to coming home to the warmth of her embrace, but now, all she felt was pure exhaustion.

"Hey, babe, you home?" Kate called out, her voice a tired rasp, as she dragged herself further into the living room, when there was no response, she frowned, letting out a weary sigh and dropped her gear on the floor with a clatter. She rubbed her temples, trying to push away the headache that threatened to consume her. But as she turned around, she was met with the sight of her girlfriend sitting on a couch, engrossed in a book, a tired smile playing on Kate’s lips.

"Hey, Kate!" you chirped, directing your full attention to her. "How was the mission?"

Kate forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Long," she replied, her voice strained. "I'm just glad to be home."

But you didn't seem to notice the exhaustion etched into Kate's features. Instead, you moved closer, wrapping your arms around Kate in a tight hug. "I missed you." you murmured, nuzzling into Kate's neck.

Kate's muscles tensed at the sudden contact. She tried to muster up some patience, but it was quickly slipping away.

Your smile faltered for a moment, feeling your girlfriend tense under your hold. You patted the space beside you on the couch. "Come sit with me. Tell me all about it."

Kate hesitated, her exhaustion making her crave solitude more than anything else. But she relented, sinking onto the couch beside her girlfriend. As she began recounting the mission, she couldn't shake the feeling of being suffocated by her girlfriend's presence.

With each passing moment, her girlfriend's touches grew more insistent, her questions more probing. Kate felt her patience wearing thin, her exhaustion morphing into frustration.

"Can we do this later?" she said, her tone sharper than intended. "I just need some space right now."

You pulled back, hurt flickering in your eyes for a brief second. "Oh," you whispered, taking a step back. "I didn't realize- I didn’t mean to overstep.. I’m sorry.."

Kate felt a pang of guilt at the sight of your crestfallen expression, but she couldn't bring herself to soften. Not when she felt like she was on the verge of collapsing. With a curt nod, she quickly got off the couch and headed straight for their bedroom, shutting the door behind her with a resounding slam.

Kate sat on the edge of the bed in their shared bedroom, her head buried in her hands. The room was enveloped in a heavy silence, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioning.

The events of the past few hours weighed heavily on her mind, her heart heavy with guilt and regret. She was exhausted, yes, but she couldn't shake the memory of the hurt in your eyes when she snapped at you. Kate's exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, her muscles aching with fatigue.

But even as her body begged for rest, her mind raced with thoughts of you, of how she had let her frustration get the best of her.

“Fuck.” Kate mumbled, throwing herself onto the bed. Even though she’s exhausted, her mind filled with worry about you, wondering what you’re thinking about. Wondering if Kate had messed up.

Kate's heart twisted painfully in her chest at the thought of it.

"I'm such an idiot," Kate muttered to herself, her voice barely above a whisper.

But now, in the solitude of their shared bedroom, Kate had let her exhaustion and frustration get the better of her, lashing out at the one person who meant the world to her. And for what? Just for a few moments of peace and quiet? When she could be in your arms right now.

The minutes stretched into hours, the silence becoming suffocating in its intensity. Kate glanced at the clock on the bedside table and sighed. Her mind wandered back to the mission that took place hours ago. The danger she had faced had taken its toll on Kate. She had been running on adrenaline, her emotions raw and unfiltered. And when you had greeted her with open arms, all Kate could think about was how badly she needed space.

Tears stung Kate's eyes as she thought about it more and more. The way she had shut you out when all you had wanted was to comfort her.

She knew she needed to apologize, but fear held her back, fear of facing you, fear of admitting just how much she had messed up, the fear of rejection held her back, anchoring her to the spot.

Kate was everything you could think of, including being someone who overthinks constantly.

As the silence stretched on, a different kind of fear began to creep into Kate's mind. What if you never forgave her? What if she had finally pushed you away for good? The mere thought sent a shiver down Kate's spine, a cold dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

Desperate to push away the thoughts swirling in her mind, Kate buried her face in her hands, willing herself to calm down. She took deep breaths, in and out, trying to steady her racing heartbeat. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Kate pushed herself off the bed and made her way to the door. She hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the handle, before finally steeling herself and opening it.

The living room was bathed in soft moonlight, you were curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Kate's heart clenched at the sight, her guilt washing over her in waves. She moved closer, kneeling down beside you, her eyes tracing the gentle curves of your face.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Kate whispered, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the night. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just... so tired, and scared, I didn't mean to take it out on you."

She reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Please forgive me," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "I love you more than anything, Y/N. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Placing a soft kiss to your forehead, Kate rose to her feet and made her way back to their bedroom.

Soft footsteps approached the bedroom door, the door creaked open, and Kate looked up, her breath catching in her throat as she met your gaze. Your eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, evidence of the tears you had shed in Kate's absence.

“Y/N" Kate whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just... I was just so tired, and I took it out on you, and I-“

You stepped further into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. You moved closer to Kate, your expression softening with each step. "It’s okay Kate," you said, your voice barely louder than a whisper. "I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean it. I should’ve seen how tired you were and given you space, I’m sorry for that.”

Tears welled up in Kate's eyes as she reached out for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. "I love you, Y/N. I love you more than anything in this world."

You melted into Kate's embrace, a soft giggle escaping from your lips. “I love you so much, Kate.” With that being said, you softly pressed your lips against hers.

“Now let’s get some sleep, hm?” You rasped out and guided Kate to lay back down onto the bed as she wrapped her arms around your waist and eventually drifted off to sleep.

_______________________________________________

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop fluff #kate bishop x fem!reader #mcu #marvel fic #marvel mcu #kate bishop angst #kate bishop fic #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop mcu #fem reader #marvel #mcu fic

[silveme]

How it feels when Jake Lockley shows up unannounced in a mk fic where they still don’t know who he is yet

#it’s always so much fun every time like it never gets old somehow #“At least it seemed to be Steven. His voice not quite the familiar accent it usually was and yet strangely nothing like Marc’s” HELLOOOOOOO #definition of the phrase big dick is back in town #moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight system #layla el faouly #marvel #mcu #fanfic #mcu fic #marvel fic

[beyondspaceandstars]

The Barista

Relationship: Matt Murdock x Reader Warnings: nothing. only fluff Summary: Although the barista at the local coffee shop never seems to be able to get Matt's order right, something keeps bringing him back. A/N: enjoy this quick little fluffy thing I whipped up in the notes app of my phone <3

Masterlist

Matt winced after he took another sip of his coffee. You had added cinnamon to it this time. Cinnamon. He didn’t know how you managed to do that. His coffee was simple and, more importantly, never changed, but you—a barista at the local coffee shop—always somehow managed to get it just a little incorrect.

But, also, Matt wasn’t exactly keen on skipping his weekly coffee trips.

“What did she put in your coffee this time?” Foggy asked after having witnessed the face his friend had made.

Matt sighed. “Cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Foggy laughed. “I don’t understand how that is even possible. Why do you keep going to that place?”

Matt did his best to his shrug casual, undetectable. “No reason. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Foggy gasped. “Oh my gosh.”

“What?”

“There’s a hot barista, isn’t there?”

Matt immediately started spewing out (weak) protests. “What. That’s… I— How would I—,”

But Foggy cut him off. “Don’t give me that again, Matthew. You do know. You can’t stop yourself from going to the coffee shop because you’re trying to get with a hot barista.”

“Okay,” Matt said in defeat, “maybe let’s not call her ‘hot barista.’ She’s just… She’s very kind. She makes silly coffee puns when I order. Sometimes we get to talking and… I don’t know. I like it. I like her, I think.”

“Even though she gets your coffee order wrong every single time?”

Matt blushed. “Well, I think I make her a little nervous. I may or may not have noticed some spikes in her heart rate.”

"Oh, that’s perfect," Foggy said with a laugh. "So, when are you going to ask her out?"

"I— I don’t think I can do that. That would be weird, right? Maybe she’s just being nice to me. I don’t want to be one of those customers."

"But you said her heart skips when you walk in."

"Sure, but maybe she’s just an anxious person—,"

Foggy scoffed. "Since when have you ever had this many reservations about asking someone out?"

"I don’t know," Matt admitted with a sigh. "I don't think she needs to get wrapped up in all my stuff."

"Actually it sounds like she very much wants to get wrapped up with you."

"Foggy…"

"Alright, alright, I’ll stop," he said, raising his arms in surrender. "I’m just saying, it sounds like she might be into you so I would at least think about it."

And so Matt did. He tried not to—he really did—but no matter how much he resisted it, your angelic voice and his best friend’s insisting words kept creeping up in the back of his mind. Even when he was out patrolling his city, the thoughts didn’t leave him.

In fact, it consumed Matt for an entire weekend. And he found himself back at the coffee shop bright and early Monday morning.

As Matt opened the door, he was immediately hit by your soft, sweet voice talking to another customer. You were kind and respectful as you interacted with them but Matt was quick to notice you didn’t share a coffee pun. He didn’t know why that made something in his chest warm.

When he approached the counter, he heard your heart speed up just ever so slightly, as if on perfect cue. Matt enjoyed trying to act clueless sometimes.

"Good—Good morning, Matthew," you said. "It’s good to see you again. I missed you a latte this past weekend."

Matt subtly tightened the grip on his cane. He swore you winced at your words, which he found adorable. "Good morning.” He couldn’t help but smile. "That was a good one.”

You giggled. And it nearly took his breath away.

“Thank you,” you replied. “I have to start looking up new ones. I fear I’m running out.”

Matt shook his head. “We can’t have that, can we?”

You laughed again. You were as giddy as ever around him. Maybe Foggy wasn’t completely bonkers, Matt thought.

"What can I get started for you today, Mister Lawyer?”

"Coffee. Splash of cream," Matt answered.

"Of course, of course," you muttered to yourself before waltzing around behind the counter. The sound of grinding beans and dripping coffee made Matt’s ears perk up.

"Busy day today?" You asked over the noise of the machines.

Matt shook his head. "Paperwork to do, files to review. The usual," he replied but his words felt jilted. Should he ask you? Would that be weird? Would you call the cops or something?

"Well, that’s good to hear! Your day will fly by," you said quite cheerfully. It made Matt feel really good—a particular kind of good that didn’t always come easily for him.

"It’s already off to a great start here," Matt replied, taking a little leap of faith. He swore he heard you gasp. "Um, you know, there is something I wanted to ask you."

You were now pouring coffee into a to-go cup. Matt didn’t think you had messed up anything this time but he couldn’t be sure. He was a little distracted.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked. Your voice was suddenly shaky. Your heart rate shot up. Not just a skip like before. It was pounding.

It could mean anything, really, he told himself.

"Yeah." Matt took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. With me."

Something heavy hit the counter. "Uh, dinner? Like as a date?"

Matt chuckled. "Yes, exactly like a date."

"I’d love to." You didn’t even hesitate slightly. That made Matt feel really good.

"Great," he replied. He was sure he was keeping his composure from the outside but on the inside? He wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

You two exchanged contact information after Matt’s order was ready. He paid and you both kept it very professional, even when he noticed your hands were pretty much shaking.

The professionalism fell when he was bidding you a goodbye. You stepped around the counter to plant a kiss on his cheek and wish him a good day. It nearly took Matt aback but not in a bad way.

A permanent smile was etched onto his face for the entire morning—even when he went to take a sip of his coffee...

Vanilla. Matt could smell it, he could taste it. You had somehow added a splash of vanilla syrup to his cup of coffee. Matt laughed to himself.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fic #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil x reader #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #mcu fluff #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #writing*

[gay-dorito-dust]

Adam had never known someone to have unwavering patience like you had.

No question or inquiry Adam had was deemed too absurd nor too dumb for you to answer whilst also giving him the room for him to come up with his own verdicts based on his personal experiences.

However there was something that still eludes the seemingly perfect being and that happened to be the emotions he felt within your presence that only seemed to linger long after you were out of his sight; Which in due to his need to look out and protect you from practically everything he deemed a threat, was almost nigh impossible.

Adam wasn’t exactly certain what they meant in the grander scheme of things but in those moment where it’s just you and him, he couldn’t help but put all his focus on how you made him feel and it was confusing in the most beautiful way. You took up a majority of his thoughts that throughout the day Adam would wonder what you were doing, where you were and if you were okay, if you were with anyone and finally Adam would wonder if there was a slight possibility that you were thinking about him also.

Sure, it may sound childish of him to wish that you were, but to Adam it would only further prove that you may be fated to one another. The thought of that being the case brought a weird warm sensation that of which spread throughout his body as he rested his hand against his chest, while he looked down at it with the expression of a confused child; Adam was in dire need of your wisdom but unfortunately by the time he came to you for it, you were more then just about ready to hit the hay.

‘Y/n, I apologise for the intrusion but I have an serious matter I wish to discuss with you that can not wait, if you’ll be so kind as to hear me out.’ You sighed, really wanting nothing more then to go to sleep but but considering the look upon his handsome face, you made an exception. You sat on the edge of your bed, gesturing him to take a seat beside you, which Adam did post haste, remembering to leave some room between you both. ‘What’s up Adam, what did you want to discuss?’ You asked.

‘How do you know when you feel something so strongly for someone that they just take over your every thought and what is is called because I’ve been feeling this way for a while now and I’m at a loss as to what to make of it all.’ Adam says, looking at you expectedly like he always did; He was always one to value knowledge above all things, seeing as he was already quite powerful. Yet you couldn’t help but wonder whether or not you had something to do with these feelings he’s been feeling so strongly lately; Considering you were practically the only person he’s been within the company of, to the point where it has became a running gag amongst your friends that where’d you went, Adam wasn’t too far behind like a lost duckling.

‘What is it that you feel Adam, is it a good feeling or a bad feeling that you have about this person?’ You asked.

‘They’re on my mind as though my mind was built with the sole purpose of thinking of them and only them,’ Adam begins but as he does so, a smile stretched across his lips as a soft expression permeates his face. ‘From the light of the morning to nightfall, I’m wondering where they are, worried if they were in need of me but I just can’t hear them, can’t be there with them when they need me most, and mostly…I wonder if they think about me as much as I think about them because they are very special to me…so much so that I couldn’t fathom existing without them.’ Adam finishes before placing his hand over your own. ‘You are very special to me y/n. You’re the one I think about.’

Having already expected this being the case, you still were somehow taken aback but that was short lived compared to the overwhelming relief that your feelings weren’t as one sided as you assumed. You smiled softly at Adam before intertwining your fingers with his, grasping into him tightly, as though afraid of letting him go now that you got him. ‘You’re feeling love Adam.’ You explained. ‘And love is the most powerful, most important feeling you could ever feel because it comes in all forms, all of which are just as equally powerful as the last. It’s an all consuming feeling that can make one act upon irrational but sometimes acting upon that irrationality does one good but at the end of the day, love is a power that has yet to meet it’s match.’ You finalised, hoping to have gotten the point across clear enough for him to understand.

Adam made a face and sat in silence for a few minutes and once those minutes were up, the smile and soft expression came back as he once again looked at you as though he could see all of you. ‘Does this feeling mean that I am in love with you?’ He asks. ‘And do you feel the same way?’ He adds on almost hopefully that you couldn’t help but chuckle before leaning in to press an innocent kiss to his golden cheek. ‘Was that enough confirmation?’ You inquired as you watched Adam blink twice as he raised a hand to touch the cheek you just kissed.

‘It’s more then enough.’ He tells you. ‘Thank you.’

#adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x you #Adam warlock imagine #Adam warlock imagines #mcu x y/n #mcu imagine #mcu fic #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu x you #marvel fic #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel x you #marvel imagines #marvel fanfic

[thedragondawn]

the one that didn't get away - Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Words: 780

Fluff, angst

A/N: This is a belated birthday gift for my dear @iosonoarina 💕💕

taglist: @iosonoarina @stefroutledge @blackwidow-3

taglist || ko-fi

War was over.

The Avengers had won. Well, Thanos was defeated and now it was time to mourn the losses and go back to the world that they had known before the snap. A world that part of Natasha didn’t believe would ever come back.

Now there was hope again. Hope that she would find you home, safe and sound and things would pick up from where you’d left them before Thanos had almost destroyed everything. Hope that she would find you home and that you’d still love her. 

Hope that everything will be okay.

**

“Banner, I’m fine, let me go.” Natasha insisted, wanting to be cleared so she could make it home to her apartment - a place where she’d barely slept as it felt like a haunted museum without you in it. A museum holding the memories you two had made, a museum reminding her of how empty her life was without you.

“You will come back for more testing tomorrow, you hit your head.” 

“My head is fine but yours won’t be if you keep me here.” 

“Fine, fine. Go.” Bruce lifted his arms in defeat.

Natasha stole the keys to one of Tony’s cars and drove off, speeding towards her old apartment. She had no phone on her and the closer she got to that apartment, the more her pulse raced.

Her heart stopped completely when she pulled up in front of the apartment building and saw you emerge from the door.

“Nat..” Nat saw you whisper and ran out of the car, wrapping her bruised body around yours. She started shaking as relief flooded every cell of her body.

“Любимая…” Natasha repeated over and over again as the two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk. She didn’t care that her body ached from the long battle, she didn’t care that there was so much that she still needed to do. No. There was you, solid and breathing in her arms. The scent of you enveloping her, your presence finally anchoring her home after so many years of drifting.

You cupped her face gently, scanning and making sure that she was whole, that she wasn’t a dream.

“What happened?” You asked but your question was silenced with a desperate kiss which you reciprocated just as passionately.

“It was a bad time.” Nat caressed your face gently, your heart breaking when you felt her hands shaking against your skin, touching you almost with a reverence.

“I’m here. We’ll handle it.” You reassured her before leading her back into the apartment.

**

Time went on. The two of you were almost inseparable and it came as a huge relief to you when Natasha announced that she will step back from the Avengers. There would be less shadows haunting you two. 

“You’re staring.” Yelena scolded her older sister as you were making tea in the kitchen of your apartment.

“Mind your own business.” Nat bit back playfully.

“You’re so in love, I could puke.” Yelena made a gagging face.

“You’ll find your person too.” Nat winked at her and then moved her gaze back to you.

“I can’t believe that you two made it.” Yelena commented.

“Why?” You asked, looking at your future sister-in-law. The two of you had grown closer in the months after endgame, and in your new home with Natasha, Yelena had her own room, which she joked was as if she was your pet.

“Because the world tried to tear you apart yet you resisted.” 

“No, Thanos tried to tear us apart, we finished his stupid grape face.” Nat argued. 

Her comment made the three of you laugh. There was still lingering darkness from the time of the snap and the final battle, but Nat frequented therapy and you knew that it would all work out.

“So, did you set a date for the big day?” Yelena looked at you and Nat all snuggled up on the couch.

“No, we are not rushing.” 

“Are you tempting fate?” Yelena teased petting your orange cat who plopped herself on the floor next to her.

“She is the one that didn’t get away. There’s no doubt about that.” Natasha smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. She’d had other relationships before meeting you but her soul knew that she’d found home with you the moment she’d laid eyes on you and getting you back was something that she would have given up everything for.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” You teased, even though Natasha could see the tears shining in your eyes.

“Good.” Nat kissed you gently.

“Lord, save me.” Yelena muttered, bursting your little bubble and lightening the mood. 

#natasha romanoff #marvel #natasha romanov #the black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel fic #black widow x reader #mcu fic #post endgame

[happy74827]

Cool Rider

[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When another date ends in disaster, and Steve shows up in an attempt to “cheer” you up, you’re instantly against everything. But it’s Steve, and you should know by now that he never takes no for an answer.

WC: 3859

Category: Fluff

A lot of people liked my other Steve fic, so I felt inclined to make another. This time with a lot more fluff (you’re welcome @summerrivera777777).

『••✎••』

Needless to say, you were shocked when you heard the roar of a motorcycle.

You didn’t do well with dates. In your 24 years of life, you had a total of one boyfriend, and he was the absolute worst. So, in the last six months, you have been avoiding all social activities like the plague and focusing solely on yourself and your future.

That meant that you had become very comfortable being a hermit and avoiding any and all contact with other human beings. You were happy that way.

So why was a man who looked like an absolute God sitting on a motorcycle at the front door of your house?

Well, because you broke that rule a week ago.

In all fairness, the man was cute. A nerdy, awkward kind of cute. And he was a gentleman. And you were lonely.

So, when he asked you for your number, you were too lonely to turn him down. You hadn’t expected him to call, and you certainly didn’t expect him to ask you out on a date. But you also didn't think you would have the willpower to say no.

So you accepted, and it turned out to be the biggest regret of your life. The “nerd” was actually a complete dick, and after 30 minutes, you just wanted to go home. But you couldn’t because he refused to pay for the meal, so you were stuck there with him.

The worst part of the night was when he got into his car and tried to follow you home. He kept insisting that he just wanted to be a good guy and make sure that you got home safely, but you were sure that he just wanted to see where you lived and probably get in a few gropes along the way.

Luckily, you were able to lose him about three blocks from your house. It was a good thing, too, because your phone had died a couple of blocks ago, and you were afraid that if you got caught by him, you wouldn't have a way to call for help.

The next day, you made an executive decision to stay the hell away from men, with the exception of a few nice, safe friends. That was how you ended up here, seven days later, hiding in your room and ignoring your doorbell.

The bell kept ringing, and you knew that whoever was out there wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Groaning, you threw your covers off of your body and stomped towards the front door.

You threw open the door, ready to rip someone a new one, when your angry speech caught in your throat.

Steve Rogers was standing on your front porch.

He was a friend from work, to simplify a very long story. You met him two years ago when you started at SHIELD. You were a tech genius, and you worked closely with the Avengers to keep their equipment running.

Steve was always sweet and funny. You had a lot in common and were very close. After a while, you started hanging out with him and his friends, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky. It was great.

As exceptions to men go, he was definitely a big one. He was a walking god, with the physique and the looks to prove it. And here he was, on your front porch, holding keys that belonged to the motorcycle parked out front.

You looked at the motorcycle, then back to Steve, before your face went blank.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

Steve cocked an eyebrow. A smile tugged at his lips as if he were amused. "No?"

"Nope. Whatever you're trying to sell, I'm not buying."

"Why would I be trying to sell you something? I’m not even selling anything."

"It’s an expression, Steve, Jesus." You said, throwing your hands up in exasperation. Steve might’ve been your best friend, but the guy was such a 90-year-old sometimes. "If you think that I'm going to get on that thing with you, you're wrong. It's death on two wheels."

His eyes widened in surprise, a laugh bubbling in his throat. He looked over his shoulder at the bike, then back to you.

"That's... a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"I'm serious, Steve. It's not happening. I don't trust that thing, and I'm not going to die in some freak accident."

He crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his leather jacket tightening over his biceps. His smile didn't fade as he spoke, which only annoyed you more.

"It's not going to kill you. I’m quite insulted that you would think that I would put you in danger."

"You're an Avenger. You put me in danger just by existing."

His lips twitched, and you had the feeling that he was holding back a comment.

"Look," he said, leaning against the door frame. "You haven't come out with us in weeks, and I'm worried. It's not healthy to lock yourself in your house all the time. With the job we have, there's never a guarantee of tomorrow, and if I were you, I'd want to spend every day living it to the fullest."

His words caught you off guard. He was right. It had been almost two months since you had gone out with the group. You just couldn't find the motivation. You were content being at home, alone. You had gotten a little lax in your friendships, only going to work and coming straight home. And now, with the… issues… with your date, you just didn't have the heart to try again.

You could feel your resolve starting to crumble, but you tried to stay strong.

"That's a low blow, Rogers." You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "But my answer is still no."

"You think that was a low blow?” He scoffed as he pushed himself away from the door and took a step forward.

He was so much taller than you, and his presence was overwhelming. With the added tightness of his clothing and the confidence in his eyes, it tricked your eyes into seeing him as bigger than he really was. He was big, of course, but right now, it felt like he was towering over you.

Your heart began to race, a flush spreading over your cheeks.

"You clearly never played football because if you did, you'd know that this was a real low blow."

Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You squealed, slapping your hand against his lower back. He was wearing a black shirt and jeans, and you could see the muscles ripple in his back with every step that he took. "Put me down!"

"You're going to have fun today."

"Steve! Put me down right now! I swear to God if you don't-"

"You'll what?" He laughed, the deep rumble making your stomach flutter. "Punish me?"

You huffed as you pounded on his back with your fist. You weren't mad at him, really; you just didn't know how to respond.

Steve practically dragged you outside. You were sure that you looked ridiculous, but you were thankful that you lived far enough away from your neighbors for no one to witness this. When he finally set you down next to the motorcycle, you gave him a glare.

"You're an ass, Steve Rogers."

He gave you a smirk as he swung his leg over the bike, his leather jacket tightening around his arm as his muscles flexed. Personally, you hated leather, but the way it fit him...

"Steve, I’m not wearing the right clothes."

He was quiet as his eyes swept over you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top since it was the middle of summer and you were hot, but he was looking at you like you were covered head to toe in leather.

"We can go buy something and change in the bathroom or something."

He seemed to think for a moment before he gave a single nod.

"Sure."

He started the bike and motioned for you to get on behind him. Goddamn it, Steve.

Sighing, you swung your leg over the bike and wrapped your arms around his torso. It was an incredibly intimate position, with your body pressed up against his and your faces mere inches apart. For a moment, you didn’t even realize when he swung a helmet down in front of your face.

"Put this on, Scaredy-Cat."

"Shut up, I'm not scared. Just... concerned."

He raised an eyebrow at you, his smirk still ever-present. You rolled your eyes before slipping the helmet onto your head.

The engine rumbled beneath you, and Steve revved the engine a couple of times, laughing when you squeaked in surprise and gripped him tighter. You could feel the laughter in his chest, his muscles moving under your fingers.

"Hold on tight, princess. Wouldn't want you falling off."

"You're a dick."

"Language."

"I will push you off this bike."

Steve didn't say anything; he just pulled the kickstand up and eased the bike into drive.

You squealed when the bike began to move, tightening your hold on Steve and burying your face in his back. He didn’t seem to mind; he just chuckled and sped up a bit.

You tried not to scream as he maneuvered the bike through traffic, weaving in and out of cars. It was a terrifying experience, especially since you had the distinct impression that Steve was taking advantage of the situation and driving recklessly.

You felt the wind on your legs and the constant hair strands whipping into your face, but you refused to look up. The speed, the closeness of the cars, and the fact that there was nothing keeping you on the bike except for Steve made it impossible to even think about moving.

When Steve finally stopped the bike, you had your eyes closed tight, and your body pressed completely up against him. Your arms were wrapped around him so tightly he was surprised you could breathe.

He took a moment to enjoy the feeling before gently prying your hands off of him and stepping off the bike. He turned and reached out a hand for you, waiting patiently for you to move. When you didn’t, he moved back towards the bike and took the helmet off your head.

You were breathing hard, trying desperately not to show how scared you were.

"It wasn’t that bad."

You shot him a glare, which made him grin.

"Just... shut up."

He laughed and helped you off the bike, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. He was a gentleman, of course, and you couldn’t complain about the feeling of his hard body pressed up against yours, but the sudden closeness was a bit overwhelming.

"Ugh, I think I have whiplash."

"Liar," said Steve with another laugh, be dramatic. You liked it, admit it."

"Whatever, why are you even kidnapping me, anyways?"

"I told you. It's not healthy to sit in a dark room, alone, all day, every day."

"First, rude.” You said, giving him a nudge in the side. He let out a small sound, which made your eyes widen in surprise.

"Did that hurt you, oh Captain, my Captain?"

"It didn't hurt," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "And second?"

"What?"

"First, rude," he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Second?"

"Oh! Yeah, why are we actually doing this?"

That’s when Steve paused. Your heart instantly dropped at his hesitation. Steve only hesitated for two reasons. The first reason would be if he were completely at a loss for words, and clearly, by his recent attitude, that wasn’t the case. So that left the second reason: because he knew something that he either didn’t want to tell you or something he wasn’t supposed to know.

With recent events, it wasn’t difficult to guess what was happening.

"Natasha told you, didn't she."

You were already pulling away from him, ready to go back home and hide in your bed for the rest of eternity, when he caught your wrist.

“Hey,” His voice was softer, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that you have a good time today, alright? So, forget about what happened, forget about what Natasha said, and just focus on having a good day. Okay?"

“I don’t want a pity date, Steve. It’s nice that you care and everything, but-”

"I'm not pity dating you." His voice was firm, and his face was hard, the complete opposite of the way it was just moments before.

"Then what do you call this? My actual date sucked, and I've been cooped up in my house, so you thought, 'Hey, why not take her out and show her a good time?'"

Steve let out a sigh and shook his head, his fingers loosening around your wrist. "No, no. That's not... I'm sorry."

The change in him was drastic. He seemed to shrink in on himself, and his head drooped like a kicked puppy.

"Steve,"

He lifted his head and looked at you, his baby-blue eyes filled with guilt.

"You have no idea how badly I want to punch that guy for treating you like that.” He spoke softly as if the words were only meant for him to hear. But, as the saying goes, the walls have ears, and the parking lot was pretty damn quiet. “But that's not what this is. You're my friend, and I hate to see you sad. I'm not here just because of a stupid date. I'm here because I care about you."

There was a pause, a heavy silence hanging between the two of you. He was looking at you expectantly, a pleading look in his eyes.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it if you don't want to."

"Okay,"

"And I'm not going to bring it up again unless you do.”

"Okay."

"And, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return, maybe a little more conversation, a smile, maybe a laugh, but other than that..."

A smile slowly crept onto your face. He had the uncanny ability to make everyone else smile, regardless of their mood, and he was the only one who could do it. It’s not that his jokes were particularly funny because they weren't, but it was the way he said them.

He was an awkward, nervous mess most of the time, but when he was confident when he was in his element, there was no stopping him.

"You sure you want to waste all your energy on me, old man?"

His lips twitched at the nickname, his eyes brightening. "For you, doll? Anything."

And there it was. That goddamn smile that made your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He was just too sweet, and it was completely unfair.

"Come on," he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you close. "Let's get you something nice."

You smiled as you walked next to him. As much as you hated the motorcycle ride, it was nice to spend some time with Steve. He parked outside a Target, and the two of you walked in, immediately making your way to the women's section.

You took charge almost immediately, going to the racks and picking out different things. Steve followed behind you, carrying your armfuls of clothes as you added more. You went through rack after rack, throwing the things that caught your eye into his arms.

After about the tenth outfit, you turned around and saw him standing there, his arms filled with clothing and a smile on his face. You ignored it or tried to, as you turned back around and went to another rack.

When you finally finished, you had an armful of outfits, and Steve was practically weighed down. He didn't seem to mind, though, and you had the feeling that he had enjoyed his role as a pack mule. When the shopping was done, you ran to the bathrooms and changed into the outfit while Steve waited outside.

A pullover hoodie and a pair of jeans, the closest thing that Target had to leather. Not exactly what you wanted, but it would work. When you stepped out of the stall, you found Steve sitting in one of the chairs, flipping through a magazine. Such a 90-year-old, again.

He looked up when he heard the door open, his eyes sweeping over your form.

"Where to now? The ditch?"

Steve rolled his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "You’re an avid book reader, right? What's the biggest bookstore in the area?"

"Are we going to Barnes and Noble or something?"

"If that's what's closest."

You paused, watching his expression. There was no sign of teasing, no hint that this was a joke.

"…Really? Barnes and Noble?"

"Is that an issue?"

The disbelief must have been written on your face because Steve gave a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

"Oh, come on. I can be spontaneous!"

"Sure," you mumbled, trying not to show how happy his statement had made you. He remembered a stupid fact about you that you had told him months ago. And he had stored it, not forgotten it.

You felt like you were in the twilight zone, but you weren't complaining.

Steve bought the outfit and threw the tags away, and the two of you got back on the motorcycle. It was easier, this time, with the knowledge that he had cared enough to listen to your ramblings. Maybe he cared enough to calm it.

You had your face buried in his back, not out of fear this time, but out of comfort. You couldn’t see him smile as he sped up, but you could feel it.

At Barnes and Noble, he sat and watched as you wandered the store, a smile on his face. He didn’t say anything, didn't pressure you into talking, didn’t even try to join in; he just sat and listened as you read him the summaries of the books. You didn’t even mean to; it just kind of happened.

One moment, you were looking through the books; the next, you were reading the synopsis out loud to Steve. He didn’t say anything, didn't make any indication that he was listening, but you could tell by the way his head would turn towards you when you spoke. And once again, Steve was your personal pack mule, carrying the books that you were interested in.

By the end of the night, he had an armful of books, a satisfied smile on his face, and you were laughing. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed this much, the last time you had felt so happy.

When you got home, the sky was dark, and the moon was high. Steve followed you inside and set the books down on the coffee table. He had refused to let you carry them, insisting that they would get ruined in your hands. You didn't bother fighting him on it and allowed him to carry them.

"Do you want a drink or anything? Something to eat?" It was obvious you were slightly nervous now, but Steve didn’t seem the notice… or even care at this point.

"No, thank you. I should probably be getting back."

"Oh." You paused, not really wanting him to leave, but you couldn’t ask him to stay. You were friends, that was it, and nothing more. "Okay, yeah."

"Well," he started, his fingers flexing by his side. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yeah," you said, giving him a smile. "See you soon, Steve."

He looked like he was going to say something else before he gave you a soft smile and walked out.

Once he was gone, you shut the door and let out a sigh. Today was perfect, and you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself for enjoying yourself, hated that you were able to push away all thoughts of him. It was like the universe was taunting you, dangling the perfect guy in front of your face, and you couldn’t have him.

"Why him, huh?"

"I can still hear you." Steve's voice echoed through the house despite his absence in it, and you internally groaned as you got up to stare out the window. Damn, his super hearing.

You pulled the blinds aside and watched as Steve got on his bike, his helmet still in his hands.

"Steve."

He paused, turning his head towards the house. He couldn’t hear what you were saying now that he was by his bike, not with the closed windows, but he could see the silhouette of your body against the curtains. You lifted it up in an instant, an invitation.

"Steve.” You repeated, and this time he heard it. Loud and clear.

"Yeah?"

"Did you really mean it? That this wasn’t a pity date?"

Steve paused for a moment, his lips slightly parted. After a moment, he rested his helmet on the handlebars and made his way back to you. He stopped inches from you, slightly bending down through the window.

A smile and a simple glimpse at your lips was his only answer. He looked back in your eyes, his expression soft, waiting. He was leaving it up to you, not wanting to push, not wanting to scare. He wanted it, but he wasn’t going to force it.

It was all the incentive that you needed.

You reached through the window and grabbed his jacket, pulling him forward and crashing your lips together. It was desperate and slightly awkward since you were halfway through the window, but neither of you seemed to care.

Steve reached forward and grabbed the side of the window, pushing it open even further and lifting you through. You let out a surprised squeak, which quickly turned into a moan as he pressed you up against the house.

His lips were warm and softer than you expected. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

After a few moments, Steve pulled away, his forehead resting on yours and a smile on his face.

"Okay, this wasn't a pity date."

Steve let out a laugh, the breath puffing against your face.

"Good. Glad we established that."

"What was this, then? I've been told that Captain America wasn’t one to put out on the first date."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely not. I'm a gentleman."

"Then what's this, Steve? What was today?"

His arm tightened around you, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Like I said, I can be spontaneous."

"Spontaneous," you mumbled, letting out a laugh.

"And," he continued, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "It seems good girls like a little bad every now and then. You especially, given your choice of dates."

"So, is that what this is? Captain America showing me a good time?"

"No. This is Steve Rogers showing his girl a good time."

"Your girl, huh?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips inches from yours. "My girl."

And when his lips met yours again, all you could think about was the leather jacket, the motorcycle, and the promise of more.

And a whole lot more bad.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers/reader #mcu #mcu steve rogers #mcu fic #steve rogers fic #x reader #reader #fanfic #fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x female!reader #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x yn #steve rogers imagine #fluff #mega fluff #marvelfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #thor odinson x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu fandom #natasha romanoff

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

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